God Don't Play (10 page)

CHAPTER 20

I
t felt like I was on needles and pins every day for the next two weeks. One morning I woke up moaning, with my arms covered in scratches. Throughout the night I had dreamt of long, slimy blacksnakes crawling all over me, and then biting me with their fangs and wrapping their coiled bodies around my neck.

Every time the telephone rang, I almost jumped out of my skin. Most of the time I let the answering machine screen my calls and if the caller happened to be somebody I didn’t feel like talking to, I let the machine record a message. It disturbed me even more when the machine recorded a few hang-ups. And once I received a two-minute recording of some heavy breathing!

The mailbox on my front porch had become just as much of a nightmare as the telephone. I held my breath each time I went to retrieve the mail. I sweated so much when I chose to answer the telephone or check the mailbox that I had ruined three of my best silk blouses. And because of all the sweat clogging the pores on my head, my hair had taken on a life of its own. It was in a state of shock and it did what it wanted to do, not what I wanted it to do. I could keep my pink sponge rollers in my hair for two days in a row and my hair still wouldn’t curl. And unfortunately, I made more trips to the liquor store than I should have. I felt like a stranger in my own body.

I became abrupt with some people, snapping at them for some of the most insignificant reasons. I’d yelled so loud and with so much contempt in my voice at a young teller at my bank for not moving fast enough that their armed security guard had approached
me
with his hand on his weapon. I was coming undone and I didn’t know how to stop it.

Things that had always annoyed me seemed to annoy me even more. Like the leaky faucet in my kitchen sink, the stoplight at the corner that seemed to stay red for five minutes, bubble bath that didn’t bubble enough, and even something as minor as the squeaky springs on my bed.

“Pee Wee, if you don’t fix that sink and get us a new bed, I’ll find somebody who will!” I barked at Pee Wee, as I trotted out of the kitchen before he had time to reply. He fixed our leaky sink the very next day, and by the weekend we had a brand new bed.

“Happy?” he asked.

All I could do was nod and look for something else to complain about.

I felt bad about taking out my frustrations on Pee Wee. But apparently my sudden and odd behavior didn’t bother him that much, because he didn’t comment on it. At least, not at first.

When three weeks had passed without a note or a telephone call from my antagonist, I relaxed. I felt like I had just been released from a dungeon. As far as I was concerned things were back to normal. One thing I was really glad about was the fact that Pee Wee and I were making love again, and I’d been the one to initiate that. During my previous weeks of despair I had wanted to have sex about as much as I wanted to have shingles. Every time Pee Wee had looked at me, my flesh crawled and knots formed in my stomach. It didn’t do him a damn bit of good to strut around naked dangling his dick in front of me like it was a carrot, or to play with my titties. I just could not get excited.

As mysterious and complicated as the female body was to most men—not that a man who didn’t have a medical background would know the difference anyway—I took advantage of Pee Wee’s ignorance, and decided that I would milk that cow until it couldn’t be milked any more. I feigned every malady I could come up with. I held Pee Wee off with fake headaches, backaches, stomachaches, constipation, bladder infections, a yeast infection, vaginitis, and toothaches. Some nights I’d claimed two or three of the discomforts on my list at the same time.

When he suggested that my ailments were probably due to the beginning of menopause, I fell back on that excuse, too. I had had a few hot flashes, sprouted a few stray hairs on my chin, and skipped a few periods, so I wasn’t that far from the truth. But that fact of life gave me something else to be down in the dumps about: I was getting old.

I was no longer a young woman, anybody could see that. But my memory was still sharp enough for me to remember most of my life, which had started in a small town outside Miami. Daddy had run off with a White woman when I was a toddler. My mother had dragged me from Florida onto a segregated train that carried us to Ohio. For a long time the only person we could count on was Scary Mary. Of course Mr. Boatwright had always come through for us—if you didn’t count his nasty ways.

I don’t know what I would have done if Rhoda had not helped me abort old Mr. Boatwright’s baby when I was sixteen. But the most important question I couldn’t answer was what would have eventually become of me if Rhoda had not smothered Mr. Boatwright to death that night so many years ago.

Mr. Boatwright’s murder was the most difficult secret that Rhoda had asked me to keep. But he had been only one of her victims! If everything she had told me was true, her list of victims included her troublesome grandmother, an ex-cop who had shot and killed one of her brothers, a pregnant White girl who had threatened her other brother with a rape charge, and a child molester who had raped and killed the young daughter of one of our friends.

I didn’t condone murder or violence, but there had been times when I’d been forced to protect myself. I was glad that I had never done anything as extreme as Rhoda had done to the people who’d provoked her.

Besides, I was way too humble to play God.

CHAPTER 21

T
ime had brought a lot of changes in my life and the people around me. About ten years ago, after a thirty-year separation, my mother had allowed my daddy back into her bed. People new in their lives had a hard time believing that they had ever been separated. They seemed that natural together. And that was exactly how they had been before Daddy had run off.

The White woman that my daddy had left us for eventually deserted him and their three biracial children. After being in an interracial relationship in the South at a time when it was still segregated and sizzling with racial unrest, the White woman had decided that she wanted to enjoy all the advantages of being White after all. She not only turned her back on Daddy, she also turned her back on the three kids that the ill-fated relationship had produced.

“Like I tell you, girl, and everybody else, time and time again, ‘God don’t like ugly,’” Muh’Dear said with a laugh when she heard the news about the woman leaving Daddy.

And if that sweet revenge was not enough, the White woman’s death in an automobile accident years later brought another caustic comment from my mother. “See there? That home-wreckin’ hussy had it comin,’ and now she won’t be bustin’ up nobody else’s marriage.”

I was glad that Muh’Dear’s bitterness and anger had not rubbed off on me. I had felt bad for everybody involved, even the White woman who had broken up the happy home I’d once known. But I had not been the only innocent young victim. There were three other young people with the same blood I had, who had to piece their lives back together, too.

Two of my half siblings had careers with the military and lived in Germany. I didn’t communicate with them that often, but I spoke to my half sister Lillimae in Florida on a regular basis.

Other than Rhoda, Lillimae was the only other female I felt I could confide in. I had chatted with her several times in the last few weeks. I guess I must not have sounded like my old self to her, because she’d asked me several times if something was wrong.

“Big sister, you don’t sound like yourself lately,” Lillimae had told me the last time I had called her, a week after I’d received the nasty note in my mailbox. “Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about it. And if you need to get away from it all, you are always welcome to come down here for a few days.”

I couldn’t bring myself to tell Lillimae what was on my mind. It was enough to have Rhoda and Jade in on it. I don’t know what I would have done had they not been there for me.

Jade liked to bat around town in her cute little Tercel. Two or three times a week she insisted on picking me up in the morning and taking me to the office and back home at the end of the day.

“Auntie, I am glad to see you smiling like your old self again,” Jade said to me. She had picked me up for work five minutes earlier that Monday morning in September.

“I just hope I can keep smiling,” I said, with a smile that stretched across my face like a river. I let out a loud sigh. Not a sigh of sadness, but one of relief. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so frisky. I was even thinking about sneaking away from work later that morning and going to the barbershop to seduce my husband. If he had customers, I’d wait. But then I’d have to call work and make up a good enough lie that it would get me out of work for as long as it took me to take care of my business. I wasn’t just smiling now. There was a wicked grin on my face. “I’m just glad that whoever sent me that shit and called my house found something better to do with their time.”

Jade had her eyes on the road in front of her, but she still ran a red light. “Maybe they are harassing somebody else now,” Jade suggested. There were no other cars in sight so I didn’t react to Jade’s careless driving.

“I don’t give a shit what they are doing or who they are doing it to. That trifling bitch didn’t know who she was fucking with when she started that mess with me,” I said, my lips snapping so brutally that spit flew out of my mouth. “I wouldn’t want people to know I didn’t have anything better to do with my time. You have to be pretty sorry and pitiful to stoop that low.”

Jade glanced at me as she leaned forward and gripped the steering wheel, driving with so much determination and skill now you would have thought that she was driving an ambulance.

A few moments passed before Jade spoke again. “Did you ever find out who it was?”

I had closed my eyes and leaned my head back. It was just a little past eight in the morning, but the sun had already turned on its autumn heat, which was just as warm as it had been in August. The only difference was it was a lot more muggy. I didn’t know why people in our part of the country called this time of year Indian summer, but it sounded exotic. It was a better time to have picnics and cookouts because some of the annoying bugs and grasshoppers had already disappeared to wherever they go to this time of the year.

My mind was a million miles away but I could still hear Jade’s voice. It took me a while to respond to her last question.

“No, I don’t know who she is and I don’t care. A sorry bitch like that doesn’t deserve any more of my time. I just wish she had kept that shit up long enough for me to find out who she was, so I could have straightened her ass out.” It was rare for me to display anger, but when I did it scared me. I must have scared Jade, too, because I noticed her bottom lip trembling. “Sugar, don’t mind me acting like this. I wish you hadn’t got dragged into my mess. I know how much that telephone call upset you that time. You are like a daughter to me, and I wouldn’t want to see you upset any more than I would my own daughter.”

“Auntie, if that bitch ever starts to fuck with you again, she’ll be sorry.”

I nodded and smiled some more. “In the meantime, you watch your language, girl.” I tapped the side of Jade’s head and we both laughed. “And keep your eyes on the road. You almost jumped that curb just now.”

Right after I commented on Jade’s driving skills, an old memory shot through my mind like a cannonball. Rhoda had been a horrible driver when we were young. Her daddy had bought a used Mustang for her. Before she had learned how to maneuver the vehicle properly, she had knocked over mailboxes and run into more trees with it than anybody I knew. She had used that same car to mow down the ex-cop who had killed her brother. The man’s death had been listed as a hit-and-run. Nobody had questioned Rhoda about the severe dent in the front of her car that she’d come home with that same day. But by then, every body shop in town had worked on Rhoda’s car.

Once again, she’d gotten away with murder.

CHAPTER 22

B
efore we were married, I had told Pee Wee about Rhoda’s crimes even though I had promised her that I wouldn’t. However, some of the secrets I carried around like a sackful of rocks eventually got too heavy for me to handle by myself. I trusted Pee Wee and I knew that my secrets would be his secrets. His response had surprised me. He had been so amused and nonchalant the day I told him, I regretted doing so. I still didn’t know if he believed me or not. It was something that we hadn’t discussed in years. I wanted to leave it that way.

I knew enough about crime to know that there was no statute of limitations when it came to murder. Even though Pee Wee was no longer the type of person who ran all over town spreading rumors and gossip, I had no way of knowing whether he would leak that information anyway. I knew that there was no guarantee that we would remain together. I had a concern that if he married another woman he might share what I’d told him with her. Only God knew what would happen then. Information like that usually found its way to the authorities. And I had every reason to believe that if Rhoda went down, I’d go down with her. At least for Mr. Boatwright’s murder. I gave things a lot of thought now before I shared them with Pee Wee. Like the mess that was going on in my life now.

I had also told Pee Wee about Mr. Boatwright abusing me and the fact that out of desperation I had sold my body to some of Scary Mary’s clients so that I could raise money to leave home. I really don’t know if he believed any of that, either. It had also been years since we’d discussed that confession. The only other person I had shared this same information with was Lillimae. She had believed every word I told her. I couldn’t explain why I had not called her when I got that note in the mail. But even though this was something I didn’t want to share with my husband, I knew that sooner or later Lillimae would pry it out of me.

I called Lillimae from my office but got her answering machine.

“Hey, little sister, it’s Annette. I need to talk to you. Please call me back as soon as you can. I know you are at work now, but don’t call me at home tonight because I can’t talk. Tomorrow, when you can take a break, call me at the office.” I hung up and let out a loud, deep sigh, feeling better already. As soon as I hung up, someone tapped on my door and opened it before I could respond.

“You want to join me and Mom for lunch?” Jade asked.

“Oh, no, sugar. I’m going to run across the street to McDonald’s and grab a salad, I said, sucking in my stomach. Tell your mom I’ll see her at the beauty shop this evening, and afterwards we’ll go for drinks.”

As hard as it was to believe, Rhoda and I got our hair done at the same place. What was even harder to believe was the fact that even though she had four times as much hair as me, they charged me the same amount that they charged her. Rhoda got her hair done once a week. I only had to go every other week. So there was some justice in the world of beauty. My monthly hairdressing bill was half of what she paid. But even on the weeks that I didn’t have to visit my beautician, Rhoda and I had a standing date to meet up at the Red Rose for a couple of drinks.

“OK,” Jade said, her big green eyes slowly looking over my head. “Auntie, no offense, but don’t you think you should consider going back to braids? And the longer and thicker the better. Uh, people are laughing at your bald spots. From the front, your hairline looks like Harry Belafonte’s.”

“My hairline looks like Harry Belafonte’s? What…I…what bald spots?” I asked with a profound gasp. Both hands flew up to my head, patting and feeling around. I plucked my purse out of my desk drawer and fished out my compact.

Jade shut the door and moved over to my desk. “You can’t see them, but other people can,” she informed me. “Especially in the back…and on the sides.”

I gave Jade a thoughtful look before I rolled my eyes upward. “I don’t have a receding hairline.”

“I didn’t say you did.” She rushed around my desk and stood behind me, her fingers raking through the top of my hair. My skin tingled as she inspected my scalp with the tips of her fingers. “But, I swear to God, these bald spots need all the attention you can give them,” Jade complained. “Just look this mess!” Jade walked back from around the desk, shaking her head.

“Who has been laughing at me?” I asked quietly. “Other than Gloria Watson, I mean.” Gloria made fun of a lot of people, so whatever she said about me usually didn’t bother me.

Jade shrugged. “Well, her mostly. She cracks jokes when she’s got an audience.”

“Uh-huh.” I shook my head and shifted in my seat. “You go on to lunch. Paula Barton is out again today and she left a long list on her desk. I’m going to have to make some of her calls.”

“I can help you make some of the calls when I get back, if you want me to,” Jade offered, heading for the door. “Now you just sit there and relax.”

I didn’t like the fact that Jade, at times, held such a high position of authority in my life. There were occasions when I felt like I was the child and she was the adult.

Muh’Dear and a lot of other adults I knew complained that Jade was too mature for her own good, and that it would eventually cause some problems. Not just for Jade but for other people in her life.

“And don’t worry about that bitch,” Jade said. “Me and Mama, we got your back.” Jade gave me a firm nod before she left my office, gently closing the door behind her.

I was worried about
that bitch
. But I was worried about Jade, too.