I said, “Well, yes, they have business tendin to Berta’s business, since she is so young and all. Somebody got to.”
He say, “What you tryin to say?”
I said, “I am sayin I hope to hear bout your weddin soon. Fore you have trouble bout that young girl.”
He say, “Any day now, little Ms. Busy, any day now. Soon.”
I said, “Congratulations then.” And went on home.
After they got married, Berta dropped out of school and went to work to help her husband. He treated her alright. Didn’t beat her none. In about three years they bought a house. A little one. Still livin near me and my husband.
Now, this is a city, but in cities they still have some little towns inside the city. Poor towns. They call em ghettos and it be just like they done moved the country out here to the city cause the people who live out here are country and they brought it with em.
Anyway Spencer put a fence round that house and mowed his lawn in the front and planted a garden in the back. He always have a turkey or a chicken or a duck in the back, he be fattenin up for the next holiday. If they would’a had love, it could have been a little heaven. I thought, but I didn’t know what they had really, cause Berta was shy bout talkin bout her husband.
That was their life. Eat, work, fool around the house, eat, work, fool around the yard. Stay home. First thing they listen to was the radio in the evenings, then when TV came out they finally got one. A little one. They ate, worked, fooled round the house and yard, looked at TV and go on to bed. He didn’t take Berta out and that fence was to keep other people way from her, I think.
Now Berta was not a bad-lookin woman, so I guess he thought he better keep her at home. Safe from all other men. She did whatever he told her to cause she could see she had a little home, a little car and a few little clothes what she could call her own. Wasn’t no foster there.
Berta didn’t love Spencer like no lover. Later she told me, she loved him because he was good to her like nobody else ever was. The FUNdamentals without the fun, but what you gonna do? So she followed her brain and she didn’t do no hopin. Just took life as it looked like it was. It was a necessary life, but it was livin down under the rainbow.
She did that for thirty years. Then … he died.
Berta cried a little for him. He hadn’t been a bad husband. He was in his sixties when he died and she was forty-six. That can be a big difference for a lot of things, but he had been settled and secure. A first for her. Now, he was gone and she was alone.
She’d walk through the little empty house, sadly, and cry some more, cause it was lonely. In time, she began to walk through that little house, sayin, “It’s mine. I got a little house, paid for. A little car, furniture and all that, paid for. It’s all mine. I guess I am secure.” But she was still lonely and she didn’t know for what, cause she really didn’t miss Spencer, she was just used to another person bein in the house.
Spencer hadn’t left her no big insurance or nothin. She did a few jobs of day work a couple days a week and she had his small Social Security check. She had almost always, in the last few years, been able to save her money cause they didn’t have no bills. She was alright if she didn’t move to the left or the right too far or too fast. You know.
She kept the yard and house up, cause she had been doin it alone for years. She just took to lookin even more thoughtful and starin off into space.
Then, one day she just brought all kinds of things out that house and sat em on the sidewalk. Put a sign out that said, “See something you want, take it. I’m throwin it all away.” Now the house was almost empty. She cleaned it up and sat around lookin out in space again.
Soon after that, I visited her like I do, now and again. She was sittin up in her livin room with tears in her eyes. Just sittin.
I ask her, “What’s the matter, Berta? You missin Spencer that much? Still?”
She answered and sounded like she was mad a little. “No, I ain’t missin Spencer, rest his soul. I’m missin life.”
I did understand and I didn’t understand. “Life?”
She said, “Life.” She looked up at me, tears gone now. “I want to be happy in life sometime. Thrilled. Like … that song say; Flyin over the rainbow like a bluebird. There ain’t never been no rainbows in my life.”
I didn’t say nothin, cause I knew what she was talkin about and I didn’t feel like lyin to make nobody feel better.
She went on, “Spencer was alright. But in the beginnin it was like he was my father. In the end, it was like I was his mother. I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t love him. He just was a home for me. We ain’t made love for years and when he was crawlin up on top of me, it still wasn’t nothin cept somethin for him. I ain’t never felt nothin in no sex. I know it’s somethin to feel, cause love is too popular in this world. And I ain’t had none of it. I ain’t never had no climax in life and I am forty-six years old and pretty soon I am goin to die. I ain’t done nothin but wash, cook, clean, rub and look at TV and read a little.”
“Oh, Berta,” I started.
“And I hate that name ‘Berta,’ cause it sounds like a piece of wood! Everything I got is cause somebody else gave it to me. I ain’t never picked my life and nothin in it, for myself.”
“Oh, Berta, I mean …”
“Well, I’m goin to change all that. I’m gonna get me a life of my own. With some love in it! And somebody who’s a man, my age. I’m gonna get me a climax. If I have to build my own rainbow, I will.”
I nodded my head. “You mean a climax to life like some point in it?”
She nodded her head. “That too! But what I mean is a orgasm. A orgasm.” She looked directly at me like she was darin me to disagree or argue with her. “You may think that’s nothin, but you been happy with your husband and you all was the same age and you picked him and he picked you. You ain’t never looked like you was in misery to me, less it was about money. You ain’t never complained bout no lovin. You got your own rainbow.”
I smiled, “Well, I …”
She said, “Well, I am too.”
Over the next few weeks, Berta was buyin things and redoin her house on the inside. I offered her my help, but she said, “No, I’m gonna do this all by myself.” And she did.
When it was finished, I went to see it. She had kept the twin beds in the bedroom, but everything else was changed. It was furnished nice, but it was somethin about it like the Arabian Nights lady. And she had incense burnin. Flowin drapes, soft material couch, low tables and such. Soft colors. That little house didn’t know what to do with itself!
I told her, “It looks good. Like a woman’s house. You really workin on it.”
She switched her little behind on by me. “And I ain’t through.”
When I left her house I was in wonder, but I smiled cause I blive people should build their life like they want to. I passed Ms. Winch, a widow and Berta’s closest neighbor, who came out to the gate as I passed.
Ms. Winch smiled and beckoned to me. “Girl, what does her house look like? I seen all that stuff they was bringin in there. That ain’t no real spensive stuff, but it ain’t cheap either! She spendin that man’s money like it was water. You better tell her somethin! His dyin done made a fool of that woman!”
Now, I don’t worry bout what people think, less it’s my husband. I just told Ms. Winch, “That man’s money is her money too. She is a young woman. She ain’t old as me and I ain’t old as you. So if she don’t do some livin now, when she gonna do it?”
Ms. Winch said, “Well, you a fool too,” and went on back in her house her husband left her that was still just like the day he died and left it a long time ago.
Now, I thought about what Ms. Winch said. I realized that I had always thought when a woman got to be round forty, forty-five years old, her life was over, in a way of speakin. She was sposed to be lonely if her husband died and she was that age. But I wasn’t so sure that was true. Who has to be alone just cause somebody left or died?
&
nbsp; Now, I don’t know was it a magazine or the TV gave her the idea, cause she had always done her own hair. But Berta commence to goin to the hairdresser and had her hair cut and styled. Then she started shoppin and dressin different. When I visited her one day, on her beautiful new dresser she had a rack of face creams and such, to get rid of wrinkles and such. She even had some on her face!
Well, I smiled to myself and was glad for her. Hell, be happy doin what you want to do.
Then, one day she jumped out that little car of hers and I looked in her face to say “hello” and Berta had her face made up. And was lookin good! She was gettin a new look! She looked so proud of herself and I was proud for her. Berta looked ten years younger! Well, her life had been slow, so her face wasn’t raged with time noway.
I followed her in her house. I liked goin in there, it made me feel … different somehow. Like a lady, a woman. And I know I always been one anyway, but this was a different woman. I started to say, “Berta? Girl, you look good!”
She smiled, a happy smile, and said, “My name ain’t Berta no more. I got another name. My middle name is Marie and I’m addin a ‘La’ to it, so now my name is LaMarie.” We laughed together and I said, “All right, LaMarie!”
She poured some Dubonnet wine in some pretty little glasses, handed me one and said, “This ain’t nothin bad, they use it in church sometime.”
We sipped a minute. I don’t know why, but I felt like a modern lady.
She spoke first. “You know … some of the men from my church done come here to see me. They were nice. Maybe I could’a liked one of em, but they just all remind me of Spencer. I don’t intend to make love with Spencer again, in no way. The only one who didn’t remind me of Spencer, I really did like, but he didn’t come back no more. That hurt. I have not tried sex with anybody, so it can’t be sex. But he didn’t even come back to try to get some. That means there is somethin I didn’t have that somebody else has. Well, I got to wonderin what it was.”
I took another sip of wine. “Well, there ain’t nothin wrong with you, Ber … LaMarie.”
She waved her hand at me. “I am makin myself over.”
I had to put my two cents in. “My aunt says if you are too easy to get, they don’t want you no more.”
She poured two more little drinks. “Your aunt got good sense. And that can hurt more, cause you done gave em some and they don’t want no more. Lord, ain’t people got a lot of ways to be hurt?” She sipped some more. Her eyes were bright and I just knew she had somethin she wanted to say.
She did. “Listen, girl, do you know that ‘On the streets’ you don’t need to look for no man? That they come lookin for you?”
I sat my glass down after I emptied it. “On the streets? What you talkin about? They ain’t lookin for you, they lookin for anybody for twenty or thirty minutes! Them are strangers! You don’t want no stranger!”
She sat her glass down. “No, I don’t. But I been down there in the French Quarter, watchin them women. They don’t look too sad.”
I butted in. “They don’t get paid for lookin sad.”
She leaned forward in her fancy chair. “Yes, they look sad, but they don’t look lonely.”
I poured my own little glass of wine, I needed it. “They some of the loneliest people on earth. Even their own man don’t really want em.”
She shook her head. “They get plenty sex.”
I said, “Ummm hummm, too much sex. You ain’t talkin bout bein no prostitute at your age. At any age. Are you?”
She sat back, shakin her new-done head. “I just figure if the men go there to see women, they must not have a woman of their own at home. Now … one of them men got to be a good man, bout my age, just lost for a while. I might be the one who catches him. I ain’t dyin of old age yet, and I figure if I am clean and good. A Christian woman … they’ll think of that! Then, I will have the love of my life, maybe. And he must like sex, or he wouldn’t be there! I ain’t never in my life felt a twinge down there. Not even a tweak! I don’t think I’m no sex maniac, but I know one thing. I meeeean to see what that stuff is all about and I’m gonna feel somethin (she pointed) down there fore I die! Now!”
It was my turn. I said, “Them men don’t go down there for no love. For no good! They go down there for nookey.”
“Well, I got some. I ain’t gonna do it with everybody, Retha! I’m gonna be lookin for the ONE I might want to maybe marry.”
I shook my head. “Well, if that don’t beat all. Goin to the gutter to find a husband! I done heard of everything now! I done heard of all kinds of ways to get a husband, but I ain’t never heard of this way! This is dangerous. You could lose your life out there, stead of finding some love. People don’t care bout killin you out there in them streets. Give me another glass, I’ll buy you some more today.”
LaMarie got up to pour the wine. “Well, what am I gonna do? I’m not young. And I’m not old. But, I am lonely … and this is the way I see to do it.”
I went home later, thinkin to myself, “She is a fool. But she won’t be out there long. She gonna see ain’t nothin out there worth havin. It’s diseases out there that eat up penicillin, belch and go on bout their dirty death business.” I got home to my safe home and locked the door.
Anyway, she went. In the evenins. She would leave her car home, take the bus, get off in the middle of all that stuff and just walk. She always wore a neat dress, a cute hat, white gloves and neat little shoes. She look like she was goin to church. LaMarie, LaMarie.
Next time we talked, she told me, “No, I ain’t done it yet. Can’t. It’s some of all kind of people down there. I just tell the men I already got a date and I’m waitin for him. I have a drink at a bar now and then, but I’m careful cause I don’t want none of them knockout things put in my drink. Mostly I just sit at the bus stop. Lookin.”
I sighed. “Thank God for you not doin it yet.”
She said, “Some of them young women laugh at me. And some of em get mad and tell me don’t stand on their corner. I just tell them I pay tax for that corner and I’ll stand there if I want to. But, mostly, I sit at the bus stop. It’s so much to see! It’s life, but it’s a dead life. Them people ain’t happy! Them men beat them women! One of them men ask me who my man was, I said ‘Jesus.’ He said, ‘Do He know you out here sellin His soul?’ I said, ‘I ain’t sold nothin yet.’ Everybody laughed and said I was crazy. But I think they’re crazy. One woman had been down there all day, tryin to get money to pay her rent, she said, cause she got kids at home. She made $5.00 each time for four times, then some of them other people took her money from her. She was cryin on my shoulder and I felt sorry for her and gave her $20 out of my own Social Security money. I’m glad I could help her, poor thing.”
It was so sad, it was funny. I said, “You was her trick. She just used you. She lied and took your money!”
LaMarie looked at me a long minute. Said, “I hope not. But, if she did, anyway I did the right thing.”
I began to pray for LaMarie. She had a good heart. And she needed God’s help.
LaMarie didn’t go out there every evening and when she did she was home before ten o’clock at night. Sometimes she just stayed home, looked at TV, fooled around her house or soaked her feet. She hadn’t never took one of them men home yet, she was still lookin.
After awhile, she’d go again. Her style was changin and her clothes was gettin a little bit shorter and flashy. But she still wore the little white gloves and her little secretary-lookin hat. I started worryin again. Ms. Winch caught me one day walkin past her house, said, “Berta LaMarie must have a evenin job in some night club somewhere, don’t she? She always goin off somewhere in the evenins and she dressin up all the time like a courtin woman. I know somethin is goin on.”
I just said, “Well, tell me one day when I have time,” and kept walkin.
I worried. I really worried. But I found out later, I needn’t to have. Cause LaMarie was bein watched by somebody else.
LaMarie
was always tellin me about her favorite bus stop where she felt safe. She told me about the older man, called C.C., worked in a storefront sold cigarettes, candy, gum, soda water, small bottles of wine, peanuts, you know, stuff like that. She said he was bout fifty-two years old, somewhere in there.
He told me later, in truth he had been watchin her since the first day she was out there in them streets at that bus stop.
C.C. ask the men goin in and out of the shop, “Who is that woman and who put that ole lady out on the street?” All them men laughed and said they didn’t know her, but she wasn’t no trouble cause she didn’t take no dates. She just walk around and sit around and smile like a fool.
One of them men said, “I blive she got some money of her own. If she keep foolin round out here, I’m goin to relieve her of it. I’m watchin her. I always say ‘Hello’ to her. One of these days, when I got time, I’m gonna sit down on that bench and tell her the story of my life and her life. Then … I’ll see what she got and soon I’ll have it.” They all laughed.
The man didn’t tell them that he had already told his woman to make friends with LaMarie, get her trust. So he could take LaMarie’s love and then her money. He didn’t want to put anything in the slow-thinkin minds of the other men.
C.C. just nodded and spit out the side of his mouth. (I just hate that spittin stuff, don’t you? Men do it all the time!)
I think the next evenin or so, LaMarie went down there and was sittin on the bus bench with her little hat and white gloves. When it got dark, this man, C.C., went over and stood by the bench, watchin LaMarie. She didn’t seem to pay him no mind. He decided to speak to her.
“May I ask you somethin, lady?”
She looked over at him. “What … do you want to ask me?”
“I been seein you for a couple of weeks now, and I just wondered. Do you work close to here and this is just the place where you catch your bus?”
LaMarie slightly smiled. “Nooo. I don’t work.”
C.C. put his foot up on the bench, “Well, what you doin sittin down here all the time.”
Some Love, Some Pain, Sometime Page 5
