by Mary Monroe
“We aren’t goin’ to do anything. Your mama’s goin’ to come home and see us sittin’ here cryin’ like babies over Martin Luther King, then she’ll go hunt up Buttwright and find him dead in bed.”
“She’ll ask us what happened. The police will come. They’ll do an autopsy—”
“Let them do all the autopsies they want. Just like I told you, he just stopped breathin’. That’s what they’ll say.”
Muh’Dear was surprised to come home and find Rhoda still at our house close to midnight sitting stock-still on our living room couch with a blank expression on her face.
“Rhoda, you all right, child?” Muh’Dear asked tiredly as she unbuttoned her coat. She was so used to seeing a dramatic and animated Rhoda. “Your mama and daddy know where you at?” A flat ponytail was matted to the side of Muh’Dear’s face.
“Oh yes, Ma’am. My mama told me I could stay here ’til you got home so Annette wouldn’t be by herself.”
Muh’Dear looked around the room and asked, “Where is Brother Boatwright? At Scary Mary’s, with Johnny, or is he at that special church service for Dr. King singin’ one of his hymns?”
“No Ma’am. He’s in the bed,” I said quickly. “He wasn’t feeling too good.”
“He wasn’t lookin’ too good either,” Rhoda commented.
“Let him rest. I have some rhubarb I was goin’ to let him sample tonight.” Muh’Dear sighed. “If y’all don’t mind, I’m goin’ to turn in.” Muh’Dear’s voice trailed off. We sat still until we heard her bedroom door slam.
“Oh God. She won’t find him until tomorrow,” Rhoda said, rising. “I guess I better get on home now,” she added, sounding nervous for the first time since Mr. Boatwright’s murder.
I stood up, too. “I’ll call you as soon as she finds him,” I managed. “OK?”
“OK. If you cry—” She paused and stabbed my chest with her finger for more emphasis. “Cry when she tells you. Don’t faint or anythin’ drastic like that. He wasn’t a blood relative, so everybody is goin’ to expect your grief to be limited. Do you hear me?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, nodding my aching head. “I’ll try.”
“What do you mean, you’ll try?”
“It’ll be hard,” I told her, rubbing the spot on my chest where she’d jabbed me.
“You make it sound like a game. A man is dead because you killed him.”
“Well, you’re finally free, Annette. Isn’t that what you wanted more than anythin’ in the world?”
“That’s what you wanted. I just wanted him to stop molesting me.”
Rhoda let out a long sigh of disgust and glared at me.
“You drag me into your mess and beg me to help you and I did. Oh it took me a while, but I did. Would it make you happy to see me in jail? And what about your mama? If I go to jail, I will have to tell the whole world why I killed Buttwright. You know what a scandal that would cause? Whose goin’ to want your mama workin’ for them when they find out she moved a rapist into her house?”
“Muh’Dear didn’t know what he really was,” I reminded, my hand in the air.
“It won’t matter that she didn’t know. She’ll still be part of this mess.”
“I hadn’t thought about all that.” I sobbed. I took a deep breath and looked in Rhoda’s hard, angry face.
Suddenly, she seemed to soften right before my eyes. “Just remember, now you can live a normal life like me.” She smiled, caressing my face. Her touch felt as cold as ice.
I nodded so hard my neck hurt. “I’m just so scared, Rhoda,” I choked out.
“This’ll be our secret ’til the day we die. Nobody but me and you will ever have to know,” Rhoda said, talking in a slow, controlled manner.
“God’ll know,” I whispered. A pensive look appeared on Rhoda’s face. She blinked hard, but tears still formed in her eyes. “Rhoda?”
“What?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yeah…” she mumbled, lowering her head.
“God knows what you did to Mr. Boatwright,” I said firmly.
“I know He does.” She tried to sound casual about it, but I knew she was worried about what kind of payback we would have to deal with down the road. I know I was.
CHAPTER 35
I didn’t sleep at all the night Mr. Boatwright died. Instead, I moved back and forth from my bed to my bedroom window. On the bed I just sat with my hands on my lap with Rhoda’s confession repeatedly going through my head. My fear of getting caught was so intense I had to run to the bathroom three different times to throw up. Each time I forced myself to go to Mr. Boatwright’s room to check on him. Now his body was cold, and he was starting to turn gray. The light was still on, and I left it that way. When I got tired and numb from sitting on the bed in the same position so long, I stood in front of my window looking up toward the sky trying to picture God and figure out what He planned to do to me for my part in Mr. Boatwright’s murder.
“I noticed Brother Boatwright’s light still on around 2 A.M. when I went to the toilet. It’s still on,” Muh’Dear commented as we ate breakfast the next morning. I had gotten up and prepared grits and coffee.
“Uh…he’s left his light on all night before,” I said quickly. “The assassination really upset him.”
Muh’Dear nodded and sipped her coffee. “Oh, it’s got everybody upset. Even Judge Lawson can barely get out the bed. Oh well, since Brother Boatwright the one that pay the light bill, he can keep his bedroom light on much as he wants to.” She finished her coffee and rose. “I got to walk to work again, so I best start steppin’.” She left the kitchen and returned a few minutes later clutching her purse and buttoning her coat. I was still sitting at the kitchen table with half the food left on my plate untouched. “What’s the matter with you, girl?” Muh’Dear asked. She stopped buttoning her coat and walked over to me and looked in my face.
“Ma’am?” Since I had not gone to bed the night before, I still had on the same clothes from the day before and hadn’t taken a bath or even washed my face.
“You just sittin’ there daydreamin’, ignorin’ all that good food. What’s on your mind?” She moved back a step and placed a hand on her hip. “If it’s boys, get ’em off right now,” she warned.
“It’s nothing, Muh’Dear.”
“Well whatever it is, you better watch your step.” Muh’Dear moved closer to me and leaned over and kissed my forehead, then smiled, “When Brother Boatwright wake up tell him I’m sorry I ain’t been around to say nothin’ to him in the mornin’ lately. I’ll be walkin’ to and from work ’til this riot mess is over with and the buses get back on route.”
“Can I go to Rhoda’s house later on, Muh’Dear?” I begged.
She started shaking her head right away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Them Nelsons got enough on they hands with that Johnny and Lola livin’ there now.” Muh’Dear started to leave but turned around fumbling with her purse. She opened it and removed two five-dollar bills and dropped them on the table next to my plate. “Go over to the Food Bucket today and pick up some poke salad greens, neckbones, and whatever else Brother Boatwright wants to cook for supper.”
I slid the money into my blouse pocket. “I’ll stay in Rhoda’s room watching her TV. Maybe I can get her to drive me to the market, too,” I said, blinking hard at Muh’Dear as she gave me an exasperated look.
“I don’t want you to leave Brother Boatwright alone today at a time like this. Rhoda’s mama and daddy there to keep one another company. Plus Lola and that stooge Johnny. You tell Rhoda to come over here. That way you and her both can keep Brother Boatwright company.”
As soon as Muh’Dear left, I called Rhoda. “She didn’t find him yet! I can’t come to your house today, but she said you can come over here.”
“OK. Let me finish my perm.” Rhoda agreed tiredly.
She arrived a half hour later with a pan of freshly made candy for me. Before she sat down, she ran up to Mr. Boatwrigh
t’s room and felt his forehead. I was right behind her.
She looked around the room, then ran to his dresser and snatched open the top drawer. “Where is that gun he used to pull on you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it in a long time.”
Rhoda searched until she located the gun in the drawer of his nightstand. She sucked in her breath and looked at it for several minutes. Then she glanced at me and nodded, “It’s a fake! All this time he was threatenin’ you with a fake gun!”
I moved over to her and looked at the gun as she held it up in front of my face. “How do you know it’s not real?” I asked in a scratchy voice, unable to take my eyes off the gun.
“Because I know guns like I know the back of my hand. Uncle Johnny’s got a gun. My daddy’s got three. Uncle Carmine’s got a roomful. If anybody knows a real gun when they see one, it’s me.”
I touched the gun. Without another word Rhoda placed it in my trembling hand, and I inspected it thoroughly. “It is fake,” I mumbled, looking in Rhoda’s eyes.
We left Mr. Boatwright’s room and went downstairs, where we sat on the living-room couch most of the day going over the situation and staring at the TV between pauses in our conversation. “I can’t believe he’s dead,” I kept saying. “Well he is, and there is nothin’ we can do to change things,” Rhoda repeatedly told me. Around 2 P.M. we moved to the kitchen and finished what was left of the tea.
“What do we do now? There’s nothin’ but news programs on TV, and I’m gettin’ real bored,” Rhoda said, stretching and looking around the kitchen.
“I almost forgot. Can you drive me to the Food Bucket to pick up a few things for Mr. Boatwright to…”
“Sure,” Rhoda said, rising. She touched my shoulder, and said firmly, “He’s dead, and he won’t be cookin’ or doin’ anythin’ else anymore.” Rhoda brushed off her silk blouse and let out a low whistle. “That Food Bucket is such a dump.”
“I don’t have enough money to go to Kroger’s or the A&P,” I wailed, rising.
“I’ll pay for it,” Rhoda indicated.
She drove me to the A&P, and we were back in my kitchen within an hour staring at a pizza we had picked up but now couldn’t eat.
“We’re goin’ to have to act normal. We’re actin’ like zombies,” Rhoda told me.
“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled. The food I’d picked up from the market was still in the bag on the counter. Around four, Rhoda’s mother called.
“I have to go home to help Aunt Lola do the laundry,” Rhoda breathed. She placed the phone back into its cradle and just stood in front of me staring at the pizza container. “I shouldn’t have told you, huh?” she said softly, her voice cracking.
“Shouldn’t have told me what?” I asked, not looking at her.
“What I did to Buttwright. You would never have known, and you wouldn’t be feelin’ the way you are now.”
“But you’re feeling sick, too. You didn’t even touch that pizza,” I told her, searching her eyes.
I think Rhoda was feeling the way she was because of how I was feeling more than she was about killing Mr. Boatwright.
“I can’t stay in this house by myself with a dead man,” I wailed. Rising, I grabbed her wrists. “Call your mama back and ask if you can do the laundry later,” I begged.
Rhoda shook her head. “We have to act normal so nobody will get suspicious and start askin’ questions. Don’t be afraid to be in the house alone with him.” She smiled and shook her head slowly. “He can’t hurt you now.”
“But he’s dead! I’m scared of dead people.”
“Girl, I’m always in my house alone with dead people. Sometimes two and three at a time.”
“But I’m scared—”
“Then come to my house. You can help do the laundry, then we can watch TV in my room. Buttwright’s not around to tell your mama, so she won’t know you came over. Besides, I got some new paperbacks I’m ready to pass on to you,” Rhoda said impatiently.
“I can’t. Muh’Dear might call or come home early. She told me to stay in the house.”
“All right. I’ll bring some more tea when I come back,” she promised. She called an hour later.
“When are you coming back?” I asked, sobbing. My hand was shaking so hard I could hardly hold the telephone. The longer Mr. Boatwright remained undiscovered, the more nervous I became. Every little noise made me almost jump out of my skin. There was a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat.
“I have to help Aunt Lola finish the laundry, then go to this political gatherin’ with my folks that I just found out about. I can’t see you again until tomorrow.”
“Oh no,” I mumbled. A long silence followed.
“Did you hear what I said? I gotta go somewhere with my folks.”
“Yeah, I heard you. What time will you be home, Rhoda?”
“I don’t know. If it’s not too late, I’ll call you.”
Three hours later, Muh’Dear wandered in, dropping her coat on the kitchen floor. Before saying a word, she lifted the lid off the pot I’d cooked the greens and neckbones in, grabbed a fork off the counter, and started fishing greens out.
“Brother Boatwright in the bed already?” she asked with her mouth full. It was odd for him to be in bed two nights in a row when she got home. “He sick?” She talked with her back to me.
“Um…he didn’t get out the bed at all today,” I told Muh’Dear. She whirled around and looked at me for what felt like an eternity, still chewing. “He is an old man, now, Muh’Dear. He needs all the rest he can get…”
I can’t say how I really felt about what had happened to Mr. Boatwright at that moment. My feelings changed from one minute to the next. I was relieved that my abuse had ended, but I was afraid that sooner or later somebody would find out Rhoda had killed old Mr. Boatwright and that I knew about it all along. As strange as it may sound, I missed that old goat. He had become a part of my life, and in many ways he had replaced the father who had abandoned me. For those reasons, I felt like hell. One fear I had was, what if another man entered my life and took up where Mr. Boatwright left off? Would Rhoda kill him, too?
“I guess you right. Let him rest, bless his heart.” Muh’Dear swallowed, yawned, stretched her arms, then leaned down and picked her coat up from the floor. “I’ll check to see if he need anythin’ in the mornin’ before I leave.”
I spent another night just sitting up. This time in front of the TV in the living room instead of my room looking out the window at the sky trying to bargain with God. The television didn’t hold my attention, but I kept it on anyway. Every time I heard a car outside, I ran to the window to see if it was Rhoda.
I was desperate for something to happen, and it had to happen soon. I did manage to doze off for a brief moment around eleven but woke up as soon as I started having a dark dream about Mr. Boatwright chasing me with his fake leg.
Another hour went by before I heard another car. Rhoda and her folks had finally returned. I watched them get out and as soon as I saw Rhoda go in the house I called. “Muh’Dear didn’t find Mr. Boatwright yet,” I told her. Even though there was nobody in the room to hear my end of the conversation, I was holding the telephone receiver close to my face, and I was whispering.
“Hmmm…Uh…I can’t talk about that right now.” Rhoda lowered her voice and continued, “We’ll figure out somethin’ in the mornin’.”
“It can’t wait until morning. I’m about to have a complete nervous breakdown, girl,” I hissed, looking over my shoulder. My head was pounding, my ears were ringing, and my stomach was in knots. This mess was making me sick. I held the phone away from my face and just looked at it. “Rhoda, I’ve got to do something soon, or I’ll go crazy.” A frightening silence followed.
“What are you goin’ to do?” Rhoda asked.
“I’m goin’ to go tell my mama that Mr. Boatwright died.”
“And?”
“And what?” I asked.
“And that he died
in his sleep?” Rhoda wailed.
“O…K,” I managed.
“That is what happened, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Rhoda. That is what happened,” I agreed.
CHAPTER 36
I was already in the kitchen making breakfast when Muh’Dear walked in the next morning. She was dressed for work and seemed in a hurry. She had her coat on and it was already buttoned. “I swear to God, Brother Boatwright sleepin’ so hard he wouldn’t know if the house was on fire,” she muttered, a pensive look on her face. “Between you and me, Brother Boatwright’s room smell like a outhouse! I cracked open a window to let in some fresh air. I ain’t never smelled nothin that loud…” A puzzled look appeared on Muh’Dear’s face.
I dropped my plate to the floor.
“You went in his room?” My lips snapped brutally over each word.
Muh’Dear looked from the floor to me, shaking her head. “You clean them grits up off that floor and rewax it just like it was.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I grabbed a towel off the counter and dropped to the floor so hard I skinned my knees.
“I left him a note and told him to call me at Judge Lawson’s house if he want me to brin’ him somethin’ home. Hmmmm. I don’t rightly know what ails him, though. Do you?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“He ain’t told you nothin’?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“He ain’t got no color to him, and he so cold.” Muh’Dear poured herself a cup of coffee and shrugged. “Bless his soul.” She finished her coffee and left.
I called Rhoda immediately. She was at the door within minutes.
“OK. She’s got to find him tonight. He’s goin’ to smell before long. Then he’ll start to rot. Lord, what a mess that would be.” Rhoda moaned.
Somehow I made it through the schoolday. Rhoda was waiting for me in front of the school after my last class.
Looking around first, she moved close to me, and said, “I’m goin’ home with you. I’m goin’ to be there when your mama comes home. We’ve got to figure out a way to get her to realize that man is dead, and we’ve got to do it tonight,” she informed me stiffly.
