God Ain't Through Yet

by Mary Monroe

  “I don’t know if that had anything to do with them asking me to leave. Everybody was always so nice to me, especially the customers. But the real reason is because my boss’s baby brother—a beady-eyed so and so with no teeth—came on to me.” Lizzie paused and gave me a wan look. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but I couldn’t control my thoughts about what she’d just said.

  “You’re kidding,” I wailed, looking at her in disbelief.

  “No, I am not kidding.”

  Sexual harassment was one phrase that I couldn’t fathom being used in regard to Lizzie. She was the last person I’d expect to have to worry about somebody trying to get into her panties. One of our former classmates, an ugly, pimply-faced boy at that, had once told her in front of me and several other classmates that she was as appealing as an enema, and that he would not fuck her with a dog’s dick. I didn’t like what I was thinking. If anybody should have known better, it was me. Sex was not always about how somebody looked. One of my mother’s former men friends had taught me that. During the ten years that Mr. Boatwright raped me, he had me convinced that because I was so black and ugly, nobody else would want to fuck me. Therefore, he had to do it because he felt sorry for me.

  Apparently, that old pervert’s convoluted opinions had rubbed off on me.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Lizzie,” I said, apologizing more for my thoughts than I was about what she’d just told me.

  “When I rejected him, he made a lot of noise about me having black blood and thinking I was better than ‘real’ white folks. It caused such a disruption my boss thought it’d be better for me to work someplace else. He also said something about a ‘conflict of interest.’”

  “Was it the baby brother’s word against yours?”

  “Yeah. He came after me one evening when I was the last one in the shop. I was waiting on a cab when he practically forced me to get in his truck so he could give me a ride home. He started talking nasty before he even turned on the motor. That’s when he told me about a bet he’d made with his friends to see which one of them could get me into bed first. The winner was to get twenty dollars.”

  “Oh?”

  “Twenty dollars. That was all I was worth to him. Can you imagine what that did to my self-esteem?”

  “I can imagine….”

  “He even tried to…pay me to…you know. For ten dollars.” Her face tightened, and she seemed to be anxious and even more uncomfortable now. “He had the nerve to tell me that I should be flattered that a man like him would want to, excuse my language, ‘fuck a douche bag’ like me,” she said with a smirk. “I’m not that desperate,” she insisted. “I care a lot about myself, Annette. I want a man that I can be proud of. I know I don’t look it, but I am not the type to let people walk all over me. I am not a pushover, and if you hire me, you will see that right off the bat.”

  I nodded. “So you’re telling me that you got fired because you made your boss’s toothless brother mad?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “Lizzie, I know it was not easy for you to tell me your story, but I appreciate you being honest. I won’t bother to call your former boss to verify what you just told me. I already know he will have a totally different version of the events.” I winked at Lizzie. This gesture put her more at ease. The tight look disappeared from her face and she smiled again.

  We spent only a few minutes discussing her qualifications and expectations. Then we spent the next half hour reminiscing about our junior high and high school days. For each horror story she shared about a bully-related incident that she had survived, I had one of my own.

  “I was so beaten down by the time I graduated from Richland High, all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and stay here,” she told me with tears in her eyes. She went on to tell me that other than her mother, her stepfather, and a few friends and relatives, she didn’t associate with a lot of people. She drove a Ford station wagon that she referred to as her “baby.” Now that was pathetic. I had heard of people referring to their pets like that, but this was the first time I heard somebody use that word in reference to a car. Lizzie seemed to like talking about herself, so I encouraged her by listening with wide eyes and nodding at the appropriate times.

  She told me that when she was at home, she watched TV with her parents and spent the rest of her spare time in the bedroom she shared with her dreams, doing crossword puzzles and reading romance novels.

  It was hard, but I forced myself not to give Lizzie too many pitiful looks. “How come you never got married?” I asked dumbly.

  A panic-stricken look promptly appeared on her face. “Married? Who me? I have never even had a boyfriend or a date. Except the times I go line dancing with my cross-eyed cousin, Lawrence.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “Well, I am not dead yet. And I’m not that old, so there’s still a chance that I will find a man and get married. I’ve had fun along the way, though.” Then she gave me a mysterious look. “Did you know I went to Woodstock?”

  Now that was a shocking piece of information. “You? No, I didn’t know.”

  She nodded. “And during the summer of ’69, I spent a couple of months in Berkeley, too. I have some distant cousins out there.” She paused and a faraway look appeared on her face. Her voice sounded disembodied as she continued speaking. “We happened to be in L.A. for a folk music concert that August when the Manson murders occurred. I couldn’t get back to Berkeley fast enough. I stayed high on acid for the next five days.” She must have noticed how my face stiffened, because right after that admission, she said, “I haven’t touched drugs since! Not even weed.”

  It was hard for me to put drugs and Lizzie in the same thought. But I didn’t like to judge people. I didn’t even want to think what my straight-laced boss, and some of the people from church, would think or say if they knew I’d occasionally smoked weed with Pee Wee. Or worse yet, the fact that I’d once worked as a prostitute. I was proof that it was possible for people to change for the better.

  “You’ve come a long way,” I said.

  “I had to. Woodstock and Berkeley were too much for me. The drugs, the wall-to-wall sex…”

  “Oh. Uh, did you meet anybody interesting during that time, or any other time?” I didn’t want to get too personal. I wondered if she was still a virgin like my mother had implied. Not that it mattered, but after some of the things that Muh’Dear had said about Lizzie, I had become quite curious about her.

  “I haven’t met anybody interesting recently, but back in the sixties when I was in Berkeley I got caught up in that hippie thing.” Lizzie suddenly shut down. Her mood changed and she didn’t seem as animated as she’d been a few minutes before. “If I hadn’t come back home when I did, I might not be here today.”

  “Well, I am glad you are here today.”

  A sad look appeared on her face and she locked eyes with me. “Mama is so worried that after she dies I’ll grow old alone,” she bleated. It sounded almost like a cry for help. “I’ve been ready to settle down for a long time.”

  “Tell me about it. I didn’t get married until about ten years ago,” I told her.

  “You know, I hate it when people bring up that subject.” She gave me a misty-eyed look and I wanted to crawl under the table.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought…”

  “I understand, Annette. I brought it up this time, and only because it might influence your decision,” she said, holding up her hand, drawing my attention to her nails. She had small, slender hands like the kind you see on models on TV and in magazine ads. But her nails looked like a dog had been gnawing on them. That was not so unusual. Most of the women who did my nails at the various shops I went to neglected their own. I had decided a long time ago that raggedy nails had to be a job requirement in some nail shops, so that was one flaw in her that I could overlook. “I know what you mean, and I know you are not trying to hurt my feelings. That’s more than I can say about some of the people I k
now. Most of the people I come in contact with think that a woman my age has done something with her life, and I have. I usually get jobs I like, I live in a nice house, and I have plenty of food to eat, and I’ve got my health.” She tilted her chin up and stuck out her chest, which was almost as flat as her ponytail. “I enjoy spending time with my mama, and that’s more than a lot of people can say. And as far as the romantic side of my life goes, well…” Lizzie paused and shrugged. “I truly believe that there is somebody out there for me.”

  “Lizzie, let me assure you that there is somebody out there for you. It took me a long time to find my soul mate.” I laughed. “And the funny thing about it was, he was right up under my nose all that time. We’d been friends all along!” It had been a long time since I’d had such a “girly” conversation with a woman other than Rhoda. And even though Lizzie could never compete with Rhoda, she was a refreshing diversion.

  “That’s right! You and Pee Wee were friends all through our school years.” Lizzie and I both laughed. “Well, like I said, I believe there is somebody out there for me. And my soul mate might already be right up under my nose, too, huh?”

  “He sure could be, girl,” I said. I had no idea how prophetic my statement was.

  CHAPTER 20

  Lizzie seemed like such a sweet person. She seemed like the kind of woman who would go out of her way to please a man—if she had one. She reminded me of myself in that respect; always willing to accommodate somebody else. However, I was hoping that she was more interested in employment than romance right now. Despite what I’d just said to her about her finding her soul mate, I didn’t think she’d be writhing in ecstasy in any man’s arms anytime soon.

  “Are you interested in anyone right now, Lizzie?” I asked. “I hope I am not being too personal, and I don’t want you to think I’m asking you this because I’m nosy,” I said with my hand in the air. “The only reason I’m asking is because my husband doesn’t want to hire someone, then have her up and run off to get married and leave him in a lurch.”

  Lizzie shook her head vigorously and sighed. “I’m still looking for Mr. Right.” Then she gave me a sad, brief smile. “I am very picky. I have high standards. I refuse to settle for just any man who comes along. I don’t care how long I live and how lonely I get, I would never up and marry somebody just for the sake of it. And it doesn’t bother me that people laugh at me behind my back because they think I’m still a virgin. That’s one of the things I am most proud of—the fact that I don’t sleep around. There are some women who stay virgins all their lives. Besides, people have been laughing at me behind my back since I was a baby because of my leg. But I’m happier than most people, so I don’t let any of that bother me.”

  “Whether you’re still a virgin or not is your business.” Despite what I’d just said, I was dying of curiosity.

  The more Lizzie revealed about herself, the more I wanted to get to know her better. She was a dark horse, but she had a very bright outlook on life. With her positive attitude she was going to make it through life with a smile on her face, whether she landed a husband, and a good job, or not. She knew it, too, because there was a confident twinkle in her eyes. I hoped that if things did work out between her and Pee Wee, she would not be just another employee. It would be nice to have her as our friend as well.

  “And guess what, Annette? My car is paid for, and it drives as good now as it did when I bought it off that used car lot in Akron four years ago.” Right after she finished her last sentence, she leaned back in her seat and gave me a broad smile, revealing some of the healthiest looking and whitest teeth I’d ever seen. You would have thought that she’d just shared a naughty little secret with me about a tryst with Mr. Right, not a used Ford station wagon.

  “Would you have a problem working with only male coworkers? My husband’s barbershop caters mainly to men. However, he gets a few women in there to get their hair trimmed from time to time.”

  Lizzie shook her head again. “Not at all! When I worked at a barbershop in Cleveland a few years ago, all of my coworkers were men. That didn’t bother me. Besides, the shop I just got fired from catered to women, but it was because of a situation with a man that I got let go. I am real flexible. I can adapt to just about anything. Being surrounded by males is not a problem for me. And another thing, I was the only girl in Mr. Hand’s shop class back in eleventh grade.”

  Her last statement led us back to discussing the “good old days” at Richland High. That was all we talked about for the next few minutes. I didn’t realize how much time had passed until our waitress asked us if we’d be ordering lunch.

  “Oh!” I looked at my watch. “Uh, Lizzie, I didn’t mean to take up this much of your time,” I said, giving her and our waitress an apologetic look. “If you don’t have any other appointments, or any other place to go this morning, I would love to treat you to a nice lunch.”

  “I’d like a Caesar salad and a diet Coke,” Lizzie told the waitress.

  “Make that two,” I added.

  We started poking at our salads as soon as they arrived and ordered more coffee. “Annette, I don’t know how many folks you’ve already interviewed, or how many more you plan to talk to, but I want you to know right now that I want this job. I’m good at what I do, I am dependable, and I never complain.”

  I nodded. “I think you’d be good for the job, but I’d like to give it a little more thought before I make a decision.”

  “Oh.” Her face dropped.

  “I just need a little more time to make a final decision,” I said quickly.

  “Uh, will that be soon? They didn’t give me any notice at my other job, so I’m going to be in a financial pickle this month if I don’t find another job in time. Our water heater just broke, we need to have the wiring redone before the house catches afire and burns to the ground, my stepfather needs a new walker, and my mother needs me to help pay for her train ticket to go to Cleveland next week to visit my uncle Dennis in that veteran’s hospital.”

  Before I could respond to Lizzie’s overblown tale of financial woe, a deep male voice interrupted my thoughts. “Annette, is that you?”

  I looked up into the face of Henry Boykin, the ex-drug dealer from the south side of town, and my husband’s rival.

  “Hello, Henry. Good to see you,” I responded with a grunt.

  “Sister, what happened to you?” he yelled, looking me over like he was doing an appraisal. “Damn, woman! I almost didn’t recognize you!” Henry was talking so loud everybody in the café looked in my direction. I suddenly felt like a used car with a for sale sign on my face.

  “I lost some weight,” I muttered with a forced smile.

  “You sure did! I ain’t seen you since Jack Brown’s funeral! Praise God, you finally lost most of that blubber! You look almost as good as a government check now! The last time I seen you, I said to myself, ‘Please tell me that ain’t Annette’s butt followin’ behind her.’” Henry paused and turned sharply to look down at my ass, which was twitching in my seat like I was sitting on a tack. “Yes, ma’am. You finally got it goin’ on! Umph! You oldsters are really givin’ them young girls a run for the money these days! If you get any hotter, I’m gonna have to call a fire truck!”

  “When did you get out?” I chided. I knew Henry had been out of prison for at least a year.

  He laughed. “Girl, I been out long enough to get myself on the right track. I guess you know I took over that barbershop across from the skatin’ rink?” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “And I’m hittin’ it real good! I’m makin’ as much money as I did when I was involved in…uh, the pharmaceutical business. And I plan to stay on the straight and narrow! Jail ain’t no place for a man with my talents.” He looked at Lizzie, smiling like a snake-oil salesman. “Ain’t you the lady that works in one of them white folks’ nail shop?”

  “I used to be,” Lizzie replied. I didn’t like the way she was smiling back at him, but it was good to know that she could be friendly in the
company of a low-life like Henry.

  “Hmmm. Well, this is a dog-eat-dog world. You gotta do what you gotta do to make it. Me, I always find me a good hustle.” With his long, greasy cornrows, his whiplash of a mustache, a tattoo of a dragon on his neck, and his loud-colored windbreaker, he still looked like the kind of person you’d expect to see involved in something shady. “How come you ain’t workin’ for the man no more?” he asked Lizzie as he blinked his shifty eyes.

  “Uh, it was because of a conflict-of-interest issue,” she answered.

  “Is that all? That ain’t a good reason to let a employee go—if they good!”

  “I was very good at my job, Henry. I was at that shop for years. And if anybody tells you I wasn’t good, they are a damn liar, and you can tell them I said so. Like I said, there was a conflict-of-interest issue, so they had to let me go.” Lizzie kept surprising me. I was stunned and impressed by the way she stood up to Henry. “And I’ll tell you the reason behind the ‘conflict-of-interest’ issue before you hear it from somebody else: My boss’s brother tried to hit on me.”

  Henry tilted his head back and looked so surprised I thought he was going to laugh. “I’m a man,” he announced, looking from me to Lizzie like we didn’t already know what he was. “We do some stupid shit when it comes to poontang and our manly urges. Some of us don’t care who we stick our dicks in.”

  Lizzie didn’t flinch, but what Henry had just said bothered me. It took a lot of willpower for me not to say what was on my mind. But I wasn’t about to let an ignoramus like Henry spoil the good mood I was in.

  “Well, look here, Lizzie. I’m all for givin’ back to the community. I make it a point of helpin’ whoever I can. My mama used to go to the bingo hall with your mama. And for years, your mama loaned my mama money when she needed it, so I feel a little kinship toward you. If you don’t find another job soon, come by my place. I just might have somethin’ for you to do. My aunt Marie could use some part-time help keepin’ the place clean. Sweepin’ up hair, dustin’ off the equipment, keepin’ everything neat and organized. And once she go in for her hip surgery next month, I will need somebody full time.”