We Ain’t the Brontës

by Rosalyn McMillan

  First it was April; now it’s Marla who wants to harm me. Is Jett’s love really worth all of this drama?

  52

  It’s just like I felt when Zedra threatened me. I’m getting a crook in my neck looking over my shoulder. When I go to the grocery store, I rush in and rush out. When I get gas, I lock the gas switch and sit in my car until the tank fills up.

  I think Jett told the twins about Marla because they find a reason to stop by the house every day. Even though I’m only a little bit scared, I feel safer knowing my sons are around.

  “Mom,” Javed says, “can you pick up Jamone and me on Sunday? We want to go to church with you.”

  I smile a mile wide. “Certainly, son. Service starts at eight. I’ll be at your place at seven-thirty.”

  “Okay. We’ll be ready.” He flashes a smile. “I’ve got good news.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Ms. Spherion wrote an article about Jamone and me. We’re on the cover of the January issue of Queen Magazine.”

  I laugh. “Isn’t a woman supposed to be on the cover?”

  “Yeah. We’ve got that handled. Jamone and I painted a portrait of Michelle Obama in her inaugural ball gown. It’s stunning. We’re holding the canvas on the cover.”

  “Oh, that was smart.”

  “Javed thought of it. We’re hoping that Mrs. Obama sees the cover and commissions Jamone and me to paint a portrait of her and her family. Wouldn’t that be the bomb?”

  “Yes. And you two would soon be rich. You’d have more work than you could handle.”

  He blushes. “That’s the plan.”

  I hug him. “I’m so proud of you guys. You’ve never given me any trouble.”

  “You and Pops never gave us a reason to.” He puts his arm around my waist. “Now, what’s this I hear about you and Pops having a talk on Sunday night? Have you got your five things already?”

  I pop him in the head.

  When Herman calls me, I tell him the truth. “I think that I’m going to reconcile with my husband.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m disappointed, Charity.”

  “I thought that you might be. I came this close to doing the wild thang with you. You know you had me all hot and bothered on several occasions.”

  “No, I didn’t. When?”

  “When you kissed me at the door that night, I thought I was going to faint.”

  “I thought my zipper was going to bust open.” He laughs.

  “And when you had me up in your plane the first time, I felt so close to you. I wanted you to take me home and make love to me that day.”

  “Damn, Charity, why are you telling me all of this now when it’s too late? Or is it?”

  “I’m sorry, Herman. I just had to let you know how you were making me feel. I don’t know if we can remain friends.”

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  “We’re too close to each other now.”

  Herman’s voice is serious when he says, “I meant it when I said that I love you. I do and always will. And I’m not talking about a friendly kind of love. I mean the kind of love that a man shares with his woman, an Adam and Eve kinda love.”

  “I know, Herman. And I’m sorry. I care deeply for you, too, and I always will.” There’s a humbling silence. “I want you to find the right woman who will love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

  “I found her already.”

  “No. I’m serious. You need a woman who can help you with your career. You’re still starting the charter service, aren’t you?”

  “Damn right. I’ve got my business partner and we’re developing a business plan. Do you think you can agree to let me take you up on one of our new Cessnas? It will seat twelve.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  “God bless you, Herman.”

  “God bless you, Charity. Good night.”

  On Sunday morning, I rise at six. I prepare myself one of my favorites, blueberry pancakes. I don’t need any bacon or sausage, just milk. I scarf down three cakes and savor every bite. I clean up the kitchen and Twitter my crew. They’re all up and eager to celebrate the grand opening. I concur.

  I get dressed and design an artful French Twist on my silky tresses. I select a pink-and-orange Christian Dior suit with jumbo orange, pink, and lavender beads. I put on Jimmy Choo tan pumps and grab a caramel-colored Birkin bag.

  When I pull up, the twins are already coming out of the door. To my delight, they’re dressed alike in black pants, black-and-gray ties, and white shirts. They have on black leather gym shoes.

  “Hi, sons,” I say when they get in the car. “I love your look.”

  Jamone says, “We thought you’d like it.”

  “Can I drive, Mom?” Javed asks.

  “Okay. I’ll get in the back and let you two sit in the front.” We switch places. “Now, don’t speed and you won’t hear my mouth.”

  “I feel you.”

  True to his word, Javed doesn’t speed as he drives the seventeen miles to Greater Community Faith Church of God in Christ on Fisher Avenue. Javed parks and stores the keys in his pocket. I keep silent as I grab my purse and Bible. When we enter the church, we spot Jett standing in the middle section. The choir is singing, and the pianist and drummer are bringing up the heavenly harmony on the right side of the stage.

  The choir sings three more songs before one of the missionaries reads the day’s announcements. One of the deacons speaks next. He talks about the upcoming Christmas program and says he hopes that all will attend. The youth choir is putting on a play on December nineteenth. The floor opens for testimony.

  I hear testimonies about how prayer helped a family member beat cancer. I hear testimony how the church helped people get off of the streets. I hear testimony about how a woman’s college-bound son’s $3200 medical bill was paid. Then I hear Jett.

  “I want to thank God for my family being here today. I want to thank God for giving me another chance to save my marriage. I want to thank God for giving me the courage to tell my wife how much I love and need her. I’ve committed some hurtful sins in my life, and I hope I will be forgiven for them. I ask that the church pray for me and my family. Thank you.” Tears are streaming from his eyes.

  My eyes mist with tears too. I know that Jett meant every word that he said. He rarely testifies.

  Six other members testify before the choir sings another selection. Finally, Pastor Bolton approaches the pulpit. He breaks out in Beautiful Zion, a hymn that the entire church knows and joins in on. Some of the members get excited and break out dancing. The pastor is feeling a heavenly inspiration, and joins some of the members in a dance of his own. The music booms and booms, then finally filters down to a soft beat.

  The pastor goes back to the pulpit. His message today is “Faith.” For the next forty-five minutes, the pastor reads scriptures from Luke and Daniel. The congregation follows along in their Bibles and holds up their hands when the pastor asks, “How many of you know what I’m talking about this morning?”

  “When it’s all said and done, you need to have faith in order to have salvation. For those that are married, you need to make your marriage like a threefold cord of love and trust, with God at the center.”

  It seems like the pastor is speaking directly to Jett and me when he makes his closing statements. He speaks about marriage, trust, love, salvation, and faith. Jett and I exchange glances. Then we smile at each other.

  Just then, an alarm goes off outside. One of the ushers goes to the door. She comes back in and says quietly, “Anybody own a silver BMW?”

  Javed rushes to the door. Jamone follows. Then Jett and I leave the church. The alarm on my car is blaring. The driver side window is busted out. Sitting right on the front seat is a pile of hot shit.

  “Don’t look, Mom,” Javed says.

  “I’ll get some cleaning products,” Jamone says. “I’ll be right back.”
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br />   Jett looks at the pile of shit and yells in the air, “You bitch!”

  “Calm down, Jett. We’re still at church,” I tell him.

  I don’t have to look at the seat. I can smell the feces from where I’m standing. I stand in the back of the car and watch and wait until the twins clean up the mess. It seems like it takes forever to get all of the glass shards up. Javed leaves a pile of paper towels on the seat so that I don’t get my suit wet.

  People from the congregation are ogling and shaking their heads. I can’t much blame them. It’s a sorry sight to see.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Jett says.

  “It’s not your fault.” I get in the car. “Call me later.”

  The twins hop in. I push the ignition button and we drive off. On the way home, Javed says, “I think it was April who did that foul shit.”

  “No,” Jamone offers, “It was Marla. Dad told me that that woman is out of her mind. Somebody is going to get their butt kicked.”

  “How’d they get in the car? I thought it was difficult to break into these vehicles.”

  “It is, but she broke the window out, remember?” Javed says seriously.

  I speak up. “Listen, I don’t want you two to do anything. Nobody was harmed. So someone put some feces in my car. So what? It’s over. Let it go.”

  “You’re wrong, Mom,” Javed groans. “It ain’t no telling what this ho might try next.”

  I pray that Jett can talk to Marla and convince her to leave me and my belongings alone.

  But my prayers aren’t answered. Jett goes over to Marla’s apartment and punches her in the mouth. She calls the police. Jett is arrested. Hours later, I’m at 201 Poplar bailing Jett out of jail.

  He’s breathing hard and stone cold mad. “Marla claims that she didn’t do it. Then she started bragging about what she planned to do to you. She said, ‘I’m gonna fuck that bitch up.’ That’s when I punched her in her mouth. You know the rest.”

  I drive Jett to his apartment. “You know you haven’t mentioned April’s possible involvement.”

  “April wouldn’t do anything like this. She doesn’t like you, but she wouldn’t hurt me. She knows if she hurts you, she hurts me.”

  “That sounds sweet, Jett, but Lynzee told me that April set her adoptive parents’ house on fire.”

  “When?”

  “Fifteen years ago.”

  “See? She’s changed. April wouldn’t do anything like that now. I’d be willing to bet money that she wouldn’t.”

  “Okay, Jett. You know your daughter better than I do. I’m going to say good night. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”

  “How’s the bakery business coming along?”

  “Everything’s running smoothly. I’m scared that something’s going to happen.”

  “Don’t wish bad luck on yourself.” He gets out. “Good night, Charity. Thanks for bailing me out. I love you.”

  “Good night, Jett. I’ll call you in an hour or so about the five things. Remember?”

  He winks at me.

  I drive home reeling. Why didn’t I tell Jett that I loved him too? Why didn’t I tell him that no matter what those women do, nothing can tear us apart this time? But then I think: What if one of those fools tries to hurt one of my sons? My heart feels heavy. I’ve got to go home and find that gun. No matter how long it takes, I’m not going to bed until I find it.

  53

  I’m so tired it feels like my eyelids are sandbags. No matter, I’m still on a mission. My dresser, chest of drawers, and armoire are all yanked open. I even take all of the towels and bedding out of the linen closet. Nothing. My mind is so convoluted, I can’t think rationally.

  Then it comes to me. I put the gun inside one of my hat boxes. But which one? I get a stool and go through every box. I find it in the box with my black mink hat.

  The closet is a mess, the linen closet is a mess, the bedroom is a mess, but I leave everything just as it is and fall down on my bed holding the gun. In seconds, I’m fast asleep.

  When I awake, I won’t let anything deter me from doing my yoga. I spend an hour in the exercise room and do my thing. I’m sweating in thirty minutes. In sixty, I feel rejuvenated.

  Smelling like a raccoon, I take a shower. When I get out, I phone Jett, and we talk about the five things we think will help strengthen our marriage. It’s a good conversation, and I’m feeling closer to Jett than I have in a long while.

  Before we hang up, Jett says, “I’d like to know if you can do me a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Go dancing with me.”

  “What? On a Monday night?”

  “Sure. I’d like to take you dancing to this new club. It’s called Tryst. They only play old school songs. Remember the record we danced to when we first started dating?”

  “Yeah. It was ‘Dedicated to the One I Love.’” I sigh. “I still love that song.”

  “Me, too.” He pauses. “C’mon, baby. We deserve to have some fun. I want to hear you laugh again. I miss hearing your laughter. Nobody laughs like you.”

  I love the way he calls me baby. When he says it to my face, it makes my knees weak. When he says “baby” over the phone, it makes me swoon. “I’d love to go dancing with you, Jett.”

  “Thank you, baby. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

  “I’ll be ready.” I smile as I hang up. Things are really coming together between us. Jett knows that I love to dance. It’s a shame that it took us getting separated before we spent a night on the town. But no matter, I’m happy to put on my dancing shoes. I think I’ve still got it.

  Throughout the day, I text Moses and turn on the music, practicing my dance moves. I’m tempted to call the twins to help me out, but they’d only laugh at me.

  I start dressing at quarter to eight. I don’t want to rush. I want to wear my thigh-high boots and a mini. I scan my closet and find the perfect dress. It’s a multi-colored mini with a deep plunging front neckline. I select what I feel is the coolest jewelry to accent the dress. I hang my dress over the closet door and take my time applying my makeup. I notice a line around my mouth that I haven’t seen before. Damn. I continue and finish. I get out the curling iron and bump my shoulder-length hair into a stylish bob. Neat. I slip into my dress, put on my beads and thigh-high boots, and step back before the mirror and assess myself. Yep, I look ten years younger.

  I check my watch. It’s twenty minutes to nine. I’m getting nervous and can’t stop sweating. I have to touch up my makeup twice before Jett calls me.

  I think it would be better if I meet him there. He gives me the directions and I punch it into my navigation system. Jamone took my car to Abra’s Collision Shop on Brunswick Road and had the window repaired. Meanwhile, I feel for the bulge in my Hermès bag, and then start up my car and head on out.

  I groove to Alicia Keys on the drive over. By the time I arrive, I’m in a pretty good mood. I valet park and wait for Jett at the front door.

  The parking lot is jam-packed. Middle-aged men and women wearing their finest walk past me and enter the establishment. I smell different perfumes and savor the fresh, clean scents. I enjoy smelling women’s and men’s cologne. I even own a bottle of men’s Gucci fragrance. I think it makes me smell like a wild child.

  Jett arrives two minutes later and valet parks. I’m surprised because he’s usually too cheap to do so.

  When he gets out of the car and comes into the light, I give him the once over. I whistle. He’s wearing a beige silk shirt with silver and iridescent pin-striped beading. He has on beige silk slacks and the matching alligator shoes that I bought him last year.

  “Wow, Jett. You look fabulous.”

  He gives me a whirl. “And you look stunning, you pretty young thang.”

  We both laugh.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  “Certainly. Let’s do it.”

  Baby Face’s “Whip Appeal” is playing when we enter the club. Tryst is decorated in black and white. With severa
l lighted three-dimensional dice and playing cards on the black walls, the décor is the junk. Dozens of tables with black tablecloths, white leather club chairs, and white magnolia candles are spread out across the huge room. The lighted dance floor is packed with men and women doing their thing.

  “C’mon, that’s our jam,” Jett says. “Let’s dance.”

  We slow dance to “Whip Appeal” and then speed up the pace when Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” comes on. We take a breather and find a table. A waitress comes over and takes our orders of Sprite on the rocks. She frowns. No big tip here tonight.

  We drink half of our sodas and get back on the dance floor. Jett is dancing like he never stopped, and I enjoy watching him swivel his hips and pop his fingers. We continue to dance to Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, Gladys Knight, The Supremes, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, The Jackson Five, The Four Tops and The Temptations.

  When we finally sit back down, I’m exhausted. “I’m having a ball, Jett, but I’ve got on new boots and my feet are killing me.”

  “Are you ready to go?”

  I nod. “Can we come back?”

  “Anytime the feeling hits you.”

  We exit the building and hand the valet our parking tickets. It’s raining like salt pellets. The temperature has dropped ten degrees. My car is up first. I kiss Jett on the cheek and get in my car. “Call me tomorrow,” I say. When I get inside, the music is so loud it hurts my ears. I turn it down. I slowly drive off, waiting for Jett to get into his vehicle.

  I weave around the parked cars and head toward the street. All of a sudden I feel something gnawing at my heel. The gnawing is faster and faster. I turn on the overhead lights and look down. “Eeeeek!” It’s a rat. I kick at it, get out my gun, and shoot it. Bang! Bang! “Yikes!” I scream as I yank the car in park and exit my car.

  Jett is right behind me and comes to my rescue. “What’s wrong, baby?” He puts his arm around my shoulder.