A Special Relationship

by Yvonne Thomas

  The bus stopped on Phoenix Avenue and Carrie and Millie made the block-long walk to Dresel Street together. Night out on the east side was busy, as the juke joints and pool halls and chicken shacks and rib joints were lively with in and out activity all along the avenue. Drug dealers and prostitutes worked hard for attention too, and every time one came Millie’s way she didn’t hesitate to voice her displeasure. “If I die, I die,” she said when Carrie suggested that it might be better to leave those types alone. “But right still right and they still wrong. God is still runnin’ this show!”

  Carrie smiled. She’d never met anybody quite like Millie Rawlings.

  But by the time they made it to their apartment building in the heart of Dresel Street, and the loud, raunchy rap music coming from Popena’s apartment could be heard even over the loudness in the streets, that smile Carrie once displayed sunk downward. And reality struck.

  Millie saw the change in Carrie and stopped her before she could climb the stairs to her sister’s apartment. “Would you like to come in for a spell, Carrie?” she asked her. “Greg, that’s my old man, he ain’t due home for another few hours. He work over at that rib joint on Twenty-First. But he wouldn’t mind you visiting anyhow.”

  “Thanks, Millie,” Carrie said, touching her extended hand of kindness, “but I think I’ll just go on to bed.”

  “With all that noise goin’ on?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I used to complain to Mona to stop playing that sinful music so loud, but she wasn’t stuttin’ me. Tried to cuss me out a time or two, yes she did. That sister of yours something else now. And spiteful, Lordy be. Hateful with it too. You better watch that one.”

  “She’s been through a lot in her life,” Carrie said, feeling a need to defend her sister. “But she’s always had a big heart.”

  “A big heart? Mona Banks? You sure we talking about the same person?”

  “Goodnight, Millie,” Carrie said, not about to get into it with a sweet person like her. She, instead, walked on upstairs to Popena’s apartment and entered a dwelling that had the feel of a loud, smoke-filled juke joint rather than a place of refuge.

  Mona wasn’t rowdy, however, as Carrie had expected, but was smoking a joint and chilling on her filthy sofa with a big, muscular man she introduced as Dooney Wallace. “And why you back so soon?” she yelled to her kid sister over the loud music.

  “I’m not working there anymore,” Carrie yelled back over the music, believing it best to be honest up front.

  “Not working there? Willie Charles fired you?”

  “Yes. I mean, not really. Not exactly. I’m just not working there anymore.”

  “You mean to tell me you quit? You quit a job? I know better than that! How you gon’ pay rent, Carrie? How you gon’ pull your own weight around here? I ain’t taking care of you!”

  “I know that, Po. . . I know that. I’ll find another job, don’t worry.”

  “You better find it quick. Ain’t no free rides ‘round here. I don’t play that crap. Ain’t nobody gonna be free loadin’ off of me!”

  Carrie sighed in anguish and walked into the adjourning kitchen to get herself a glass of water. The music was deafening to her ears and she couldn’t wait to get into her bedroom, a room she hated, but at least had a door that locked. She knew she had to do some serious praying tonight. She had to make it in Florida. She had to. She had no-where else to go.

  Dooney was busy nodding his head to the beat of a Ludacris rap, but he also couldn’t take his eyes off of Carrie. “Your kid sister you say?” he asked Mona.

  “Yeah.”

  “How old is she?”

  Mona looked at Dooney. She knew full well the affect Carrie always seemed to have on men, but she didn’t like for a second that it was her man that was being affected. “What’s it to you, Dooney?” she asked him.

  “Just curious.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “She need a job, you said so yourself. You need the rent. I could hook her up.”

  Mona laughed. “My sister a stripper? Man please. That girl is a Christian with a capital C. The only reason she’s even here is because my mama kicked her out of her house. And you wanna know why she kicked her out? Because her fiancé called off the wedding when she wouldn’t give him some.” Mona laughed again. “You can forget her. She’s all holier than thou with it too. Just like all those so-called Christians that ran me out of town. And you think you gonna turn her out? I don’t think so.”

  “How old is she? She eighteen yet?”

  “You’re wasting your time, Dooney.”

  Dooney, however, was staring at Carrie as Carrie stirred around in the kitchen. “She can pull down a pretty dollar, girl. I ain’t lyin’ though. She wrap that body around one of them poles, man forget it. The cash will fly her way. And you’ll be sitting right there collecting it.”

  Mona began to think about it, and it suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched. “That would be something all right,” she said with a faraway look in her eyes as she stared at Carrie too. “Miss Perfect becomes a stripper. Yeah, that’ll be something else. And I’ll write Mama and tell her all about it too. Send her a few pictures since she wouldn’t believe me anyhow. I’ll tell her how her wonderful daughter ain’t so wonderful after all, that’s what I’ll tell her. First time hard times hit her, look what she becomes. Then we’ll see who’s really the bad seed.”

  “And the money won’t hurt either,” Dooney reminded her sarcastically.

  “You got that right. Oh, hell yeah, Doon. That’ll be beautiful. That’ll be killing two birds with one stone.” Then Mona shook her head and took another hit on her joint. “But I still say you wasting your time. Carrie a trip, I’m telling you. She ain’t no easy nut to crack.”

  Dooney smiled and began standing up. “It’s all in the presentation, dawg,” he said and walked smilingly into the kitchen.

  Carrie had finally cleaned the filthy glass and began pouring herself some tap water. Her shape was perfect, Dooney thought as he checked her out. She was exactly what he’d been looking for in a featured dancer: young, small, gracious. “Hard night at work, Carrie?” he asked her before she could turn around.

  “Yes,” Carrie replied as she turned off the tap and began to head, with glass of water in hand, for her bedroom. Dooney, however, moved in front of her and cut her off at the path. Carrie’s heart sank. “I understand you need a job,” he said.

  “I’m fine,” Carrie replied, remembering Willie Charles “job” offer and what it really meant for her in the end.

  “You don’t even know what the job is.”

  Carrie exhaled. “What’s the job?”

  “I manage Simms, okay?”

  “A nightclub?”

  “It’s a multiplex. It’s a lot of things. I can hire you on right now, and you can start working tonight, baby, making some real money tonight. All you gots to do is say yes and come on with me and your sister. We’re due at the club in a few.”

  Carrie shook her head and tried to move around Dooney. “No, thank-you,” she said again.

  “Why you acting like that?”

  “I don’t dance,” she said, moving again.

  “Who said you had to dance?” he asked, moving to block her path again. “Stop being so judgmental, girl. You can wait tables. You ain’t got to dance.”

  “No,” Carrie said firmly but politely.

  “But why not?”

  “I don’t care to work in a nightclub,” she said, moving again.

  Dooney tried to block her retreat yet again, but she was too swift for him. She moved around him quickly and hurried out of the kitchen. Mona started yelling at her, telling her that beggars can’t be choosers and she’d better not turn down Dooney’s offer, but Carrie ignored her too. She wasn’t about to work in some nightclub as if her Christian walk meant nothing to her. She, instead, went into her bedroom and locked the door. The loud music was still piercing her eardrums, and she was still terrified that t
he road ahead was going to be far from smooth, but she sat in the corner on her suitcase and prayed just the same. She prayed and cried.

  Cried and prayed.

  All night long.

  NINE

  The We Love Jesus Holy Ghost Revival Temple was on fire. The storefront church couldn’t stop rocking with praise as the members danced and worshiped the Lord to fast, up tempo music after a rousing, fiery sermon. It reminded Carrie of her church back home, where there was no shame in proclaiming Jesus name, and after service she couldn’t stop thanking Millie for the invitation.

  They walked home together, still on a natural high from the service, and Millie was laughing. “I thought you was gonna stomp through that floor, child, you was so happy!”

  Carrie laughed too. “I was beyond happy, Mill. It was great. God is good!”

  “God is able now. You right about that.”

  “I’m sorry your husband couldn’t make it. He missed a great service.”

  “He’s always missing it. Greg ain’t saved. I been praying and trying, but not yet. But God is able.”

  “Amen.”

  “Greg’s a good man, a good provider. He’ll see where he needs the Lord one of these old days.”

  “I’ll pray for him too.”

  Millie smiled. “Thank-you, Carrie. You’re so sweet. Lord knows he can use all the prayers he can get.”

  “How long have y’all been married?”

  “Fourteen years.”

  “Goodness.”

  “Yep. And he’s my rock, Carrie. Don’t know what I’ll do without that big lug.”

  Carrie smiled. She would love to feel that way about someone.

  “So,” Millie asked, “ how’s things going between you and Mona?”

  Carrie hesitated. Just the mention of her life situation caused her joy to quickly fade. “Not so great,” she said. “I quit working for Willie Charles last Wednesday. Now it’s Sunday and I still haven’t found a job. Not even a promising lead or a prospect. And I been praying so hard, you just don’t know, Mill. And Popena’s liable to kick me out any day now.”

  “Who’s Popena?”

  “That’s Mona’s real name. I keep forgetting. She hates her real name.”

  Millie laughed. “Yeah, it fits her though. She act like a Popena, whatever that is. But don’t you worry, honey. She wouldn’t kick you out.”

  “She said she would. She said she can’t keep taking care of me. She said I better take Dooney up on his offer or hit the road.”

  “What Dooney Wallace want from you?”

  “He’s been offering me a job at his nightclub. But I don’t wanna work in no place like that.”

  “‘Course not,” Millie said. “But listen, Carrie, I been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “You. And your situation. I told you I work at Jetson’s, right?”

  “Some nice restaurant, yeah, you told me.”

  “Now I’m not promising you anything, but I can talk to my boss about you.”

  Carrie stopped walking and looked at Millie, the afternoon sun almost a welcome beam of light on her dreary prospects. “Really?”

  “I couldn’t say anything to you before now because I really didn’t know what kind of woman you was, or what kind of character you had. I mean, folks can tell me some of anything, but I have to see it for myself. And based on what I seen of you in that church today? Child please. You got the Holy Ghost deep down in you. And that’s a good enough character reference for me.”

  Carrie smiled greatly and was so overwhelmed by Millie’s kindness, the only person to really show her any kind of compassion since she stepped foot on Florida soil, that she threw her arms around her in a big, bear hug. Millie laughed. “I told you now. I can’t promise you nothing.”

  “Oh, Millie, you don’t have to. Just the fact that you would even try is what counts in my book. Besides, we’re saved, sanctified believers. God is on our side. That job is mine, you hear me? That job is mine!”

  ***

  Two weeks later and Jetson’s was so crowded that Carrie didn’t have a chance to take a break the entire time she’d been on duty. And that was fine by her. It was Thursday night, she had received her very first paycheck as a Jetson employee earlier in the day, and she could hardly contain her relief. Her plan was a simple one. She’d finally hush Mona’s mouth by paying her some rent, and then she’d begin the process of finding her own place to stay. Maybe a nice apartment not far from her job. Then she’d put in an application at Edward Waters, the historically black college on the north side of town, get her degree, and then get on with the life that was so unexpectedly interrupted six years ago when the high of her high school graduation turned into the low of her mother’s illness.

  This job, just like that, had changed everything for Carrie. That was why she didn’t bristle when customers yelled at her because they didn’t like the food, or didn’t like the atmosphere, or didn’t like each other. That was why she didn’t complain when food was spilled, drinks dropped, or other disasters forced her to clean more tables than she waited, making her more of a busboy than a waitress. She wasn’t riled at all, in fact, because she was determined to be the best worker in the building, somebody who knew how to appreciate an opportunity.

  And she was well on her way until, later that same night, when she looked up from a table she had been clearing and saw what she just knew was a mirage. So she looked again. And it was him. Robert Kincaid. The only man to ever make her heart pound with excitement was standing at the entrance waiting to be seated. And her heart pounded again as soon as she saw him. He stood there in his fancy charcoal gray suit and tie, looking like the most impressive man in the room. She almost smiled, seeing him again, and remembering the warmth of his touch as he held her in his arms. That night when they talked in his office, and she was able to make him laugh, was a night she’d never forget. He was unlike any man she’d ever known. Even Dale Mosley with all of his houses and lands couldn’t come close to this man. And for a brief moment, a brief, wonderful moment, it was Carrie, the girl from Attapulgus, who had his attention.

  Her warm thoughts of Robert, however, quickly turned to chilly reality when a woman, a tall, beautiful, blonde woman, came up alongside him and possessively placed her hands around his big arm, as if to make it perfectly clear to all the other single females in the room that he was hers.

  Carrie looked away, as Robert and his lady were being seated by the maître d. Then she quickly gathered her scrub rags and cleaning canister and headed for the restaurant’s kitchen. She felt ashamed and embarrassed to have had such comforting thoughts about an unavailable man, a man who could possibly be married, a man who could be sitting down to dinner right this very moment with none other than his wife. His wife for crying out loud! All she wanted to do was get away. All she wanted to do was slip away as fast as she could. Undetected.

  But Robert had already detected her. As soon as he walked into the restaurant he got this odd sensation in the pit of his gut, and then he saw her. She was across the room scrubbing a table with total concentration, as if her life depended on a perfect shine. He didn’t even have to see her face to know that she was the same woman that had literally run into his arms a couple weeks before. Sojourner Caroline Banks. Carrie. He hadn’t seen her since that night, although, to his own shock, he’d wondered about her countless times. But he never really expected to see her again.

  Now he was looking right at her, as she stood there in her snug-fitting purple waitress uniform, the skirt just the right length to reveal her short, shapely legs. Robert stared at those legs, and the way her small body seemed so tight and tense as she scrubbed, and he found himself drawn to her again, the same way he couldn’t break away from her in his office. He wanted to hold her, and protect her, and take her away from all of these tough, hard-luck jobs that no woman of his would ever have to do. It was such a strange sensation, considering that he really didn’t even know this person he now wanted to rescu
e, that even Tyler Langley, his date, noticed his sudden unease.

  “Something wrong?” she asked him, as they walked to their table, as she looked out over the restaurant to see if she, too, could see what (or who) had him suddenly so antsy. All she saw were various unremarkable couples quietly eating their dinners. She didn’t even think to check out the help.

  “I’m fine,” Robert said, looking directly into her eyes. Then he placed his hand over her’s and followed the maître d to their seats. When he glanced back at Carrie, she was heading, in what he took to be an unusually hurried gait, for the kitchen. She walked on the tip of her toes, he noticed, as if she had been trained as a ballerina or some other classical dancer. And even that walk of hers, that rushed, sexy walk of hers, made him want her more. Want her more? He almost shook his head. What was his problem, he wondered. “It didn’t work out,” Tyler said almost immediately after they’d been seated. Robert picked up the menu, then looked at her.

  “What didn’t work out?”

  “Me and Karl. Remember?” When Robert still seemed dumbfounded, she shook her head. “I left you two weeks ago, Robert, in case you forgot to notice.”

  He’d noticed. He even considered giving her a call, but it would have only been a booty call since he had no intentions of getting serious with Tyler or anybody else, and he knew she deserved far better than that. “So it’s off again between you two?” he said nonchalantly, to minimize the sentimentality.

  “Yes, it is. I don’t know why I even considered going back to him.”

  “You said he was a changed man.”

  “He was changed all right. He wasn’t cheating on me five days a week, just one or two. That wasn’t exactly the kind of change I had in mind.” She said this with a painful laugh in her voice.

  Robert tried to smile it off too, but he could tell she was hurting. He looked at her with so much tenderness in his eyes that it made Tyler want to cry. “I’m sorry, Ty,” he said.