Life is Short But Wide

by J. California Cooper

  He held little hope for his daughter; Rose Bertha thought her mother, Wanda, was the smartest person in the world. But Herman didn't give up, even though he could tell it was not going to be much use. She was barely staying in school already. Gutting classes all the time. Going where? he asked himself. He had found out her mother let her stay home and sleep.

  There was grey in his hair now. His eyes were puffy from staying up late into the nights, watching his kids. Wanda could sleep through anything, never even know they were not in the house. She wasn't worried, she let Herman do that for her.

  Herman shook his head in amazement as he thought, “That was why Gary died. A drug overdose, after the woman he was living with stabbed him about some heroin. He hadn't even known he was dying; he was still reaching for his drugs.”

  In Herman's mind, he did not have a family. He had worked and pleaded with them, for years, to do the right thing for their own self. He loved them, but they didn't seem to know what love was. They hadn't even had sense enough to love their own self. Well, their mother didn't seem to do that either.

  He knew, now, some people are born with love already in their hearts. Many, many people have to learn how to love, and they never get to see it, to learn. They think it is sex. Wanda was good in bed, but wasn't worth a damn at anything else; especially love, even for her children.

  He reminisced about his mother. “Oh, God, I'm glad I had my mama. She loved me, and I sure loved her. I knew all about love. Learned it from my mama. Don't know where she learned it, cause her sister never did have love in her heart.”

  He had said many times to hisself, “These are Wanda's kids. All of them. They don't want my help, so I won't worry about them. I'll just tend to my own business; take care my own.”

  Then, one day soon after that, he was disciplining Rose Bertha, when she snapped her little fifteen-year-old behind around, getting away from Herman. She got extra smart with him, probably been smoking some of her mother's pot. She said, “I don't haf'ta do nothin you say cause you not my daddy no way!”

  Taken aback, Herman asked, “What'd you say? What do you mean?”

  She just stuck her breasts out, chin and shoulders up. “That you not my daddy. I know my daddy! My mama told me when I was bout thirteen years old. My daddy's name is Jerome; same daddy as Jerome. That's why he named ‘Jerome’! Jerome, Jr. So you can't tell me what to do! I'm tired'a you always tellin me what I ought'a do! Drivin me crazy bout school!”

  Suddenly, Herman's tiredness became too heavy, sitting on his back like a mountain. “The life I have worked all these years for! Oh, God! I knew Wanda slept with other men. I know she is an alcoholic. I knew we didn't have a life, but I didn't know my life was a garbage dump! I have been fooling myself! I'm telling everyone else how to live, and now, I don't even have a life!”

  He looked around the once nice house he had bought for his family; Gary's two children were running around in dirty, baggy diapers. Their mother was in prison for killing Gary, but she had a heroin habit she might never quit anyway. “They should have been trained,” he repeated in his brain. Wearying despair was falling over him. “They should be trained, but there is no one who cares enough to train them.

  “My children don't love me. And it seems I just thought they were my children. They are not my children! My wife does not love me. I haven't loved my wife for years and years, since that first year we married. And now I learn that my children are not even mine. I have just thrown away my life. If I married Wanda because she was going to have my baby, now that they are not my babies, why should I stay?”

  It grieved his heart because he wanted to love his family, he wanted it to be his family. He had wanted a family, his own family, ever since his mother had died. “But … it is not my family; never has been.” He sighed from somewhere deep in his body and tears rose to the top of his head and heart as he decided his life.

  “Well, I don't have any reason to stay here anymore, sleeping on a cot in a laundry room. I can sure afford better than that; I take care of myself. Why should I stay? I'm not a happy man. I'm not even content. I'm leaving.”

  He called out to his wife, “Wanda … I'm leaving.” She was sleeping off a drinking binge, and didn't hear him. He grabbed a few pieces of underwear from his dresser-box, and went out the door. He took a deep breath, turned to the right at the end of the path, and walked to his truck.

  He had been saving for his children to go to college. He had spent some of it on James's college costs a few years ago. Now James was saving money for himself.

  Rose Bertha would probably never make it to college. She was already having sex, calling it love. She dabbled in drugs, thinking it made her grown up and glamorous. If she didn't change, she would grow up to be an even bigger fool than her mother.

  So Herman left the house he had bought, worked, and paid for, for his family. His heart was broken. “But,” he thought, “I have jobs! I am not dead.” He did not look back through the windows of his truck at where his life had been for all the wasted years. Wasted, because he still didn't have a family.

  His last thought as he turned off that street was “Jerome might not make it, but if he does, I will help him, even if he isn't my son, just like I helped James. But, from now on, I want something that is mine! Don't care what it is, I want it to be mine! All mine!”

  Herman went to his night job, and quit it. “This money is not making me happy. I won't need to work so hard now, and they have never given me my due. I've been working there years, and they still don't like me because of my color.” But they hated to see him leave. He was one of their smartest employees.

  He kept his day job at Pink's garage as a master mechanic. He had a White boss who knew less than he did, and was paid more. But he was Black, and in Wideland that made him worth less. The difference was this White boss knew his value and even liked him.

  He found a temporary room to rent. He didn't have anything but a suitcase and two toolboxes. He was tired, but a new light feeling was giving him impetus. He went to buy sheets, pillowcases, towels, two feather pillows, and a brand-new mattress. “Nobody ever slept on this one but me! It's all mine!”

  When he did bathe and go to bed, he slept for two days, waking only to eat. He looked into a mirror, accidentally, one morning and discovered that the quiet rest had restored him. The grey hair remained, but his skin was clearer and looked healthier. The hard work he had done for so many years had kept his body with solid muscles, and strong. “I am getting old,” he thought, “but the old man doesn't look so bad.”

  After a few weeks he found an apartment, and moved in with a few new furnishings. All his.

  Sometimes he drove by his old house, just to see where his life had been; he never wanted to forget any part of it. He missed his old family. “I thought I had some sense. I loved those kids, all of them. And I thought two of them were mine, really mine. Nothing was mine; nothing is mine. I want my own. Mine.”

  He sent James and Jerome his address. Neither one his son, but he loved them; they were friends. In the note he added, “Keep this for when you need me. Give my address to no one.”

  Once, he had gone to see Bertha too early in the morning; the house was asleep. He knocked on the old classroom door; it was empty. He walked to Bertha's house. There was no answer.

  It didn't happen often, but as fate would have it, Bertha was gone off to some little job. Juliet and Cloud were in bed locked in an embrace. They had made love, and now they were sleeping. Juliet heard the knock, and wakened a little, but she could not, and did not want to, move from under Cloud. His body still nestled inside her. She did not wake Cloud to answer the door.

  There were so few times they were able to make love. He was so sweet, so gentle with her. He wouldn't make love to her just anywhere in the woods, as she would have let him. He loved Juliet. He wanted to make her his wife; but she did not want to leave her mother and go to live on the reservation. She thought she might not be able to be crippled anywhere but at
her home.

  If Juliet had known it was Herman, she might have wakened Cloud. But she didn't know who it was, so she just settled down in the bed under Cloud, and continued her dreaming.

  Herman didn't know what to do, but he was lonely and wanted to be around people he knew cared about him. He wanted Bertha and Myine to know he was single and alone out in the world; he needed a family, again. They were the only family he knew he could count on. The family he wanted, felt safe with, until he met, somehow, someone to give him a real family.

  He had always loved music, jazz, classic, and the blues. He needed some music in his life. So he went to register in a community college, and to look over the classes offered. “Maybe I'll study some instrument.” After registering, he went to a music shop to buy some of the blues and jazz music he had heard lately and liked. He had to buy a record player, also. “I am going to start a whole new life! Even if I am getting old.”

  Sometimes life curves on you. Sometimes we follow the curve. Sometimes we don't.

  Now we are at the stem of the “Y” I told you about. Everybody seems to be at the crux of their life, someway, at the same time. Herman, Myine, Bertha, Juliet, and Cloud. Oh they ain't through having problems-, life ain't like that. But there comes an end to some old problems while the new problems move into place.

  You don't have to believe me, just keep living.

  Herman did return to Bertha's house to see the people he loved and considered like family. He had become, again, the person, the man Bertha and Myine counted on for protection and help. Even Juliet, although she had Cloud to count on.

  Herman hadn't told them everything, but enough for friends. They all knew Herman's new phone number. He knew all about Tonya and wanted to go to the police, but Tante had told them to wait until she came, and she was on her way.

  When the day of her arrival finally came, Herman was unable to take off work to take them to the airport, but Bertha knew someone else that would take Myine to pick up Aunt Tante.

  At last, Myine was to meet her Aunt Tante. Tante flew in from the south of France two weeks after receiving Myine's letter. She recognized Myine immediately; she looked like Rose, only prettier. Myine flew to embrace her aunt. The tears were ready as they both cried, and held each other.

  They were driven back to Wideland, which Tante was surprised to see had grown so much: some tall buildings, and many new stores and offices. She even found an automobile rental business; she decided to rent a new car. They let Bertha's driver friend go. Tante insisted on giving him a few dollars.

  As she drove through the area that was now Black, she saw pool halls, barbershops, beauty shops, medical offices, and more. Even a bank. She asked, “They still have prejudice here? As bad as it used to be?” She didn't wait for an answer, but continued, “I used to hate this place. It's one of the reasons I have never come back.”

  She turned her head, briefly, to look at Myine. “Now, tell me again, everything that has happened. My sister is dead. Ahhhh, that truly hurts me; I never came to help her. How did such a man, her husband, get into our family, our house? What was Rose thinking? And what is that woman, Tonya, thinking of? You, you own that property!”

  Myine shook her head slowly. “She thinks she inherited it. That it is hers. I'm the housemaid, cook, laundress, the everything. But there is nothing I can do.”

  “Well,” Tante said in a hard tone, “there is plenty I can do. I need the name of a really good lawyer, fair to Black people. I'll never find a French lawyer here. I don't need a lawyer for much, just a little.” Her voice was confident. “I want to see him first. Now. We need to go to the courthouse for the county records.”

  Myine's heart smiled, gratefully, and she laid her hand on her aunt's shoulder. She said, softly, “I don't know where you will sleep; I sleep in the basement.”

  Tante almost jumped in her amazement, saying, “The basement! Of your grandmother and grandfather's house? We will talk about that later. Now … show me the way to the police station. I know where it used to be, but …”

  Myine's eyes widened with fear, and wonder. “You're going to the police?”

  Tante smiled, patting her niece's knee. “Yes, I need to understand the law, and get a lawyer, if I need one. But, right now I want some records, and the District Attorney.”

  At the county records office Tante learned the taxes were seven years delinquent; many letters had been sent regarding the foreclosure. Tante paid the taxes. While she was at the courthouse she got copies of the original deeds, birth certificates, and a receipt for everything.

  When she reached the District Attorney's office, he looked up to see the tired-looking, but elegant woman dressed in the classic suit and shoes you could tell were not made in America. He looked into the bright, pretty, but sharp eyes. He asked, “What can I do for you, Miss?”

  “Mrs. Deraineau. I was born here in Wideland, now I live in France with my husband. I need some information.” From the tone and accent of her voice, you could see and hear her superior education. She did not exhibit a superior attitude; she was simply forthright, and correct in her actions and speech. He gave her his full attention and all the information she would need.

  “You won't need an attorney, Mrs. Deraineau. Just let me know if there are any problems. If everything is in your parents' name, and I see it is, there will be no problems.”

  Tante persisted, “But I need something that will look legal to her … so she will understand I mean what I say.”

  The D.A. had his surprised secretary type a letter with the words, “If I can be of any assistance to you in your family matters, we are at your service. You just have to give me a call and let us know. The Court is at your service.”

  Satisfied, Tante and Myine drove to the house to rid it of the trespasser. Tante brought the basement up again. “Why do you sleep in the basement, child? You are over sixteen years old; my room should be your room, at least.”

  “I'd rather be separated from them, and besides, I had to be able to look for your letters to get your address. All my mother's things were stored down there. I had nowhere to turn, except to Bertha and Juliet. And I liked it down there. I have a nice corner I fixed up for myself, and it is the quietest place in the house.”

  “Bertha and Juliet. Bertha was always a help to my mother. I never really paid much attention to Juliet, though she was born a few years before me, or a few years after me; it didn't seem important. But Bertha is getting old, and still helping even mama's grandchildren!” Tante reached over to take Myine's hand. “Well, I'm here now.”

  Tante was in her late forties. She had matured beautifully. Everything about her was completely well groomed. She was impeccable, even after the long flight from France to America.

  She had decided, after a good look at Wideland, it was not yet a city, but it had spread out wide, and had become a little more modern. There was a real district attorney instead of a sheriff.

  When they arrived at the house, Tante got out of the car, and just stood still a moment, looking at the house. She did not look as though she had ever lived there.

  When she spoke, she asked, “What have they done to my daddy's house? Even the trees look sad. It should never have deteriorated like this.” She took a deep breath, and started up the path to the hanging half-unhinged gate. She looked at everything with great distaste.

  “This would never have happened when my daddy was alive. I used to sit on those steps with my dog, Brave.” And a moment later, “I rode my horse all over this land. What is all this trash about! ? Why does everything look so raggedy, and forlorn?”

  Walking behind her, Myine rushed to say, “I do the best I can, Aunt Tante. Bertha does too. But she is old. Juliet can't do too much in a wheelchair, but she does all she can. Dreaming Cloud helps all of us. They are the only ones who have kept this house up. I eat at their house … and sleep there sometimes when it's too cold in the basement … or too much is going on in the house.”

  Finally they reached th
e steps of the house, when Myine spoke. “Aunty, we better go to Bertha's first, to leave your suitcases until we get things settled. There are thieves in this house. They will steal everything you have if they can reach it.”

  “My God in heaven! I'm glad my husband wasn't able to come. This is dreadful! Lead me to Bertha. Slow now, child, slow. Aunty is not a spring-chicken, and this terrain can be dangerous.” She laughed lightly.

  Bertha and Juliet were waiting in the open door. They opened their arms, and held them out to Tante as Bertha stepped forward to meet her. Bertha had tears in her eyes and a shining smile on her face. “Look at ya, Tante! You look mighty good! My eyes are so happy to see you here! This child has been done mighty wrong, and is suffering. I prayed for ya to come!”

  They embraced as Tante entered the small house. “I don't remember this house, but I'm glad you are here, Bertha.”

  Juliet just smiled happily, tears rolling down her face. “Oh! Hello Tante! I am so glad you came home! What took you so many years to come back and see about things?”

  Tante smiled down at the woman she remembered as a young girl, and had felt so sorry for. “That's too much to explain, Juliet. Just try to think that I did the best I could do for myself. Now, let's see what we can do about this Mz. Tonya.”

  After they had talked, and Bertha had settled more things in Tante's mind, Myine and Tante got ready to leave. Bertha said, “Ya can stay in my room here. It's clean as a pin. I can sleep with Juliet.”

  “Thank you, Bertha. After I look around and decide what I am going to do about things, I'll know. I'm fatigued; that was a long, long trip. I want to see my house now. I'll leave my things here for the time being, but I want to sleep in my own old room.”

  When they reached the front door of the house, Tante didn't knock or ring the bell; she opened the door and walked in. Tee and Dolly were in the kitchen arguing about who had bought the last box of cornflakes. Two or three of the children were fighting over bowls. Tonya was just coming down the clothing-cluttered stairs. Clothes even hung over the banister.