by Mary Monroe
Before I could get comfortable and finish reading the latest edition of Jet magazine, the telephone on the nightstand rang. I looked at the clock next to the telephone. “Now who in the world is calling my house this time of morning?” I asked myself out loud. Unless it was my mother or my best friend Rhoda, the only time my phone rang this early was when somebody dialed my number by mistake.
The telephone in my bedroom didn’t have caller ID, so I had no idea who was calling me at this ungodly hour. It was none of the above. To my everlasting horror, it was Lizzie Stovall again, the woman who had broken up my home.
I was so taken aback, there was only one thing I could think to say. “Well, speak of the devil!” I shrieked.
“Whatever!” Lizzie hissed. She sucked on her teeth before continuing. I didn’t know if that was because she was tuning up her mouth to say something I didn’t want to hear, which would be anything that slid out of her mouth, or because she was nervous. “Annette, I advise you not to hang up on me like you did the last time I called.” This woman had no shame whatsoever!
“What the hell—” I almost choked on my words just as she cut me off.
“Let me speak to Pee Wee. And don’t fix your lips to lie to me like you usually do and tell me he’s not there. I just passed your house a little while ago and I saw his car parked out front,” Lizzie snarled, her words striking my ears like rocks. “Like I told you the last time I called, I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for several days! I am not going to stop until I reach him. You can tell him that. The sooner he talks to me, the sooner I can stop bothering you.”
“Bothering me? Woman, as long as you live in this town you will be bothering me. You didn’t care about bothering me when you were fucking my husband! Well, I’ve got news for you. Just hearing your name bothers me these days!”
Something that I didn’t know and didn’t want to know was the details of Lizzie’s affair with my husband—like exactly when it started or which one of them initiated the affair. But the one thing that I really didn’t want to know was where they’d slept together the first time. The thought of her sleazy ass stretched out in my bed was unbearable. If I ever found out that they had been tacky enough to fuck in my bed, I would not be responsible for my actions. There was just no telling what I would do to Lizzie—and Pee Wee—even though their relationship was over.
Or was it?
“Are you still fucking my husband?” Even if she was, I didn’t expect her to admit it. But I had to ask anyway.
“Annette, you’ve got some nerve asking me that. How dare you!” Lizzie erupted.
I could not believe how calm I managed to sound. “Well, are you?”
“No, I am not still fucking your husband! I wouldn’t let that man touch me again even if he had healing hands!”
My pulse was racing and my eyes were burning. I had balled my free hand into a fist. “Why did you call my house again? Why do you keep calling here? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time these days? Can’t you find another innocent woman to torture?” I jeered.
“You innocent? That’s a joke! You’ve got a lot of nerve to even think of yourself as innocent—”
“Get your ass off this phone, bitch!” I hollered. “You’re about to make my bowels move!”
“I will hang up when I am good and ready. Look, I know you’re still jealous of me, but I can’t help that. It is what it is. I gave your man something that you weren’t giving him, and probably never did. That was some good loving. The very first time he was with me, he realized what he’d been missing.”
These were the last words that a scorned woman—especially a scorned black woman—wanted to hear. If Lizzie had been standing in my room saying that shit to my face, she would be stretched out on the floor by now with my fist mauling the side of her head. I couldn’t imagine what Pee Wee had said to her for her to think that I didn’t give him what he needed in the bedroom before she slid into our lives. I didn’t believe what she had just said for one minute—at least not her version.
“Hmmm. Then tell me, why is he not still with you? Why is he coming over here to be with me whenever I let him? And I can assure you that we do a lot more than just talk when he’s here. Does that sound like I don’t know how to give him what he needs?” I taunted.
“Whatever, Annette. I just need to talk to Pee Wee.”
“Pee Wee is not here, goddammit!” I roared. “And let me tell you again—”
“You’re a damn liar! He is there! Now, you look, girl! I am not in the mood for any of your shit this early in the morning!”
I hated profanity. It was crude. I didn’t like it when people cussed in my presence, and I didn’t like to cuss myself. But under the present circumstances, there was no reason for me to act like a “lady” with Lizzie.
“Now, you look, bitch! If you don’t want to deal with my shit this early in the morning, don’t call my fucking house this early in the morning!”
There was a long moment of silence. I wasn’t even sure that Lizzie was still on the line. I was just about to hang up when I heard her spit out a few sobs. Then she started to wheeze and cough like she was choking on some air. I had heard enough. I slammed the telephone back in its cradle. I felt like I was on fire now, so I needed to get out of the house as soon as possible. I no longer considered playing hooky from work. I couldn’t wait to get to my office.
Just as I was about to go to my closet and pick out what I was going to wear to work, Lizzie called back. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Annette.”
“Look, bitch, I’m going to hang up again. This time I’m going to leave the phone off the hook, so don’t waste any more of your time calling here again,” I told her.
“Don’t you hang up on me! I advise you to put Pee Wee on this telephone, Annette,” she ordered in a voice that was dripping with a combination of anger and desperation.
“I advise you to go straight to hell.”
“Let me ask you again. May I speak to Pee Wee? I don’t want to keep calling your house any more than you want me to, but I don’t have any other choices.” She had toned down her voice, but that made no difference to me. “This is really important. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be trying to get in touch with Pee Wee this hard.”
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is you need to talk to my husband about? I can tell him, and if he wants to talk to you about it, he’ll call you.”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lizzie mumbled in an ominous tone. It sounded like she had a mouthful of food, or that her hand was covering part of her mouth. “And believe me, you won’t like it.”
CHAPTER 3
LIZZIE’S LAST WORDS HAD PIQUED MY INTEREST. AND BECAUSE OF the snooty way she had spoken those words, I felt that I needed to know right now what it was that she wanted to talk to my husband about.
“Look, Lizzie, if you want to tell me what it is that you need to talk to my husband about, that’s fine with me. I will track him down and make him call you back. That is, if he wants to talk to you. I’m willing to do just about anything if it’ll make you stop calling here.”
“That’s fine with me. The only reason I keep calling your house is because Pee Wee changed his cell phone number and the number at the apartment. When I try to reach him at his barbershop, they always tell me that he just left or he’s too busy to come to the telephone,” Lizzie whined. “I even tried to go talk to him at the old apartment last week, but he had the locks changed. He wouldn’t even answer the door when I knocked. I left him a note in his mailbox. I even sent him another note by registered mail and he signed for it—so I know he received it. I still have not heard a word from him! What else can I do but call your house and hope to catch him there?”
It dawned on me that whatever it was that Lizzie needed to talk to Pee Wee about, it might affect me in some way. That being the case, now I was even more interested in hearing whatever that was before I hung up. Knowing her, there was just no telling what it was. I k
new that she was living with another man now, and that she was working for his nephew. I seriously doubted that she wanted to move back in with Pee Wee. I had heard that she was not too happy with her new job, so it was fairly reasonable for me to assume that she wanted to beg Pee Wee to rehire her. What else could be so urgent for her to be trying so hard to get in touch with him?
There was no way in hell that I was going to let my husband rehire this woman. I’d do everything in my power, except burn his barbershop to the ground, to prevent that from happening.
I was the one who had practically forced Pee Wee to hire this backstabbing home wrecker in the first place. If he was crazy enough to put her back on his payroll, his relationship with me would be dead in the water immediately this time.
I was really curious now. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what it is you need to talk to my husband about? That is, if you don’t mind.”
Lizzie hesitated for a few seconds. “I think you should hear it from him. You just tell Pee Wee that if he doesn’t call me back by the end of today, he will be hearing from my attorney.” There was a threatening tone in her voice that chilled me to the bone.
Attorney?
I was no longer just curious. Now I was also frightened. A sharp pain shot through my stomach like a ball of fire. Why would Lizzie need an attorney? And why in the world would she use that word in the same sentence with my husband’s name?
“Did you just say that my husband can talk to your attorney?”
“That’s exactly what I just said! If he won’t talk to me, he’ll be hearing from my attorney. And after today, that’s the way it’s going to be. I won’t waste any more of my time trying to reach him.”
“What do you need an attorney for?” That was one thing that I needed to know before I got off the telephone. Had something happened while Lizzie was doing manicures at Pee Wee’s barbershop that constituted legal action? Money! This ruckus that this no-good heifer was causing had to be about money! What else could it be? “Why, you greedy bitch,” I snarled in a loud voice, hoping I sounded as menacing as I felt. “You don’t know when to quit, do you? I know for a fact that my husband gave you a generous severance package when you left. If you think you’re going to get paid again, you’re wrong.”
Lizzie let out a dry laugh. “As usual, you are too stupid to figure out what is really going on. No wonder it was so easy for me to take your man.”
“Good-bye, slut—”
“Don’t you hang up yet!”
I didn’t care what it was Lizzie had to say now. I was not going to let her verbally assault me any longer. I was going to hang up on her again, but when she cut me off, I decided to continue listening. I didn’t think our conversation could get any worse.
But it did.
“This is not about money, Annette. Well, not directly.” She paused and cleared her throat. “It will eventually involve money ...”
“I can’t imagine how.” As far as I knew, when Lizzie quit working for Pee Wee, she got everything that she had coming and then some. Not just two weeks’ severance pay; he had also paid her for vacation time that she had not even earned. What more could this miserable beast want?
“When you see your husband, you tell him that I said we need to discuss my future.”
Her attorney and now her future? Something told me that this was a lot more serious than I thought.
“Your what?” I guffawed. “What in the hell does my husband have to do with your future, woman? You’ve got some goddamn nerve! First you con me into helping you get a job at my husband’s barbershop and you wasted no time hopping into bed with him. Then you went behind his back and screwed his rival’s uncle, and moved in with that man! I’ve known some skanks in my life, but you give the ordinary skanks a bad name!”
“Are you finished?”
“Hell yeah, I’m finished. Are you?”
“All right, bitch. I didn’t want to drop this bombshell on you before I told Pee Wee, but now I’ll be happy to tell you why I need to talk to your husband. I just wish I could see your face when you hear it.”
“You’ve got exactly one minute to tell me and then I’m hanging up this telephone whether you’ve said it all or not,” I warned.
“I don’t need a minute.” Lizzie sniffed. Then she immediately announced in a mocking tone that made my blood boil: “I’m pregnant and your husband is the father of my child.”
She hung up before I could respond, but the telephone suddenly got so hot in my hand I dropped it to the floor.
CHAPTER 4
MY HOUSE WAS LOCATED ON REED STREET IN ONE OF THE most exclusive neighborhoods in town. It was the only place in the world where I could get as comfortable as I wanted—most of the time. The mortgage had been paid off years ago, so it was mine free and clear. I was in complete control. I could even lounge around naked like I was doing now. I had come a long way from the shabby, one-room shacks with no plumbing that I’d lived in as a child in Miami, Florida.
Next to my living room, my bedroom was the biggest room in the house, and it was in the best location. I could see most of the houses on my block from the large front window facing my king-sized bed. From the same window, I could reach out and pluck fruit from the apple tree and the cherry tree in my front yard when it was in season. The apple tree was bigger than the cherry tree. The apple tree provided a lot of shade in the summertime, and it was one of my favorite spots to relax in a lawn chair and enjoy a glass of iced tea. This residence had been my home since I was thirteen. Judge Lawson, who had employed my mother as a housekeeper for several years, had left the property to her when he died.
I had moved from the smaller bedroom at the end of the hall to this one after my mother remarried and moved out. I didn’t even like to go into my old room anymore. It held so many painful memories—everything from loneliness to rape. Even though there was not a single spot in my house where I allowed anybody to abuse or disrespect me now, my bedroom was especially sacred. I was not about to let a woman like Lizzie upset me too much on my turf. But that was exactly what she had done.
Friday was the least favorite day in the week for me. Just about everything unpleasant that had ever happened to me had happened on a Friday.
When I was just three years old, out of nowhere my father deserted my mother and me for another woman on a Friday. And it had been Friday the thirteenth at that. My life had gone downhill from there.
Before I even started elementary school, I had experienced everything from hurricanes and tornadoes to persistent bill collectors, and being harassed by the supremely dangerous Ku Klux Klan, all on Fridays.
Not long after Daddy had run off, my mother and I moved from Florida to Ohio on a Friday. I was sick with grief, and cried off and on during the whole two-day ride on that segregated train.
Mr. Boatwright, one of my mother’s Bible-thumping male acquaintances who had rented a room in our house, raped me for the first time when I was seven, on a Friday.
When I was sixteen, I discovered that I was pregnant with Mr. Boatwright’s baby on a Friday. That gloomy day also happened to be a Friday the thirteenth. My list of black Fridays seemed endless. Last year, my husband left me for Lizzie on a Friday.
Now here I was today, on another Friday, with more crap being rubbed in my face.
“Lizzie is pregnant!” I yelled into the telephone as soon as Rhoda O’Toole, my best friend of more than thirty years, answered on her end.
“By who?” she asked, sounding as stunned and disgusted as I was.
“By my husband, that’s who!” I screamed. I was glad that I was home alone. My twelve-year-old daughter, Charlotte, was at my parents’ house, but she could barge in at any time. The last thing I needed at the moment was for her to hear my end of the conversation. “What in the hell do I do now?” I was talking so loud and fast, I almost bit my tongue several times before I paused.
“Holy shit! How did you find out? Did Pee Wee tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell m
e. That heifer had the nerve to call my house a few minutes ago to tell me herself!”
“Damn! This is the last thing I expected to hear,” Rhoda said, suddenly sounding too relaxed for me. I wanted her to be as upset as I was. “How do you know she’s tellin’ the truth?”
“Why would she make up something like that?”
“Well, I can’t answer that question. But sister-girl is our age. And the last time I checked, forty-seven was a little long in the tooth for a woman to be gettin’ pregnant.”
“Are you forgetting that Sims woman from church? She was forty-nine when she had her last baby a few months ago,” I reminded Rhoda.
“Oh yeah,” Rhoda snorted. “Well, if Lizzie is pregnant, how do you know Pee Wee is the daddy? That sister has been gettin’ around in the bedroom these past few months. She dumped Pee Wee and moved in with Peabo Boykin. Do you know when she got pregnant? When was her last period?”
“Girl, I wasn’t taking notes when she called.”
“What does Pee Wee have to say about this mess?”
“He doesn’t know yet! At least that’s what she claims. She’s been trying to catch up with him all week so she could tell him. He changed the phone number to his apartment and his cell phone,” I reported.
“So she calls your house and tells you before she tells him?”
“Yeah.”
“And I thought I had some monster problems,” Rhoda lamented.
“I can tell you one thing right now; this new development between Pee Wee and that wench is not going to be my problem! I do not want that woman in my life again! If Pee Wee and I do get back together, I’d have to deal with Lizzie and their child from now on! I don’t think—I know—I couldn’t handle that, Rhoda. I’d go crazy!”
“Annette, calm down—”
“Calm down? I can’t calm down knowing my husband got some other woman pregnant! I can’t wait to call up my attorney again so I can resume my divorce proceedings!”
