One House Over

by Mary Monroe

  While I waited for Joyce to come back, I stretched out on the couch and thought about what had happened between me and Betty Jean. I could still smell her sweet scent. And her firm young body had felt so damn good! I didn’t know what to think about her being so eager to make love with me a few hours after we’d met. I didn’t give that detail too much thought, because Joyce had done the same thing.

  As much as I had enjoyed Betty Jean, she was just another piece of tail to me. But she had a different opinion about me. She hadn’t asked if I’d ever visit her again, she’d told me, “I’ll make you feel even better the next time you come over.” I hadn’t said I would visit her again, and I hadn’t said I wouldn’t. All I had done was blink and then I’d stumbled out the door and trotted all the way back to my car with my pants still unzipped.

  The only thing I was concerned about was me and Betty Jean accidentally crossing paths again. I wasn’t going to worry about that because it was not liable to happen. She had no reason to come to Branson, and I had no reason to go back over to Hartville.

  But the following Sunday, I did. And I ended up in her bed again. The same thing happened the Sunday after that. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late. Betty Jean Bonner had become part of my regular routine and I couldn’t stay away from her.

  Chapter 21

  Joyce

  THE MORE TIME I SPENT WITH THE CHILDREN AT WORK, THE MORE anxious I was to give birth. To me, nothing was more important and precious than motherhood. I couldn’t understand why every woman didn’t feel the same way. Some of the mothers of the children in my school couldn’t have cared less if their kids got an education or not. A lot of the kids felt the same way. I realized that certain people grew up to be fools because that was all they ever wanted to be in the first place. But I couldn’t put too much blame on them. Our school system didn’t encourage colored kids to do much to prepare themselves for the future. It made me angry and more determined than ever to make a difference. I complained about it to Daddy and Mama. They supported me, but they didn’t see things the way I did.

  The subject had been on my mind a lot lately. I brought it up again yesterday when Daddy came by the house to drop off the laundry Mama had done for me earlier in the day. “Joyce, you can’t save the world. My mama and daddy was slaves, so they never got no education, period. Just be glad that some of the colored kids do want to go to school.”

  “I’m just tired of our people settling for just enough to get by on. I might even start tutoring a few of the slower kids in the evenings and on weekends,” I said.

  “Don’t be no fool.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you cared about helping folks.”

  “I do. But I always took care of me and mine first. You want to tutor somebody, tutor yourself.”

  “Daddy, what in the world are you getting at?”

  “Stay on top of your marriage, that’s what. Keep your mind on Odell and what he needs. You need to be more concerned about him than improving the lives of other folks’ kids. And another thing; I don’t care what he do to you, you better stay with him.”

  Odell laughed when I told him what Daddy had said. “Honey, I don’t need for you to babysit me. I’m glad you want to do so much for other people, especially the children. You spend as much time as you want working overtime, tutoring after hours and anything else. I’m proud of you and I’m sure the folks you work with is too.”

  Knowing I had Odell’s support made me enjoy my job even more. I loved going to work almost as much as I loved being at home with Odell.

  Branson had four public elementary schools, one private school, and two high schools for the white kids. The colored kids had two elementary schools and one high school, period. Each one was so crowded the students didn’t get half of the individual attention they needed, which was the reason some of them attended summer school every year. Our elementary schools went from the first grade up to the eighth. Most of the students that made it that far didn’t even bother to go on to high school because they had to go to work. With a lot of the girls, they couldn’t continue their education because they usually got married and started having babies. Mama had only completed elementary school and Daddy had dropped out halfway into the fifth grade. But they could read and write well enough to get by.

  Even though I’d never really liked school, I’d promised myself and my parents that I would finish high school. I studied just enough to get by, so I’d graduated by the skin of my teeth. I could read and write as well as some of the people I knew who had attended college. My grammar was not perfect, and I made a lot of effort not to speak like a country bumpkin, especially around more educated people. But I had better things on my mind than speaking perfect English. My marriage was the most important thing in my life now.

  As anxious as I was to give birth to my first child, being pregnant was no picnic for me. I couldn’t eat some of the things I’d been eating all my life. The sight and smell of collard greens—one of my favorite dishes—turned my stomach and sent me running to the toilet to throw up. Mornings were the worst. Bacon and grits made me cringe, and I would rather eat a spider than a scrambled egg. I couldn’t even drink and keep down the ginger tea Mama claimed would stop the morning sickness.

  By the middle of my fourth month, my ankles and legs looked like tree stumps. I tried not to stir around too much because I got tired real quick. Other than work and church, I didn’t go too many places. If I got home before Odell, Mama came over and waited on me hand and foot. She cooked for us two or three times a week, and washed our clothes and cleaned the house. Odell did those chores when she couldn’t. He never complained, but I had a feeling he didn’t like rearranging his schedule and doing extra work around the house on my account. I didn’t want him to feel smothered, and I didn’t want to feel that way myself. As much as I loved him, I still enjoyed having a little free time to myself once in a while. It allowed me to relax and catch up on my reading. He loved to fish and visit his daddy after work and on weekends, so I encouraged him to keep doing that. Besides, I didn’t want him to see how miserable and clumsy my pregnancy was making me.

  My condition was causing other discomforts too. Sex was painful, even when Odell was gentle. When I noticed some bleeding tonight after we’d made love, I decided to put sex on hold. “Honey, we can’t risk hurting the baby, so we need to take a break until I deliver.”

  “No problem,” he said, sounding too nonchalant. His reaction surprised me.

  “You . . . you mean you don’t care?” I asked, holding my breath.

  “Hell yeah I care. But I care more about our baby. We got a long time ahead of us to make love, so a few dry months won’t kill me.” He laughed. Then he said something that made me blush. “In the meantime, I can think of a couple of other things we can do to have fun.”

  I gave him a disgusted look and jabbed his side with my elbow. “Hush up, you nasty dog you!”

  “What?”

  “I know what you got on your mind. I told you from the get-go that I don’t do nothing with my mouth but eat, talk, and kiss. I ain’t never put my head nowhere near a man’s privates and I don’t want to start doing it now.”

  “Aw, shuck it! Giving up a little head now and then ain’t never hurt nobody,” he griped. And then he started grinning like a fool and tracing my lips with his finger.

  “Not this ‘head.’ That’s why they have women like the ones that work for Aunt Mattie. They do all kinds of unnatural things.”

  “Baby, don’t be like that. You ain’t got to go that far. But I understand. I don’t want you to do nothing for me that you think is ‘unnatural. ’”

  “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Odell. I hope you never bring up this nasty subject again.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  It pleased me to know that it didn’t bother Odell too much that we couldn’t make love for a while. He didn’t pester me, even when it looked like his pecker was hard enough to bust
out of his pants. But I gave him as much attention as I could. One night in bed when I felt how aroused he was against my backside, I did something I thought I’d never do. I stroked and massaged his crotch until he was satisfied, and since that did the trick and calmed him down, I planned to volunteer to do it every time he got frisky.

  If I had known that a simple hand job could keep him from feeling neglected, I would have started doing it a lot sooner.

  Chapter 22

  Odell

  I WAS DISAPPOINTED THAT JOYCE HAD DECIDED WE NEEDED TO STOP having intercourse for a while. I was just as concerned about her health as well as our baby’s. But I was still a man. I couldn’t help myself. Instead of me controlling sex, it was controlling me. Some men fucked to live and others lived to fuck. I did both. To me, sex was like food and water, so I needed some to keep going.

  There was only one thing I could do to keep from going crazy until Joyce gave birth: keep seeing Betty Jean.

  Every time I paid her a visit, I told myself that it would be the last time. That was easy to say, but hard to do. I felt like I was sinking deeper and deeper into a bowl of quicksand and I cussed the day I’d gotten myself into this mess. That pretty young girl in Hartville really had a hold on me, but I had to break loose eventually. And I would as soon as Joyce was back in commission.

  I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I didn’t feel too guilty about it. I justified my actions by putting some of the blame on Joyce. For one thing, when a woman puts a hold on sex—no matter what the reason—a man has to do something to ease the pain. I didn’t have no problem jacking off, but that only took me so far. Without having a woman’s body to hold on to, it didn’t please me no more than if I’d been humping a wall.

  As “perfect” as Joyce was, I realized she had a few flaws after all. I had been so blinded by love, I hadn’t been able to see them until now. One thorn in my side was the way she reminded me how “lucky” I was because of her. She took credit for me landing the high position I had at the store. But the subject only came up if she was having a bad day. And today was one of them days. She came home from work almost in tears because of an incident with one of the students. He was a rowdy little scalawag. He’d cussed Joyce out and bit her on the leg because she’d whacked his palms with a ruler to punish him for dropping a baby scorpion down the blouse of the girl who sat in front of him. I thought it was funny, but Joyce didn’t. When I laughed, she almost bit my head off.

  “You better watch your step, Mr. Man. I’m the last person in the world you need to piss off. If it hadn’t been for my folks hiring you, you’d be back in the cotton and sugarcane fields, or working in another whorehouse,” she blasted. Since Joyce was usually so easygoing, I didn’t let what she said bother me. I kept my mouth shut and slunk out of the room. If I’d had a tail, it would have been between my legs. She was fine and very apologetic when I came back to the living room ten minutes ago with a fresh cup of tea I’d made for her.

  I eventually noticed flaws in another area too: my in-laws. Even though they had put me in charge of the business and told me on a regular basis what a good job I was doing, they never let me forget that I was still just an employee. They also let me know that when they passed, Joyce would be the only one authorized to handle their estate. And I’d only be in charge if she died or went crazy. I didn’t think that was fair to me, but I didn’t make a fuss. Shit. My mama didn’t raise no fool. I was not about to bite the hands that was feeding me. Besides, I knew that when Joyce had to take over and control her parents’ affairs, I’d be in an even stronger position because I was controlling Joyce. The only thing I had to do was keep her happy and that was as easy as licking a lollipop. All of that was good for me, but there was times when it made me feel less of a man, and it had a lot to do with me getting even more seriously involved with Betty Jean. That was what I kept telling myself so I wouldn’t feel even guiltier. But the bottom line was, Betty Jean was not the kind of girl a healthy man could ignore. Not only was she too beautiful for words, which would have been enough to make any man act like a fool, but she was also a stone freak in the bedroom. Nothing was too nasty for Betty Jean. I had known a lot of women, but only a couple had enjoyed doing things other than straight sex as much as she did.

  “At least I can’t get pregnant by sucking you off,” she told me on my last visit.

  “Pregnant? Lord Jesus, girl! Don’t even let that cross your mind.” Just the thought of her getting pregnant sent a chill up my spine. But I knew that if we kept wallowing around in her bed, making a baby was a strong possibility. I had to break off the relationship and I had to do it soon. Matter of fact, I had decided that the next time I visited her, I’d tell her I couldn’t see her no more.

  I had never thought too much about Betty Jean getting pregnant. From day one, we’d been careful and I’d pulled out in the nick of time. I’d been too late a couple of times, but so far we’d been lucky.

  Until today, the last Sunday in September.

  I came straight home from church a few minutes past noon to change out of my new black suit into some jeans and a plain shirt. The house was empty, so I had time to sit down and have a glass of wine and go over in my head what I was going to say to Betty Jean. I wanted to wrap things up as fast as I could so I could put her behind me, and forget I ever met her.

  Joyce and her parents had gone to visit some relative in Mobile. They’d invited me to tag along, but I’d told them I needed to go check up on Daddy. He was the best excuse I could use when I needed to get out of something I didn’t want to do. In addition to his other ailments, which included diabetes and arthritis, now he had the grippe. What my wife and in-laws didn’t know was that none of Daddy’s problems was as bad as I made them out to be, so I actually only visited him once or twice a week. All the extra “visits” to him in the last couple of weeks had been to Betty Jean’s house. My “fishing” trips didn’t actually happen as often as I claimed either. I kept my reel, a net, and bait cans in the trunk of my car, so a lot of the times when I wanted to be with Betty Jean for only a couple of hours, I’d pick up fresh fish from one of the markets on my way home and told Joyce I’d caught them. She put up a mild fuss about cleaning the fish, so I eventually took over that chore. But she enjoyed cooking and eating them so much that she even encouraged me to go fishing more often. And, I did....

  The drive to Hartville seemed longer this Sunday. I figured it was because I had made up my mind that this would be the last time I’d be making this trip. I was concerned about how Betty Jean was going to react when I told her I was ending our relationship, because I knew she loved me. And, I loved her, so it was going to be just as hard on me as it was her. By quitting while I was still ahead, it would be easier for me to forget how I’d ignored my wedding vows.

  When I pulled into her front yard, she was standing on her front porch. Since this last visit was not going to end on a happy note, I was going to get frisky as soon as she’d let me. Before I lowered the boom, I wanted to make love to her one last time, or at least get a nice farewell blow job. I was convinced that that would hold me over until Joyce got back on track.

  I knew Betty Jean would be hurt when I told her I couldn’t see her anymore, but I’d be hurt too. She was a feisty little woman, so I expected her to at least cuss me out and maybe even bounce a skillet off my head. Before I even parked, I could tell that something was bothering her. There was a tight look on her face, and she was wringing her hands and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  I piled out of the car so fast I didn’t even shut the door. I was gasping for air as I ran up to her. “Baby, what’s the matter?” Instead of answering me right away, she folded her arms and took a long deep breath. “Did you get some bad news?” I asked. My heart felt like somebody with big hands was beating on it like a bongo drum.

  “That depends,” she said real quick, and then she pressed her lips together, narrowed her eyes, and poked my chest with her finger.

  “Well,
tell me what it is. Is it something I can help you with?”

  “You sure will help me with it. I’m pregnant,” she told me in one breath.

  The sun was as bright as it could be, but everything suddenly went dark. I froze like a icicle. When I tried to speak, my lips and tongue moved, but nothing came out of my mouth but gibberish.

  “What do we do now?” Betty Jean wanted to know. “I can’t take care of no baby and work, too.”

  “I swear to God, you won’t have to,” I assured her. My head felt like it was about to explode. I couldn’t believe I’d let myself get into such a mess! I had cooked my own goose. Coming out of this in one piece was going to be the biggest challenge I’d ever faced. I didn’t want Betty Jean to know how stupefied her news had made me. So I smiled and wrapped my arms around her. “Sugar, don’t you fret none. Everything is going to be all right,” I assured her. And I was determined to make sure it was.

  Chapter 23

  Odell

  I WAS MADLY IN LOVE WITH TWO WOMEN AND IT WAS THE BEST FEELING in the world. I’d been in love a few times before, but it had never felt this good. I kept a smile on my face and I felt so cocky you would have thought I was the only rooster in a barnyard with nothing but hens.

  Having a pregnant wife and a pregnant woman on the side was probably enough to drive any other man over the edge. But in my case, it was a double blessing.

  I had started walking around with my chest puffed out back in July when Joyce told me she was having my baby. I couldn’t wait to be a daddy. I had been with a lot of women, so it was possible that I had children already out there somewhere. None of my exes that still lived in Branson had come up to me and told me that I was a daddy, so as far as I was concerned, my baby with Joyce would be my first.