One House Over

by Mary Monroe

  Now I had two babies on the way. I was happy and scared at the same time. If Joyce ever found out about Betty Jean, my life would be over. I’d lose her, my job, and my good reputation in the community. And there was just no telling what her daddy would do to me. He still had that shotgun. My mother-in-law would probably do something crazy to me too. Millie was a mild-mannered woman. But one time I seen her beat a would-be shop lifter over the head with a whisk broom, so I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to do the same thing or something worse to me. I was leading a double life now, and a dangerous one. One wrong move and somebody could even end up dead....

  Sneaking to see Betty Jean a couple of times during the week wasn’t enough. It only made me want to see her even more. The store was closed on weekends, so I started visiting her on Saturdays and Sundays, too. Each time I told Joyce I was going fishing or to check up on Daddy. And each time she told me, “Drive carefully, baby, and stay as long as you need to.” She was so determined to keep pleasing me, she never got nosy or suspicious. The more I “fished” and “visited Daddy,” the easier it got for me to pull the wool over her eyes. I pitied the men who had passed up marrying this wonderful woman. The women in the Bible couldn’t have been more devoted to their husbands.

  A week after Betty Jean had dropped her bombshell on me, Joyce dropped one the first Saturday in October. Just as I was about to go “fishing,” she came stumbling out of the bathroom crying up a storm and holding her stomach. “Odell, something’s wrong with the baby!”

  She had a miscarriage and for the next three days she stayed in bed. I only left her side when I had to use the bathroom or to get us something to eat or drink. I didn’t even go to work the following Monday.

  “Son, why don’t you go on back to the store? Joyce will be fine and there’s nothing more you can do for her,” Millie told me the next day. “You look awful, so you need to do something for yourself before you get sick and we’ll have to nurse you, too.”

  “Mama’s right, Odell. Go fishing or take a long drive,” Joyce suggested, still sounding as weak as a kitten. She was in bed with her head propped up on three pillows.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, giving her a thoughtful look. “Maybe I’ll do just that. I guess I should go check on Daddy.” Then I turned to my mother-in-law. “Millie, do you mind staying here for a few hours? Um . . . I ain’t been out to visit Daddy since last week, so I might even spend the night.”

  “Boy, you know I don’t mind staying with my baby girl. Now you go on. You been cooped up in this house long enough.” Millie snapped her fingers and waved me to the door.

  I didn’t feel good about leaving Joyce when I thought she needed me. But Betty Jean needed me too. I knew she was wondering why I hadn’t come to her house last Saturday like I had promised her I would. She didn’t have a telephone, but when I got on the road a few minutes later, it dawned on me that I could have called her sister at her job and gave her a message to give Betty Jean. I made a mental note to do that the next time something interfered with my plans. I prayed all the way to Hartville that she was all right and that she wouldn’t be too upset about me not showing up when I was supposed to.

  She was mad as hell when she met me at her front door. “Oh, so you finally decided to come back, huh?” she hollered, rolling her neck and giving me one of the meanest looks I’d ever seen on a woman’s face. Her sister Alline came stomping into the living room. She looked just as pissed off as Betty Jean. I stood close to the door in case I had to make a run for it. They stood side by side in the middle of the floor, looking at me like I’d stole their last dollar.

  I held my breath for a couple of seconds. “Alline, can I talk to your sister alone, please?” As far as I knew, Betty Jean’s big sister didn’t know I was married.

  “Ain’t nothing you can say to her that you can’t say in front of me,” Alline snarled.

  “Girl, please go on to work. You know more than enough of my business already,” Betty Jean said in a gentle tone. Alline huffed out a loud breath, grabbed her purse off the coffee table, and stomped out the front door.

  “How much do she know about me?” I asked, moving closer to Betty Jean. I wanted to lean over and kiss her. But from the way her lips was poked out, she probably would have bit mine in two.

  “You ain’t got to worry. She don’t know you got a wife. Even if she did, it wouldn’t be no big deal. Her last boyfriend had a wife and nine kids.”

  “Well, let’s keep that part of your business from her as long as we can. If she find out I’m married, she might blab to the wrong people. And sooner or later, they’ll talk to somebody who might know people in Branson that know the MacPhersons and will tell them about us. And my butt would be theirs.”

  “I ain’t going to tell my sister nothing about you that she don’t already know. Now why didn’t you show up last Saturday? I had baked some turkey wings and made cornbread dressing just like you asked me to.”

  “Let me explain.” I held my hand up to her face. “I had a real emergency.” I was glad Betty Jean stayed quiet long enough for me to tell her about Joyce’s miscarriage.

  “I’m sorry about your wife losing your baby, and I’m glad it wasn’t nothing more serious than that.” We sat down on the couch at the same time. Betty Jean gave me a sympathetic look and started rubbing my knee.

  “What could be more serious than my wife losing my baby?”

  “A bunch of things. I thought maybe you’d been in a car wreck, or had a run-in with some crazy peckerwood along the way,” she told me, giving me a hopeless look. “And, I thought maybe Joyce had found out about us.”

  “Betty Jean, I don’t want you to worry about Joyce finding out about us. That ain’t going to happen. As long as I tell her everything she want to hear and keep treating her like a queen, she ain’t got no reason to think I’m involved with another woman.”

  “Can I ask you something?” She stopped rubbing my knee.

  “You can ask me anything you want.”

  “Am I the only other woman?”

  “Huh?”

  “You been with anybody else since you married Joyce?”

  “Goodness gracious no! Why? And what difference would it make? I love you and you the only other woman in my life except my wife.”

  “And you really love us both?”

  “Damn right I do.”

  “Men who really love their wives don’t cheat on them.”

  “Look, you can think whatever you want. But I really do love my wife and I really do love you. I’m going to be with both of y’all until the day I die. Happy?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Chapter 24

  Joyce

  I HAD LOST MY BABY TWO WEEKS AGO, BUT I WAS STILL HAPPIER THAN I ever thought I’d be. And, I was confident that I’d get pregnant again real soon. Right after Dr. Rogers gave me the okay to have sex again last Monday, I practically jumped Odell that first night. After riding and slurping on his sweet dick for three days straight, I’d slowed down and it was only because he’d started complaining about me wearing him out. I laughed long and hard because that was the last thing I ever expected to hear from a man who loved sex as much as he did.

  I waited a couple of days before I started up on him again. He enjoyed all the attention and the sex. But three more months went by and I hadn’t gotten pregnant again. I was getting worried that we’d never have a child. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be,” Odell said, trying to make me feel better. “Maybe God got other plans for me and you.”

  “Like what? What other plans would God have for us, especially when He knows how desperate we are to have a baby?” I cried.

  “Joyce, we ain’t that old. We got a lot of good years left and I’m sure my jism and your eggs won’t expire no time soon.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be forty-eight-years old like Mama was when she had me. Even if we have children within the next three or four years, by the time they get old enough to go to school, Mama and Daddy will be too old to enjoy d
oing things with them.”

  Mama was so anxious to be a grandmother she had already knitted several pairs of booties and blankets and was about to do a few more. Daddy was even more anxious. He couldn’t stop talking about how much fun he was going to have teaching his grandchildren how to fish. It got to where I hated when the subject of babies came up.

  “I wish you would stop all that unnecessary worrying. I know we’ll have a baby way before you get as old as your mama was when she had you, sugar.”

  “I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me.” It was hard for me to speak and hold back my tears.

  “You ain’t disappointing me by not giving me a baby. But you do disappoint me when you keep harping on it. That ain’t helping the situation at all, and it’s just making you feel even worse. Now let me tell you again, I’m very happy with you and I’m always going to be happy with you, whether we have children or not.”

  I was so glad Odell had such a positive attitude. If any man deserved to have children, it was him. Somehow I knew he was going to get what he wanted and I knew it wouldn’t be too much longer. That was one of the things that kept me going. Another one was all the attention he gave me.

  Some days I couldn’t walk past him without him lunging at me. If we were in the living room, he’d wrestle me to the floor or the couch and we’d make love. Then we’d move to the bedroom and start all over. The last time that happened, he told me, “I’m just getting started on you.” Those words made me tingle all over. I couldn’t imagine how much more he could show his love for me. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve a man who practically worshipped the ground I walked on.

  Even without makeup and my hair fixed, Odell had me believing that I still looked good to him. We made love every way possible two human beings could. I’d even started doing things I never thought I’d do. Once I got used to oral sex and French kissing, I enjoyed it as much as he did. On the nights that he didn’t jump on me, I jumped on him. I liked to hem him up in the bathroom and make love leaned up against the wall. Another favorite location for me was the kitchen. I looked forward to the times when we’d get buck naked and do our business on top of the same table where we ate most of our meals. One time we got so carried away, we rolled to the floor and Odell’s foot hit the stove and knocked off a boiling pot of collard greens. It missed our naked asses by a few inches. We never made love in the kitchen again.

  People noticed how much I had changed since Odell had come into my life. “I’m so pleased to see how much you’ve blossomed,” Miss Kirksey, the teacher I worked with, told me one morning a few minutes before our students arrived. “I guess love is the cure-all some folks claim it is.”

  “Sure enough,” I agreed, grinning from ear to ear.

  I still enjoyed working with young kids and I felt that the practice was going to come in handy for when I had my own. However, there was one little girl named Minnie that I didn’t care for. She lived with three divorced women: her mama, her grandmama, and an aunt. One was just as bitter and miserable as the next, so I was not surprised that Minnie had such a bleak outlook on life. She was a pretty little thing, but she was a bully and had no friends. It seemed like every time she opened her mouth, she let out something offensive, mean, or just plain nasty. “Mrs. Watson, how did you get such a handsome husband?” She had asked this rude question in front of the whole class last Thursday when Odell came by the school to bring me some flowers for no reason.

  “What do you mean by that, Minnie?” The minute I asked that question, I regretted it.

  “Did you hoodoo him? My mama said you must have.” She had a serious look on her round face, but the other kids snickered.

  I was so shocked and annoyed, I wanted to slap that nosy little heifer. “No, I don’t believe in all that hocus-pocus and you and your mama shouldn’t either.” I was so glad Miss Kirksey returned to the classroom before Minnie could say anything else. And the next time she got a little too personal with me, I ignored her. That was the end of that. But every now and then something else happened or was said to me that ruffled my feathers. Last night while Odell was visiting his Daddy, my daddy paid a random visit to our house and made a remark that really bothered me. “I hope Odell ain’t too disappointed about you not having no babies yet.”

  “You don’t have to worry about Odell. He already told me that even if we never have children, he’ll still love me just the same,” I replied.

  “I hope he meant it,” Daddy added. “Nothing completes a marriage like children. Odell ain’t no different from other men, so I know he’s pining away for some children of his own.”

  “Daddy, you worry too much,” I teased.

  “And you don’t worry enough, girl.”

  “Except for not having a baby yet, I don’t have anything to worry about,” I insisted.

  “Yeah, you do! And so do everybody else. It just take some folks longer to realize what it is.”

  I didn’t give much thought to Daddy’s comment, and by the time he left, I had forgotten all about it.

  I refused to worry or let anything else bring me down. My life was so good. I was going to do everything I could to keep it that way or die trying. . . .

  Chapter 25

  Odell

  June 1938

  JOYCE TRUSTED MY JUDGMENT JUST AS MUCH AS HER PARENTS AND had decided right after we got married that I should be the one to handle all our finances. She got paid every other Friday, kept only what she needed out of her paycheck, and gave the rest to me. I was one of the few people who still had faith in the banks, so I maintained a savings and checking account. Joyce’s name was on both accounts, but since I paid all the bills and took out money when we needed it, she never checked on the balance or anything else.

  Even though my wife was a very humble woman and always agreeable, I didn’t take that for granted. One thing I had learned over the years was that life was unpredictable. Joyce was still human, so I knew that no matter how meek she was, she could still do something out of character, if pushed far enough. Other than her finding out about me and Betty Jean, I couldn’t think of nothing else I could do that would make her snap. I couldn’t afford to take no chances and end up unemployed, back at that boardinghouse, or worse. That was why I’d opened a secret bank account so I’d have something to fall back on in case things fell apart. It was a necessary move on my part because I had a lot more responsibilities now. I finally had the “several” children I’d always wanted.

  But not with Joyce.

  Betty Jean had given birth to our third son last year, three days after Labor Day. I supported her in every way, especially financially. She still lived with her sister, but she had stopped working after the birth of our second son. I was happy about that because I wanted her to spend as much time as possible with the boys. Our oldest, three-year-old Daniel, resembled me so much we could almost pass for twins. Two-year-old Jesse and nine-month-old Leon looked more like Betty Jean.

  “Y’all have any more babies, we’ll have to move into a bigger house,” Alline told us five minutes after I walked into the house this particular Sunday morning. I liked Alline and couldn’t understand why a beautiful woman like her, with men coming on to her every day, was still unmarried. If and when she decided she didn’t want Betty Jean and the children to continue living with her, I’d have to make some drastic changes. Even though Betty Jean and the boys had to share the same bed (me and her slept on a pallet when I visited), Alline had assured me that her baby sister and children could live with her as long as they wanted to. That was fine with me because I didn’t want to start paying out any more money than I already was.

  When Alline broke the news this morning that she was going to marry some joker she’d been seeing for a couple of years and move him into the house, Betty Jean told me that she couldn’t stand the man and that I needed to find a place for her and our children. I had saved quite a bit over the years, so it was not going to be too much of a hardship on me. But she was so persistent, I w
ent out and found a place for her three hours after Alline had announced that she was going to get married.

  Betty Jean wasn’t too happy about my choice, though. For one thing, the house was near a swamp, so she’d have to deal with snakes and other creatures. It had only two bedrooms, the toilet was outside, and she would have to get all her water from a nearby spring.

  “For ten dollars a month rent, you could have found a much better place,” she whined.

  “Baby, it was the best I could do on such short notice,” I explained. “I’ll keep looking until I find something better. In the meantime, it’ll have to do for now.”

  Betty Jean and the children stayed in the first house only six months. In December, I found one in a much nicer neighborhood with three bedrooms and indoor plumbing. It was close to the two elementary schools for colored kids in Hartville, so when our boys got old enough to attend, they could walk. This was a blessing. There wasn’t no school buses for colored kids and some lived four and five miles away, and had to walk. It was no wonder so many of us dropped out so early.

  With all the good things about the new house, I assumed this would be the last move for Betty Jean until the kids got grown and moved out on their own. It was well worth fifteen dollars rent a month, especially since she was so happy with it. The only thing she didn’t like was that all of her friends and family lived on the other side of town and none of them had transportation. The city bus situation in Hartville was just as bleak as it was in Branson, bad or no service in the colored neighborhoods. “You’ll have to come over more often to drive us around,” she told me. It was ten p.m., the first Saturday night in the new place. We had put the kids to bed and plopped down on the new couch I had recently purchased.

  “Baby, I’m already pushing my luck by spending every Sunday, and two or three Fridays and Saturdays a month with you—not to mention a few weekday evenings, too. Joyce ain’t stupid. Sooner or later, she’ll get suspicious about all the time I spend fishing and visiting my daddy,” I said, draping my arm around Betty Jean’s shoulder. All I had on was my drawers, which I planned to slide off in a few minutes because she was looking too sexy in that flannel nightgown she had on. I couldn’t wait to hoist her up and tote her to our bedroom so we could make love again. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t like lying to my wife.”