by Mary Monroe
“Auntie, I love tall boys to death. They make the best lovers,” Jade had swooned to me a couple of years ago in my living room during one of her frequent visits.
“Girl, you’d better leave those tall boys alone if that’s all they are good for. Sex is at the root of a lot of society’s problems. It’s even a crime in some situations,” I said, recalling the many rapes I had endured at the hands of Mr. Boatwright.
“Oh, not getting sex ought to be a crime,” Jade laughed.
I dismissed Jade and her comments, and forgot all about that conversation until I received a frantic call from her, begging me to come give her a ride home from the Rolly Stark clinic where she’d just had an abortion. She was fifteen at the time.
“Auntie, you have to come get me! Paulie got scared and left me here at the clinic by myself!” Jade had sobbed.
“And what did you go to the clinic for?” I asked, glad I was home alone so I wouldn’t have to explain anything to Pee Wee about Jade, once I found out what she needed to explain to me.
“Uh…I…I found out last week that I was a little pregnant. Remember that party you dropped me off at a couple of months ago at Lolly Hawk’s house? Well, something happened to me that night, but I didn’t expect to get pregnant! Shoot—I just wanted to have some fun! Honest to God. Me and Paulie don’t want really want a baby right now,” Jade told me. She broke down and cried for two minutes straight before I could speak again.
“Does your mother know about this?” I asked in as calm a voice as I could manage. This was the most stunning piece of information that Jade had ever shared with me. I couldn’t believe my ears as she told me the whole story.
The baby’s father, a boy who still walked around with a snotty nose and who hung out in the neighborhood on his bike, had become nervous in the waiting room. He had left in such a hurry that he’d left behind one of his shoes. This was a boyfriend that Jade had kept a secret from everybody, including me. The boy didn’t even have a driver’s license or a car, so he and Jade had planned for him to escort her in a cab to my house where she could recooperate from her abortion. This had been planned without my knowledge or consent. Now I was sorry that I had given Jade a key to my house.
The whole situation stressed me out from the beginning to the end. But the thing that seemed to bother Jade the most was the fact that she had been brought to my house in a cab. Like buses, dollar stores, and food stamps, cabs were on a long list of things that Jade didn’t tolerate.
With my support, she got through that traumatic experience intact. But as soon as she was up and about, she slid into a series of affairs with several other boys, some in college. That was all done behind her mother’s back, but in my face. It made me feel like I was more than just a conspirator. I felt somewhat responsible for what Jade did, because I didn’t do much to prevent her from doing it. The few times I did try to interfere, Jade wasted no time reminding me, “You are not my mother! You can’t tell me what to do!”
I loved Jade with all my heart, but I was glad she wasn’t my daughter. I predicted that one day she would break Rhoda’s heart clean in two.
I didn’t like Jade dragging me into her sordid lifestyle. One of my fears was that if and when Rhoda found out that I had been cloaking for her daughter, she would read me the riot act. And she had every right to. But since I’d given Jade a job, she had been behaving herself quite well and I was proud of her again.
CHAPTER 25
As I strolled down the aisle that separated the cubicles, I saw Gloria Watson and several other female employees in a huddle in Tami Barber’s cubicle. Gloria didn’t like Tami, claiming that Tami thought her shit didn’t stink because she was a natural blonde. Yet Gloria had dragged her chair into Tami’s cubicle, too. The women were poring over some Avon brochures. They didn’t notice me as I grabbed a thick red folder off Gloria’s desk and returned to my office.
Lately I had gotten in the habit of keeping my office door shut. Not because I thought I was such a big muckety-muck, like Gloria had called me in the ladies’ room one day, but because I enjoyed the solitude that, in an office environment, a person could only get behind a closed door.
In the red folder that I’d plucked from Gloria’s desk was another red folder, one that she had obviously tried to hide. In it was a three-page list of names and telephone numbers of people who had failed to pay their bills. “Shit,” I said with a chuckle, falling down into my chair so hard my tailbone ached. I never knew what to expect from these people who had ended up on our shit list. We encountered all types of personalities.
I straightened up in my seat and cleared my throat, frowning as I scanned the list of names. I recognized a few names of people I had attended school with, and a woman I used to go to church with. But the name that almost leaped off the page was the name of my gynecologist. I drew a line through his name. I’d let one of the other collectors contact him. Just a month ago I’d read a disturbing article about an evil, vindictive doctor who had injected some of his patients with the AIDS virus, after they had complained about him. My mother had taught me that you didn’t piss off the people who held your life in their hands—like doctors, cops, and people who worked in restaurants who prepared your food. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud when further down on the list I spotted the name of my hairdresser.
I dialed the number of the first name, took a deep breath, and braced myself.
“Mmmmm, hullo.” The voice on the other end of the line was the very pleasant, almost sexy, voice of a man who sounded like he was in his forties or fifties, and a little on the impatient side. “Who this is be callin’ here while I’m tryin’ to sleep?” He didn’t sound too educated, either.
“May I speak to Marvin Dunn, please?”
“This him! If you sellin’ septic tanks or some other such mess, I ain’t buyin’ nothin’,” the man barked.
“Uh, yes. Hello, Mr. Dunn. No, I am not selling anything. As a matter of fact, this call is in reference to something you’ve already purchased. Some stereo equipment from Hardee’s Electronics at the Melden Village Mall.” It made no difference how polite I was. Some of the people that I called still behaved like raging pit bulls. “How are you doing today, Mr. Dunn?”
“Well, you must have the wrong Marvin Dunn ’cause I ain’t bought nothin’ in six months! Shoot! I been eatin’ peanut butter and jelly all week ’cause I can’t even scrape up no money for no meat or nothin’.”
“Yes. Well, it’s been six months since you made the purchase that I’m calling you about. In fact, you never made the first payment on the account you opened. But the merchant is willing to work out a payment plan.”
There was a long pause before Mr. Dunn replied. I could hear people laughing and cussing on the other end of the line as well as B.B. King singing the blues. Background noises revealed a lot about the people we had to call that they didn’t want us to know. It sounded like Mr. Dunn and some of his friends were thoroughly enjoying the stereo equipment that he had purchased and now couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pay for.
“I axed who this is?” he hollered.
“This is Annette Davis at Mizelle’s Collection Agency,” I replied in a crisp voice.
There was another pause and B.B. King stopped singing, but the laughing and the cussing continued. Finally, there was a loud grunt before I heard another word.
“Uh-huh. This me.”
“Mr. Dunn, I am calling because you are six payments behind on your account with Hardee’s Electronics. Your account has been turned over to us for collection. Is this something that we can we discuss right now? Is this a good time for you?”
“Naw, this ain’t no good time for me to talk. I got company right now.”
“Well, when is a good time for me to call you again?” We had been trained to remain pleasant, no matter how difficult a call was.
“I don’t know! What’s good for you might not be good for me!”
I rubbed my eyes and sucked in some air. “Sir,
we’d like to work out some payment arrangements, and we’d like to do that as soon as possible. Our client has been very lenient with you. Even though you already had bad credit, they opened an account for you in good faith…” Taking a debtor on a guilt trip sometimes worked.
“Uh-huh and I sho ’preciate that. I intend to pay ’em,” Mr. Dunn said sharply. Gone was the voice that had sounded almost sexy. “But like I said, I got company right now!” he boomed.
“Well, like I said, when is a good time for me to call you again?”
“Shit! Ain’t no time a good time for you to call me!”
“It’d only take a few minutes for us to make some payment arrangements, and since there is no other good time to call you, I suggest we settle this right now.”
“How did you get this telephone number in the first place? I changed my phone number last month.”
“We got that information from the two references you listed when you opened the account, sir.”
“Well, this is a unlisted phone number!”
“Would you like to discuss some payment arrangements now, sir?”
“Would you like to discuss kissin’ my black ass? I ain’t got no money! My boy just got out the hospital and them damn motherfuckers at the insurance company won’t pay the whole bill!”
“Sir, you don’t need to shout. And I am sorry to hear about your son. But you still have an obligation to settle your debt with Hardee’s Electronics.”
“And you have a obligation to kiss my black ass!” Mr. Dunn roared before he slammed the telephone down.
I let out my breath and called the next name on the list. “This is Annette Davis. I am with Mizelle’s Collection Agency. May I speak to Jerry DeFazio, please?”
“I…He don’t live here no more!”
“Do you have a number where he can be reached?”
“Naw, I ain’t got no number where he can be reached!”
“Can you tell me where he works now?”
“Get your ass off this telephone, lady!” This individual hung up on me, too.
I hung up the telephone and stood up and stretched for a few moments, rubbing my ear. The last caller had yelled so loud at me, my ear was still ringing.
I couldn’t understand why people got so upset when they had to be called about bills that they knew they still owed. I dragged myself back to my seat and was just about to call up the third person on my list when my telephone rang.
“Annette Davis,” I said in my most professional voice.
“Good afternoon, bitch!” the caller whispered. It was a voice that was all too familiar. There were no background noises. If anything, the background was so deadly silent, it reminded me of a tomb.
I sucked in my breath and stood up. “Who is this?” I asked, knowing I didn’t want to hear the answer to my question.
“You know who it is, you black-ass bitch!”
The harsh language that I had just listened to from the people I had just called was bad, but I didn’t take it personally. What I was hearing now was a direct assault. A huge lump immediately formed in my throat, and it was a few moments before I was able to speak. My voice came out sounding like a croak. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to see you gone, bitch!”
“What the hell do I have to do for you to leave me alone?” I whimpered, balling my trembling hand into a fist.
“I want you to let your man go.”
“What did you say?” I gasped, looking at the telephone in my hand with so much contempt you would have thought that it was responsible for this vicious call.
“You think you got your man sewed up, well I got news for you. He’ll be with me soon. He loves me!”
“Fuck you! I don’t believe anything you say!” I seethed. “My husband does not cheat on me!”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I’ll send you some proof, bitch!”
I gently placed the phone down on my desk and rushed out of my office. If Gloria was the person responsible, and if I ran fast enough, I’d catch her red-handed!
Gloria and Tami Barber were still fawning over the Avon brochures. I ran back into my office and picked up the telephone. She had hung up.
On one hand I was relieved to know that Gloria Watson was not my tormentor. But on the other hand, I was totally alarmed all over again to know that she wasn’t. This meant that I still had a serious problem.
I was right back where I started.
CHAPTER 26
Rhoda didn’t have to work. Her husband made good money as the lead foreman at Richland Steel. He was heavily insured so that if anything happened to him, Rhoda would be set for life. But Rhoda had more than one egg in her basket.
Her daddy had owned and operated the only Black funeral home in Richland. He had retired several years ago, and he now lived with Rhoda’s mother and other relatives in New Orleans. He had made a lot of money over the years burying folks. I recalled the last year that Mr. Nelson operated his funeral service before he retired. People had been dropping like flies. Some days he got in two bodies at the same time. I had a dream one night about dead bodies falling out of the sky and landing on Mr. Nelson’s front lawn. I never told anyone about that dream.
Rhoda’s older brother, Jock, lived with her parents in New Orleans and had to have twenty-four-hour-a-day care. He had come back from Vietnam so severely shell-shocked, he would never be able to fend for himself again. And since she had no other siblings still alive, Rhoda would inherit the bulk of her father’s estate once he and Rhoda’s mother passed on. Rhoda would be a very wealthy woman someday, one way or the other.
Rhoda didn’t have any money problems now. But she operated the child-care center out of her home anyway because she loved kids.
I felt comfortable knowing that my daughter was in Rhoda’s care. Rhoda had a couple of women from the neighborhood helping her with the kids. That way, Rhoda wasn’t confined to the house. She could go out shopping or meet me and Jade for lunch.
One thing I could say about that girl was that she was dependable. When she was supposed to be in the office, she was in the office. She was a good receptionist, too. I had already decided that if she chose not to go on to college the following year, I would love to keep her on. And I would do whatever I had to do to make her a permanent employee.
The vicious call had come in at twelve-thirty. Jade was due back from her lunch with Rhoda at one.
I couldn’t wait. I ran out to the parking lot and stayed there until Rhoda returned with Jade. They seemed surprised and alarmed to see me standing in the parking lot with a wild-eyed look on my face.
“Auntie, what is it?” Jade said, jumping out from Rhoda’s SUV before it even stopped. I must have looked pretty desperate for Jade to jump out of a moving vehicle. She ran over to me, on the tips of her toes like a ballerina, and wrapped her arms as far around me as she could. “What’s the matter, Auntie?”
Rhoda parked and leaped out of her vehicle. Jade was practically holding me up as I leaned against the side of the building, swaying like one of those naked trees I stared at outside the window of my office. A man in a shabby brown suit left the IRS office next door looking more distressed than I was. He got into the car parked next to Rhoda’s SUV, slamming his door so hard the window rattled. I waited for him to drive away before I spoke again.
“She called me again,” I managed.
“Who?” Jade and Rhoda said at the same time.
“The same woman who sent me that note. The same woman who called my house that day we had the cookout,” I said, shaking. Rhoda and Jade looked at each other, then back at me.
“She called you at work?” Rhoda asked, her eyes wide and angry.
I nodded. “She knows where I work. That’s where she sent me that blacksnake.” I sniffed and looked toward the door. “I thought…I thought it was Gloria.” I paused and looked at Jade. “You know how much she hates me.”
Jade nodded. “I know she does. You said you thought it was her? What do you think now?”
“Well, while that bitch was still on the telephone, I put the telephone down and ran out to Gloria’s cubicle. It wasn’t her.” I swallowed so hard I saw a few spots in front of my eyes. I had to blink hard and then rub my eyes to make them go away. “She and Tami were ordering Avon and eating lunch and probably didn’t even know that I was in the office at the time. It wasn’t Gloria. It never was her.” I was disappointed. Had it been Gloria, I could have laid this puppy to rest now.
“What did the bitch say this time?” Rhoda asked. “Did she give any hints or ideas as to who she is, and why she is doin’ this damn shit?”
“No, she didn’t. She…she disguised her voice like before,” I stuttered.
“Are you sure it was her? Maybe it was one of those deadbeats you called,” Rhoda said, looking at Jade.
I shook my head hard. “It was the same woman. I recognized her voice. She just said she wanted me gone.” I blinked and shook my head again. “Gone where? Why? Who in the world would want me out of the picture, and why? This is some crazy shit!” I couldn’t bring myself to tell Rhoda yet that the woman had claimed she was having an affair with my husband and was going to prove it.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Let me take you out for a drink. Then we’ll get our nails done,” Rhoda said, gently rubbing the side of my face. “Jade, honey, go get your auntie’s purse and let everybody know she’s with me.”
“Yes, Mama,” Jade said, rubbing my back.
Jade gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Then she took off running without another word, clutching her ever-present yellow backpack like it was the Shroud of Turin.
Rhoda folded her arms and stared into my eyes, which by now were itching and burning so bad I was scared to blink. “Annette, if you don’t tell your husband about this, I will.”
CHAPTER 27
