Can You Keep a Secret?

by Mary Monroe

  He was going to be buried in the same suit that he’d worn when he married Bertha; the blue one that he’d always referred to as his “happy occasions suit.” A lot of people came to the funeral. I received dozens of hugs and well wishes from everybody and they were considerate enough not to mention the absence of my stepsiblings.

  Libby sent a sympathy card that came from a Dollar Tree store. It was one of the no-frills, two-for-a-dollar kind. Jeffrey came to the funeral, accompanied by his parents and his two older brothers and their families. They had all sent flowers. People who had barely known my father sent flowers and impressive sympathy cards, even some of the people who had ridden on his bus over the years.

  “Lola, I’m sorry about your daddy’s passing,” Jeffrey told me after everybody had moved to the dining area. “I didn’t find out until it was too late just how sick he was. Had I known sooner, I would have spent more time getting to know him better. Now I want you to know that I’d like to get to know you better. You’ve got our telephone number and you know where I work, so feel free to get in touch with me if you need to. And, I’ll be coming to the house more often.”

  “Thanks, Jeffrey.”

  “And, uh.” Jeffrey paused and scratched the side of his head. “I . . . I know my wife can be kind of abrupt and grouchy at times, and I apologize for her absence, but she’s a good woman in her own way. She’s a bitch sometimes, but I still love her.”

  I gave Jeffrey a sympathetic look because with a wife like Libby, he deserved one. “I’m sure she is a good woman . . . in her own way.”

  “I meant what I just said about you calling me,” Jeffrey told me with a big smile. I nodded and when he hugged me I started crying again. I had cried so much in the last few days, I thought I had run out of tears. He held me until I stopped crying.

  Chapter 14

  Lola

  I WAS GLAD WHEN BERTHA AND I LEFT THE CHURCH AND WENT home. But the house didn’t feel the same without Daddy.

  “Now it’s just you and me,” she said in a raspy voice as she gave me an unbelievably sad look. We were in the living room. She was half sitting, half lying on the plush beige couch with her bare feet elevated on a brown pleather hassock. The same white handkerchief was in her hand that she’d been using to dry her eyes and blow her nose with most of the day. I sat slumped in the matching love seat facing her. It was an awkward moment for me because I felt so out of place. Even though Bertha had a nicer house than my old one, I had never felt comfortable in it. The hardwood floors creaked and the window frames leaked. The walls in every room were baby-shit-colored yellow. And three of the four chairs at the kitchen table had at least one wobbly leg. There were more than three dozen different size framed pictures of Libby and Marshall at various ages on the walls in the living room and on each end table. As infants swaddled in white blankets, they looked like two little pigs. Even at that age, they had mean looks on their faces. There were just a few pictures of Bertha’s other grim-faced Mississippi cousins, one of Daddy, Bertha and me taken at their wedding reception, and only one of Bertha in her cap and gown on the day she graduated college. There were no pictures of me or Daddy displayed anywhere else in the house except on top of the dresser in my bedroom. I had over two dozen pictures of me and my parents in a photo album that I kept in my dresser drawer. I cried every time I looked at those pictures because they represented a happy time in my life. It was hard to believe that my situation had become so bleak.

  I sat up straighter on the love seat and gave Bertha a smile. “Daddy looked so peaceful,” I managed, not knowing what else to say. I expected her to make a similar comment but she didn’t. What she said made me feel even more awkward.

  “Lola, I’m pleased as punch to know that you’re going to take care of me in my old age, which is already nipping at my heels. Some mornings I feel so decrepit, I’m surprised I can still get out of bed on my own. I’m so blessed to have a daughter like you, praise the Lord.”

  I wanted to remind Bertha that I was her stepdaughter, but I just nodded. I didn’t want to talk about the last conversation I’d had with Daddy. “I will take care of you, Bertha. Even after I get married and move out.”

  She changed her tone so fast it made my head spin. Now instead of sounding bereaved, she sounded harsh. “I don’t think that’s what Clarence meant!” Before I could respond she added, “I can’t live on my own!”

  I was flabbergasted and I didn’t attempt to hide it. “What do you mean? You’re not crippled or disabled and you’ve lived by yourself before.”

  “I was younger then and didn’t have half the ailments I have now . . .”

  “Libby and Marshall will make sure you’ll be all right,” I said with my heart thumping. “They are your real kids,” I added with as much emphasis as I could without sounding harsh myself. I immediately regretted making that last comment. I, of all people, knew how indifferent Libby and Marshall were when it came to their mother.

  “Yeah. And it’s a damn shame that I have to keep reminding them of that,” Bertha complained.

  “Let’s not worry about all that for now. It’ll be four more years before I finish school and even longer before I get married.”

  “Well, just as long as you don’t forget what you promised Clarence. A deathbed promise is nothing to take lightly.”

  My heart felt like it was trying to bust out of my chest. “I meant what I told Daddy. I will take care of you when and if you need it, Bertha. But I have a life, too.” I was surprised at how firm I sounded. “Even though you can’t really depend on Libby and Marshall now, I know that if you get real sick or hurt in an accident or something, they’ll do whatever is necessary for you.”

  Bertha sniffed. She shook out her handkerchief, which was pretty moist by now, and dabbed at her eyes and nose some more. “Trying to get my kids to do for me is like pulling teeth with a pair of tweezers. Just before I got with your daddy, I had a hip replacement procedure. I had all kinds of complications so I was out of commission longer than I expected. The whole three weeks that I was laid up in the hospital, Libby only came to see me three times. Marshall came once. If Deacon Bonner and other folks from the church and the neighborhood hadn’t been there for me, I would have had to call a cab or take a bus every time I needed to go to my doctor for follow-ups.”

  I was stunned. I stared at Bertha in slack-jawed amazement. “Did your kids even feed and bathe you when you got out of the hospital?” I asked.

  “Believe it or not, they did. Libby gave me sponge baths and she and Marshall prepared the special meals I had to eat. It was one of the few times they showed me the consideration I deserve. At the end of the day, my kids are not as bad as some folks’ kids.”

  “I . . . I know what you mean,” I stammered. As much as I hated to admit, even to myself, there had been a few times when Libby and Marshall had been nice to me. A couple of months ago when I had missed the last bus of the day from the mall back to my neighborhood, I dialed Libby’s number, but only because I hadn’t been able to reach anybody else with a car. I’d had no choice but to call her house, hoping Jeffrey would answer. But she answered. When she told me he was at a ballgame with some of his buddies, she eagerly volunteered to come pick me up herself. It turned out to be a pleasant fifteen-minute ride. She asked me how I was doing in school, told me what a cute girl I had become, and she even treated me to a Whopper at Burger King.

  And I could never forget how Marshall had saved me from a beating by Paco Lopez one day about three weeks ago. Paco was a major bully in our school. His homeboys were members of a ferocious Latino street gang. He had followed me home from school, threatening to beat me up because I had blabbed to his girlfriend that I’d seen him kissing another girl at the movies. I didn’t want to think of what might have happened to me if Marshall had not been standing on Bertha’s front porch when I galloped around the corner with Paco a few yards behind me. As soon as Marshall realized I was in trouble, he picked up one of the heavy ceramic flowerpots Bertha ke
pt on the porch and threatened to use it on Paco’s head. He took off running in the opposite direction and never bothered me again.

  “Yeah. Libby and Marshall are not all bad,” I said, forcing a smile. The words tasted bitter on my tongue.

  “It’s just that I never know when they are going to behave the way they should. And, the way I’ve been feeling so crappy the past few months, I’ll be going to the doctor even more often so I’ll need somebody to go with me.” Bertha paused to let her words sink in. “I know I can count on you to take off from school and ride with me in a cab or the bus.” One thing I hated about some needy older people, especially extreme cases like Bertha, was the way they used their failing health as leverage to get their way. Mama had suffered for a long time, but she had never used her health to manipulate me.

  “I’ll do everything I can to make you feel better when and if you get sick,” I said.

  “I hope so. You can’t let your daddy down by going back on the promise you made to him on his deathbed.”

  I was already so sick of hearing Bertha say the word “deathbed” I wanted to scream. The way she was acting about my last conversation with Daddy, you would have thought that I’d had a conversation with the same burning bush mentioned in the Old Testament. I didn’t regret making that promise (at least not yet) but I regretted that Bertha had been present. I had a feeling that if I didn’t “take care” of her to her satisfaction, she’d lay a guilt trip on me that would torment me for the rest of my life.

  However, my main goal was myself. I’d figure out a way to make Bertha think she was my priority, but somehow I’d also do whatever I had to do to enjoy life.

  Chapter 15

  Joan

  I COULDN’T IMAGINE LIFE WITHOUT LOLA AND I WAS SURE SHE FELT the same way about me. I could depend on her most of the time. It was the times I couldn’t depend on her that irritated me. Tonight was one of those times.

  “What do you mean you can’t go out tonight? I had this all set up and I went to a lot of trouble to do it!” I was on the extension in the upstairs hallway across from my bedroom but I kept my voice low. It was the day after New Year’s Day, a little over two years since her father’s passing. “Something tells me that Bertha Butt is the reason.”

  “Yeah, it is on account of Bertha,” Lola groaned.

  “Shit! Why don’t you get in that battle-axe’s fat face and tell her to get off your back?”

  “Are you nuts? You know I don’t sass grown people. I’m only sixteen.”

  “Who said anything about sassing?”

  “Well, what do you call getting in an adult’s face?”

  “Look, as long as you stand up to a grown person in a nice way, it’s not ‘sassing’,” I snarled. I could not for the life of me understand how Lola continued to let that old lady run all over her. I knew from experience that a young person had to be firm with old people. Sharing my bedroom with gassy, loud-snoring, meddlesome Too Sweet was no picnic. I kept her in her place because I refused to let her boss me around the way most of my other adult relatives did. As long as Mama and Elmo didn’t get on my case about how messy I kept my side of the room, whenever my cousin complained about me being a slob, I claimed I had cramps. That way, when I did clean up, it was when I was good and ready (or when my parents made me). Too Sweet didn’t like the shows we watched on the portable TV that my daddy had sent to me, but when she was in the room, she watched what I watched. All I had to do was remind her that it was my TV. Most important of all, when I wanted Lola or one of my other friends to spend the night with me, I pouted until Mama made Too Sweet sleep on the living room couch on those nights. If I could keep an old person under control, so could Lola. Why she couldn’t stand up to a woman who wasn’t even her real mother, was one thing I could not figure out.

  “You always do this to me,” I whined. “Danny Knight is between girlfriends and he was really looking forward to meeting you. You know a boy like him won’t be on the market for too long. Besides, he’s the one with the car and if he doesn’t go out with us, me and Frankie won’t have a ride.”

  “I know and I’m real sorry. See, Bertha slipped on some water on the kitchen floor a little while ago. She fell and hit her head on the edge of the stove. She’s been dizzy ever since so she’s afraid to be in the house alone tonight.”

  “Aw shuck it! That woman has been ‘dizzy’ since the day I met her. We’ll only be gone for two or three hours, maybe not even that long.”

  “I know that too. But remember last month when Bertha was alone and she took some pills that were a year past the expiration date? She passed out while she was in the middle of frying some chicken. If Mr. Fernandez had not come over from next door to borrow some meal, the house might have burned down. Something real bad could have happened.”

  “That heifer! That manipulating old heifer! I’ve got news for you and her. Something real bad could happen to her with you in the house just as easy as it could with you gone. Since your daddy died, you’ve practically turned into a prisoner. These are your best years before you get married and tied down with a husband and a bunch of kids. You should be going out like the other kids having a good time, not catering to some neurotic old woman! Sometimes you act like an old woman yourself.”

  “Listen up, I just got an idea,” Lola said in a gentle voice. I was surprised that she was still able to remain so calm after the way I’d just come down on her.

  “Well, I’d like to hear it,” I said gruffly. “And for your sake, it better be good. I knew I should have tried to hook up Karen Prichard with Danny instead of you.”

  “You told me you’d already tried to and he told you he didn’t like tall girls like Karen.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. And Danny told me that you were the only one of my friends he wanted to hook up with so I’m stuck. Please don’t let me down, girl. I really want to be with Frankie tonight. So what’s this idea you have?”

  “We can still go out after Bertha goes to bed. She sleeps like a dead woman. But if that’s too late, you can bring the boys over here and we can still have a good time watching TV and stuff.”

  “Pffft. I can’t believe my ears. Y’all don’t even have cable yet. What boy in his right mind would want to do something as lame as watching regular TV when he can be at the movie theater or some other cool place? And didn’t you tell me Bertha keeps track of her booze? What dude can watch regular TV without a buzz? Even I can’t do that.”

  “We won’t know unless you ask them. And, if those boys want to have a few drinks, they can bring some beer. We do have a VCR and I just got a few new tapes so we can watch them and finish off the black-eyed peas and ham hocks left over from the New Year’s Day dinner Bertha cooked yesterday. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. It’d probably be a lot cheaper for us to get together in my house than it’d be if we went out. Shoot!”

  “Forget it. I’ve already eaten enough black-eyed peas and ham hocks in my own house.”

  “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t leave Bertha by herself tonight. I have to hang up now. I hear her coming.”

  Chapter 16

  Joan

  WHEN I CALLED UP FRANKIE AND TOLD HIM LOLA COULDN’T get out of the house, he blew up. He hollered so loud I had to hold the telephone away from my ear. “Either you want to be with me, or you want to keep dragging around with that lame-ass Lola Poole! This is the third time in three weeks that you’ve canceled plans with me because of her! And you can forget about me hooking up that silly bitch with one of my boys!”

  “Frankie, I—” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence. The only dude I had been hot for since sixth grade had just hung up on me! I was so shocked I held the phone in my hand and glared at it. Less than a minute later when I called Frankie right back, he didn’t answer the cell phone that his grandmother had given to him for Christmas.

  He was not the first boy I’d lost because of my loyalty to Lola. Last year Scotty Hopper dumped me because I’d canceled on him more th
an once so I could spend time with her. Now that she was an “orphan” she got even more depressed than usual and needed my shoulder to cry on.

  A few weeks after Scotty had kicked me to the curb, Ron Elliot gave me the boot. All because I had canceled a date with him on the same night that Lola wanted me to spend some time with her. There were times when it felt like I’d made a promise to her that was as serious as the deathbed promise she’d made to her father! As much as I got on her case about letting Bertha Butt control her life, in a weird way, Lola was controlling mine.

  I was so agitated because Frankie had hung up on me, I had to call up Lola and talk to her again. I decided it was time for me to practice some “tough love” with my girl. It had worked on Too Sweet, so I thought it’d probably work on Lola. For one thing, she was easier to manipulate than my cousin.

  “You’re still my home-girl and I love you to death, but I can’t keep altering my plans for you. After tonight, don’t expect me to miss out on a date because of you. Life is too short and too hard.”

  “You don’t have any idea how much harder life is for me than it is for you.”

  “My life is no bed of roses, Lola. At least you have a bedroom to yourself and only one grown person breathing down your neck. My house is like a way station for displaced people, any day of the year. Cousin so and so sleeping on the living room couch, Aunt or Uncle so and so sleeping on a pallet in the kitchen, you name it. And if that’s not bad enough, every time another one of my roaming relatives moves in for a few days or weeks or months, that means another grown person bossing me around. I know you miss your daddy, but I rarely get to see or talk to mine and he’s still alive so we’re pretty much in the same boat on that subject. Don’t you dare try to make it sound like you’re the only girl with problems.”