God Still Don't Like Ugly (23 page)

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Brother Boatwright was so afraid that all the decent young Black men would be dead or married to somebody else by the time you got grown. If only he could see how you turned out.”

“Muh’Dear, I am really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“All right, baby. You get some sleep.”

I flung my overcoat on the back of the love seat facing my couch and dragged myself into the kitchen to rinse out my mouth.

Sleep was the last thing on my mind. All I could think about was Mr. Willie and his vicious threats. I recalled that ugly night I had let him have his way with me during my terrible teens. Before he had leaned me over his desk to enter me from behind, he had pushed me down on my knees and held my face against his vile, naked crotch. It had taken me three days to get the taste of his slimy dick out of my mouth. Now it looked like he was going to screw me again.

I had no idea how I was going to deal with my dilemma. But it was a comfort to know that Jerome didn’t care about the things he didn’t know about me. Or so he said. I made myself a strong drink. For a while, I felt fine. I was even feeling good enough to be enjoying a late-night edition of
Soul Train
on Channel 7. But my equilibrium was short-lived.

About an hour later, just as I was about to dial Jerome’s number, my living room door swung open. I was in my nightgown, sitting on my living room couch, clutching the telephone. It was Jerome storming into my house. His face looked like the mask of the red devil. His cheeks were twitching, his lips were quivering, and his eyes looked like they were about to explode. Black veins had popped out on his forehead.

“Get your husky ass off that telephone!” Jerome roared. He kicked the door shut and stood facing me with his hands on his hips.

“Jerome, listen, baby,” I began, holding up both hands. “Let me talk to you.”

“You nasty-ass, low-down, funky, piece-of-shit, cocksucking tramp!”

Jerome was boiling with rage. In the blink of an eye, his face turned purple.

“Let me explain—” My voice was as weak as a kitten’s.

Jerome started strutting in my direction, his hands still on his hips.

“How in the hell can you explain yourself?! Uncle Willie explained it for you, you bitch! Do you know what a fool I felt like, in front of my family, listening to that unholy shit you did?!” Jerome shot across the 182

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floor and jumped on top of me, pinning me down on the couch with his knee against my chest.

The back of my head hit the arm of my couch so hard I blacked out for a split second. “You heifer! Gimme back my ring!” Jerome grabbed my hand and forced the engagement ring that he had given me off my finger, almost breaking my wrist. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you’d let me get this far with your musty, black, cocksucking self! What if I had found out all this
after
I married your big ass? You bitch!”

As soon as he rolled off me, I stood up, facing him. “All right.

You’ve said what you had to say and you got your ring back, so leave.”

My voice was much stronger now. “And while we are at it, I have a few choice names for you, motherfucker. You get your high-yellow, dick-less, no-fucking, CHEAP ass the hell up out of my house!”

All the blood drained from Jerome’s face. Now he looked almost as pale as a ghost. “Oh, I’m going, all right. But first I’m going to whup your whoring ass—” Jerome poised his fist and brought it down across the side of my face. I stumbled back a few steps, with him moving with me, ready to hit me again. I had never experienced so much rage before in my life and most of it was coming from me.

I balled my own hand and when I hit Jerome back, right across his lips, he hit the floor so hard, the lamp on my end table crashed to the floor.

“You let me tell you something, motherfucker. If you ever hit
me
again, I will kill you. Now get the hell out of my house!” I had removed my shoes but that didn’t stop me from kicking Jerome in his side while he was still stretched out on the floor.

He grabbed the seat of my couch and pulled himself up. Blood was squirting from his lips. He slid his hand across his mouth, and then looked at his blood in disbelief.

“Bitch! You—you hit me,” he choked. Tears and blood were sliding down his chin onto his neck. Strings of snot dangled from both sides of his nose. His wild eyes wouldn’t stop blinking, as he shook his head from side to side.

“And I’m going to hit you again if you don’t get the hell up out of my damn house. Nobody, but nobody, hits me and gets away with it,”

I yelled so hard my cheeks ached.

Even with this ruckus going on, my mind flashed on Mr.

Boatwright. I had him to thank for all the anger I had internalized for so many years. It dawned on me that for the rest of my life, the wrath GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY

183

I should have bestowed on Mr. Boatwright, I would aim at anybody else who abused me. I knew it wasn’t fair, but in my situation, worrying about what was fair to somebody else was not my problem. I had too much to make up to myself.

“You are going to burn up in hell, you lying wench,” Jerome shrieked.

“Well, you are going to burn up
before
you get to hell, if you don’t get out of my house.” I spun that man around by his shoulder and pushed him toward the door. Then I helped him out with a swift kick in his ass with my heavy, bare foot. When I saw the blood he’d left on my clean carpet, I wanted to run out of that door and whup him some more.

Instead, I stood in the window and watched Jerome limp all the way back to his car. He didn’t even turn on his lights as he shot off down Reed Street like a cannonball.

CHAPTER 45

Life had been so cruel to me. So many things beyond my control had caused me to make some truly stupid choices and I had paid dearly for my stupidity. Each time I had a setback, I thought about how happy I had been when Rhoda was in my life. I didn’t know how I was going to get over my breakup with Jerome without the understanding female support I so desperately needed.

At this point, I looked at my half-sister Lillimae as a wild card. She seemed to be enough like me that I could eventually trust her with my deepest, darkest secrets. Her devotion to Daddy was an indication that she was a compassionate person. But I needed to get to know her better. And I planned to cultivate a closer relationship with her by calling her and writing her more frequently. Having met her and reuniting with Daddy had done wonders for my morale. But even so, I was moving forward with them slowly and carefully.

I rarely went to church anymore and I had not even prayed much lately. I knew I had to get over Jerome as soon as possible. However, I was too weak at that time to even turn to God. Instead, an hour after Jerome’s departure, I started pacing my living room floor, so angry with myself, I kicked the foot of the couch. But that only added to my discomfort.

With my big toe throbbing, I got on the phone to start calling peo-GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY

185

ple to tell them that the wedding was off. I planned to offer a brief and vague explanation that Jerome and I had decided to see other people. I started with the most difficult person I knew.

“Was it another woman?” Scary Mary asked as soon as I got the words out. “Was Jerome the jealous type? I bet he was.”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was a good thing I was sitting down now because I was so weak and wobbly, I felt like I needed a cane.

“Was he generous?”

“No, ma’am. He was a cheapskate, too.”

“Holy moly! Then you done the right thing. My second husband was jealous and cheap, too. He tried to choke me one day because he got it in his head that I was creepin’ around with a preacher from Jacksonville. Well, him chokin’ me was the biggest mistake he made in his life. You don’t clown a Black woman when she got a hot skillet in her hands. Mine happened to have some corn in it that I was fry-ing. I let him have that corn, right upside his head. He been bald-headed ever since.” Scary Mary would have rattled on for hours if I had not cut the conversation short. “Before you get off the telephone, I got one more thing to say: I’ll pray for you, child.”

I waited a few moments before I dialed Muh’Dear’s number. I was surprised that she reacted so calmly. “I was suspicious of that Cunningham family anyway. That mama of Jerome’s was jealous about Judge Lawson leaving us that house. Don’t you worry, baby.

You’ll get through this. I had a bad feeling about this night when Jerome’s mama came by to pick up them rolls. As old as that lazy heifer is, she ought to know how to cook her own rolls by now.”

It was well past midnight by the time I called up Pee Wee.

“Jerome and I broke up tonight. I know it’s late, but I don’t need to be alone right now. Can you come over?” I held my breath and waited.

Without hesitation, Pee Wee said, “I’m on my way.”

Even after I had neglected him for years to be with Jerome, Pee Wee hopped out of his bed and rushed over to my house, with an overcoat over his pajamas. Just like a trained puppy.

“What he do to you?” Pee Wee asked as soon as he got in my door.

He rushed over to my coffee table and poured wine into two glasses that I had already brought from the kitchen. “You want me to kick his ass? You want me to slash the tires on his car and put some sugar in his tank? Oh, I’ll fix him up real good.”

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I shook my head and held up my hand. “Before we go any further, I need to tell you some things about me that you don’t know,” I said evenly.

“So, what’s up?” Pee Wee handed me a glass of wine and sat down on the couch while I stood in the middle of the floor, pacing like a tiger.

“I am no angel,” I began, gulping a huge dose of wine.

For a moment, he just stared at me with a blank expression on his face. Then he covered his mouth with his hand. He threw back his head and guffawed so hard, he started choking. When he straightened up, he had tears in his eyes. His lips were quivering like he was gearing up to laugh some more. “I could have told you that. And guess what? I ain’t no angel myself. What’s your point?” He pressed his lips together and laughed under his breath, taking quick sips of wine.

“You stop that!” I slapped the side of my thigh and that made Pee Wee get serious. He sniffed and blinked, looking at me like he was looking at me for the first time. “Pee Wee, what I’m about to say is hard enough. Now you just sit there and listen for a minute,” I ordered, drinking some more.

Pee Wee drank from his glass as I talked. He was so anxious he couldn’t sit still. He kept crossing and uncrossing his legs and caressing his goatee.

I cleared my throat. But my mouth was still dry and my throat hurt so, it was painful for me to talk. “When Rhoda got married and moved away and when you went to the army, I turned a few tricks with some of Scary Mary’s customers. I needed to scrape up enough money to leave home with.” I tilted my head. Out of the corner of my eye I stared at Pee Wee in a fever of anticipation. I didn’t know what I expected him to say or do, but I was surprised by his mild response.

“Go on.” Pee Wee nodded and waved his glass at me.

“That’s it. I was a prostitute.”

“Well, ain’t you a dark horse.” Pee Wee gave me an amused look and shook his head, saluting me with his wineglass. “You just full of surprises, girl.”

I held up my hand and said quickly, “It was just for a minute, but Jerome found out about it and he broke up with me. His Uncle Willie from Columbus was my last trick. He blabbed.”

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“Is that all? Girl, I thought you was goin’ to tell me you did somethin’
real
crazy.” Pee Wee paused and grinned as I continued.

“Jerome got real violent with me,” I said flatly, sighing heavily.

Pee Wee froze and an evil look crossed his face. “Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head. “No. But I beat the dog-shit out of him.” We both laughed. “Pee Wee, do you still want to be my friend?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” my dear friend said gently, giving me an affectionate look.

I didn’t know what I had done to deserve a friend like Pee Wee.

“What about me . . . doing what I did with those men?” I asked in a meek voice.

Pee Wee let out a deep sigh and shrugged. “So what? What about it? I mean, what do you want me to say?”

“You can say whatever you want to say. How does what I did make you feel toward me now? Do you realize what I just told you? Do you know what it means?”

Pee Wee sniffed and rubbed his thigh. He finished the wine in his glass and poured some more, shaking his head as he spoke. “I guess I done run up one hell of a tab.”

“What do you mean?” I turned my head to the side and gazed at him from the corner of my burning eye.

Pee Wee snapped his fingers. “I mean what I just said. As many times as we hooked up, I must owe you everything I got but my citi-zenship.”

“Is that all you have to say about . . . this thing I just told you?”

Pee Wee shook his head. “Just one more thing. I hope them other tricks gave you some big money, ’cause you got some damn good pussy.”

“You nasty thing, you!” As hard as I tried not to, I laughed anyway.

Pee Wee slapped his knee and clicked his teeth. “Aw shit, girl. I got too much invested in your black ass to be runnin’ out on you over some shit like that. I ain’t Jerome.” Pee Wee shook his head and exhaled before he looked at me again, giving me a thoughtful look.

“What happens when Jerome cools off?”

“Nothing.” For emphasis, I shook my head vigorously and narrowed my eyes. “I never want to see him again as long as I live.”

“Well, that’s the best news I done heard all year.” Pee Wee rose and held out his hand to me and nodded toward the steps leading to my 188

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bedroom. “Come on, girl. Let’s go upstairs. We got a lot of catchin’

up to do.”

I sighed. “What the hell,” I said, rising.

I locked my front door and propped a chair up against it—in case Jerome decided to come back. I smiled at Pee Wee, feeling warmer and more comfortable than I had felt in a long time.