Читать книгу Gonna Lay Down My Burdens - Mary Monroe - Страница 8

The drive from my apartment to the house on Carlson Street where Desiree lived with Chester Sheffield normally took about ten minutes. But because of the storm, traffic was heavy and there was an accident at the corner of Carlson and Becker. Stopping to get gas had slowed me down, too. The difficult ride took twenty minutes this time.

The rain, hammering down out of the north, thumped on the windows of my dependable old Nissan like little rocks. Not only had my headache returned, but a knot that felt like it was the size of a melon had formed in my stomach. And it seemed like every other muscle in my body was aching, too. By now the foot I had dropped the telephone on was the only part of my body not throbbing.

By the time I reached my destination, Chester had returned to his house and was standing on his front porch. One hand was in his pants pocket, the other was clutching a bottle of Schlitz Malt Liquor. Chester was a complicated, unpredictable man, but I tolerated him because of Desiree. However, I fed him with a long-handled spoon.

Even with the fierce scowl on his face that he greeted me with, and wearing a long unbuttoned plaid shirt and ripped jeans, Chester Sheffield was the most gorgeous Black man I had ever seen. He was over six feet tall, and from years of weight training he had muscles where some of the men I knew didn’t even have places. He was a warm, evenly toned dark brown like me, and he had small, slanted black eyes that seemed to look right through me. His thick, shiny black hair was naturally wavy and always neat. A neatly trimmed mustache and goatee framed his full lips.

“Evenin’, Miss Taylor,” Chester said casually as I trotted across the well-kept lawn in front of the sprawling white house he lived in rent-free, thanks to his generous daddy. This was the kind of neighborhood where I didn’t want to get loud and ugly outside and attract an audience. Next door to Chester on one side lived a dentist, and on the other side lived a blabbermouth of a deacon from the church Chester, Desiree, and I attended. I had parked my car in Chester’s driveway and left the motor running in case I had to leave in a hurry. Surprisingly, he smiled. This confused me. He was not behaving like a man who was about to kill his girlfriend.

I risked a smile back. I was glad he could not see my legs trembling as I made my way up on the porch, stumbling as if I was drunk. The margarita had done me no good. I was as sober as a trout. Before leaving my apartment, I had slipped on a pair of jeans, a loose T-shirt, and a pair of backless house shoes that had once belonged to Daddy. Even though the storm had been downgraded to a drizzle, I was not concerned about my floppy ponytail getting frizzy. Especially since Regina had agreed to braid my hair later that night. I cleared my throat and said firmly, “Uh…Desiree called me.” My voice betrayed me and cracked. “I’m here…to pick her up.” I stopped in front of Chester and gasped. On both sides of his neck were several sets of bloody teethprints. It looked as if a greedy vampire had got ahold of him. “Did Desiree do all that?” I whispered.

Instead of answering my question he sighed and lowered his head. He took a loud sip from his bottle and then let out a belch that was so loud and aggressive he flinched. “And whose idea was it for you to come pick up Desiree?” he slurred, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. There was another set of teethprints on the side of his hand, and cruel scratches curled around his wrist like a bracelet. He sighed again.

“Well…hers I guess,” I replied cautiously, looking toward the door. I wondered what kinds of wounds Desiree had. Nothing disgusted me more than unnecessary violence. I had never known it to solve anybody’s problems. However, I felt that self-defense was a whole different story. I was curious to hear who had got up in whose face first: Chester or Desiree.

Chester sniffed and tilted his head, frowning as he slowly slid his fingers across the teethprints on his neck. With tears in his eyes he said, “Desiree get hysterical over the least little thing. You know how emotional them Creoles can be. And when Desiree get like that, she say a lot of shit she don’t mean.” He tried to laugh but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Aw, shuck it! You know that woman don’t wanna leave me. She hate bein’ alone more than I do. When you love somebody, you wanna be with ’em. Shit.” He blinked hard, but it wasn’t hard enough to hold back the large tear that slid down the side of his face. I wanted to cry myself. I knew better than Chester and Desiree put together how painful it was to be alone or not to be with the person you loved….

I couldn’t let his discomfort distract me, so I looked away and moved toward the door with him following behind me, sniffling and clearing his throat. “Well, I want her to tell me that,” I said firmly, blinking nervously.

I made my way into the expensively furnished living room with Chester following so close behind me, he stepped on the backs of my well-worn house shoes with his steel-toed black boots.

“Girl,” he continued in a surprisingly gentle tone. “Shouldn’t you be at the beauty parlor gettin’ yourself ready for your big day tomorrow?”

Him reminding me that I was just hours away from marrying a man I did not love made me stumble, but I ignored the comment and kept walking. The thick, maroon carpet on the floor in the living room looked like a crime scene. I had to hop to avoid stepping on large broken plants, a three-legged frying pan, a baseball bat, and a rolling pin. Two large cream-colored lamps had been knocked to the floor, and there was broken glass everywhere else I looked—even on top of the smoked-glass coffee table next to a large Bible and a five-pound steel weight. The light-blue La-Z-Boy that I had given to Desiree and Chester for Christmas was on its side in the middle of the floor. There was a small fire in the fireplace. From where I stood, I could see the flames licking up what was left of a large poster of Desiree and me sitting on top of a black stallion.

“Chester, I didn’t come over here to start any trouble. I just came to pick up my friend,” I said, my eyes scanning the room further. There were at least half a dozen empty beer bottles and a half-empty Jack Daniels bottle on one of the two end tables by the black leather sofa.

“Me and Desiree had a little run-in and both of us got loose, see. That’s all. Everything is fine now. It’s all good. You can go on back home,” Chester informed me, following me as I started walking through the house. I found Desiree in the kitchen at the table, holding her head. Her long, thick reddish-brown hair was askew, and her white silk blouse was missing a sleeve. The sleeve, balled up on the table in front of Desiree, had been ripped out of its socket. Even with two black eyes and a busted lip, Desiree was a beautiful woman. Next to my five-feet-eight-inch frame, she almost looked like a dwarf at five-three. She was so petite, she could still fit into preteen dresses. Dark purple bruises dotted her lemon yellow skin. With the exception of her slightly protruding teeth and a nose that was too large for her small, heart-shaped face, she was flawless. She could have had any man she wanted. But she had chosen Chester.

“Desiree, are you ready?” I asked, rushing over to her, forcing myself to remain calm. The last thing I wanted Chester to know was that I was scared. Underneath bangs that almost covered Desiree’s eyes were even more bruises. I realized that when I brushed her hair back to kiss her clammy forehead. She flinched as soon as my puckered lips touched her. She looked at Chester before responding, as if seeking his approval.

“Baby, Carmen is taking me to her apartment,” Desiree said meekly, offering a half smile. Blood oozed from a crack on her bottom lip. She cleared her throat and licked her lip dry.

“Now listen, y’all,” Chester began slowly. His beer bottle slipped from his hand, and more glass ended up on the floor. He hopped over the broken glass and rushed over and stood between Desiree and me. “I—we—Desiree, you don’t want to leave me now, do you, sugar?”

Desiree tightened her lips into a thin line and stared hopelessly at me, her eyes shining like new dimes.

“Desiree, what do you want to do?” I asked, getting impatient. Once when I had interfered in an altercation between Desiree and Chester, they had both ended up mad at me! Recalling that, I chose my words carefully. “I really don’t want to be up in here in the first place,” I admitted, glancing toward the door. I rubbed my neck and took a few deep breaths; then I turned to face Desiree. Her head was swiveling like a barber’s chair. She stared from Chester to me and back with her mouth open.

“Carmen, don’t you leave here without me,” Desiree croaked. With her eyes still on Chester, she rose slowly and started walking toward me, limping all the way. I grabbed her arm and led her into the living room.

“Come on now, y’all,” Chester pleaded. “Let’s have a drink and straighten out this mess. What the hell.” We ignored him. I didn’t realize how close he was behind me until he grabbed me by my ponytail and spun me around. “Don’t y’all hear me talkin’?” He blinked hard and glared at me, his hot gaze searing my face. Then, a look of complete despair crossed his face, but he still had a grip on my hair.

“Chester Sheffield, you get your hands off me,” I ordered, pinching, then slapping his hand. He jumped back and grimaced like I had stuck a burning match to his flesh.

He sucked in his breath and threw up his hands and grinned. It was a desperate move for a desperate man. “Look, y’all. I’m sorry—”

“Desiree is leaving with me,” I announced firmly, my words cracking like a whip. I don’t remember everything that happened during those next few tense moments. Chester started shaking his head and waving his hands. Then he reached for Desiree. I don’t know if he was trying to grab her to hug her or hit her, and I never found out, because Desiree’s small fist sucker punched Chester’s jaw and chin. He was just as stunned as I was. With wide eyes, he massaged his battered face.

With a look of complete exasperation, he weaved toward Desiree. “I done had enough of this mess,” he said, calmly reaching for Desiree again. I don’t know why, but I jumped in front of her. I was the one Chester grabbed. I can honestly say that I didn’t know what he planned to do to me, but I covered my head with my hands and closed my eyes. I remember Chester and me falling to the floor, knocking over the coffee table. But I don’t remember picking up the five-pound steel weight that fell off the table. I just remember bringing it down across Chester’s head with all the strength I had. For a few seconds, everything went black, and I stood up. Desiree gasped and dropped to her knees, shaking Chester’s shoulder. There was a huge, mean bruise on his forehead where I had hit him. Thick, dark blood squirted out and cascaded down the sides of his sweaty face. For a few moments that felt like an eternity, Desiree and I stood straight and stiff, like we had been frozen in time. Her eyes were stretched open so wide they looked like saucers. Finally, she let out a weak gasp and dropped to her knees to Chester’s side again.

“Oh shit…oh shit…oh shit,” Desiree chanted, shaking Chester harder this time. “Chester, baby, are you all right?” He moaned for a few seconds and then he stopped. The house was now as quiet as a tomb, and suddenly it felt like one. My T-shirt was soaking wet with my sweat and plastered to my body like a shroud. I could hear my watch ticking. We were several yards from the kitchen, but I could even hear the water dripping in the sink. Chester’s twitching feet were the only things moving. Desiree stood up and staggered over to me, folding, then unfolding her arms. With her bruises, wild hair, and one-sleeved blouse, she looked like she was made up for Halloween.

Chester had pulled my hair so hard, the rubber band that had held my ponytail together had broken. Now my wiry hair looked as unruly as Desiree’s.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Let’s get out of here before he comes to.”

“He’s dead,” Desiree said gently, shaking her head and hugging her chest. The whites of her eyes were red. Blue veins that I had never noticed before ran the length of her neck on both sides. “Carmen, you just killed Chester.”

I fainted.

When I came to, seconds later, I was lying belly-up on top of Chester. Desiree grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

“What did you say?” I managed. I had to leave my mouth open to keep from choking on my own tongue.

“You…killed…Chester,” Desiree whispered, clutching my arm as I stumbled, to keep me from falling again.

Once I was firmly on my feet, I couldn’t move. My entire body had shut down. When I was able to, I moved so close to Desiree, I leaned against her. Somehow, she managed to lead me to the sofa, where she eased me down and propped me up with a pillow like a corpse.

“Girl, you have really fucked us up this time,” she told me in a detached voice, standing over me with her arms folded like a guard.

I couldn’t even look at her face. I kept my eyes on my trembling hands as I spoke. “Desiree, it’s time for you to help me now,” I told her.