Читать книгу Borrow Trouble - Mary Monroe - Страница 13

Unlike a lot of the Black girls that I knew growing up in Ohio, near Cleveland, I had a pretty good life. Even after my daddy died from stomach cancer when I was thirteen. Mama was eight months pregnant with my baby sister, Frankie, at the time. I missed my daddy, but I was thankful that I still had Mama and a lot of other relatives in the area.

Mama always made sure I had everything I needed. She collected Social Security for Frankie and me, but she also worked part time. Frankie and I never had to wear secondhand clothes or eat meals purchased with food stamps.

I put myself through college by working three part-time jobs and falling back on a couple of student loans. That was enough, but Mama still insisted on doing all she could for me. “I don’t want nobody running around here feeling sorry for us,” Mama told me more times than I could count.

There were times when all Mama could spare was some loose change. She wouldn’t take no for an answer when I tried to refuse to take it from her, telling me, “These few pennies ain’t much, but it’s a few pennies more than you got.” I was lucky that I’d been raised by a generous and caring woman like Mama. It made me have a lot of hope in mankind.

My love life was average, but by the time I’d finished college, I was ready to settle down and start a family. Mama had told me that it would be nice to settle down with a man who could take care of me, but she expected me to always be able to support myself, too. I looked forward to my future.

I had just started teaching second grade at Butler Elementary when I met Inez McPherson. The year before, she had opened Soulful Nails, the first Black-owned nail shop in our neighborhood. It was in a strip mall between the office of a gynecologist and a popular beauty shop, so there was a steady stream of women in the area at all times. Business was good for Inez. The shop was always neat and clean. There was a large TV, reading material, and restroom facilities to accommodate her customers. And most of them tipped well.

Other than our nails, Inez and I didn’t have much in common. But we hit it off right away. I enjoyed her company a lot more than I enjoyed the company of my other friends and my family. I was twenty-two, and she was the only person in my life who treated me like an adult at the time. Mama had a key to my place, and she’d sneak in during the week to do my laundry and clean the little one-bedroom apartment I rented above a candy store. No matter how much I told her not to, she never left my place without leaving a pot of something that she’d cooked on my stove. “Girl, you ought to be glad I come over here and cook you a mess of greens every week,” she’d tell me. “This way, I know you eating at least one decent meal every week.” I didn’t like to argue with my mother. I rarely won, anyway. No matter what the outcome, it did me more harm than good. She eventually started cooking for me two times a week. I was lucky to have a mother who cared so much about me. And, I was lucky to have Inez. I had most of my fun during that time because of Inez. If she wasn’t the one giving a party, she always knew where a good party was being held. It didn’t take long for me to regard Inez as the big sister that I’d always wanted.

“Baby girl, I want you and that fine-ass man of yours to come to my engagement party next Saturday night,” Inez told me a couple of months after we’d become friends. Inez was twenty-five at the time. Technically speaking, she was not a classic beauty. She had dull brown eyes and a slight overbite. When she turned to the side, her lips protruded like a carp’s. But she had beautiful bronze skin and a decent head of black hair, which she’d bleached blond years before blond hair on a Black woman became popular. She’d had matching blond hair weaved into her own.

Inez was tall and nicely built. I was almost as tall as Inez, but not as shapely. With my big brown eyes and round face, a lot of people described me as cute, or even pretty. But I’d never been called beautiful.

I dropped into Inez’s nail shop after work and on weekends on a regular basis, whether I needed my nails done or not. One thing that had attracted me to Inez was the fact that she lived such a fascinating life compared to mine. The first time I saw her, she had on a T-shirt that said: WHEN GOD CREATED ME, HE WAS SHOWING OFF.

“Engagement party? Engagement for what? You’re already married,” I said, amused. One thing I could say was that with Inez, there was never a dull moment.

“It’s over with Paul,” she announced, with a casual wave. “He’s lost three jobs because of his drinking. God made only one man that I’d be willing to support, but they nailed him to a cross.”

“Don’t most women usually get a divorce before they get engaged again?” I chided.

“I’m not like most women,” Inez reminded me, with a wink. “As you know, I don’t have many shemale friends. You are the only one who understands me. I need you there at my party, Renee.”

I didn’t have the nerve to tell my girl that I did not understand her, but I told her that I wouldn’t miss her party for the world. I was hoping that some of Inez’s confidence would rub off on me.

I had never been married. It seemed like I’d kissed nothing but frogs since I was thirteen. So far, Robbie Dunbar was as close as I could get to a prince. We had attended Butler High at the same time, and we had started dating in the ninth grade. He was reasonably attractive, despite the fact that he was bowlegged and had a receding hairline, which had started its premature decline before he even finished middle school. Poor Robbie. I probably could have done better at the time, but the boy was so devoted to me, I got spoiled and comfortable.

I was disappointed when Robbie dropped out of school in the middle of our sophomore year. Even though it was so he could work at a gas station that his uncle owned, so that he could help support his mother and three younger siblings. I admired the fact that Robbie cared so much about his family that he would sacrifice his education, but I thought that he could have come up with a better solution.

Robbie and I didn’t communicate much while I was away at Ohio State, but as soon as I finished my education and moved back home, Robbie was waiting for me with a marriage proposal, knowing that I’d had other relationships throughout my college years.

However, as much as I hated to admit it even to myself, men were not lining up to be with me, so I didn’t hesitate to accept Robbie’s proposal. But right after he’d slipped a cheap engagement ring on my finger during a two-for-the-price-of-one dinner at a Ponderosa Steakhouse, I went into the ladies’ room and cried. Not tears of joy, but tears of disappointment and sadness. Robbie was as sweet, obedient, dependable, and loyal as a puppy. I believed him when he told me that I was the only woman he’d ever slept with. But all of his good qualities were not enough for me. As a matter of fact, Robbie was too good for his own good. For one thing, he was way too passive. Not just with me, but in everything he did. He didn’t argue with people who tried to cheat him at the gas station. He didn’t defend himself, or me, when two thugs overpowered us one night outside of a movie theater and ran off with my purse and his wallet. I was the aggressor in my relationship with Robbie, and even though it was not that obvious, I was on the passive side myself.

“Robbie ain’t perfect, but he’s perfect for you. I know his mama, and I know she raised him right,” Mama told me. I knew my mother like I knew the back of my hand. What she really meant was that Robbie was probably the best I could do. My aunts and a lot of other people in my family never let me forget that all of my female cousins and a few nieces, with the exception of my severely retarded cousin, Eileen, had all found husbands by the time they were twenty-one.

Inez had already been married once before. Right after she’d graduated from Butler High, she moved to Europe with Jeremy Knight, a White boy that she’d been in a relationship with for a couple of years. When she returned to Ohio three years later, she had a new husband, a Black soldier named Paul Dunn, whom she’d latched onto in Germany. She also had two beautiful daughters, one by each of the men she’d married. The older girl, Ingrid, resembled her father: platinum blond hair, very light skin, and blue eyes. The younger girl, Malena, had inherited the looks of her darkly handsome father: dark brown hair, eyes, and skin. Both children were extremely exotic.

Despite her loosey-goosey lifestyle, Inez doted on her children, and she always put them first. She didn’t even let her boyfriends spend the night when her kids were with her, which was only 50 percent of the time. Inez’s divorced mother and her father and his young wife adored the children, too. Several times a week, the girls spent a few days with either their grandmother or their grandfather. I was proud of the way that Inez was raising her kids. I was proud of Inez, period. I loved calling her my best friend. However, she did a lot of shit that was strange, even for her. Like throwing an engagement party to celebrate her upcoming nuptials to one man while she was still married to another!