Some Love, Some Pain, Sometime Page 2

  The Femme Fatale was bathed, perfumed, nails manicured and polished (I learned that from TV), powder sweet-puffed, hair done by Gramma and hanging down my back touchin on my butt, face made up so pretty. DONE! You hear me?!

  But Wyndel not making it a special time was only my first disappointment. Him not knowin what he was going about doing and making it seem like a struggle in a wrestlin match was my second disappointment. Never gettin it done was my third.

  After the struggle, Wyndel saying, “This stuff ain’t so good as it’s sposed to be, is it?” was my final hurt for the night.

  I started thinking about registering at the college up here in town, it’s a good, big one. Gramma said I could go, money would not be a problem cause all we did was save it. But, finally, I did not want to leave her alone. She was my gramma and I loved her. We had a bond.

  So, I decided Wyndel and I could still be friends. Go to shows over in town, to music concerts once in a while, things like that, you know. Well, we did those things for about a year. A year filled with lonesome days and then lonesome nights and I’m a year older, too. Then … we tried makin that love stuff again.

  This time it was special for him. He dressed special and took me to dinner at a special place in town. Took me to a special hotel, out of town, out of the woods. Like a honeymoon. It worked out. Not the best to fit a dream, but with possibilities, see? He had been asking questions of older men and I think he must have bought a piece or two. Anyway, when we were through, he ordered room service, “A light repast,” he said. “Oh, and some wine, if you please.” Chile! And after we had the repast, we did it again! So it must have been alright.

  Not too long after that, Wyndel wanted to get married. So I knew there was a Femme Fatale in me!! I didn’t know if I wanted to marry Wyndel or not, cause forever is forever! But I also knew I was not gonna sleep myself around cause I was not a floozy. I got better sense. Gramma often said, “You better not let everybody know what’s up under your clothes. Your future husband might not like it and it’ll go bad for you if you love him and he finds out.” So, I had sense.

  Anyway, the next time, when Wyndel said, as he was layin beside me, arm around my waist, “I am a fool for beauty,” I loved him. I said yes to the marriage. He gave me a nice engagement ring cause he worked and made good money as a mechanic. So now, I was engaged.

  I started my hope chest for real. I even dreamed about my home with Wyndel. Sleeping with him every night, being with him every day. Waiting for him to come home to me. Loneliness is something, chile. It can make so many things look like love … to you, if your need is that great. Wyndel was happy too, I know it.

  Then things got all messed up. First, Wyndel started with asthma, coughin and sneezing so much. Then, my Jesus, the doctor said he had heart trouble. He had to slow down. Wyndel was so scared. So was I. I thought I loved Wyndel and I did love him. What’s the difference? It hurts me to say, but … before the marriage, Wyndel died. And I mourned … truly.

  After that things were kinda going along alright cept Gramma was slowin way down and I had to take her to the doctor pretty regular. Soon she was bedridden. That made her mad, but I was scared and almost got sick myself thinking of losing my gramma. She was all my family.

  When I was in her room one night, tryin to make her eat, teasing her to make her laugh, to get well, she told me to “Stop and hush a minute.” She told me to get a little shovel from where she kept it and lift up the floorboard in the closet and dig out the little metal box with the huge lock on it. She told me where to find and keep the key (it was a very good plan so I’m not gonna tell you). I did all that. We opened the box and Gramma and me counted out 17,000 cash dollars. Mama and Daddy’s and her life savings. She fondled it, patted it, kissed it and straightened it out. She was almost well again as she talked to me.

  “Now … Roscoe baby, this here is all you gonna have when I’m gone.” She held her sweet little hand up to stop me from puffin up and crying out to her. “It ain’t no whole lot.” She rubbed the bills again, smoothing them out for the thousandth time, I know. “But it’s more than some people has or see in a lifetime of hard … hard work. I … I always meant to do somethin with it for … myself too. But … you … go. Go travel somewhere with your … See somethin. Have a fine dress from somewhere sides the Sears catalogue. I … I opened a charge account from J. C. Penney!” Her eyes beamed up at me, proud. She poked into the metal box. “See? Here it is! Ain’t it pretty?! Now you use it … someday.” (Oh, Gramma, my heart cried.) She lay back on her pillow, her little hand holding the card was trembling, but she kept talking. “I wanted a long bus ride, maybe. See some place sides a tree, though, Lord knows, they some of the most beautiful work He ever done.” She sighed, a sick sigh.

  “Now … it’s your turn. You go on down them roads in your life I always told you about. This here money will pay the toll on some of them roads you didn’t know would cost you too much.” She seemed exhausted, but she had more to say.

  “Oh, Gramma, I don’t want money. I want you! See? Gramma, everybody is going from me.”

  Gramma dropped her hand onto my knee. “But I want you to have it. It’s your mama and daddy’s money too. It’s already yours. I just want you to be me, for awhile, and me to be you, for awhile, as you get out and find some happiness for yourself. You deserve it. You been a good chile, all your life. You stayed right here with me like I wanted you, needed you, to do, and I didn’t have to ask you. Not once. Chile, you could’a been gone.”

  She rubbed the money for the last time, then lifted the bundles and dropped them in my lap. I put them in the box neatly and closed it. She handed me the key, the key to her little life, with a small weak smile. I locked the box and placed it back under the floorboards into the ground just like she had always kept it. And I cried, and I cried, and I cried.

  Not too long after that I put Gramma in the ground, right beside my mother and father. Excuse me if I don’t want to talk about it. The pain is too deep. Goes too far. I grieved. I grieved. All the people who came for the funeral went home and … I grieved.

  The garden Gramma had worked and was so proud of, her flowers, her food, her lawn, her window boxes, were all dying. Either watered too much or not enough. Everywhere I looked I saw her, but she was not there. Evenings, I dragged in from the store. I was there all day now just to keep from coming in a empty house. No little body in no little rockin chair lookin at the TV. Not bent over the store counter, not sewing at her table lookin out the window smiling at me as I made my way up the road to her and home. No wrinkled, calloused hand patting me on my head or back. I would look at her little high-top shoes that used to click all over the house and store … and cry. No more Gramma. No nothing. I was alone. See?

  I wanted her back. I only really knew her, my family. I was so lonely, so lonely and so empty. But I still felt the blood in my veins, the bones in my body. Watched my mind think. Felt my heart beating. I was still alive. I wanted to live.

  I took them shoes of hers she ALWAYS wore into town and had them bronzed. Told them shoes they were Gramma going with me to see SOMETHING. I gave everything in the store away to the people I liked and trusted and some I didn’t trust so everyone knew the store was empty and wasn’t no use to breakin in it. Packed my things and Gramma’s shoes in a suitcase and hit the road that would lead to the road that would lead to my life.

  I was twenty-three years old, a Femme Fatale single woman and it didn’t look like my happiness was comin to me. So I was gonna go out and get it! See? Yes, indeedy. I wanted a husband and some children. I wanted to come back up to my peaceful woods and life, a good life, near those who brought me here. Lord, what modern man would want to come live up here and run a grocery store and make love to me? My mind told me to get on out there and see.

  I needed me a big city with lots of men, single men, cause I couldn’t use no other woman’s man. If a woman’s got two men, one, the unmarried one, is mine to choose. If she got one and she married to him
, then he’s hers under God, and I wouldn’t mess with that. See?

  The little college town, about seventy miles up the main road, had grown into a good-size city now. I covered everything up from the dust, locked the doors up tight, put a sign on the store door, said, “BE BACK SOON” and I hit that road like my gramma told me, with her shoes packed in my bag, in my own car. Now!

  When I got to the city I pulled into one of the visitor places they have. I had been to the city before, but I never did stay in no hotel and I had a plan for this trip. I asked the information lady for the middle best hotel with weekly rates and the best way to find a decent apartment in a safe place. I got the information and a map. Started, chile!

  That evening I was relaxing in my hotel room, had dinner sent up. Chile. By the next week I had found two apartments I liked. I sat in my car and watched the neighborhood to see what was happenin and how many men went in and out and around. Talked to the landlady managers and asked, honey, asked about the tenants. Mostly married or mostly single? I chose the one with two single men livin in it. Even if I didn’t like them, I knew they would have some friends visiting sometime. See? And the landlady, Ms. Mimi, was real nice and helpful with information that would make my move easier.

  Now … I don’t know how I knew to do all this, so it had to be that Femme Fatale running my business. See? I moved in and bought a few things to make my apartment a warm, cozy, female place. Glittering drapes with plenty glamour gold threads running through it. Colorful flower curtains for the little kitchen. Incense holder and incense, naturally. A shiny satinese glamour bedspread. Bath towels with gold flecks in em.

  I liked flowers, but I thought the real ones were a little expensive and you would have to get new ones all the time and I wanted flowers everywhere, all the time. (You know, I was used to just going outside and picking mine.) Anyway, I got some plastic ones. They were strange-looking flowers, but they had a lotta color, so I got em and put them everywhere. These were all for the Femme Fatale part of me.

  Of course, I got some pots and pans and pretty dishes cause it’s truly bout one of the best ways to a man’s heart. I don’t care bout what all these women say about a slave in the kitchen. Good food is a great and wonderful thing, chile, and I like to eat good myself. I’d take care of that slave part later anyway.

  I was seeing those two men all the time. We just spoke and I smiled.

  Then, I started looking for a job, cause I was not going to spend all my daddy, mama and Gramma’s money. I had to think of “just in case” I didn’t find the man I wanted. I wasn’t just looking for one who wanted me. No Lord! This is my life too! See?

  I got a job at the college filing student records and finding the lost ones. Paid enough to keep me from spending my other money, less I wanted something special.

  All that done, I went to the beauty parlor. Chile, you know they wanted to cut my hair?! My hair!! No, lord, not my glory! I told her to clip the ends and cut me a few bangs. I’ll wear it braided in a crown on my Femme Fatale head and wear it hanging down my back when things get special. I want to spread it out on a pillow! See?

  Then I got those false eyelashes you glue on. Long ones. And I got those false fingernails that look so long and pretty. They were gonna pluck my eyebrows, but I looked at theirs and decided to let mine stay natural. They painted my toenails too, and I asked for a few gold specks on them. A few ladies laughed, but I didn’t care. Hell, these are my toe nails. And a Femme Fatale can do whatever she wants to!

  My teeth were already good and my eyes were clear, when I could keep them false lashes from fallin in em. Then I decided to change my name. I kept my daddy’s name, “Roscoe,” but I added “Darlin” and made it legal. “Darlin” is a sweet-talkin name!

  Now! I was ready! don’t you know?!

  I had been watching the two men who had apartments on my floor. One, I found out from Ms. Mimi, was named Roland, between thirty and thirty-five years old, and he was a postal clerk. He was kinda thin for my taste. His hips seemed to be pressed forward from his body, you know how some people are built? And he stood back on his legs. He was always carrying some books or some groceries. He seemed to be neat and clean and quiet. Never heard no noise from his side. He must have done all his carryin on away from home cause I only saw one woman visit him once or twice. She was neat and clean, too, but I could tell she wasn’t no Femme Fatale. He lived in #4.

  I was between them at #5.

  Now, #6 was a big husky man name of Hudson. All muscle, chile. He was some kind of physical education assistant teacher at some high school. He wore colored undershorts and jogging suits and things. He ran early every morning and after he came in from his job. He had a nice Afro cut and was very clean. His skin always looked moist and shining, healthy. He smiled a lot. And had all kinds of different women come to his place a lot, so I knew nobody was really takin his heart. Wasn’t no Femme Fatales there either. Just was all up to me. See?

  Well, I didn’t pay too much attention to #4, Roland, after I got to seeing #6, Hudson, cause Hudson was it! With them big ole musclly arms and legs, small waist and high-set behind, #4 Roland just didn’t stand a chance with his pale, slim self. No, indeedy. Oh, he had a behind, but he pushed it forward so it didn’t stick out none. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t Hudson either.

  I started comin home from work, cookin good food and leavin the door to the hall open. I put a little fan in my little kitchen so the smells would get out the door. I got a lot of food cooked that way and I didn’t want to eat it all or waste it. (Some more of Gramma’s teachings.) So finally I just put some water on with salt, pepper, garlic and onion and boiled it. It really smells good, you just don’t eat it. Chile, that stuff smelled good and went all over the halls.

  Every night, after I heard the first one get home, I shut my door and put on some good blues or jazz, kinda low, only high enough for them to just hear if they didn’t have no music on and I knew they hadn’t had time to turn their music on yet.

  I bought the best perfume, sweet, but light, to wear when I left for work every morning. Even sprayed a little whiff in the hall near my door. I made sure I was up and out before they were so they could smell ME as they left for work. If ole runner Hudson was gettin up and out before me, I sprayed a quick whiff in the hall before he left out the house.

  I was movin right along, but I stayed out of too much sight til I could catch the way of city clothes and things. Then, after a bit, in the evenings if I went out with a girlfriend, or even a man friend I had made at work, I wore the best, most sexiest smell the saleslady said was in the world! Even puffed a bit of that in the hall. I DARED one of their women friends to smell better than me, because I am a Femme Fatale, see?

  But I didn’t make too many man friends at work. Everything in due time. I wanted to see how these two worked out, especially Hudson, before I got someone who might turn out to be in the way. Sides, I didn’t plan to make love to everybody in the city. Anyway, I was asking God for His help so I knew I was going to try to do it His way much as possible.

  I started joggin bout four weeks after I moved in. Every time rent was due it was time to add a new move. Had two white joggin suits. Wasn’t no way you could miss me, see? Wore one, washed one. I got tired of all that runnin, but it did me some good anyway.

  At night I would close my eyes, dreaming of Hudson and his big bright smile. He had beautiful teeth. Everything about the man was beautiful and healthy. He even drove a nice little sports car, convertible. Roland had a settled-in Audi.

  On the second month I started sittin out on the porch. Ms. Mimi had chairs out there. The first one to stop and sit a spell was Roland. I said to myself, “You might as well head on out if you sittin there for me, honey!” But we talked a little bit about the daily news and all them good smells coming from my kitchen. (smile) Roland was interestin, but he was not Hudson.

  Hudson was really givin me those big grins. He had done even started stopping by my open door, sniffin, and hollerin in,
“Sure smells good in there, Darlin!” I would have something kinda pretty on this big, brown frame of mine and I would step out to him, smilin. Food and me smelling good! I’d say, “You must have dinner with me one day.” But I wasn’t gonna let him eat my paycheck up til I knew we had a chance! I said, “I’ll invite you over one evenin when the ladies aren’t knockin your door down.” I smiled up at him.

  He smiled back down. “I’ll see that they don’t come to my door if you just tell me when.”

  I smiled a little smaller smile, and flicked my false eyelashes at him, saying, “I’ll let you know,” as I closed my door.

  Now, Roland, sometimes he would holler under my closed door, “Say, Darlin (I love my new name), you got to give me some of that food, or the recipe, cause you be drivin me crazy with all that good cookin you doin in there!”

  I’d open my door so he could see I looked good even as a slave in the kitchen, and get a smell of the other me besides the cook and I would smile at him, cause you got to practice, you know. I would say, “You need to stop teasin me.” I would wave “good-by” as I bat my lashes and shut the door.

  Bout one week before the rent was due again, I been there about seven weeks then, I invited Hudson to dinner. I put on my best hostess gown, low neck, my best low, sweet music, polished my imitation flowers, fluffed my pillows (bed and sofa) and all the rest. Chile, the dinner was good! Baked, then smothered the turkey wings, herb rice (he likes health) and black-eyed peas, baked yams, hot biscuits, Jell-O mold salad and ice tea, buttermilk or lemonade. That man liked to killed himself he ate so much! I know why he runs … he better!

  Two nights later he said he wanted to take me to dinner. I dressed as good as I could (and I could). He made his number one mistake. He took me somewhere nice you could take a pay-back date. It wasn’t special. I thought I could fix that later if I ended up with him, so I kinda enjoyed the evenin. When we got back home he invited me to see his apartment. I went.