FOR SOME REASON FOLKS got it into their heads that I had some dirt on Mr. Bryer and that meant I could make him do things other girls couldn’t. Girls that had only rolled their eyes at me before were now smiling and asking my advice about things. Technically, I’d been demoted but that ain’t seem to matter none. New girls were hired all the time and even though we worked side by side they looked to me to fix the cash register or even relations with customers. And on occasion I was the one that went to management with our concerns.
Mr. Bryer was real careful when it came to me. He preferred to send me messages through his secretary but when that ain’t work he’d call me to his office and we’d talk right out in the open where everybody could see us. He’d call me missus Jenkins, never Belinda like he used to and that was fine by me.
It was all fine until it became obvious that I was in the family way. Then folks started whispering again. Maybe I was having the boss man’s baby. Maybe I was cheating on Ricky with my new husband. Or maybe I’d cheated on my new husband with some man from electronics. For all the different rumors that was started none of them got close to the truth. I was thankful for that, even if it didn’t ease my stress any.
“Ignore them,” Helen insisted as she scraped the bottom of her chocolate pudding cup.
Helen knew the truth but she’d never mentioned it. I think she sensed I still couldn’t handle it.
“I’m gonna go for a smoke. Come with me?”
She agreed. Tossed her lunch into the trash and followed me to the elevator. “I thought you was quitting.”
Heziah wanted me to quit cold turkey and I had, at least when I was around him.
“I’m down to two a day.”
“Mmhmm.” She smirked as we stepped outside. “Girl, you got more secrets than Victoria.”
I felt a faint tug at my cheeks and realized I hadn’t smiled in a while. Helen must’ve known it too because she spent the next five minutes trying to make me laugh. She was just declaring victory when a delivery truck drove past us and onto the street. I glanced over my shoulder at the first rumble of its engine and suddenly I didn’t hear it or my best friend. Didn’t see them either. All I saw was the brick wall where it had happened.
“Pecan. Pecan, you hear me?” Her fingers brushed against my arm and I gasped in fear. “What? You okay?”
I nodded and let the cigarette butt fall to the ground before pulling a second from the pack.
“You sure you don’t wanna look for a job some place else?”
I loved that we were so close but it bothered me that she could read my mind.
“I know it wouldn’t be easy but—”
“No.”
“I’m just saying it might be better—”
“I ain’t leaving this job. It’s close to my house and I know everybody here. Ricky don’t get to take this from me.”
“Okay Pecan. You win.”
I hadn’t. Not yet anyway.
“HOW LONG HAVE YOU had this firearm?” Mrs. Gibson waited less than patiently for my answer but I ain’t have one.
Wondered if all social workers were always too busy to answer the damn phone or if it was just her. So, I was real glad she’d made time to see me. So, I jumped at the chance to have what she called a home visit. Ain’t tell me she was gonna be searching my house. Said she wanted to see how things were going for me. My pistol was the only thing she found that was halfway interesting. Sat right down at my kitchen table, looking at me all funny like.
“It’s just—I mean...”
“Well Mrs. Morrow? It looks to me like the serial number is filed off...”
“What I know about guns and special numbers? I told you I didn’t even known it was there.”
“In your dresser?”
“That’s right.” I ain’t care if my lie wasn’t convincing. Only thing that mattered was that she couldn’t prove it.
“You know that it is against the law to have a weapon without its serial number? If someone were to use this weapon to commit a crime, the police would have some trouble tracking this weapon down. I’ll need to see your permit for it.”
“I ain’t got one. Because it ain’t mine.”
“And whose is it?” She sighed in that special way she probably saved for me since I was always getting on her nerves.
“Ricky’s. He left it.”
She ain’t look too pleased. But then she ain’t never look too pleased with me. “I see. Will you have the firearm in the house if the children are returned to you?”
Hell yes! Was what I thought but I just said, “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? What about when this child is born? Do you plan to keep a loaded pistol in your dresser drawer with a baby crawling around?”
“What you trying to get at? This here baby ain’t got nothing to do with you!”
“What exactly did you think was going to happen, Mrs. Morrow?” Her questions always stung worse than any bee sting ever could. “Your children are in state custody. You have another one and we’ll be forced to consider taking that one too.”
“You can’t do that!”
“It’s not me. It’s the system.” She sighed and flipped the page in her damn notebook, writing something else. “Have you spoken to the younger ones?”
I’d had one visit with Jackie and Nat. Just one. That was reason enough to hate this woman. She made me make appointments to see my kids and she was never available for me to make those appointments. Then she got all high and mighty about how much I didn’t see them. As my daddy would say, I couldn’t win coming or going.
She took a sip from the glass of water I’d given her half an hour before. I’d learned my lesson about offering her anything of value like coffee. She wasn’t even gonna get any of my ice.
“Well, I suppose I should update you on their status. They’ve been relocated to a group home for troubled girls. It’s on the north side.”
“The north side! You can’t just move my babies around and not tell me!”
“Mrs. Jenkins your daughter threatened to kill her foster parents.”
“Jackie? She...she just a little high-strung is all. She always been real sensitive. I’m sure she ain’t mean it...”
“She pulled a knife on them! I have to put that in her file!”
“Well what they do to her to make her—”
“She thought that threatening violence would get her what she wanted. To go home to you.”
At least one of my babies still loved me. But I couldn’t say that. Worked real hard not to let it show up on my face either. Mrs. Gibson ain’t notice anyway. Her lips kept right on moving even though I’d made up my mind to stop listening. She obviously thought what Jackie’d done was the worst thing and for the stupidest reason. Why in the world would she want to come home to me? She’d given her to a perfectly nice couple. The woman’s train of thought was so easy to follow.
“—I can’t say that I’m surprised.” She sighed. “It happens with children like her that have experienced a traumatic life—”
I just nodded, couldn’t find the words. They were jumbled around up in my mouth, making it all dry. “She really is a sweet girl...”
But Mrs. Gibson ain’t wanna hear it. She was pissed. Flipping the pages in her notebook with that I-Knew-It-All-Along frown she’d had since the day we met.
“You think we got an endless list of people just dying to take in these kids?” She sighed again, even harder this time. “I had to pull some strings to get her the help that she needs. Badly. Frankly, Mrs. Morrow I am doing the very best I can. For your children. Given what they’ve been through I’m surprised they’ve made it this far.”
I’d had enough. Every time the woman came around all she did was bring bad news. Bring me down. Ain’t matter how close I already was to the ground she always brought me lower.
I stood from my chair and watched joyfully as she flinched as the chair’s legs scraped against the linoleum floor. “That it? You said what you came to say?”
“Mrs. Morr—Mrs. Jenkins—”
“That’s right! Mrs. Jenkins. Jenkins. You get out my house before I throw your ass out on the curb! You ain’t gonna come up in here talking about my girls like…like they anything less than perfect. Looking down your nose at me...”
She got her stuff together in a great big huff but it ain’t move me none. I was ready. Ain’t matter about my physical state, I was sure I could’ve thrown her bony ass out if I needed to. She stood straight up like a scarecrow. Her curly short hair standing out on end because of the humidity that was running rampant through my house. Not that I felt bad for her in the least, wanted her to suffer and suffer good for the pain she’d caused.