Until (11 page)

They continued to chat while Mrs. Jones put the finishing touches on the enormous lunch. It was easy to see that the Joneses' house was
the
house in the neighborhood, the house where everybody dropped by. A house where one could come just to use the phone or catch up on all the latest gossip in the neighborhood. People would walk in without knocking, speak, and walk out as if the house were publicly held property.

Evander's mother caught him up on the local news, such as his best friend from high school who was now in the marines but had come out of the closet, as well as the twins up the street who both got pregnant by the same kid down the block. She talked about the pastor who preached more on tithing after he bought a Navigator. “If God gave him that damn thing he's driving,” she whispered with her hand cupping her mouth, “let him give God the payment book.”

Then in the distance they could hear the rumbling sound of a lady hollering at her children. The sound was so loud, it could be heard over the conversation inside the house.

“
Put that down, ya bastid! Okay, I done told you about that, Chandra, you li'l hooker. I'm gon slap the shit out chu. Jamale! Jamale! Stay outta my purse, you li'l-ass thief! You ain't gon be shit just like your daddy!” Betty and the rest of the guests looked out the window as the commotion drew closer to the house and then Bobby Jo came in with all her children. She had one on her hip and another still in a diaper, which begged to be changed. The other children scattered, looking for toys, paper to write on, or anything else they could get into.

Shawn sought refuge in his bedroom as he shouted at one of the little boys, “Yo! Don't come in here!” and locked the door.

Bobby Jo walked into the kitchen, fussed about how her husband was or was not doing something for the kids, spoke to a few relatives, then gave Evander a peck on the cheek. “You must be Betty,” she said. Since she knew Evander was not close to his sister, Betty was surprised she knew her name at all. The gang, disguised as children, were on a rampage and hit the house like looters after a verdict. Evander's mom looked at Betty and Evander with her lips as straight as an arrow and an expression that said,
See what I have to put up with?

“Damn, Momma,” Bobby Jo laughed, “it's so hot in the living room, I saw the devil himself sitting by Aunt Gladys wearing hot pants. The air ain't working again? You know Freddy Lee got kicked out of school again, don'tcha?” She then sat at the dinette next to Betty with her legs spread like a construction worker on lunch break and checked the baby's diaper to verify what everyone in the room knew.

“No,” her mother said with little expression.

“Yeah, that boy steal so much it's a shame. He kept stealing my money, so I told him that food stamps was the
new
kinda money. At least if he stole them, I could get some more at the end of the month. I know I shouldn't have lied to him like that, but, child,” she said, and looked at Betty, “y'all just don't know! So he out to the school throwing dice for food stamps! Damn fool.”

Betty widened her eyes and wanted to laugh, but noticed no one else was, so she muted the sound. Mrs. Jones's lips
were as straight as the Statue of Liberty as she looked at her son, speechless.

After the kids were sent outside, the adults sat around the living room on the plastic-covered furniture to chat before the meal. Bobby Jo continued to talk about her favorite subject, and thirty minutes later Betty felt she still had not even begun to uncover just how sorry she felt this man was. This went on until Mrs. Jones served the meal and raised her palm to Bobby Jo as if to say,
Enough.

Once Mrs. Jones summoned the children inside, everyone ran for their place at the table. Evander protected the seat at the head of the table for himself and the one to its right for Betty.

“Evander, say the prayer, son,” his mother said as she showed her proud smile. As Evander began to pray, Betty felt a smile inside that forced its way to the surface. She smiled because in her mind she had been transported to another place. A place where it was late November and there was a slight chill outside. Where she had prepared her first full holiday dinner and where Evander's mom and Shawn were now guests in their home. Her foster parents were there, as well as a couple of children who favored her and Evander. At a special place at the opposite end of the table were her natural mother and stepfather, who had not aged or changed clothes since she last saw them as a child. In this place, Evander was grayer as he said grace, and she was just as proud to be with him then as she was at that very moment.
Stop thinking like that,
she scolded herself. But she could not resist and continued to smile. As Evander finished the prayer, she watched him, and as his eyes opened, he looked at her as if he had entertained similar thoughts to hers.
Betty Anne Robinson-Jones,
she thought.
Naw, that still sounds too cumbersome. Betty Jones. I just can't get use to that. Betty . . . Anne . . . Jones? That is so plain. But I guess . . . umm, not too bad. Not too bad at all. Attorney Betty Anne Jones, Esquire. I could work with that.

Then the hands started to flail as each person maneuvered for dish position. Evander interceded for Betty since he was a veteran of such wars. They enjoyed smothered pork chops, greens, sweet potato pie, southern fried chicken, and Mrs.
Jones's own made-from-scratch biscuits. There was no doubt they were made from scratch, because they tasted delicious and she repeated to anyone who would listen, “These were made from scratch, you know. These were made from scratch.”

After the late lunch, the women staggered onto the front porch for light gossip, the kids pulled out board games, and the men went through the back door to the yard.

“Baby, I need to go to the store for Momma to pick up something for dessert. Would you like to ride with me or hang out here?” Evander asked Betty.

“I don't know,” Betty said with a shrug of indifference and a smile. “I guess I could stay here and meet everybody.”

“Are you sure?”

Walking toward the bedroom, Mrs. Jones said with a smile in passing, “Boy, you can leave. Won't nobody eat her!”

As family members went either to the backyard or the front porch, Betty was unsure as to which way she should go until she heard Mrs. Jones call out, “Betty? Come here a second.” Betty walked into the back room toward Mrs. Jones, who sat in the dent of her four-poster double-mattress bed. “Close the door, sugar, and have a seat.”
Okay, what's this all about? Why is she sending him off and calling me back here?

“Betty, I just wanted to say I am so happy you came today.”

“Oh. Well, the pleasure is all mine. I've wanted to meet you and the rest of the family for some time now.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. “Evander's a good boy. You know that? And the reason I called you back here is because I know he's serious about you. He may not have let you know that yet, and the reason I got rid of him is because he would get upset with me for dipping into his business, but I know he has feelings for you.”

Betty was unsure as to what to say. She wanted to reveal her heart to someone, but now was not the time, nor was this the place.

“If he has called me once in the past week, he has called me ten times to talk about you,” Mrs. Jones continued. “He's
proud of everything you've done. Actually, he would call me up every day you worked on that case just to tell me what was happening with it. I know more about Mrs. Lopez than I know about Kato Kaelin.”

With a laugh Betty replied, “Really?”

“Like I said, he'd get upset if he knew I told you this, but he cares for you. He cares for you a lot. Momma can tell.”

Betty smiled but could not come up with a reply.

“I guess the reason I am telling you this is because he was in a bad relationship. A very bad relationship,” Mrs. Jones said, and looked away. “You know about his little boy, don't you?”

“Yes, ma'am. He's mentioned him. I spoke to Junior on the phone a couple of times also.”

“He's a cute kid. Looks just like his daddy. I always knew the boy's mother wasn't worth a cold glass of spit, but how do you tell that to someone in love? This heifer used him about ten years ago, and I don't think he ever recovered.” And then she looked at Betty and said, “Until now. It was the first time I saw him cry as a grown man. I mean,” she continued with her mouth curled and her hand rubbing the sheet of her bed, “break right down and cry in this room. The heifer took all the money out of the savings, took the baby, took everything and left him with nothing. He was in construction at that time. Did drywalling. But he couldn't work for three weeks. They were engaged and she slept with his neighbor. He respected this old hooker so much he would get mad if I said anything about her. But I knew something was up with her. She could sweet-talk him. She couldn't sweet-talk Momma,” she added with a tongue cluck. “But you see, I raised a good boy. A decent boy. He walked in on them one Sunday morning with her on her knees and him watching ESPN. I did try to tell him a couple of times she wasn't any good, but you know how y'all are when you get something stuck in your mind. So I went along with it. But now I wish I had stepped in to do more.”

“I'm so sorry to hear that. He's never really talked about her to me, but I know he misses his son.”

“Yeah, it was rough all the way round,” she said, and looked out the window at the men who played dominoes
and laughed out loud in her backyard. “It was rough on both of us. September the eleventh was the day he caught them. I'll never forget that day because every year on that date he would be messed up something awful. I would either have to drive to Gainesville to be with him or have him drive home for a couple of days.”

And then the air stilled in the room as Mrs. Jones looked into her palms as if she spoke only to them and said, “He once even talked about killing himself. Went through counseling for about a year or so. When I was your age, Betty,” she continued as her voice creaked like an unoiled door “I hurt when I broke up with a guy. But I
never
imagined men hurt when they had breakups. Not real men like Evander. I just thought they were like ‘Oh well, off to the next one.' But going through that with him changed me. I could sorta see for the first time why
some
men treat women like they do. Sometimes they don't know how to deal with the pain.”

Outside there was laughter as a child's knock on the door was ignored. “I guess that's true. I never really thought about it like that,” Betty whispered. “But I must say, Mrs. Jones, Evander has been the best thing that ever happened to me, and I could never imagine hurting him.” As she spoke, Mrs. Jones sat up and gave her her undivided attention. “I mean he's attentive and thoughtful and has gone out of his way to be supportive.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that. That's what I wanted to know. He's a good boy deep down inside. He had a couple of other girlfriends since Yolanda, but since he wasn't over her, they didn't work out. I could tell he wasn't letting himself get too wrapped up. But I can also tell he feels different about you. You're the first woman he's brought home since Yolanda. Remember when he sent you the flowers at the firm?” she said as her smile returned. “He called me up and told me he was nervous about approaching you. Said he didn't think you would be interested in a common everyday person like him. But I told him to call you up. To give you a chance. And the night he called you, he phoned me afterwards and told me how relieved he was and how nice you were.”

Betty softly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying,
Mrs. Jones you just don't know how happy I am to be with Evander. How I am already trying to decide if I should hyphenate my name. How I love this man so much it is scaring me.
But this was not the time, nor was it the place.

Six-month-old BreNushia's mother, Wa'Kanesha, arrived to pick her up while her friend sat outside in his pink and white Cutlass, which sounded like a dance floor on wheels.

“Nesha, I been meaning to ask you sumthin',” Mrs. Jones said. “Why you name that pretty red baby that crazy-ass name?”

Wa'Kanesha, who had obviously answered the question many times before, said, “Well, I wanted to name her after my best friend Brenda, but there's a lotta Brendas running around, so I named her BreNushia. I was going to name her BreNeissy, but I know a lotta Neissys too, and besides, I didn't want Aneissa Clark to think she had anything to do with my baby name. 'Cause she use to go with my baby's daddy in high school and stuff.”

“Well, you damn sho won't have that problem with a name like BreNushia,” Mrs. Jones said, and folded her thick arms tightly. “Giving that child a name she won't even be able to spell before she in high school. I bet you can't even spell it—can you!”

“Ah, excuse me,” Wa'Kanesha said, and with the baby on her shoulder and her hand on her flexed hip she began, “My baby's name is spelled B-r-e capital N—”

“Shut up and get out there to that crazy boy making all that noise with that loud music. Make me sick!” Finishing the sentence, Mrs. Jones looked at Betty as her brow unfurled and her smile reappeared.

Betty had walked outside to play with Anna and Jake when Evander drove up, and for a split second she felt like a housewife who awaited her husband's return. After he hugged the kids again, Evander walked over to Betty and asked if she would like to take a walk to digest the meal. She nodded her head yes and he gave the package from the store to Anna to take inside while Jake tried to wrestle his uncle's leg.

As Evander and Betty left, they could still hear Bobby Jo's voice clear above all the others. “And then he told me dem his sister's drawers in the backseat! He must think I'm a fool! Cynthia's ass way bigger than mine!”