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othing. He sat down and put an arm around her. “What’s the matter?”
Adrienne sighed and leaned close to him. “I’m going to have to declare bankruptcy.”
Mel was shocked at her answer. He swept up all the bills and went through them. MasterCard: $2,600. Visa: $2,500. American Express: $1,000. Discover: $1,500. Bloomingdale’s: $750. He couldn’t go on. He put the bills back on the table.
She followed his gaze and sighed once more.
Mel was amazed. “Adrienne, how did you get in so much debt?”
“Shopping.”
“I know that, baby. What I meant was, didn’t you see that you were headed for trouble?”
She didn’t answer.
Mel thought about Adrienne’s dresser drawers and bulging closet. “You got to stop buying so many clothes and cut up all those charge cards.” He peered at her intently.
“That’s not all,” she said dully.
He took her face tenderly in his hands. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. “Tell me everything,” he said gently.
And it all came tumbling out. “Every time you walk out the door, I wonder if you’re going to come home drunk or not. Why do you spend so much time at that bar where Debra works? Are you cheating on me?”
He shook his head. “No. There is no other woman.”
She relaxed a little. “Then why do you drink so much? Tell me what you’re running away from?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered.
“I want you to get professional help before you become an alcoholic.”
Mel hesitated. “I don’t need to do that, baby.”
Adrienne started to cry, and Mel looked at the bills. “If you file for bankruptcy, your credit will be ruined.” He stroked her hair as she sobbed.
There was no answer for a moment. Mel realized that his wife had a serious case of the blues and that she was going to cry about anything and everything that had ever gone wrong in her whole life. She’s probably crying about Delilah, too, he thought sadly. But he couldn’t even bring himself to say his child’s name aloud.
So he just cuddled Adrienne and stared at the bills on the table, and wondered how they would ever get out of the hole they were in.
The bills were still on Mel’s mind when he got off work the next day. He decided to stop off for a drink to take his mind off his troubles before going home. When Mel walked into the bar, he took one look at Debra’s face and knew something was wrong, but he waited until his drink arrived before asking what it was.
Debra huffed, “Look at that high-yella bitch over there!”
Mel turned in the direction Debra was pointing. A fat, light-skinned woman with dyed-red braids was sitting with Tina, the young barmaid. The fat woman had several earrings in each ear, and Mel figured that the hair had to be fake because it hung to her waist. Mel couldn’t see her face clearly from where he was sitting, and he didn’t want to.
“Who is she, and why you callin’ her a bitch?”
Debra took a rag and wiped the counter in front of him so fiercely that she knocked his glass over, spilling his drink.
“I ain’t payin’ for that,” Mel said irritably. “What the hell is going on?”
Debra’s voice rose. “That bitch just started workin’ here, and she think she hot shit, but I ain’t havin’ it. Big Boy just came in here to see me, and her ugly ass was all over him.”
Mel cracked up. He laughed so hard, tears came to his eyes. “Girl, get me another drink and make it a double this time,” he wheezed. There is some real, sho-nuff stupid shit going on here. How could any self-respecting female even consider brawling over an overweight, uncouth, illiterate lout like Big Boy?
Debra slapped the drink down in front of him. “What the fuck is so funny?” she asked.
Mel swallowed a gulp of the rum, which had very little soda in it. He grimaced. “Ain’t a damn thing funny, Debra, but if you gettin’ ready to fight over that fool, times sure must be hard for women. That’s all I can say.”
