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He’d asked me to be his girlfriend in the third grade.
“Just be my girl until Anne Toomer moves back here in the summer,” he’d begged, splitting a little piece of Mary Jane candy with me at the r
iver behind my daddy’s first church where they used to baptize people. “You gonna give me candy everyday ?” I asked, unsure of what a girlfriend was anyway. “My mama says ain’t no chil’en supposed to have sweets every day,” he responded. I sighed and then he gave me the other half of the Mary Jane. “I guess I can disobey her though ... for you Journey Lynn Cash.” I ate Evan’s piece, Anne Toomer never came back to Alabama and we’ve been together ever since.
He’d been my best friend. Twenty-five years. That had to count for something. I could trace nearly every smiling moment of my life back to him. And while this knowledge—that I’d only realized a few years ago—both annoyed and stunned me at the same time, it was comfortable and Evan’s presence alone always made me feel connected to something. He wasn’t perfect, but I loved him.
Being a mother wouldn’t be a bad thing I supposed. I thought of how much joy my brothers and I brought to my parents’ lives, the fact that May couldn’t even have children, and Zenobia, a girl with the rest of her life ahead of her, had one she couldn’t even take care of. Suddenly, laying next to my husband, my feelings seemed selfish. I was scared of something Zenobia went running toward and May dreamed of. Opal’s mother was right. It was the next step.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, not knowing if Evan was still awake.
He exhaled and rolled over onto his back.
“I didn’t want to fight,” he said.
“I know,” I said.
“I don’t know what came over me at dinner. I’m just so excited. I can’t wait to be a father.” He looked at me sadly. “But if you want to wait.... I guess we can talk about it this summer.”
“No,” I said, remembering his sweet face out by the river that afternoon. “You’re right. Maybe it’s time. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. We’d be great parents.” I thought of seeing another pudgy, yellow face like his walking around and smiled.
“You just made me the happiest man in the world,” he said, sitting up and letting the sheet fall from his naked chest. Evan never worked out, but after years of doing work for his father’s moving company when we were teenagers, he had a naturally powerful build. In the moonlight coming in from the French doors of our bedroom, I could see the muscles in his pecs tighten as he bent down to kiss me. His lips were soft, his kiss forceful, as it always was when we made love.
“Wait,” he said, pulling away from me.
He pushed me onto my back and slid his arms between my arms and my body, opening my legs with his and then lowered himself toward me. His kissing became more passionate and he moved his hips in a way that made my body grow hot. As he pulled my nightgown over my head, I caressed his penis and kissed his chest.
“I love you,” he said, sliding off his boxers. “I love you so much.” He came down and pressed himself into me. I quickly wrapped my legs around him and kissed him on the neck.
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Six
“Fight!” I heard someone holler from out in the hallway in what seemed like seconds after the fourth-period bell rang and my students were hustling out the door. I’d just slid my purse over my shoulder and was heading to the conference room for an emergency Wednesday lunch meeting the principal, Mr. Williams, had announced via a red slip in our mailboxes on Tuesday afternoon.
“Oh, no,” I said, dropping the bag quickly and putting it back into my locking drawer. I’d broken up many fights—it came with the job nowadays—but somehow, each one had its own set of complications. The new ones sometimes included weapons and students so bold they weren’t afraid to hit teachers—knock them over the head for trying to break up the fight. We’d gotten security guards into the school to deal with these kinds of issues, but still, the teachers were expected to respond initially. This presented me with another set of worries, because even though I loved the Lord, I wasn’t sure how I’d react if one of the children put their hands on me. Help me, Holy Ghost!
The students still left in the room, bumping into each other like blind bees, began to push to see what was going on outside.
“Fight!” someone yelled again as I tried to make my way through the tight throng. Outside of the door and in the center of a chaotic circle of violence-thirsty students was Zenobia and Patrice locked up chest to chest.
“You stupid-ass bitch,” Zenobia shouted, twisting herself and somehow getting Patrice around and into a headlock. Patrice’s belly poked out far and unprotected, a stretch appearing naked beneath her tight T-shirt. She shook and wrestled to get away, but, rushing in, I could see that Zenobia had a tight hold. “He don’t fucking love you,” Zenobia went on. “He ain’t gonna ever love you.”
“Break it up,” I screamed, trying to force my way between them. “Someone call security! Security! Security,” I hollered, knowing it would be a minute before they made it to the back of the building where the music room was located. As I attempted to pry Zenobia’s hands from around Patrice’s throat, I saw that Patrice was turning red and probably losing air.
“Let her go. She pregnant,” one of the boys yelled.
“Let her go, Zenobia,” I said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“She came over here fucking with me,” Zenobia snarled. “I was minding my business.”
“Let her go!”
One of the boys jumped in and tried to help me get the girls apart and when he did, I took a hold of Zenobia to restrain her, but Patrice came swinging and nearly hit my head. She landed a punch right in Zenobia’s face.
“You want some, bitch?” Patrice yelled and I jumped back, thinking maybe she was talking to me.
Zenobia got away from me and charged Patrice, swinging her arms wildly. The entire crowd swayed with each step they took. Everything was moving so fast that I was afraid to get into it. Two boys finally grabbed Patrice again and I seized Zenobia with another student.
