Me Dying Trial Read online

  And so when her night-clothes start come off, piece by piece, she never do a thing but moan and ease up closer and closer to him, for it was so much nicer than the rush Walter always in. Them did have to take time and not make much noise, for Grandma sleep light. But not even that could stop them from having them own little party right there in the room on the little single bed, pouring rhythms and sweat into one another, moanings and expressions of love better than any juke box.

  After the heat wave pass, she realize that the last time it feel so good was when she and Walter was courting. Luther never roll over and fall asleep, instead him caress and hug her, and in no time was ready again. But she tip-toe back to her room, and pretty soon the snoring from next door put her straight to bed.

  She never see him at all Sunday morning at prayers, and Sunday evening when time come for her to go back home so she can prepare for school the next day, Gwennie pick up herself and go off to the party with Luther. Grandpa couldn’t understand why Gwennie need go out to dance after such a lovely sermon at church, but Grandma never say a word. When Gwennie tell her she going out, she just push up her two lips in the air and start to hum.

  Gwennie never dance with Luther much, for she never want to raise any eyebrows. Plenty of her old-time school friends were there, so she chat with them and dance with them husbands most of the time. When she finally dance with Luther, she never like the way him always hold her close, and the way him always want to dance only to slow songs, especially with so many people looking. And that funny look that come into his eyes when she dance with the other men remind her of the way Walter would look at her.

  Them never stay long at the party though, for Gwennie did have to get up early and catch the bus back. So them walk back towards the house holding hands when nobody could see them anymore. Everything was dead-quiet through the graveyard except for them shoes whispering on the night-dew grass. Not even one night-bug was out chirping. And so when the moon slip behind the cloud, anybody who see the two shadows kissing-up in the cemetery that night could dip them finger in blood and swear it was Lucie and Charlie, the couple who pass on last March when them car meet up with the four o’clock train on the way back from them wedding. And this time when her stomach tremble, she just pull him closer so him could press way the little tinklings. And the grass did feel real cool on her back as Luther ease her down on the night-dew, and it was just as blissful as the night before.

  IV

  Him was gone as usual the next morning when she board the old bus with the market women and school children again. But her mood was good, and the bus ride sail by quick. At school, instead of dragging as usual, the day sail by real fast too. And sometimes she would just find herself, with her two hands holding up her jaw and her eyes fix nowhere in particular, thinking about the night-dew last night, and the juke box the night before. Other times she find herself giggling, and it was only when her students start to look at her funny-funny-like that she finally straighten up herself.

  But the minute she reach home, the giggling start up again. Her children notice it first thing, and couldn’t spell sense of this newness that come over them mother. Walter was inside cooking dinner when she go into the kitchen. She tell him ‘Evening’, and him just look at her and grunt as usual. But instead of worrying up herself half to death over the way him talk to her, like she do almost every time him don’t talk to her when she talk to him, Gwennie pop out with a little giggle. For after Luther, Walter look stupid-stupid-like to her now. Walter turn round, look at her, kiss his teeth and walk out the kitchen. Poor man couldn’t understand why she grinning so much when him never give her any joke.

  For the rest of the week him never say another word to her. Usually, Gwennie would sit down with her hands holding up her jaw and fret and worry-up herself over how this man won’t talk proper to her, now she just hum and sing when she pass him. But by the middle of the following week, in the middle of all her happiness, Gwennie couldn’t help but notice something troubling Walter. One evening she hear him ask the older boy, Rudi, if his mother did tell him why she never come home last week Sunday evening. Another time, she see him break and throw away one of the little blow-blow toys Luther send for the little girl, Del.

  Since she did start teach the two boys to play dominoes and cards, one evening Walter come home and catch them playing. Hell break loose in the house that night. Walter grab up the dominoes and the cardpack, and what him never send flying through the door, him turn on the stove and burn.

  Then him start the quarrelling. ‘Gwennie, you don’t have anything better to do than to sit here and teach you sons to gamble. What kind of mother you be?’

  Gwennie never answer a word. She and the two boys just sit down and look at him, eyes and mouths open wide.

  ‘Make I catch any more blasted domino and card playing inside me house and we will see what happen. I don’t want me sons to be blasted gamblers.’ And him storm way into his room and don’t speak again for the remainder of night.

  But Gwennie know it wasn’t the gambling so much that was bothering him. It was the fact that she know how to play cards and dominoes and him never teach her.

  So that was the end of the domino and card playing tournament. Night time after the two boys, Rudi and Dave, and the little girl, Delores, gone to bed, and since Walter just go straight to his room these days after him eat dinner, she would just sit out in the living room by herself. Sometimes she clean the floor and dust, sometimes she do a little sewing: make dresses for Delores or just patch up her sons’ uniforms since them romp rough at school and often tear out the underarms.

  Sometimes she crochet one or two doilies for her bureau or for Grandma’s centre table, so her figurines can look pretty on it. But most of the time she just sit down on the little stool inside the kitchen, her hands holding up her jaw, and re-run the whole weekend with Luther in her head, the way him talk sweet words to her, the way him love to use his tongue and lick-lick her neck, her shoulders, her ears. And then when she think about it long enough till the little tinklings start to move around in her belly, she just sigh deep, get up, stretch and go to her bed.

  At night when she crawl in next to Walter, no matter how late, him would always be laying down there awake, not saying anything, but his eyes would be wide open looking up at the cracks and the little water marks in the ceiling. Depending on how dominant the tinklings she would roll over next to him and try touch-touch him up, for these days she notice that him not quite as demanding. And even though she was kind of glad, for most times she tired, it start to bother her. She start to wonder what him lay down there and think all hours of the night when him not sleeping. She know him can’t read her mind, but what if him run into anybody from Mile Gully and them tell him about she and Luther? Walter come from the little district just right across the other side of the bridge. The people from Mile Gully know him well. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to find out if people was going to be doggish and walla-walla them mouth about she and Luther.

  With that song, Gwennie start up prayer meetings with God at night. And she would lie down there and ask Brother Jesus if him could please not let Walter find out, for only the Heavenly Father up above could help her if him ever know. Him alone know what Walter capable of doing to her, and she really wouldn’t like to find out. Then she would cry, Amen, roll over next to Walter, and start to touch-touch him up. She could tell him wasn’t use to it, for him would just lay down there not moving. But after she start use some of the lickings and rubbings Luther use, him start to relax.

  V

  When word come from Grandma that the bridge finish and she sorry bad, for the little boarding money so helpful, it was like somebody come in and take out a whole piece of Gwennie’s inside, and she never know how to put it back. And it wasn’t so much his leaving or the fact that Gwennie never know a God-a-heaven thing about this man—where him come from or anything—but she have a funny feeling that the baby stirring round in her stomach and widening out her hips
belong to Luther, and him wouldn’t know about it.

  So that damp look start appear round her face, and Walter recognize it too, for it was just like when them use to fight like puss-and-dog everyday. The children recognize it too, for them stop ask her stupid-stupid questions, and even the little girl, Del, wouldn’t cry as much and give trouble. Even the children at school notice it and start to do their homework and come to class early.

  When she visit Grandma a few days later, she linger bout the gate waiting for the laugh. Then she would go into Luther’s old room looking for something, a picture so she could show the baby widening out her hips what him look like, a shirt, anything. And Grandma notice the damp look on her face and the way her body look frail even though she expecting.

  ‘Walter bugging you again?’ Grandma ask her.

  ‘No,’ Gwennie mumble, starting to cry.

  ‘Then what is the matter?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  And she mope round the house the remainder of the day.

  When Walter see her throwing up all over the place, him figure that maybe she pregnant, but him wasn’t too certain, for she seem thinner than usual. But him help around the house and with the children plenty, trying to please Gwennie and help dry up some of the dampness. Him did grow to like the giggle-giggle Gwennie who come munching up to him at night. Him wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

  Gwennie would write Grandma, asking her if she could please check again and see if she put down Luther’s address careless-careless about the place, or if she remember anything about where him live or come from. But Grandma couldn’t remember a thing. And the dampness just take over Gwennie’s whole body and cause her to become thin and sickly.

  But when the little girl finally born and Gwennie notice how her grin and dimple cover up her face just like Luther’s, some of the dampness start to go away, and she could allow herself to remember the tinklings in her belly, the moanings and the cool grass. But then she start to notice too that as the dampness ease away, little by little, the more the grin and the dimples resemble Luther’s. Grandma see the grin and figure out right away where it come from. Sometimes Gwennie see her looking at the baby, her face puzzle-up. Then she would look off into space. But them never say a word to one another. Grandma just purse up her lips and hum.

  While the grin wipe away some of the dampness and bring comfort, it bring fear too. Everyday Walter would pet and coo the little baby, yet not notice that her hairline shape different from everybody in both his and Gwennie’s family. And after a while, Gwennie start notice too that Walter was looking hard at the little grin and dimple, and everytime him look, his forehead wrinkle over. So Gwennie start to keep the baby out of his way as much as possible, but it never spell sense to hide it from him, for it was Walter’s house and, supposedly, his daughter too.

  So Gwennie try figure out how much of Luther, Walter did see. It was only the once though. She and Walter did meet him the same Thursday evening when them bring the children down to visit Grandma. Luther was just moving in and Grandpa introduce them. She still remember the handshake for his hand was strong and sturdy. But she couldn’t remember if him was smiling or not. She know him was in a hurry to look at the bridge before nightfall, and it would spell sense not to be smiling-smiling if you hurrying, but she couldn’t remember.

  And so the fear of whether or not Walter recognize the grin on the little girl’s face ride Gwennie day-in and day-out. Cause her to take up praying all hours of the day. And so every time the baby grin, it was like a nightmare. And the nightmare gallop and kick until Gwennie find herself in Grandma’s bedroom weeping and wailing, with the room door lock and the curtains draw tight. And all through the weeping and wailing and moonlight and cemetery and lickings and lovemaking, Grandma never say a word. A few times Gwennie notice her opening up her mouth to cry out unto her Heavenly Father for guidance and strength so she can listen good to what Gwennie saying, but it just dry up right back in her voice box, and so she never bother say anything, she just purse up her mouth and look at Gwennie.

  After Gwennie finish cry and blow her nose into the lining of Grandma’s old frock, Grandma ask her: ‘So when you going to tell the man that is not his pickney you have?’

  But it seems like it was the wrong question, for Gwennie start up the weeping and the wailing again, but it never matter to Grandma.

  ‘Me love, I sorry to hear it. But you spread your own bed so you might as well lie down inside it. The pickney is the dead stamp of Luther. Any old jackass can see that. As fool-fool as Walter be, him not that stupid.’

  ‘But him don’t know Luther?’ Gwennie chime in.

  ‘Yes, but that not going save you. Everybody down here know him. And you know that people down here just love to dip them mouth into people’s business. As you turn round, them would start the talking, for that pickney can’t hide. She look like Luther too much.’

  ‘What me going to do?’

  Grandma look at her and sigh deep. ‘Huh, you shoulda think about that when you was laying up in bed with this man. But I don’t know, me baby, I don’t know.’ Then she start the humming, and Gwennie who was resting her head on Grandma’s lap, pick up the tune. And the two of them sit down in the room and hum out the entire four verses of ‘He Died For Me, Yes Christ Jesus Died For Me.’

  After the hymn finish, Grandma clear her throat. ‘Well, gal, you can tell Walter or you can wait till him find out. Whichever way, it going to be hell. It make sense if you tell him down here with me and your father present, for him wouldn’t be so out-of-order to knock you in the presence of you father. Another thing is you can give the baby to your Aunty Cora to raise, if Walter don’t want it inside the house when you tell him. I can’t say anything more, child. You choose best. May the good Lord up in Heaven look down and help you.’

  So with that song, Gwennie go home to her husband and her children. And that night after everybody gone to bed, she sit down in the kitchen on the little stool in the corner and write her Aunty Cora a long letter, the whole time peeping over her shoulder to see if Walter looking. She tell her Aunty Cora about how Walter beat and abuse her, how him take her money and keep other women with her, how life hard and miserable with the man. She tell her Aunty Cora how she want to leave him, but she afraid to just pick up herself and her children and go back to living in Mile Gully, the very same place she marry to escape from.

  Then she tell her Aunty Cora about Luther, how his chest big and his arms strong, how his two dimples pinch his cheeks and his grin cover over his entire face. She tell her Aunty Cora how the man teach her things, take her places, and make her feel like real young gal, how him make her feel like somebody. Then she write about the moonlight, the dance and the cemetery, and how the little girl is the dead stamp of him. At the end of the letter, Gwennie ask her if she could please take the baby for only God alone knows what Walter might do. Gwennie fold the letter, hands trembling, lick the envelope, tack on the stamp and hide the letter in the book of Proverbs so she can post it in the morning.

  That night when she roll over on the posturepedic mattress, Walter was wide awake as usual looking up at the cracks and watermarks. Cold sweat wash over her. Her heart pump hard. Tonight she never feel like praying though, she just feel weary, she feel beat. And so she lay down there next to him rigid and cold, her night clothes wet with sweat and her heart pumping out loud through her chest. And she lay down there like this, him breathing deep and even, and she in an upheaval.

  VI

  Gwennie never have many friends. And whether that was to her good luck or her bad luck, only God alone can tell. The one lady she befriend when she and Walter just move up to Porous, gone off to live with her sister in Canada. Walter never used to like her a tall. Used to tell Gwennie how she no good, how she cheap, how she borrow-borrow money and don’t like giving it back, how she love carry-carry people’s business, and him couldn’t understand why a big respectable married woman like she, Gwennie, would want to keep company with this woman
.

  And so whenever Julia come by the house, Walter could never find anything him put down. Him always asking Gwennie to do this, to do that, to do everything. But it wasn’t only Julia, him would do the same thing when Gwennie’s family come to visit or when Trevor, her school teacher friend whom she meet after Julia leave, come visit. Walter didn’t give one blast that Trevor already married and wasn’t looking any more woman. As long as somebody interested in his wife, that alone mash up every thing.

  She remember how she never use to pay him much mind when him start to do it at first. It was only when Grandma bring it up.

  ‘Now, Gwennie, you is a big woman, and I can’t tell you how you to run you family life, except that you and Walter must have respect for me and your father. But why the hell him have to call-call you every minute and interfere every time I sit down to talk to you. If you can’t tell him to acquire little manners, then I will do it.’

  But for some unspoken reason, it still never bother Gwennie much until that day with Trevor. And from that day something lost inside her belly for Walter. It was a Saturday morning, high day, when Trevor drive up and park his car outside the gate. The children were around the back playing. The baby was sleeping. Walter was inside the kitchen listening to racehorse on the little transistor radio and marking down the ones winning. Trevor did just come back from Miami, bringing with him a little present for Gwennie. Gwennie, so glad for the mug and to see her friend again, take careless and start to hug Trevor, only to hear Walter bellow out her name and ask from the doorway where him was watching, if she never have anything better to do than to sit there and carouse with her man friends in his house. And if she couldn’t wait till him leave the house before she do it, him can just imagine what go on when him not there.

  Trevor never stay long after that, and shameface, Gwennie just sit down outside on the verandah a long time after him leave. She did have the little mug in her hand and she run her fingers over the rim in deep thought. It wasn’t the first time Walter shame her like that, but it was going to be the last. It was that evening too, that she decide that she have to get way from Walter, for him wasn’t any good. The loan application still in the bottom of her bureau. Maybe she should go ahead and fill it out afterall. For in a way it was her only salvation. Without the certificate them don’t pay her much. And is really lack of money why she stay. The children too. But as the days pass and Walter get from bad to worst, things just seem almost too unbearable. One evening she come home only to find the little ‘I Love Miami’ mug crack-crack up in the garbage.