“Look, Buster helped me out. He was happy to do it.”
“You went to my brother?”
“It’s fine, Bonn. Really.”
“No, it ain’t. What if you would’ve gotten him hurt somehow?”
Roy shakes his head. “That goon Jenkins doesn’t even know Buster exists, and, like I said, Buster was happy I came to him. He’s been having a hard time getting clients, being he’s green ’round the gills. But we made a bundle, and fast. He’s on the map now. He can contribute to your family again. You should thank me.”
“Thank you?” I stand. “I’m staying here tonight. I think it’s best you go home, alone. Now.”
I keep my expression stern. Roy’s in the need of some hard lovin’, even if I am counting my blessings that he’s close enough to touch.
When Roy delays, both Blanche and Buck stand up beside me.
Slowly, Roy also pushes to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, and gently touches the fading bruise on my face.
“Yes,” I say. I’ll give him that. I need to give him that, ’cause I got to believe that we’ll be fine in the light of a new day. Being with Roy is all I’ve ever really known.
*
Tomorrow comes, just as it always does, and I go home. What I ain’t expecting is what I see. I let out a string of small gasps as I walk through the door. Buck gave me an idea of how badly Jenkins messed up my house. But now, as I scan the living room, not a pillow is out of place. In fact, those pillows are fluffed.
I continue into the kitchen—where for the past six months, the cabinets were unfinished and hardware was missing—and I find Roy, up on a ladder, tool-thingy in hand, putting on what appears to be the final knob.
“You did all of this last night?” I ask.
Roy startles, nearly falling off the ladder. He lets out a low laugh at his own clumsiness, then steps down to the floor. “And this morning. You’re halfway to a smile. I missed that smile. Got to thinkin’ what life would be like if I never saw it again.”
His words are soft, like butter, but mine are sharp when I say, “You can’t do that to me again, Roy. Leave me like that. You can’t do that to us. I won’t have it.”
He steps closer, cups my face with his hands. “I won’t. I promise. I’m sorry I put you through that, for you getting this”—he trails his thumb over my fading bruise—“and for how I acted last night. When I got there, Blanche had it out for me. My guard went up and it wasn’t right of me.”
That’s all good and well, and I can forgive Roy’s erratic behavior. I can even understand why he hid out. But the visual of him with Hazel Griffin is hard to swallow. I can picture her doe-like eyes oozing all sorts of sympathy all over him, and Roy eating it up like jam. However—and it’s a big however—a demanding voice in my head says, Let it go. Me harping on Hazel will only cause added strain. Besides, he didn’t seek Hazel out … the way I welcomed Henry’s attention at Doc’s. Or how I wonder what attention from Clyde Barrow would be like.
Clyde. I’m just now realizing he never showed last night, though I got to imagine that’s for the best. Someone like Clyde Barrow probably steals hearts faster than cars.
“Bonn?” Roy says, and dips to my height. “Can you forgive me?”
I push aside the disappointment and focus on the here and now. “For better or for worse, right?”
“Better, then.”
“Better,” I repeat, needing to believe it.
25
I’ve a pep to my step as I pull open—no, Roy beats me to it, holding open the door to Southwest Dallas High School for me. It’s our first day back, and I offer him a smile and a thank-you.
After Roy came home, the days and weeks that followed were light and fun, better. Roy and me were both on our best behavior, having more nights reminiscent of the one we had on New Year’s Eve. We’ve been trying to put—and keep—the pieces snugly together, and my grip loosens on the fear that things are slipping away.
I reckon some of my pep is also ’cause we’re entering a new school year, with a renewed focus on becoming a teacher and a news reporter.
The sense of stability I’ve always wanted is within our reach, ’specially with the house nearly complete. Only took us close to a year and a half, but just yesterday I lost track of time, simply staring at how the living room has been transformed, with its elegant wallpaper, polished floors, crown molding, and elaborate, ritzy draperies. All how I once imagined.
Each month we pay the mortgage, chipping away at what we owe the bank.
On a good month, we put money aside for a rainy day, and I like to imagine what important thing we’ll use the money on. That trip to Paris, perhaps.
Roy takes my hand in his, leading me down the school hallway. I tilt my chin up, smiling whenever anyone takes notice of us: married, no longer at odds, onward and upward.
This was the moment I hoped for, six months ago.
Outside my classroom, Roy stops, pushes me back against the lockers.
He leans closer, closer, kissing my forehead. “See you after school.”
“You tease,” I whisper, receiving a wink in return, and walk into English.
I groan, as if on cue. I knew I’d see Hazel Griffin today, at some point, but first period of the day, and in my favorite subject, is a bit cruel.
Blanche’s pep talk pops into my head: If she gives you any lip ’bout cozying up with your Roy Toy, smack that tramp right in the kisser. I smile to myself, imaging the sting of my palm meeting Hazel’s rosy cheek.
“Somebody’s in a good mood,” Hazel says from her desk.
“Why Hazel,” I start, and greet her with a fake grin, “if you keep going out of your way to talk to me, I’m going to think you want to be friends.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That could get awkward, since Roy and I spent such intimate time together recently.”
And there it is, I think, just as Blanche predicted.
Hazel holds up her pointer finger. “Although you had no problem sharing a man with Blanche.” Hazel shrugs. “What do you think, ladies?”
Hazel’s flock snickers.
My smile only grows, and I purposely use my left hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, flashing my silver wedding band. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping my husband. He told me all ’bout it.”
Some of Hazel’s queen-bee resolve slips, showing in the tightness of her lips. “It was my pleasure.” With that, she flips her hair and returns to her minions.
“Have a wonderful morning, Hazel,” I say, knowing her practiced ears will still hear me.
I don’t like the way she insinuated pleasure—with my husband—but if that’s all she’s got to throw at me, so be it. In fact, I do believe I’ve won a battle with Hazel Griffin, and, as the hours tick by, my winnings include not having to see her for the rest of the day, even though her insinuation does linger in my mind.
After the final bell, I meet Roy, waiting by our bikes. I kiss him, deepening the kiss with a frisky nip of his lower lip.
Roy touches his mouth. “Good afternoon to you, too.”