Excerpts

Circumstances

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     The searing heat beamed down on the family of trees in the desolate backyard. The humidity rising from the ditch out back was rancid, mosquitoes abundant. Murky brown elixir, lurking like volcanic lava behind the derelict shack gave way to southern stench.  Cracking paint graced the structure, adorned by its broken windows and rickety boards.  Transgressed cement, an evil sanctuary, sufficed as a foundation covered in tall, uncut grass; the devil’s first formation lurking beneath. 

Silence broken as the depressed heavens peeked through the emerald forest.  Innocence of life skipping along, chasing butterflies. Innocence startled.

“Babra’ Jean, get yo’ tail in hea’ and clean dis’ house.” Memah stood short and petite yelling from the screen door; hanging onto its last hinge. Barbara Jean scurried up the mangled steps into the kitchen.  The aroma of salt pork danced a jig.

“When I get back, I want dem clothes hangin’ out on dat line.  I want dis kichen’ flo’ scrubbed an’ I want dat wall dere in da bafroom washed.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Barbara Jean answered. She gathered the clothes and put them in the bin behind the house.  “Ain’t nuttin like tha’ reaaaaaal thang baaaby. Ain’t nothing like tha’ reaaaaal thang.” Harmonious sounds escaping young vocals. 

“Whatchu out there sangin’ girl?” Memah asked peering from the screen door.

“Nuthin’ Mama,” was Barbara Jean’s ghastly reply.  The sense of happiness suddenly begotten. 

“Dontchu lie to me chile,” Memah said, fiercely making her way down the unstable steps. 

Throbbing, but no blood this time.  “Yes ma’am,” Barbara Jean said weakly as she held her jaw. Memah walked back up the tattered stairs and disappeared into the structure.

“This house bet be clean when we get back,” Memah called from inside.  Creak.  Slam. Silence.  Nothingness.

Today was Sunday. Barbara Jean snuck to the edge of the house and peeked around the corner.  She watched her mother and her siblings fade down the dirt-paved road. They attended services at the Greater Baptist Church of Monroe.  Barbara Jean was always left behind to tend to the chores, Sunday dinner; and daddy.

After they vanished, she continued about washing clothes.  Once again, melodic harmony escaping joyous vocals. “Ain’t nuthin’ like tha’ real thang baaaaaaaaby.”  Shock, fear, panic, terror.

“What’cho mama tell you bout all that sangin’ gurl?” Jessie Lee asked.  “You know ain’t no sangin’ ‘round hea.”

“Yes sir,” she said shamefully holding her head down.

“Commere,” he summoned. 

“Yes sir.” No movement.

“You hear me gull? Don’t make me take off ma’ belt and whip da black offa’ you.” Anger, power, adrenaline. 

“Yes sir.” She journeyed towards her father. Fright pierced her sharper than any two-edged sword ever could.  Every step felt like quicksand.  Head held down, humiliation overshadowing. Pain.  Liquid.  Unsure of its derivation.

“I said commere. Don’t let me tell you again.”

“Yes sir.” Barbara Jean took the endless journey up the four squeaky stairs; a feeling worse than death.  

“Didn’t yo’ mama tell you ta’ wash dem walls in da bafroom?”

“Yes sir.” Discomposure overpowered her. No eye contact; except the floor.  

“Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you,” Jessie Lee contended.

“Yes sir.” Still, no eye contact. Pain again.  Destination unknown.  Tears falling like dual tidal waves. 

“Dammit, look at me.” Jessie Lee grabbed Barbara Jean’s face, forcing her to look at him.  The thought of looking at him was far worse than the strikes he had just administered to her. 

“Whatchu cryin’ fo’?” he asked looking straight into her eyes, confirming her terror.  He felt dominant and full of control.  She could see his eyes turn an evil shade of jet black. It was as if Midnight’s son himself had taken over his corpse.  His dismal demeanor turned to grimace. 

“Please Daddy, no!” Barbara Jean protested.  She knew what was to happen next. He forced the top of her head down until she was in proper position. Another sharp pain.  No liquid, but the burning in her ear told her the source of her pain.

Her father grabbed both sides of her head and lifted her. 

“I’m sorry baby. Daddy sorry.  I want you to do that special thang you do for yo’ Daddy okay?”

“No Daddy!”  Barbara Jean yelped. 

Jessie Lee threw her frail body into the wall, her head hitting the sink.

“I wouldn’t have ta’ do dis’ iffen you would jes’ do wut I tell you to.”  Barbara Jean collected enough strength to get up on her knees and take position in front of her father.  She unzipped his trousers. 

“Thas’ right baby.  You’z daddy’s lil’ girl ain’tchu?” Barbara Jean took out her fathers already growing penis and brought her head closer to his crotch. 

“I gotta use the bafroom daddy,” she pleaded.

“You go to da bafroom when you finish.”  He pressed her head closer to his penis until the tip was embedded between her lips.  Barbara Jean froze.  Her father’s three-day old sweat overpowered her nostrils. Jessie Lee became angry and thrust his ten-inch organ into her mouth while holding her head in place.  Barbara Jean began to choke. 

“Dontchu’ throw up dis time gotdammit. Dontchu throw up,” Jesse Lee demanded. Barbara Jean tried to gasp for air.  She could hear her father moaning in such pleasure. Confusion.  Pain?  Pleasure? Both?  His moaning became louder as he tilted his head backwards.

“Yes. Yes. Mmmmmm. Thas’ daddy’s lil’ girl. Yes. Can’t nobody make me feel like you can baby girl.”  Warm liquid invaded her mouth with each continuous moan. His grunts grew louder as if he were a lion about to divulge on its prey. 

“Ughhhhhhrrrrr,” escaped him.

Vomit. She rushed to the commode.  She missed; liquid rushing out of control.

“Now lookie whatchu done gone and did. Now you gotta clean up dat mess.” Jessie Lee retrieved the mop from the kitchen. But she knew her ordeal was far from over.

“Turn ova,” he barked.  “Take off yo’ pannies. I wanna see that pretty lil’ pussy of yos’.” Barbara Jean didn’t move. 

“Don’t make me do wut I had ta do lass time baby girl.  Dontchu’ wanna please yo’ daddy?”

Jessie Lee put his hands in between her legs and parted them.  Barbara Jean was shaking uncontrollably, almost as if she was having a seizure.  He touched her warmness through her underwear.

“Yea. Thas’ right.  You all hot fa’ daddy.  Thas ma’ lil girl.”  Barbara Jean felt faint as she began to hyperventilate.  

“Wus’ wrong babygirl?” he asked. 

“I can’t breath,” she panted.  Jessie Lee opened the window near the bathtub. 

“You be aright.  We best hurry up fo’ yo’ mama ‘nem get home.  We don’t want them knowin’ our lil secret do we baby girl?”  Silence. 

“Do we baby girl?” he raised his voice, holding her face so that her eyes were in contact with his. 

“No sir,” she said, eyes puffy and red still crying a river.

“Good, now get ova hea ova dis here sink.”  He bent her over the sink and removed her underwear.  

“Gollie, lookie dat sweet lil ass.  Yo’ mama sho’ be jealous if she knew.”  He propped her chest up over the sink. 

“My chest hurt daddy, I can hardly breath.” 

“Shush up now girl, I’m tryna’ concentrate.”  Sharper pain.  He had entered her.  Tears; softly, louder. He covered her mouth.

“You shush now.  Don’t dat feel good?  You makin’ daddy feel real good now.” 

She continued crying as the thrusts got harder, deeper and faster.  She could vaguely hear her father breathing hard through her own heavy breathing.  Her limp body collapsing onto the floor.

Crimes of Passion: The Anthology

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     Venus made her way to her SUV, praying she would make it home in one piece. She had drunk way too much at Ron Iverson’s retirement party.

“I can call you a cab if you’d like,” he offered. 

“Oh no, I’m fine. I just need some fresh air,” she responded, giving Ron a hug. He kissed her on the forehead and said, “I’m sure going to miss you, kiddo.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Rebecca said as she helped Venus with her coat. Rebecca was Ron’s wife of thirty-five years. 

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” Venus said sarcastically, smirking at Ron.

“I sure hope not,” he responded.

Venus said her goodbyes and tatas, and made a dash for her car. She hadn’t planned on drinking so much but she had gotten caught up in the moment. It had been a while since she had let go and had fun. She entered the highway and headed home.

Venus sat in her Land Rover, in front of the garage, glad she had made it home safely. She sat silently for a moment, listening to her own breath and dreading going into the house. She had to pull herself together. Earlier, she had argued with Stuart about the m word. She had been with Stuart over six years now and they were nowhere near marriage.

“You want to play house, but you don’t want to take on the responsibility of being a husband,” she had argued.

“I’m just not ready to take that step right now,” he contended.

“Well, did you think about that when you moved in? Did you think about it before you screwed my brains out?” The more she yelled, the more silent Stuart became, the angrier she got.

“Oh, I know. Why should you buy the milk when you can get the cow for free, right?” she said, breaking the silence.

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it,” he said defensively.

“All I know is that your actions are speaking a lot louder than your words. Look, Stuart, either you give me the respect of making me your wife or you’re no longer welcomed here,” was her ultimatum.

Venus shook herself from her daydream. Although there was no evidence of life in the house, she could see the flicker of the television, dancing through the bedroom window. She prayed that he was asleep. She armed her security alarm and went inside.

When she got into the house, it was pitch dark. She tried to think of every excuse not to go into the bedroom. Finding herself in the kitchen, the scent of pine hit her nose before she hit the light switch. She hated the smell and though she liked using ammonia, Stuart insisted on the stench of pine. He had cleaned the kitchen spotless and had even mopped the floor.

“I’m glad you made it home safely. I was worried,” said the sudden voice behind her.

“Boy!” she shrieked. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Stuart said in a soft voice. He stared at the woman he had shared his joy and pain with the past few years. 

Venus avoided eye contact still holding her chest. “Thank you for cleaning the kitchen I was going to do it when I got back.”

“Venus?” Stuart asked.

“Yea,” she answered, still not giving him eye contact.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she responded, while searching the refrigerator for a snack. Stuart moved closer to her. The closer he got, the more she could smell alcohol coming from his pores. Oh great, he’s been drinking, she thought to herself. She didn’t like being around Stuart when he drank, because he would become ignorant and they always got into a fight. She eased past him and retreated to the living room. He followed her.

“What’s wrong, Stu?” she asked, turning around, almost knocking him down. She was expecting confrontation.

“I saw you,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

“I saw you,” he repeated.

“What are you talking about?”

“He kissed you and you hugged him.”

“Huh?” she asked in confusion.

He stared at her. She could see his dark brown eyes turn to an angry black. She took two steps back.

“Stuart, you’re drunk. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Why did you do it?” he continued.

“What the hell are you talking about? Saw me do what? If this is about our argument earlier, don’t worry, I won’t bring up marriage again.” She turned to walk away. He grabbed her arm.

“Let me go,” she screamed. “I’m not in the mood, and I’m tired of this bullshit.” Stuart continued as if he hadn’t heard a word she had said.

“Does he make you feel the way I used to?”

Venus tried to break loose from his grip. “Let me go, right now,” she screamed. “I’m sick of this and I’m sick of you,” she continued. She immediately wished she could take the words back as soon as they left her mouth. But she couldn’t. They had already escaped her lips. Her left jaw felt numb, even though she could feel liquid running from it.

“What the f—” Another strike.

“Stop it,” she screamed. “Are you out of your mind?”

Stuart threw Venus to the sofa and continued hitting her. She continued screaming, but mentally, he could not hear her. He continued with full force, causing pain and damage wherever his fists landed.

“Is his loving better than mine?” he asked in a morbidly soft voice. He stopped long enough to drop his shorts to the floor.

Venus continued screaming. He tried to pry her legs apart, but she kept them tightly closed with the little strength she had left. He struck her once more. This time, everything went dark and silent. She tried to scream but nothing came out. She tried to move but couldn’t. Then came unconsciousness. 

When Venus came to, she cold barely move. It was as if every inch of her body was in pain. She didn’t see Stuart anywhere and knew she had to get out of there. She quietly tiptoed to the kitchen, where she had left her purse. She heard Stuart in the garage talking. But his voice was the only one she had heard. She was sure he had lost it and she didn’t want to be anywhere in sight when he came back into the house. She made it to her Range Rover and out of the driveway just as Stuart stepped out the front door wielding a .357 magnum in the air.

Revelations

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I jumped when the phone rang, waking me from anther sleepless night.

“Renee?” said the voice on the other end of the receiver. 

“Who is this?” I asked in my usually morning groggy tone.

“It’s Susan.  You need to call the hospital.”

“Oh my Lord, what’s going on Susan” I was alert by this time.

“Just call the hospital,” she said.

I hung up the phone and dialed the hospital that Barbara Jean always used.  By this time, Charlie was awake and sat up in the bed at attention.

“What’s wrong Luv?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I answered him.  “Barbara Jackson’s room,” I told the operator.

The phone rang three times before Barbara Jean answered the phone.  Charlie held me in his lap, knowing I was about to receive some bad news.

“Hello,” she answered weakly.

“Mom, it’s me.  What happened?” I caught myself after I called her Mom. For the last year or so, she had been Barbara Jean to me.

“They found a lump on my brain.”

I broke loose from Charlie’s embrace and stood up on the side of the bed.

“What do you mean a lump?” I asked not understanding. “What did they say it was?”

“A lump,” she repeated, this time snidely.  Charlie was now sitting on the side of the bed right in front of me. I looked at him. He grabbed my hand and sat me back on his lap.

“Mom, what happened?” I asked trying to ignore her hostility.

“I had a headache, but this time it was worse than before.” I listened. “My head won’t stop throbbin’, so they took a scat  can and when they didn’t’ find anything. I knew she meant cat scan but didn’t bother correcting her. She continued, “They gave me a MRI.  That’s when they found the lump.”

“Do they know what it is exactly, or what caused it?”

“They don’t know yet.  They keep asking me if I hit my head or something.”

I continued to listen attentively, digging deeper into Charlie’s sanction.

“Have you fallen lately or something?”

“No.  Only thang I can remember is when that Mexican hit my car four month ago.”

“You were in an accident?” I asked nervously.

“Yeah.  I didn’t’ think it was that bad. He wrecked the right side of my car. My head hit the steering wheel real hard, but the doctor said I was fine after that.”

“Well how are you feeling now?” I asked, trying to change the monotony. I removed myself from Charlie’s lap, sat on the window seat, and looked out at the ocean. Charlie was determined not to leave me alone, so he followed me and sat behind me.

“I’m alright,” my mother said. Her was tone solemn.

“Who is that I hear in the background?”

“Ernie and his new girlfriend. Oh, and Karen.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t too much care for Karen, because to me she was an old unattractive bitty with a gold tooth who thought she was better than everyone else. You can take a woman out of the country give her a few material possessions, a bout with Mr. Right and she swears that she is the Queen of Sheeba.

“Let me speak to Ernie,” I finally said.  “And I will talk to you tomorrow. I love you.” That came from nowhere. I don’t know why I said it, but it did. My brother took the receiver.

“Sup,” he said.

“How’s mama really doing?” I asked hm.

“She doin’ a’ight.  How you doing?”

“A little worried.”

“Yea, me too.”

“Well, I will talk you a little later. I need to some sleep.”

“Okay, talk to you later babygirl.”

I hung up the phone and stared out into the ocean.  Charlie communicated with me, without words. He put his arms around my waste, pulled me close to him and kissed the top of my forehead. We sat there for a while, saying nothing at all. I fell asleep in his arms. 

When I woke up, Charlie was playing in my hair.

“Alright, something’s going to jump out and bite you,” I teased. He just smiled. I couldn’t help but notice the tears in his eyes, actually, his eyes were bloodshot red.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him. Still without words, Charlie handed me a piece of paper that said Susan cell number 303-555-2715. My heart felt as if it had sunk into the pit of my stomach. I dialed Susan’s number. 

“Hello?” she answered.

“It’s Renee.”

“Have you called the hospital yet?”

“Why? Did her results come back?”

“Yes, and they aren’t good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked her. Charlie had turned his back away from me. I walked around to his side of the bed and looked at him. He could not bear for me to see him in his current condition. He disappeared down the staircase.

“Just call the hospital. And If I was you, I’d go ahead and plan on moving down here.”

“What?” I asked. Surely she didn’t just insinuate what I think she did. “I’m not moving down there,” I said rebelliously.

“Well I think you should because your mother needs you.”

“Well she’s got another child, nine brothers and sisters and a mother down there. I’m sure she’ll manage just fine.”

“I’m not going to argue with you Renee,” she said.

“Good. Now let me go so I can call the hospital.” I hung up. I called Barbara Jean, nervous and shaking.

“Hello,” she answered in a cheerier voice than she had the day before.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I’m doin’ alright,” she said.

“What did the doctors say?”

“They said I got the cancer.” 

I wasn’t prepared at all for her answer.

“No Mama!” I shouted as sharp pains took turns jabbing at my chest. I found it hard to breath. Then suddenly I couldn’t control the tears, as I fell to the floor in pain. Maybe I was more upset than she was. Charlie had made his way back into the bedroom and caught me just before I collapsed onto the floor.