Shared societal trauma can make for unique friendships - indeed family.

————

“Side the head girl, I’m telling you. That’s what he did…then stormed his ass out of here.” Hahaha.

Marguerite didn’t want to hear it. She got quiet. So I yelled in the phone, “you still there?” Hahaha! I knew she was. She always acts like she through with me, when I tell her what Charles done done to me. Like she not gon’ be my friend no more. Charles ain’t no saint but I ain’t neither.

I know he can be crazy sometime, but he do care about me and the kids. He done had his share of trouble. But, I tell you this, he always pick up some kind of work - keep money coming in. If nothing else, he’ll go over to Mr. Parker’s funeral home and help with those bodies. That’s where he went that day.

Charles ain’t that big, but he strong. Hahaha! Every now and then if he been drinkin’ too much, he’ll have a fallin’ out with Mr. Parker. Mr. Parker will tell him not to come back. But, when they get one of them real big bodies, they call him up then. Hahaha.

“Carrie…that fool is crazy,” Marguerite mumbled. Mumbling Marguerite, that’s what they used to call her. “He gonna kill you one of these days”…blah blah. “You playing with fire girl…I can’t handle this no more.” Marguerite my girl, though. That’s what she always say. Hahaha! She ain’t going nowhere.

Me and Marguerite been friends since we went to the crazy school together. They called us crazy Carrie and mumbling Marguerite…teased us about having to go to that school. We didn’t care. Like we didn’t know we was crazy. Hahaha. I know we had to look crazy. I was short, fat, light-skin, with nappy red hair. My momma is white. Marguerite was tall, skinny, jet-black skin, with long straight hair. She didn’t have no family…finally aged out of foster care. I was a loud mouth then, just like I am now! Hahaha. Marguerite, just the opposite. Always mumbling under her breath.

Anyway, I just sat there holding the phone till she was ready to talk again. We just got goin’, when my youngest, Jamie, started fussin’. I figured he was hungry. It was 1:00 in the afternoon, in the middle of January, in Michigan, with no electricity, and no heat.

I told myself, let me get off this phone and feed these kids before she starts mumbling about how I take care of ‘em – again. Mind you, Marguerite ain’t got no babies. I keep telling her, you better have your kids now, cause once you hit thirty you ain’t gon’ be able to keep up with ‘em.

Once I got her off the phone I made the boys oatmeal. Maurice is three. Jamie is two. Since Rent-A-Center took away our furniture the week before, we ate on the mattress. I pulled it up to the kitchen door, turned on the stove, opened the oven and turned on the burners. Played like we was camping. Hahaha. It was fun. After we ate I pulled the mattress back to the other side of the living room, put their snowsuits on and made ‘em take a nap.

Soon as I did I heard this loud ass bumping against my front door. I looked at the clock. It was 3:00. I said who the hell banging on my door like that this time of day. I peeped through the kitchen curtain. Sure ‘nuff it was Marguerite. Her hands were full of stuff, with more stuff sitting on the porch. I turned off the burners, closed the oven door, and let her in. First thing she mumbled, “Carrie…why it’s so dark in here?”

“Cause it’s winter,” I said.

She looked at me, rolled her eyes real quick then looked down at the floor--like she always does--eyes shifting back and forth…Marguerite on the spectrum.

Anyway, she went back out on the porch, got this big ass blue plastic tote and shoved it in the middle of the living room. Next, she picked up this big cardboard box, walked in my kitchen, and started taking food out of it and stacking it on my counter. Saying not a word -nothing! Cans of tuna, soup, boxes of crackers, cereal, powdered milk, mustard, bread, relish, all kinda shit. I just stood there looking at her. She acted like I wasn’t even there.

I’m talkin’ about weird shit here. Neat stacks! Neat rows! Exact same height. She put her hand between each row to make sure they were the exact same distance apart. When she was done, she looked up, smiled at me, and went back in the living room--acting like this shit was completely normal.

Then, whoosh! She ripped the lid off that big blue tote, smiled and said, “Look what I got for the boys.” Clothes, boots, toys, you name it…flew out of that thing like they’d been shot out of a cannon. They must have been packed tight, baby! Wait, wait, but the real crazy thing was, each and every piece was in a vacuum sealed bag. Like meat…at a grocery store.

I looked at her like, what the hell. Head hanging, she walked to the front door, picked up a tote bag, turned to me and mumbled ”why is it so cold in here?” I shrugged and went to the kitchen. She followed me in there like a little lost puppy. Without a word she started unloading the tote bag – slow motion like. Looking in the bag the whole time she said, “I got you some Chinese food, Carrie...and, Happy Meals for the boys.” When the bag was empty, she folded it till it was ‘bout the size of an envelope, shoved it in her purse and headed straight for the door.

She opened it, took one step out, turned around, never looking up mind you, and said, “You need to talk to your social worker.” Bam! Like that, she was gone. Hahaha. I told you that girl is crazy! Hahaha.

Anyway, I locked the door behind her. Then I took the Chinese food and Happy Meals out on the back porch and put ‘em in a garbage pail I had out there - so they’d keep, you know.

It was getting cold, so I opened the oven and tried turning the burners on. The oven was fine. Three of the burners too. But that one back burner on the left side always give me trouble... turn the knob and all you here is that click, click, click. I knew what to do. I turned that knob again, put a match to the burner, and slammed the stove with my fist. Whoosh! Fire flew out of that thing like a bat out of hell! I turned that knob down quick, baby. The last thing I needed was a fire.

About 5:00 the boys woke up. I stood with them at the oven to get ‘em warmed up before dinner. We rubbed our hands together and played patty-cake while I made their oatmeal. For a treat I gave them Cheetos and Hawaiian Punch --and told ‘em they were gifts from Aunt Marguerite. By the time we finished it was dark so I got the flashlight and lit some candles. We played camping till they were tired enough to take their asses to sleep.

By that time I was beat too, but I wasn’t going to bed yet. I like to wait till they’re good and asleep before I get on the mattress with ‘em. So, I tiptoed in the living room, got a folding chair from over by the mattress, and took it in the kitchen. It was so cold in that house. I sat in front of the stove in my too tight blue puffer jacket, snow boots, and some mittens Marguerite gave me a couple years ago. I was leaning into the oven trying my best to get warm when I heard noise out on the front porch. Quiet like, still in my chair, I pulled the curtain back a little so I could see.

His back was to me, but I could tell it was Charles. He was bent over rustling with something. I let go of that curtain so fast, when I saw he was turning toward the door. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! He was pounding on that thing so loud I leapt out of my seat so high I almost fell on my ass coming down. I pulled the curtain back to take another look. He looked like a dam about to break, when he caught me looking at him. Pointing a finger at it, he screamed “open the damn door Carrie.”

I peeped in the living room and saw the boys were still asleep. I tiptoed to the door, turned the deadbolt, slid the chain, and opened it for him. His face was so tore up, I just knew he was gonna knock me out right then and there. “What took you so long,” he said before reaching for something behind him.

My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to burst right out of my chest.My face was on fire – I just knew I was breathing my last. Hahaha.

I love me some Charles, but he is a piece of work, honey. When he turned back around, he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Mouth so wide I could see every tooth in his head – even the side ones he don’t have no more. Hahaha! My baby had a big black garbage bag over his shoulder – like Santa Claus. “It’s cold out here, girl. Let me in.” I backed out of his way and let him in.

He didn’t bother taking his coat off. Nope, he went straight to the living room. Knelt in the middle of the floor and started opening that big bag. He was pulling food out of that thing left and right. Aluminum pans of baked chicken, dressing, green beans, corn, dinner rolls, fruit cocktail, slices of cake – lots of stuff. Even a whole peach cobbler. They were leftovers from the funeral repast he’d helped out with that afternoon.

I shoved all that stuff of Marguerite’s back in the blue tote and ran to the kitchen to get plates--Charles ripped the bag open all the way and let the rest of those goodies spill out on the floor. With help from the boys…hahaha… who woke up with all the commotion, he turned that garbage bag into a dinner table right there in the middle of the living room floor.

We ate good that night.

By D.W. Keene

From: United States