The Heart of a Woman - Maya Angelou [37]
I took the pistol out of its fitted box and slipped it in my purse. The three blocks between our houses were peopled with workers en route to jobs, men washing cars and children running and screaming in such normal ways. I felt I had gone mad and was living in another dimension, removed totally from the textured world around me. I was invisible.
Mrs. Tolman introduced me to her buxom daughter, who was breast-nursing a baby. The woman said yes when I asked if she was also Susie's mother.
I gave Mrs. Tolman cash, counting out the bills carefully, using the time to pacify my throat so that my voice would be natural.
“Mrs. Tolman, is Susie here?”
“Why, yes. They just got up. I heard them laughing in her room.”
Mrs. Tolman was happy to oblige.
Susie stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Her face was still sultry from sleep and she was pretty. If I had been lucky enough to have a second child, she could have been my daughter.
“Susie, I've heard about you, and I'm happy to meet you.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, not too interested. “Nice to meet you too.” I caught her as she was turning to go.
“Susie, your boyfriend is Jerry?” She perked up a little. “Yeah, Jerry's my boyfriend.”
Mrs. Tolman giggled. “I'll tell the world.”
“Where does he live? Jerry.”
“He lives down the street. In the next block.” She was pouting again, uninterested.
I spoke again, fast, collecting her thoughts.
“I have something for him. Can we go together to his house?”
She smiled for the first time. “He's not there. He's in my room.”
Her mother chuckled. “Seem like that's where he lives.”
“Could he come out? I'd like to have a few words with him.”
“O.K.” She was a sweet play pretty, in her baby-doll shortie nightgown and her hair brushed out around her face.
I sat with only a silly smile, looking at the nursing mother and the old woman who was pressing out the money in her lap.
“Here he is. This is Jerry.” A young man stood with Susie in the doorway. A too-small T-shirt strained its straps against his brown shoulders. His pants were unbuttoned and he was barefoot. I took in his total look in a second, but the details of his face stopped and held me beyond my mission. His eyes were too young for hate. They glinted with promise. When he smiled, a mouthful of teeth gleamed. I jerked myself away from enchantment.
“Jerry. I'm Miss Angelou. I'm Guy's mother.” He closed his lips and the smile died.
“I understand that you are the head of the Savages and you have an arrangement with my son. I also understand that the police are afraid of you. Well, I came 'round to make you aware of something. If my son comes home with a black eye or a torn shirt, I won't call the police.”
His attention followed my hand to my purse. “I will come over here and shoot Susie's grandmother first, then her mother, then I'll blow away that sweet little baby. You understand what I'm saying? If the Savages so much as touch my son, I will then find your house and kill everything that moves, including the rats and cockroaches.”
I showed the borrowed pistol, then slid it back into my purse.
For a second, none of the family moved and my plans had not gone beyond the speech, so I just kept my hand in the purse, fondling my security.
Jerry spoke, “O.K., I understand. But for a mother, I must say you're a mean motherfucker. Come on, Susie.” They turned and, huddling together, walked toward the rear of the house.
I spent a few more minutes talking to Mrs. Tolman about the trip and the weather.
We parted without mentioning my son, her granddaughter or my trim Beretta, which lay docile at the bottom of my purse.
Guy brought afternoon heat into the house along with gym clothes for the laundry. He was grinning.
“We won the game. I made ten shots.” I acted interested. “I'm getting pretty good. Coach says I'm among his best athletes.” He feinted and jumped.
“Good, dear. Oh, by the way, did you see any of the Savages at school?”
He stopped dribbling an imaginary ball and looked at me, surprised, as if I had asked if he