“That’s something you really needed to talk to somebody about. You know you can always talk to me about anything.”
“I couldn’t even tell you before now because I was so ashamed. This makes up for the Buttwright thing, I guess. When my baby died, I knew then I couldn’t keep this secret to myself any longer. I had to tell somebody, and that somebody could only be you. I’m just glad you were able to drop everythin’ and come down here to be with me.”
I hugged Rhoda again. “Our lives our beginning to sound like soap operas,” I said. “Any other sordid secrets you want to share with me?” I asked. It did make us both laugh for a brief moment.
“That’s it for me right now. What about you?” Rhoda asked.
“Well, nothing. Oh yeah there is. That first Thanksgiving in Erie, I was so lonely and depressed I got blind drunk and was seriously thinking about jumping out of my hotel window. If you hadn’t called me when you did, I would have died that night,” I said. Rhoda gave me another incredulous look, then laughed so hard she shook. It took me a moment to realize she thought I was joking, and I left it that way. Right after that, Lola, who was planning to stay another week, returned from the graveyard where she’d gone to leave more flowers on David’s grave. After a good cry on my shoulder, Lola helped us finish preparing dinner.
After I returned to Erie, the next few weeks seemed to fly by. I did not talk to Rhoda for quite a while. When we did talk, a couple of weeks later, she told me what was happening with her brother. It was a grim situation. Apparently, Jock had become too much for her aging parents to handle. Lola did as much as she could to help out when she wasn’t working at Antonosanti’s, but that still was not enough. Uncle Johnny was still having his problems with the law and spent more time in jail than out, so he was not much help.
Otis had told Rhoda that Jock could move in with them. By living out in the country like they did, Jock running around outside naked wouldn’t be so bad.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told Pee Wee during a phone conversation.
“Why not? He’s gettin’ into all kinds of trouble in Ohio. He was in the V.A. hospital in Cleveland and roughed up an intern so bad the man had to be hospitalized. He loves Rhoda and Otis, and they’re young and strong enough to handle him better. Besides, what kind of trouble could he get in out in the country? The worst would be to set a orange tree on fire.” He snapped.
I dismissed Pee Wee’s comments. I recalled how Jock used to intimidate and beat up Pee Wee when we were kids. It was hard to believe that someone like Jock was now in the same boat with Scary Mary’s daughter Mott: mentally handicapped and totally dependent on others.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Jock was pretty crazy even when he was still sane. Now that he’s really crazy, how can they know what to expect? God I wish we were all kids again and back at home gossipin’ on the front porch,” I whined to Pee Wee, attempting to change the subject.
“Me too. I really miss you and Rhoda. And Lord knows I miss old Mr. Boatwright. What that man could do to a pot of turnip greens! I know you miss all that good home cookin’, girl.”
“Pee Wee, you don’t know the half of it,” I told him.
CHAPTER 49
“Who is this?” I muttered into the telephone. It was just a little after 7 A.M. on a Saturday morning.
“April.”
“Where is Rhoda?”
“Mr. Otis carried her to the movies, then dinner.”
“Tell her Annette called.”
“OK. You know Jock lives here now.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I hung up the phone and looked at it. Then I dialed Pee Wee’s number. I was horrified when a woman answered. “He’s in the shower,” the bitch told me. I slammed the phone down, then I got under a blanket on my couch with the Jet magazine. Not more than five minutes later the phone rang.
“You called?” Pee Wee asked.
“How did you know it was me?” I said nastily, dropping my magazine to the floor.
“You’re the only woman who calls me,” he informed me seriously.