With all the good things about the new house, I assumed this would be the last move for Betty Jean until the kids got grown and moved out on their own. It was well worth fifteen dollars rent a month, especially since she was so happy with it. The only thing she didn’t like was that all of her friends and family lived on the other side of town and none of them had transportation. The city bus situation in Hartville was just as bleak as it was in Branson, bad or no service in the colored neighborhoods. “You’ll have to come over more often to drive us around,” she told me. It was ten p.m., the first Saturday night in the new place. We had put the kids to bed and plopped down on the new couch I had recently purchased.
“Baby, I’m already pushing my luck by spending every Sunday, and two or three Fridays and Saturdays a month with you—not to mention a few weekday evenings, too. Joyce ain’t stupid. Sooner or later, she’ll get suspicious about all the time I spend fishing and visiting my daddy,” I said, draping my arm around Betty Jean’s shoulder. All I had on was my drawers, which I planned to slide off in a few minutes because she was looking too sexy in that flannel nightgown she had on. I couldn’t wait to hoist her up and tote her to our bedroom so we could make love again. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t like lying to my wife.”
Betty Jean’s mouth flew open so wide, I could see the base of her tongue. “What did you just say?” she screamed, pushing my arm from around her.
“Woman, you heard me.”
“I heard you! I can’t believe you had the nerve to say what you just said! So you don’t ‘like lying’ to your wife, huh? Hah! You got a funny way of showing it!” Betty Jean was mad, but she laughed long and loud. “If you feel that way, why don’t you just be a man and tell her the truth. Tell her about me and our sons and how much you love us. I’ll even go with you when you tell her if you want me to. From what you done told me about her, she sounds like a mild-mannered, forgiving Christian lady.”
I looked at Betty Jean like she was crazy. And if she wasn’t, she wasn’t too far from it. I had never hit a woman before in my life, but I wanted to slap some sense into her head. “Joyce wouldn’t be no mild-mannered, forgiving Christian lady if she knew about you and me and the boys!” I hollered. “I ain’t never going to let that happen! How could you even fix your lips to say something like that?”
“Pffft! You know I’m just playing,” she laughed again. “Can’t you take a joke?”
“Well, don’t play with me about something so serious.”
“Then maybe you should find me a house in Branson so you won’t have to drive so far to see us,” she said next, which was almost as ridiculous as what she’d said a few moments ago.
The thought of my two women living in the same city sent a shiver up my spine. “Woman, you must be out of your mind! Branson is a small town and almost everybody there knows me. And what about the boys? If they lived there, they could be the ones to let the cat out of the bag to one of their new little friends.”
“Like I said, I’m just playing. I know I can’t live too close to you. I promised you from the get-go that I wasn’t going to cause you no trouble with your wife and I still mean that. It’s just that, well, I’d like you to spend at least one more day during the week with us. Your wife sounds like she’s always on the go anyway, so I don’t think she’d make a fuss if you spent just a few more hours away from her a week.”
“Betty Jean, I got enough on my plate for now.”
“Like what? Don’t tell me there’s another woman in the mix,” Betty Jean teased, which I didn’t appreciate. “Forget I said that. I’m just playing with you.”
I wagged my finger in her face and gave her a harsh look. “Well, don’t play with me because I don’t like it. You know I ain’t involved with no other woman except my wife. Now you just be a little more patient and things will work out.”
The first month’s rent for the new house and some new furniture for Betty Jean and the kids put a big dent in my savings account. But I was still in pretty good shape financially. Mac had given me quite a few hefty raises over the years. And when Betty Jean or the kids needed clothes, food, or anything that we carried in the store, I had no problem packing up a few boxes and hauling them to Hartville.
The first Sunday evening in June when I got home from my latest trip to Hartville, Joyce met me at the door with a huge smile on her face. “Baby, guess what?!” she boomed, almost out of breath as she ran up to me. I could smell fresh tea cakes baking in the kitchen and she only cooked them for special occasions or when she was slaphappy about something. I could think of only one thing that would make Joyce happier than she already was.
“Good God!” I hollered. I put my hand on Joyce’s shoulder and guided her to the couch. We sat down at the same time. “You finally got pregnant again?” Our fifth wedding anniversary was coming up next month and I wanted to do something special for her. If she was pregnant, I’d do something even more special. She was a good wife, and I was determined to continue showing how much I loved and appreciated her.
Joyce’s voice
