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Authors: Mary Monroe

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Chapter 4
Seth
I
DIDN'T SLEEP MORE THAN THREE HOURS THAT FIRST NIGHT
. T
HERE
was enough on my mind to keep me awake, but outside the bedroom window, crickets and all kinds of other night creatures were making enough noise to wake the dead people in the cemetery a few yards down the road.
I finally drifted off to sleep around 2:00 a.m., but a rooster started crowing at the crack of dawn and woke me up. In addition to that, one of the neighbors was cutting wood using a chain saw. The second day was even more difficult to get through. I was in desperate need of some very strong drinks. The only way I was going to be able to survive this visit was if I got drunk and stayed drunk until we left. Unfortunately, the strongest beverage Rachel's mother had in the house was buttermilk.
Rachel got up before me and went to help her mother prepare breakfast. By the time I took a shower around seven thirty, dressed in some casual clothes, and entered the kitchen, everybody was already seated at the table. By now, I didn't even care if anybody noticed the tight look on my face. I had a feeling it was going to get much tighter before the visit was over.
“Morning, all,” I grunted, barely moving my lips. I plopped down hard on a chair with wobbly legs between Rachel and Ernest. He looked at me and blinked. Janet had already begun to eat. Her mouth was full of food, but she muttered some gibberish under her breath and gave me a blank stare.
“You look well rested,” Essie Mae told me. “I know you ain't used to all this clean country air, but it'll do more good for your health than anything y'all got in California. All that smog and them earthquakes would drive me crazy!”
“Seth, Mama sprinkled the bacon with a little sugar, the way you like it,” Rachel said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Eat up, because today is going to be real busy. The phone's been ringing off the hook with folks calling who want to meet you.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. I managed to eat a couple of scrambled duck eggs, half a slice of toast, and a spoonful of grits.
Around 9:00 a.m., I joined the family at the kitchen table again. A few other relatives, neighbors, and friends started coming in through the front and back doors like nobody's business. They all entered the kitchen. Aunt Hattie snatched a biscuit off the table and the rest of them just stood around talking. It seemed like the main thing each one was concerned about was the “cute and smart” children Rachel and I were going to have.
Irene Price, the elderly, beady-eyed woman who lived in the trailer across the street, said something that sent the conversation in a totally different direction. “Rachel, I just hope none of your young'ns turn out the way poor Albert did.” After shaking her head a few times, she turned to me and said in a low voice, “I guess you know about Albert's mental condition. He likes men, and everybody knows that is not normal.”
Not normal?
I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't ignore Irene's comment. “I'm sorry, but I'm going to disagree with you on that, ma'am. Where Rachel and I live, being gay is almost as ‘normal' as being straight,” I defended, speaking in a deeper and firmer tone of voice than usual. One thing I didn't want any of these people to think was that I was a wimp who was too meek to speak my mind. However, I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying what I thought a real “mental condition” was. So far, not a single person had mentioned that Janet and Ernest had been sitting on the living room couch, staring off into space for the past hour, and that neither one had said a word the whole time.
“Harrumph! Ain't nothing going on in a nutcase city like Berkeley—or should I call it Berserk-eley?—that would surprise me,” hollered a middle-aged cousin whose name I couldn't remember.
I knew that if I remained at the table any longer, I'd say something I'd regret. I forced a smile and excused myself to go use the bathroom. As soon as I got inside, I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. I made sure the door was shut before I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called my brother Josh in Berkeley. I was happy when he answered on the first ring, but he was not happy that I had disturbed him so early in the morning.
“Do you know what time it is?” he growled.
“I'm sorry. I forgot about the time difference, and I couldn't wait any longer to talk to you. Man, you are not going to believe the mess I've stumbled into down here in these damn woods!”
“Oh, shit! Are you all right? Please don't tell me you've already had a run-in with one of those racist peckerwood cops! I told you not to leave here with all those expensive clothes and shoes! They'll make you out to be a criminal for sure—”
“Shut up and let me talk,” I ordered as I rubbed the back of my head and breathed through my mouth. “We haven't had any trouble like that. This is much worse.” I had not shed any tears in years and didn't want to now, so I blinked hard to hold back the ones that had just pooled in my eyes.
“What's the matter? Is Rachel all right?”
“Rachel's fine. Look, bro, this is a serious situation. Her . . . Rachel's family is not what I expected. There's some issues with, um, their bloodline.”
“Oh really? Hmm. That doesn't surprise me. I didn't want to bring up the subject, but some of those small-town Southern folks are like rabbits. They are known for
inbreeding!
When I was in the navy, I met all kinds of dudes from the South. Half of them had married first cousins, and one dude had the nerve to tell me that his own sister had been his first lover! Now tell me this. What are we talking about here? Clubfeet, harelips, cone heads, crossed eyes?”
“I don't know about any of them having any of those afflictions. I've met only Rachel's sister and brother and a few of her other relatives so far. Her brother looks like he's in a continuous daze, and her sister acts like she's been sipping on a strange potion that makes her say shit you wouldn't believe. An old dude in a wheelchair named Cousin Woodie mumbled at a picture on the wall for thirty minutes straight a little while ago. He's in his late eighties, so that could be his age. Aunt Hattie is a real piece of work, too. She's so nosy, bossy, and crude, it would make your head spin. I'm telling you, man, this family is
off the chart!

“Oh. So we're talking about some mental issues here, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Mental illness is quite common, you know.”
“Well, I don't want to have anything to do with a bunch of crazy people!” I said in a low voice.
“Calm down, baby brother. You just met Rachel's people. Do you think you're being fair to them, Rachel, and yourself by dismissing them so soon?”
“Marrying into a family with problems this serious could be the biggest mistake I ever made. You know how hard I've been working these past few years to get my life in order. I don't think I can deal with a load this heavy!”
“You've got a point there. I'd probably react the same way as you if I faced the same situation. What baffles me is that Rachel is so open and up front about everything. Two minutes after I met her, she told me her uncle Albert was gay. Didn't she tell you any of this other shit about her family beforehand?”
“Not a word. All these years we've been together and she has not told me a damn thing about her family being full of nutcases. And guess what? It's not just on her mama's side! The mumbling old dude in the wheelchair I mentioned, that's her daddy's mother's brother.”
“His problem could be related to his age. You just said that.”
“True. But it gets worse.” I paused long enough to catch my breath. “Rachel's aunt Hattie told me that Rachel's father's brother died in a mental institution. So this shit
is
coming at me from both sides of her family tree! Marrying Rachel would be like moving into a burning house.”
“That's not too cool. I still don't think you should dismiss Rachel so fast. Uh, you haven't noticed anything weird about
her
behavior, have you? Now, if she drooled and rubbed shit in her hair or something worse, I'd say you have something to be concerned about.”
“Rachel is practically perfect. You've been around her often enough to know that. That's beside the point. These are her
blood
relatives we're talking about. I don't know how I'm going to deal with this issue in the future.”
“I advise you not to let any of those people know how you feel. You don't want to set one off and end up coming back to California in a body bag.”
“I'll tell you more when I get back home, and I don't want you to mention this call to Mother. I called her last night to let her and Father know that we had made it to our destination all right, but I didn't tell her anything about all this insanity that I've stumbled into.”
“I can understand that. I do want you to know that I'm in your corner. Once you marry Rachel—”
“Stop right there!” I exclaimed, cutting in.
“Huh?”
“What's wrong with you, Josh? I can't marry this woman with all these crazy-ass people in her family and risk having nutty children! And it's not just because of the mental issues. Rachel's family would never fit in with ours. They're almost
primitive.
I didn't know black folks in the South still lived like it was the dark ages.”
“That's a pretty potent statement, and it's a matter of opinion,” Josh said quickly.
“So what? It is what it is. Neither Mother and Father nor any of our family and friends would tolerate Rachel's people.”
“That's for sure. But keep in mind, Rachel's family lives thousands of miles away. We would rarely interact with them.”
“I know that, but at some point things could change. What if Rachel's mother decides to move to California? She'd have to bring those two nutcases with her! The thing is, I've already let Mother and Father down enough. You know how long it took me to get my life back on track, so I can't fuck up again.”
“I understand everything you're saying.” Josh paused and cleared his throat. “But Rachel is a wonderful woman. She's been very good to you, so please let her down gently.”
“Listen, uh, I'm not going to break it off with her anytime soon. I did a whole lot of thinking last night. I couldn't sleep, so there was nothing else for me to do but think. After running everything back and forth in my mind, looking at it from several points of view, I've decided that I'll stay in the relationship for a while. . . .”
“I think the sooner you break it off with her, the better. Don't lead that woman on and let her think everything is hunky-dory. She doesn't deserve that. Besides, she could, uh, retaliate.”
“Josh, men break up with women all the time. There's nothing unusual about me dropping Rachel. Do you think she'd do something violent or criminal to me?”
“I've prosecuted a lot of cases where one party in a breakup situation ended up injured, stalked, or killed by the other. I'm sure you remember the case last year, when that doctor's wife shot and killed him when she found out he was planning to divorce her and marry his mistress.”
“Pffft! I'm not worried. I know Rachel would never do anything that extreme. She's got way too much class. But just to be on the safe side, I'm going to let her think everything is fine for a while.”
“Why? From what you've told me so far, I assumed you wanted to dump her as soon as possible.”
“Uh, I want to, but I can't. I still need her financial assistance, that's why! As soon as I'm out of the woods with my creditors, she's history. Now let me get back into that . . . that madhouse so I can figure out the best way to survive this mess until I can get up out of here.” I paused and sucked in some air. I turned around and noticed that the door was now slightly ajar....
Chapter 5
Rachel
I
FELT SO SORRY FOR
S
ETH
. I
KNEW THAT THIS TRIP HAD TURNED OUT
to be a real culture shock to him. We were all seated at the kitchen table when Aunt Hattie came to the house that evening for dinner with a covered casserole dish. When she set it on the table and lifted the lid, Seth's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. The dish contained a baked possum with its head still attached, garnished with yam wedges. I thought Seth was going to bolt out the back door and keep running all the way back to the airport. He looked just that scared.
“Why you looking so surprised, Seth? You ain't never seen no possum before?” Aunt Hattie asked, smacking her greasy lips. She looked like a blimp in the gray housedress she wore.
“No, I can't say that I have,” Seth mouthed.
“Harrumph! I'm surprised a man like you, who grew up with folks eating raw fish and seaweed and whatever else mess they eat in California, gets squeamish just looking at a baked possum. This is real food,” Aunt Hattie said. “What piece you want? Breast? Thigh? The tail?”
“I think I'll pass,” Seth whimpered with a grimace on his face. “I don't eat much meat.”
“Aw, sugar, one itty-bitty piece won't hurt,” Mama told him, already sawing at one of the creature's hind legs with her Ginsu knife.
Seth shook his head. “I'm not that hungry.”
“I'll pass on it this time,” I said without hesitation. One thing I'd promised myself when I left Alabama was that I would never eat possum meat again.
“Y'all don't eat none, then. That means more for us,” Janet said, speaking for the first time since the night before.
Ernest speared the other hind leg. He didn't talk much, but he had been smiling a lot in the past couple of days. Mainly because Seth had made so many attempts to include him in the various conversations.
Seth and I left the table first. We had to leave for the airport soon after breakfast tomorrow morning, so we had a good excuse to turn in shortly after dinner.
Right after I entered my bedroom, my cell phone rang. It was Uncle Albert calling from Berkeley.
“I meant to call you sooner,” I told him. “But we've been so busy since we got here.”
“Did Seth freak out when he met Ernest and Janet?”
“Not at all.”
“You sound mighty odd. Is he nearby?”
“That's right.”
“Then let me do most of the talking. He seemed all right with them, huh?”
“Oh yes.”
“Neither one of them did anything strange in front of Seth?”
“No, and I'm sure they won't. Now I have to go so I can get some more of my packing done.” I didn't give Uncle Albert time to say anything else before I hung up.
“Who was that?” Seth asked.
“Uncle Albert. He just wanted to say hello.” I shut the door before I continued. “Uh, he doesn't speak to Mama or anybody else down here, except every now and then. I don't think him and Mama have spoken since last year, when he called to wish her a Merry Christmas. It's a damn shame. He's the only brother she has left. I guess you noticed that his name didn't come up much.”
“No, I didn't notice. Why does he not get along with the family?”
“Honey, my folks are so old school, they can't deal with gay people. They don't think being gay is normal.”
Seth let out such a profound gasp, it sounded like somebody was strangling him. As soon as he composed himself, he looked at me and shook his head. “They can't deal with gay people? But what about . . . I mean, uh, your sister and brother are not exactly normal, either.”
“That's true. They can't help the way they are, but my family is convinced that Uncle Albert chose to be gay.”
“I don't think Albert chose to be gay. And the same goes for Janet and Ernest. They didn't choose to be, uh, the way they are, either.”
“Honey, I'm glad you and I are on the same page. Thank you for being so nice to my family and for not freaking out over Ernest's and Janet's behavior.” I gave Seth a quick kiss on his cheek.
“I have to say that this has been an interesting experience,” he said, raking his fingers though his hair. “It's almost like being in a foreign country.”
“I know what you mean. I felt that way about California until I got used to it. But I hope we'll visit Alabama at least once a year after we get married. That'll help you get used to the lifestyle. You just might want to move down here for good when we get old and retire.”
 
The next morning, around eight, we all gathered at the kitchen table for our last breakfast together. A few minutes later, Aunt Hattie arrived so she could spend a little more time with Seth and me. Janet ate in silence and scowled at Seth across the table every few minutes.
“Janet, it's not nice to give folks dirty looks,” Aunt Hattie said, shaking a finger at my sister. But Janet ignored her and continued to stare at Seth with that unpleasant look on her face. I could tell it was making him very uncomfortable by the way he kept shifting in his seat and clearing his throat. “Seth is going to be part of the family soon.”
“Uh-uh! No, he ain't! He ain't going to be no part of this family!” Janet shrieked.
“Janet, if you can't behave, you can take your plate and go finish eating in your bedroom or out on that porch, with them gnats buzzing over your plate,” Mama said. Then she turned to Seth. “Son, she's on a new medication, and it makes her talk crazy sometimes. Don't pay her no mind, you hear?”
Seth gave me a helpless look, but he managed to nod and smile.
Our flight was leaving at 12:30 p.m., and we had about an hour's drive back to the airport, so we left the breakfast table to get ready. It was raining out, so Seth insisted that we leave a half hour earlier than planned. “In case we have car trouble or run into heavy traffic because of the weather,” he said as we finished our packing. What he said next stunned me. “This whole experience of coming down here to these backwoods and being around people who eat possums and duck eggs has been too strange for me. At first, it was like visiting a foreign country, but now it feels like I'm on another planet.
I . . . I
can't wait to get up out of this place.”
“Oh. I didn't know you thought it was that bad,” I said, folding my arms and moving toward the bed. His comments were harsh but honest, and that made me sad. Apparently, the culture shock he had been experiencing was more severe than I'd thought. “If you had said something before now, we could have left a day earlier. I guess we won't be moving here when we retire, huh?” I sat down, and Seth quickly sat next to me.
“I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, baby. I didn't mean to. It's just that, well, I'm a city boy.”
I nodded. “I know you are, Seth. And I don't want you to change. I want you to stay just the way you are.” When I put my arms around him and kissed his lips, his body stiffened like a piece of wood.
BOOK: Bad Blood
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