Why ruin another life E-Book

Anthony Weathers

• Herausgeber: BooxAi
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Step into the haunting world of "Why ruin another life," a riveting tale that transports you to 1950s black Mississippi. Brace yourself for a captivating generational odyssey where a single event has the power to reshape destinies. Witness the gripping narrative unfold as an unsuspecting Black woman ignites a chain reaction of profound consequences, forever altering the lives of her daughter, granddaughter, and all those caught in the tempestuous whirlwind. Prepare to be swept away by the thunderstorm of repercussions that echoes through generations, teaching valuable yet painfully expensive lessons along the way.

Leseprobe

Anthony Weathers

Why Ruin Another Life

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2023 by Anthony Weathers

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Published by BooXAI

ISBN: 978-965-578-451-0

Why Ruin Another Life

WRAL

ANTHONY WEATHERS

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter1

Shawn is getting dressed for church. He is running late and must hurry because his friend, Paul D, is picking him up. The doorbell rings, and Shawn scatters to answer the door. “Hey, Paul D,” Shawn says, leading him into the apartment, “I’m sorry, I’m not ready yet.”

“It’s a’right. We still got coupa’ minutes,” Paul D says, waving his hand. “First fifteen minutes ain’t nothin’, but the praise team stirrin’ er’rbody up anyway. I reckon we good for ‘nother fifteen.”

Shawn begins tying the tie swinging from his neck. “I’ll hurry,” he says, “I don’t want to miss the precession. My friend, Tanya, is leading the song. Let me get my jacket from the room.” Shawn disappears into his room.

“Hey, ya got a sodi pop in da frigidaire?” Paul D shouts.

“No, all I have is orange juice,” Shawn calls back. “Help yourself.”

“That’s too acidy for me,” Paul D says, scrunching his face.

“Acidy?” Shawn yells from the bedroom. “You think orange juice has more acid than soda? I’m sad to tell you, soda has two times more acid.”

“I don’t care,” Paul D says, stomping his feet. “I wants me a sodi pop. Orange juice give me dem old sour lips.”

Shawn chuckles, “What’s sour lips?”

“Like ya been sucking on a lemon or sumptin’,” Paul D says, looking into the refrigerator.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t try to save you from yourself,” Shawn says, shrugging his shoulders.

Paul D grabs a pie out of the fridge and paces around the kitchen. “I don’t need no saving. When da good Lord ready for me, neither yu or me can stop him.”

Shawn hesitates and looks over his shoulder. “Then I guess you got to take your behind to that corner store. Can the good Lord stop that?”

“What store ya mean?” Paul D asks, with a mouthful of pie. “Store down yonder there? Think it’s closed.”

“You’re so country,” Shawn says, searching around the room for his shoes. “You sound like Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, and them—like you’re from Mayberry or something. What’s the matter, Aunt Bee didn’t feed you before you left home?”

“Sorry, mister big-city-slickin’ man! Not er’rbody can be ‘fisticated like yu,” Paul D says, licking his fingers, “and God goin’ get ya for always funning with my accent.”

“Okay, Opi, don’t be goin’ gettin’ yur fiddle all in a twist,” Shawn says, reaching into the closet. “Listen, you—”

The closet door falls forward, swiping Shawn on the bridge of his nose. Paul D hears the noise from the kitchen and runs into the bedroom to find Shawn sitting on the floor holding his nose. Paul D kneels down to Shawn. “What happen?”

“The door came out of nowhere and just fell and hit me,” Shawn says, nursing his wound as blood drips through his fingers.

“Told ya God would zap ya,” Paul D says, shaking his pointed finger.

“Paul D!” Shawn says, hitting Paul D’s knee.

“Sorry, I’m just fooling. Let’s get ya up.” Paul D helps Shawn to his feet.

With agitation, Shawn brushes Paul D away, “Alright now, it’s not all that serious.”

“Ya bleedin’! I’m goin’ get some tissue paper out da outhouse,” Paul D says, turning to leave.

“Outhouse?” Shawn says, slapping the bed. “You’re in the big city now, Barney Fife. We don’t have outhouses here.”

Paul D comes back and pats Shawn’s nose with the tissue. “I’m just funning with ya. Just wanted ta see what ya say. Thought maybe that door knock some sense up in ya, but I can see that it didn’t.”

“Remember, I’m the sick one here,” Shawn says, snatching the tissue.

“I know, that’s why I be cartin’ ya ta da doctor now,” Paul D says, picking Shawn up under the arm.

“Come on, Paul D. I’m alright,” Shawn says, resisting. “I don’t want to miss church because of this. I told Tanya I’d be there to hear her sing solo.”

Paul D grabs at Shawn, “Ya get her next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Shawn says, knocking Paul D’s hand away. “You ever heard her sing? She’s not all that good. She must have bribed someone.”

“Good, so ya can ‘ford ta miss it then,” Paul D says, handing Shawn his jacket. “Now, we best be makin’ our way ta da hospita’. Put on this here coat.”

Shawn pushes the jacket away and stands up.“Paul D, I said I’m alright. Come on, if we leave now, we still can make it in time for the precession.”

“Nope,” Paul D says, folding his arms and taking a stance. “I’m not leaving here ‘less we be goin’ ta da hospital’.”

“What am I going to tell Tanya?” Shawn asks, turning to Paul D.

“Tell her there’s room on da usher board,” Paul D says, extending the jacket. “Now get ya hind part over here, and let’s go. God ‘point me head angel ta see after ya crazy butt. C’mon now.”

“Okay, okay, Gomer Pile,” Shawn says, yielding to Paul D. “Want him ta zap ya again?” Paul D asks, staring at Shawn with his brow down. “Thought not, then c’mon now.”

* * *

Shawn and Paul D are in the hospital waiting room. “We’re going to be here all night,” Shawn says, nervously repositioning himself in his chair, “and that’s why I didn’t want to come.”

Paul D extends his hand to stop Shawn from fidgeting. “What if ya got a ‘fection or sumptin’? No tellin’ who ya had up in there. I ‘magine thousand of lil’ grimy hands been opening and closing that door.”

Shawn pops up, “I can’t be waiting in here. I have things to do.”

“Who ya foolin?” Paul D asks scolding him. “Only thing this keeping ya from is some grease and dem nasty movies!”

“You’re telling on your own self,” Shawn says with a smirk.

“Nothin’ wrong with healing hands!” Paul D says, throwing his hands up. “Don’t have me be shoutin’ up in here!”

“Now, who’s gonna get zapped,” Shawn says, looking around the waiting room. “Actually, I think we’re in the wrong part of the hospital,” Shawn says with a smile.

Paul D plops down in his chair, “God, forgive me. Forgot myself. Been hanging ‘round yu too long.”

“Don’t blame me,” Shawn says, sitting down and shaking his head. “That’s between you and your Devil.”

Paul D looks at him and says emphatically, “Me? You’s da one upset ‘cause da devil won’t gives ya mo’ work ta do.”

“I wish they would hurry up,” Shawn says, rocking back and forth in his chair, “so I can get the hell out of here.”

“Don’t be gettin’ yur violin all in a knot,” Paul D says in a snooty voice. They both laugh, “Ya needs ya a sodi pop. Want a sodi pop?”

“No, I don’t want that mess clogging my system,” Shawn says, waving his hands.

“We in da right place ta snake it out,” Paul D says, getting up. “Want one?”

“I said no, Paul D,” Shawn says, putting his hand up. Paul D eases up, realizing Shawn is under stress.

“Okay…okay, where do ya think da vending machine be?”

Irritated, Shawn looks up at Paul D. “I don’t know, Paul D. Do you see a vending machine GPS on me? Go around the corner and look yourself.”

Paul D walks away, “Okay, see ya.” Shawn leans back in his chair. While Paul D is away, the nurse comes to get Shawn.

“I understand you got hit by a door?” the nurse asks softly.

Shawn gets up holding his head. “That’s right.”

The nurse puts her hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “Mister Thompson, you’re supposed to let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.” She smiles. “How did it get all the way up there?”

Shawn chuckles. “You’re funny. My super was supposed to fix this door months ago, but he kept putting it off. It keeps coming off the hinge.”

The nurse motions for Shawn to follow her. “Now, let’s see if you are becoming a little unhinged, shall we? Let’s take your blood pressure.”

“My God, you don’t miss a beat.”

“I can’t afford to miss a beat. There are lives at stake, Mister Thompson,” the nurse says, walking into an examination room.

Shawn follows and sits on the examining table. “Okay, I better stop while I’m ahead,” Shawn says.

The nurse puts down her chart. “Seems to me that I’m ahead. Now, pull off your shirt.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Shawn says, taking off his shirt.

The nurse prepares the blood pressure cuff. “Okay, you win,” she says, taking his blood pressure. “Blood pressure is a little above normal. You feel a little tense? Anxious?”

“A little… my friend came with me here,” Shawn says, looking toward the doorway. “He was very pushy about all this. He just stepped away when you came and got me. How will he know that I’m back here?”

The nurse removes the cuff from Shawn. “Don’t worry. I’m sure if he comes back and doesn’t see you, he will go to the front desk.” Shawn rubs his arm. “You don’t know him. He’s not all that bright.”

“Relax, it will all work out. Now, let’s work on getting that blood pressure down. Besides, you have enough to worry about over here,” the nurse says, preparing the needle. “I have to take your blood now, and it’s my first time.”

“What?” Shawn says, pulling away.

The nurse winks back at him. “Just a little nurse humor.”

Shawn points to a vein in his arm, “I guess this one?”

The nurse inserts the needle, and Shawn yells, “Ouch! You weren’t kidding, were you?”

Hearing the scream, Paul D bursts into the room violently and pushes the nurse out of the way, grabs the needle, and starts yelling uncontrollably. Shawn and the nurse look at him in horror.

“I’m not goin’ ta let anybody hurt him while I’m here,” Paul D shouts. “I’m ‘sponsible for him. Put a hand on him again, hear? I ring it off! Nobody goin’ ta be touchin’ him, makin’ him hurt. Ya just go‘bout yur business.”

Perplexed, Shawn looks at Paul D, “Paul D?”

“I’m not goin’ let nobody boss me ‘round, tell me what ta do,” Paul D says, pacing the floor like a maniac. “Nobody goin’ take ‘vantage of me or him.”

“It’s alright, Paul D,” Shawn says, walking cautiously toward him. “Look, I’m alright. She was just drawing a little blood, that’s all. Everything is alright.” Shawn grabs Paul D and hugs him. Paul D collapses into his arms, breaking down and crying hysterically.

* * *

Shawn is being kept overnight in the hospital for observation. He is in a private room now. Paul D is sitting in a chair by his bedside. “I knew I done da right thing when I brungs ya here. Want me ta go ta yur place and pick ya up a few things? Dem britches fresh?”

Shawn looks at him, “Paul D?”

Paul D gets up to stretch. “When ya think yur vittles be comin’? Wants me ta go fetch some for ya?”

“Paul D…” Shawn says, trying to get his attention.

“I’m a lil’ hungry myself,” Paul D says dismissing Shawn. “Think I’m goin’ have me one of dem super big macs, fries, with an orange sodi pop. Wants ya an orange one too? They don’t be having no juice—.”

“Hey!” Shawn shouts, interrupting.

Paul D turns around. “What is it? I have a lot ta do. I got ta get ya fed, got ta go ta yur apartment—.”

Shawn interrupts again, “Don’t worry about all that. You want to talk about what happened earlier?”

“Nothin’ happen. Just misunderstood, that’s all,” Paul D says nonchalantly.

“Come on, Paul D. We both know it’s more than that,” Shawn says, wincing. “I—I’ve never seen that side of you before. I almost didn’t know who you were. It was like you were a completely different person.”

“Okay,” Paul D says, sighing. “I come clean. I may be mild mannered Paul D by day, but at night, I’m da Incredible Hulk. Ya, satisfied?”

“Stop playing, Paul D,” Shawn scoffs. “You’re my friend, and I’m worried about you. In these few years that I’ve known you, I’ve come to think of you like a little play brotha.”

“What?” Paul D asks, tilting his head.

Shawn chuckles. “I’m only kidding, Paul D. I know I shouldn’t be playing at a time like this.”

“Time like what?” Paul D asks coyly.

Shawn sits up in the bed. “All jokes aside, I really want to know what happened back there. What caused you to go off like that?”

“I’m alright,” Paul D says, shrugging off Shawn. “The onliest thing we should be thinkin’ ‘bout right now is gettin’ ya better.”

Shawn hits the bed. “Paul D, will you stop? Look, when you asked me to go to the hospital, I may have fought you a little, but I went.”

“A little?” Paul D asks, raising his brow. “I practically had ta get a straight jacket for ya.”

“Okay,” Shawn says, shaking his head. “I fought a lot. The point is, I let you take care of me, and you know our relationship has always been tit for tat. So, now it’s my turn to take care of you. Will you let me take care of you, Paul D? Please let me take care of you, Paul D. Please.”

“Will ya stop whinin’ and carryin’ on?” Paul D asks, scrunching his face.

“Tell me then.” Paul D sits down in silence. Shawn waits for a while, then continues to talk. “You may have the broad shoulders, but even Superman needs to be taken care of sometimes. You can’t be the strong one all the time. Please, Paul D.”

Paul D turns to Shawn. “Okay, long as ya stop all this pleasing’. Who ya think ya are— James Brown or sumptin’? Next ya gonna be wantin’ me ta put on your cape while ya down on yur knees pleasing’.”

“Will you stop making a joke of everything and tell me?” Shawn asks impatiently.

Paul D sighs nervously. “Okay, okay but ya have ta promise, just be between me and ya, okay?”

“Come on, Paul D,” Shawn says, agitated. “You know me better than that. You know I wouldn’t tell anything that you confide in me.”

Paul D begins slowly, “Sumptin’ bad happen ta me. Well, not me, but ta my-----”

Chapter2

Paul D flashbacks to many years earlier. It’s the 1950s in a small, predominantly black country town in Mississippi. Hattie, a black southern woman in her early thirties, dances a victory dance with her boyfriend, Joe Willie, in a small country flat. Both are excited about the new venture they are about to embark upon.

Hattie’s daughter, Marva, walks in on the celebration. Marva is fairly attractive, lean, and tall, with a dark complexion. “Yu and Joe Willie wants me ta fix ya some supper?”

Hattie pulls out a chair and anxiously motions for her to sit down. “Come sit down. Mama got some good news ta tell ya.”

Marva sits down hesitantly as Hattie stands in front of her. “Mama, what is it?” Marva asks, sensing something is wrong.

“Me and Joe Willie,” Hattie says, building up confidence. “We finds this man who want ta take care of ya.”

“Take care of me? What yu mean, take care of me?” Marva asks in disbelief.

“He wants ya ta come live with him,” Hattie says assertively. Marva is perplexed. “We fine just the way we is!”

“No, baby,” Hattie says, reaching for Marva’s hand. “He wants ta take care of ya for the rest of yo life. Ya don’t have ta worry ‘bout nothing.”

“The rest of my life?” Marva asks, realizing Hattie is serious. “What about yu?”

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout Joe Willie and me,” Hattie says, throwing her shoulders back. “We be fine! We headed ta the big city ta make a ways for ourself.”

“Mama, take me with y’all,” Marva says, grabbing at Hattie. “Please, Mama.”

“No girl, ya crazy! We can’t miss this chance—fine man with money and property. Mama is only tryin’ ta do what’s best for ya,” Hattie says, stroking Marva’s hair.

An impatient Joe Willie steps forward and interrupts, “Yeah, girl, me and ya mama just starting out. We don’t need no extre’ baggage.”

Hattie turns to Joe Willie with a look of frustration. “There ya go, puttin’ yo negative two cents in! Shouldn’t ya be packin’ or sumptin’,” Hattie says scoldingly.

“Okay, I’m goin,’ but ya need ta handle it,” Joe Willie says, walking away.

“And-” Hattie interrupts, “why don’t ya go in the bedroom and handle it? ‘Cause Lord knows I’m tired of trying ta breathe some life in---”

Joe Willie threatens. “Hattie, ya better—”

“Just go about yo business,” Hattie says, throwing her hands up. "And I wish you would handle ya own business ‘cause I’m not in the mood for resurrecting dat thang tonight!” Hattie mutters under her breath, “...nigga must think I’m God or sumptin.”

Joe Willie stares at Hattie before leaving in a huff. Just then, Hattie remembers that she promised Marva’s suitor that she would have her there in the morning. Realizing now that she has very little time to sell Marva on the plan, she desperately grabs Marva’s hand. “Baby, ya know what a blessin’ this is? Ta have this man paying ya mind?”

“Mama, but I don’t want nothin’ ta change,” Marva says, pulling her hand away.

“Bubba, Joe Willie’s friend, moved where we goin’ just a year ago,” Hattie says, stroking Marva’s hair. “He doin’ real good, got himself a good job and evrything. He willin’ ta put us up ‘til we get ourself settled down. Soon as we make our way, we send for ya, hear?”

“Why can’t I go with ya?” Marva asks, looking up at Hattie.

Hattie inches her way closer to Marva. “Bubba nice ‘nough ta let the two of us stay. We can’t ‘spect him ta put up with another body. Stop actin’ like a baby. I had ya when I was about yo age. Ya old ‘nough ta try ta start making it on ya own. Now, I promised the man I have ya there in the mornin’. I can’t go backin’ out now. Me and Joe Willie drive ya there.”

Marva still tries reasoning with her mother, even though she knows it’s useless when her mother’s mind is made up. Hattie is frustrated with Marva’s resistance.“Ya goin’,” Hattie says sternly. “Now, ya best go in the room and gather up yar things. Ya goin’ thank me one day that I didn’t let this fine chance pass ya by. Now, get yarself in there and start packin’ up ya ‘longings.” Marva slumps her head, but Hattie will have none of it. “We have ta get a early start in the mornin’. We can’t be late. He one of dem snooty kind of niggas. He won’t deal with ya if ya don’t be on time. Go on now.”

Marva lifts her head. “Mama,” she says, whimpering.

“Go on and do what I say!” Hattie says, growing angry.

“Yes, Mama,” Marva says solemnly obliging.

Realizing that she is closer to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Hattie repositions herself in her chair and smirks in satisfaction. “Now, that’s my girl.”

* * *

Hattie and Joe Willie get an early start to drive Marva to her destination. Slouching down in the back seat of the car, Marva remains silent throughout the whole trip.

“Are we there yet?” Hattie asks as they come upon traffic, “How much further?”

“We about a minute further ‘den when ya asked a minute ‘go,” Joe Willie says, snapping at Hattie.

“If ya knew the road,” Hattie says, folding her arms, “and knew shortcuts we wouldn’t have ta sit in all this traffic.”

“Will ya just shut that mousetrap of yourn and let me drive!” Joe Willie says, waving his hand in agitation.

Joe Willie continues driving, and they soon arrive at their destination—a modest house in a middle-class, black neighborhood on a treelined street. This is an indication to Hattie and Joe Willie that the man is doing fairly well. A smug Hattie starts singing her praises. “See what I done for ya? Ya goin’ ta be treated like a queen.”

“Thank ya, Mama,” Marva says half-heartedly.

A tall, striking, well-groomed, well-built black man, standing six-foot-two with slightly greying temples awaits them. His body language indicates he has become impatient.

“You’re late,” he says in a biting tone. Hattie gets out of the car and closes the passenger-side door.

“Had a lil’ trouble on the road, but we done brung her like we said,” Hattie yells to the man while opening the door to the back seat of the car.

“Okay, girl,” Hattie says, staring Marva in the eyes, “this be Mister Roshield. Where’s ya manners? Don’t just sit there. Get out and introduce yuhself.”

Marva slouches down even further not knowing what to expect this time. She begins to think back on her mother’s escapades and history of abandoning her. Most times, leaving her with relatives with the excuse of chasing a dream. Though she is aware that nothing will come of these pipe dreams, she still longs to be with her mother on these capers. Aware of her mother’s flaws, she still loves her in spite of them.

Before Marva has time to respond, the man walks up to them and begins scanning the car. “Never mind about that. Does she have any bags?”

“Just this one,” Joe Willie says, handing him the bag.

“‘Member what we ‘greed upon?” Hattie says, stepping forward. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward,” Roshield quickly interjects while reaching into his pocket. “It’s not everyday a woman gets to sell her own flesh and blood,” he says, handing Hattie the money. Hattie looks at Joe Willie and can hardly contain her excitement.

“Now that you have what you came here for, please leave me to my business. Come with me,” Roshield says, turning to Marva.

As he takes her into the house, Marva follows him like a lost puppy. A woman stands in the living room at the frame of the door. She is a fairly attractive woman, but one can tell that she has prematurely aged because of her life experiences. “This is my sister, Lena,” Roshield says impatiently.

“This lil’ puny thing can’t do no woman’s work,” Lena says, looking Marva up and down.

“She’ll do just fine,” Roshield says in an affirming tone.

“Oh, that’s right. Ya want ta fatten her up before the kill,” Lena says mockingly.

“Will you just leave me to my business?” Roshield says, waving his arms.

“This girl looks like more trouble than she’s worth,” Lena mutters under her breath as she exits the room. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Just a waste of hard-earned money.”

* * *

After Lena has left the room, Roshield begins laying down the rules like a drill sergeant.“The house needs to be cleaned by six every day, and the table needs to be set for supper by then, too. Every morning, the paper needs be brought in, and I eat three minute hard boiled eggs in the morning with toast. I won’t tolerate burnt toast. Bread is too expensive. I’ll take you to the bedroom now. Every night, I expect my slippers and my pajamas laid out.”

As Roshield continues talking, Marva becomes lost in thought. She wonders what her mother has got her into this time, and why she is doing this to her. She slowly sinks down into herself, looking bewildered and sad, as Roshield continues shouting orders.

Later that night, as Marva washes the dishes, Roshield enters the kitchen.“I’m ready for bed,” he says in a commanding voice.

“I still have a lil’ more ta do,” Marva whimpers.

“I said I’m ready for bed,” Roshield says, stomping his foot. “There’s no discussion here Let’s go!”

As they both walk through the living room, Lena watches as Roshield and Marva climb the stairs to the bedroom. She slowly walks toward the stairs and looks up as they disappear. “Where y’all going? The kitchen ain’t clean yet and she still got the dining room ta do.”

“Tomorrow, Lena,” Roshield says, “tomorrow.”

“Ya know we have that ‘pointment ‘morrow?” Lena says, relentlessly. “Maybe ya should let Marva go up ta her room, and ya stay down here with me so we can talk about what we goin’ do on ‘morrow.”

“Goodnight, Lena. C’mon, Marva.”