Senior’s eyes burn the side of my face as Rich pushes up and walks out of the room. I follow his back until he disappears into the hallway. Even after he’s gone, I stare at the doorway as if he’ll change his mind about talking with Wendell and stay with us, but I don’t think that’s how Rich’s brain works.
“He’ll come back.”
I look away from the empty doorway and find Senior pointing toward the hallway.
“Is he gonna come back looking the same as he did when he left?” I ask.
He drops his hand, shrugging in that disinterested way that older people do. “Depends on what the other man look like.”
Teddy Pendergrass’ crooning grows louder as if he knows about that queasy feeling sitting in the bottom of my stomach.
“You ain’t gon’ tell me what the man look like?” Senior utters.
“He’s big—bigger than Rich. Not his muscles, but he weighs more.”
I know Senior knows Wendell. He has to because he lives in Beatrice’s house, but I keep Wendell’s name buried in the back of my throat for some reason.
He shrugs. “He might get his ass whooped…and he might not.”
I gulp.
“You alright?” he asks.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Ain’t nothing to be scared of around here. Somebody’ll pick him up if he loses. You in a house full of fighters. Beatrice loves fighters.”
“I see.” I snort to myself, trying to singe the memories of her scraping her fingers across the pendant on Rich’s chest out of my head.
Senior taps his fingers against the arm of his wheelchair to the beat floating into his room.
“You like this song?” I ask.
“Shit, ain’t got a choice but to like it.” He chuckles. “That’s Calvin playing it. He stopped coming out of his room a few weeks ago. His ole’ lady left him.”
“Left him? Like broke up with him?”
“Yup. Said she needed a man who had all his wits about him. She ain’t wanna be visiting her man in no old folks’ home. She said she was too young for that. Ain’t that some shit?”
I hunch my shoulders up. “I guess it depends on how you look at the situation. Having a sick spouse is hard.”
“Tuh. This life ishard. That’s why when them young fightin niggas come asking me for advice on how to make it easier, I tell ‘em the smartest thing they can do is not promise a lifetime to a woman unless they got one that can stomach violence, sickness and death. Most of ‘em don’t, and if they do, I always ask, cantheystomach the fact that their woman will have to experience those atrocities for the sake of love?”
His words mirror Aunt Faye’s in a way that makes goosebumps prickle my arms—the violence, sickness, and death.
He scoffs. “We ain’t the type of men you bring home to meet mama and daddy.”
“You talk about love like it’s some mundane emotion. Maybe it’s not the fact that Calvin’s wife can’t stomach sickness anddeath. Maybe she loves him so much she just needs some time away for a bit, and she’ll come back around. It’s hard to see the person you love in pain. Love is powerful and complicated.”
He belts out a loud cackle. “Boy, I bet them teachers at them schools loved you. Cute as a button and idealistic.”
My face heats.
“Calvin should be sleep by now. Rich usually turns the music off for him and leave him a lil’ roach to smoke for when he wakes up in the morning, even though Beatrice throws a fit about it.”
I smile grimly, glancing around his room. “So what else does Rich do around here?”
He points up at the wall. “Count the days for me.”
