A Love So Deep (34 page)

Tears began to stream from Graham’s face. Such a pathetic story from a pathetic man—a man whom he’d have given his life for only moments earlier. But right here and right now, he hated the very sight of him. Charlie was the epitome of all the Sodom and Gomorrah’s—a worthless piece of swine in a corrupt city full of vile and vulgar people that weren’t worth saving.

Graham swiped at the tears that now ran fast down his face. No longer able to endure his pain, he took the edge of the table in both hands and lifted up one side. All the contents slid onto Charlie’s lap like one big water slide. It scared Charlie and he pushed back from the table scrambling to get on his feet. His bottle of Chivas crashed to the floor—its liquid content crawling over the floor like it was on a secret mission.

A loaded fist slammed into the wall as Graham charged at Charlie. Graham’s five-foot-eleven-inch body towered over Charlie’s six-foot cowering frame as he ducked an angry Graham.

It didn’t take much effort to pin Charlie against the wall when he offered no resistance. Graham held him by the collar, squeezing it tight around his neck. He wanted to punch him, hit him until the death rattle came, but Charlie stood against the wall lifeless, ready to accept whatever punishment he deserved.

Time and again Graham had put up with Charlie’s antics and some of his crazy, wild and whacky ways. Now he had the audacity to tell him that he had put the moves on his wife—that he’d tried to touch her in ways that were inappropriate—ways that could get a man killed. Graham hated Charlie at this moment, hated him so much that even his tears hurt. The only thing left to do was to throw him out of his house, his life. He didn’t even have the strength to beat him down, but the sad truth was, Charlie wasn’t even worth it.

He took Charlie by the collar and dragged him to the front door and opened it. He knew he should call a cab, because Charlie wasn’t in any condition to drive. Maybe Charlie would just get in the car and kill himself and he could wash his hands of him. Graham pushed him out of the door with little effort. He slammed the door and watched Charlie stumble to his car. This was the only way to deal with it at this time, short of taking a gun, aiming it at Charlie’s head, and blowing his damn brains out.

Charlie jumped behind the wheel of his car and took off without looking back. He deserved what he’d got, and yet, he didn’t believe that his best friend had thrown him away like yesterday’s trash. Hell, he, Charlie Ford, was the one who had picked Graham up from his stinking pit of hell, and now he was banished from the little house on Chester Street where he had just as many memories as Graham. He was livid, and Graham was going to pay for it.

No cops were in sight and Charlie barreled down the street going twenty miles in excess of the speed limit. The Chivas was wearing off fast and instead of being angry at himself, Charlie was mad at the world. He pulled into a side-street and turned right at the next corner. His tires squealed as they rubbed against the curb.

He sought refuge at the little white stucco house with the neatly arranged bed of marigolds running along the walkway. Charlie paced back and forth until Mary opened the door with a surprised look on her face.

“Hi, Charlie,” Mary said with a seductive look on her face. She stood on the porch dressed in a cotton, snap-down housedress made out of yellow print seersucker with a field of white daisies growing wild in the background. “What brings you here? I was getting ready to go out. Pew…what have you been drinking? I smell you from here.”

Charlie entered and kicked the door shut and took Mary in his arms, ignoring her questions. Instead, he answered her with a passionate kiss, and Mary reciprocated the best she knew how. Charlie opened one eye and spotted Mary’s brand-new leather couch that now sat under the picture of Jesus. He dragged Mary with him and fell upon the couch, panting and kissing her all about the neck and mouth like a dog in heat.

Heat seared through Mary’s body. She closed her eyes. All of a sudden, she felt cold air on her breasts as they lay exposed after Charlie ripped open her housedress. He began to kiss her breasts through her lacy bra, making it impossible for her to resist.

Mary began to cough, trying to catch her breath as she lay on her back. But Charlie overpowered her, placing kisses here and there—and she was a river of melted butter, floating on a bed of hot steamy potatoes ready to be stirred, tasted, and eaten.

Some dreams held stark revelations, and Mary couldn’t be sure if she was or was not dreaming. Her eyes were shut tight, standing at the door to the twilight zone. Charlie pulled up her dress and tore at her pantyhose, pulling them down halfway. He touched her lightly on the fleshy part of her stomach and ran his hand across it, slowly moving his hand downward across her nylon panties, down her left leg while lavishing kisses all over her body. Mary was tingling all over.

One eye popped open but closed abruptly as she felt Charlie outline the contour of her panties with his fingers. Mary shuddered at his touch but offered no resistance as he inched his way into her lush garden. She wasn’t sure how she was to feel—maybe embarrassed, but at any rate, she remained still as Charlie continued his probe.

And his fingers were little antennae—touching, feeling, scouting, taking notes, and planting mile markers for his return trip. And then his fingers became rugged and forceful as if the speed limit had suddenly increased and he was anxious to get to where he was going, discovering and rediscovering new and wonderful sights along the way.

It was more than Mary had bargained for. She tried to clamp her legs shut, but not in time as her body began to convulse and tremble like the great San Francisco earthquake. She was not ready for this, and tried unsuccessfully to pry herself from Charlie’s grasp. The more Mary resisted, the more determined Charlie was to get what he came for.

Charlie’s body was heavy on top of Mary, and he continued to ignore her pleas for him to stop. She kicked and screamed, but Charlie covered her mouth with his to muffle the sound.

This was not what Sister Mary Ross had envisioned sex would be like. She thought it was going to be soft and gentle in an angelic kind of way. She imagined soft kisses, soft words passing between them. And finally, there would be the gentle acceptance of her man into her womb that would make her feel all fuzzy and warm—not violated. Hell and damnation she’d brought on herself. Would the Lord ever forgive her?

“Stay still,” were Charlie’s first words. “Shut up, and be still.”

Mary lay still as Charlie continued to kiss her roughly on the mouth, his breathing becoming more labored. She was frightened at the Charlie she didn’t recognize—a Charlie who seemed to be so filled with anger and resentment.

Charlie raised his head and looked down at a frightened Mary. “I love you, Rita. And he’s going to pay for what he did to me. Pay, I say.”

A stone face replaced the frightened one. Charlie gazed down at Mary. She didn’t utter a word or move a limb. She had passed out. Charlie rose and took her arm, trying to elicit a response as he shook it. Suddenly, Charlie was embarrassed at his behavior and how he had treated Mary. He couldn’t believe that he had blundered twice in one day.

Mary shifted on the couch. She looked like Cinderella waking up from a deep sleep, but without Prince Charming to make her day right. Like a coward, Charlie ran to the door, briefly looking back to make sure Mary was all right. When she appeared to be moving of her own accord, Charlie rushed from Mary’s house, nearly missing the two steps that led to the sidewalk. He recovered his footing, headed for his car, got in and drove away.

Mary had never felt so humiliated in her whole life. Even the standoff at the church was a mild happening in comparison. Love definitely wasn’t for the lonely.

B
ile
rose in his stomach at the thought of Charlie touching Amanda. Graham paced back and forth, his blood pressure rising the more he thought about Charlie. He’d trusted this man with his life. He’d go to the ends of the world for Charlie. Now a small confession that sneaked its way out of Charlie’s mouth had interrupted and destroyed in an instant the bond two friends had for each other.

Tears of hate formed in Graham’s eyes. He understood what the old-timers meant when they said that hatred was a killer and a flapping tongue was like a two-edged sword. It made you want to hurt somebody bad. It gave you the license to kill and beg God’s forgiveness later. It made you want to do things that you never thought of doing before—things that caused people to get twenty-five to life without parole.

Graham sat down on the overstuffed chair and threw his head back. He didn’t want to kill anyone or go to jail. He just wanted to know why his best friend had betrayed their friendship. And Graham was a little miffed at Amanda for not telling him, but that woman was so full of wisdom. She let Charlie get away with his vile act to save a friendship, because she knew it meant so much to Graham.

“Amanda, you always knew the right thing to do,” Graham wailed. “You were my sunshine on a rainy day, spreading cheer when there was sadness.”
Sniff.
“I love you, girl. But I better stop this crying ‘cuz your momma needs me now. No, she ain’t ready to come…tried to, but the doctors say she’s going to be around a little while longer…. I miss you.”

Graham wiped his face and got up from the chair. It was one o’clock, and he was late in picking up Elroy for the hospital. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

Brrng, brrng.
“I don’t have time to get this phone.”
Brrng, brrng.
“Hello?”

“Graham, this is Mary Ross.”

“Mary, I was on my way out to the hospital to see Martha.”

“Martha? Martha…in the hospital?”

“Yes, but she’s going to be all right. She had a mild heart attack last night.”

“Jesus. I’ll send a prayer up for her.”

“Thank you, Mary, but I must go. I’ve got to pick up Deacon Carter.”

“I understand. This won’t take but a minute.”

“What is it, Mary?” Graham asked.

“Uhh, uhh, it’s Charlie.”

Graham sighed. He paused for several minutes before he could go on. “What about Charlie?”

“Is Rita there?”

“No, she’s at the club. What’s up, Mary? I’m not in a good mood.”

“Charlie just left here. He…he had been drinking. He was really upset about something. He just showed up at my house, and I thought it…it was…you know…he wanted to be with me.”

Graham was silent, then leaned forward in his seat. “What happened, Mary?” There was concern in his voice.

“He was a wild man, Deacon Peters. I’ve never been so scared in all my life.”

“What happened, Mary? Did he hurt you? Tell me.”

Mary held the phone tight and tried to tell her story without all the gory details.

“Damn him,” Graham said aloud.

“Deacon Peters,” Mary said hesitantly. “Are you all right?”

“Did he hurt you, Mary?”

“Not really. My ego was more bruised. Weird, I tell you. He was someone I didn’t recognize. The strangest thing happened. He called me ‘Rita.’”

Graham was stone silent. The walls of his head throbbed as he absorbed what Mary had said. Charlie was a jealous fool. Graham twisted his neck in a figure-eight motion to loosen the kink and began to breathe heavily as he contemplated his next statement. “Did he say where he was going?”

“No. He left in a hurry. I think he was embarrassed. You’re not going to do anything crazy, are you?”

“No, Mary.”

“I’ve never seen him like that, I tell you. Frightened me good. I was scared he might do something crazy to me, especially with me living alone and all. But I’m all right now.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re all right. Thanks for calling. If you need me, give me a call. I mean that.”

“I appreciate that, Deacon. I really appreciate it.”

Graham dropped his coat on the couch and dialed The Water Hole. The phone rang and rang, and it made Graham irritable. Finally, after six rings, a friendly voice answered the phone.

“Hey, Clyde, Graham. Rita there?”

“Yeah, buddy. They getting ready to rehearse some more—took a short break. Hold on, I’ll get her for you.”

“Thanks, man.”

Nerves were the order of the day. Graham tapped his foot in anticipation of hearing Rita’s voice. He was being overprotective and zealous for his own good, but he had to know that Rita was all right.

“Hey, baby. Clyde said you sounded urgent.”

“Hey, sweetie. Just wanted to know you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? The guys and I are rehearsing. Not too many folks hanging around. Probably too much turkey,” Rita said.

“Just making sure no crazies or lunatics are messing with you.”

“What are you talking about, Graham?” Rita asked hesitantly. “You aren’t making any sense.”

“Nothing, sweetheart. I guess with all the frenzy surrounding Martha last night, I’m a little anxious. I just miss you, that’s all.”

A sigh of relief tumbled from Rita’s mouth. “I’m fine, baby. Are you coming to the club tonight?”

“Depending on Martha’s condition and how long Dad wants to stay. I want you to come and stay the night with me tonight.”

“We’ll see…I didn’t sleep well last night. Now, I’ve got to run. The band is warming up.”

“All right, sweetheart. I’ll chat with you later.”

Graham hung up the phone somewhat relieved. His mind was racing, and he hated Charlie for it. The drunken fool had absolutely ruined his day, but he wished he had handled it differently. Pacing the floor, Graham grabbed his coat off the couch and headed out the door. Charlie was probably off somewhere drowning in his sorrows.