The Secrets of Silk (23 page)

T
wo days passed and Silk hadn't heard a word from Smokey. She sat around waiting for his call like a lovesick schoolgirl. On the third day, she took a bus over town to Lee's record shop and bought five 45 records and two LPs by The Miracles. When she returned home, she played the records back to back, all day long. She damn near wore the grooves off of “Who's Loving You,” even shedding a few tears as she listened to Smokey croon.

When the phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin, and snatched up the receiver on the first ring. Concealing her desperation, she spoke in a sultry tone. “Hello?” she answered breathily.

But it wasn't Smokey on the line. It was Buddy.

“Silk, there's been an emergency with the twins,” he said in a voice filled with dread.

“Oh, yeah? What's wrong with 'em?” She didn't bother to hide her lack of interest.

“The doctor said they both have pneumonia and real high fevers…” Buddy paused and then said, “The doctor doesn't think their little bodies can survive pneumonia. They're not going to make it this time,” Buddy said in a choked voice. “I'll be home to pick you up in about twenty minutes. We have to get over to the hospital right away.”

“Uh. Who's gonna watch Dallas, Bruce, and Myron?” Silk asked.
It wasn't that she cared, but feigning concern over Buddy's children could possibly spare her the burden of having to visit the dreary, pediatric ward at the hospital. She was already in a funk over Smokey Robinson, but being in such close contact with sickly children would only worsen Silk's mood.

“Myron is old enough to look after his brother and sister during an emergency,” Buddy said impatiently. “I'll be home shortly. When I blow the horn, please come right out. I'm at my breaking point, Silk, and I don't want to see the kids to see me like this.”

“All right, Buddy. I'll be at the front door waiting for you.”

Silk hung up.
Buddy chose the worst possible time to force me to stand by his side.
Angrily, she grabbed the tea kettle from the stove and banged it so hard on the kitchen table, the record that was playing on the turntable in the living room began to skip. She whisked into the living room and placed the needle at the beginning of the record, “You Can Depend on Me.”

Those damned sickly twins were causing her to miss an important phone call, and it wasn't fair. A call from Smokey Robinson could change her life. She could get out of the little hick town of Chester and lead a glamorous life traveling around the country with The Miracles. A man like Smokey would have her dripping in diamonds and wearing all kinds of full-length furs. Hell, she could be Smokey's next wife and be on the cover of
Jet
magazine, standing next to Smokey while they cut their five-tier wedding cake.

It burned her up that Buddy was inconveniencing her like this—standing in the way of her getting the kind of riches she truly deserved. Hit by a wave of fury, she kicked a leg of the coffee table, startling Dallas so badly, the child dropped the doll she was holding.

“Would you stop being so jumpy all the time? Always acting nervous and dropping shit,” Silk yelled at Dallas.

“I'm sorry, M'dear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take your ass upstairs to your room and play with your stupid doll.”

Dallas slinked away and Silk didn't feel a bit of remorse. Dallas was by far her favorite of Buddy's children, and she hardly ever raised her voice to the child. But in this moment of blind rage, Silk was livid and was mad at the world.

I'm not the mother of those goddamn twins, so why in the hell do I have to stop what I'm doing to go with Buddy to the hospital? I don't feel
like sitting around that dreary hospital, pretending to be sad. That damn
Buddy gets on my fucking nerves. He loves to pretend to be Mr. Nice Guy
, but he can be a selfish bastard at times. Does he really think I don't have anything better to do with my life than to sit around in a hospital, watching a pair of sickly twins slowly die?

With great reluctance, Silk took the needle off the record she was playing and turned the hi-fi off. She went upstairs to freshen up, and when she found Bruce in the bathroom floating a toy boat in the sink, she pinched his arm, hard. He whimpered, but knew better than to cry. She twisted his skin and watched with satisfaction as he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears. After a few moments, she released his tortured flesh and gave him a shove.

“Get out of this bathroom, playing with a goddamn boat, you ornery, little brat!” Before Bruce was able to scurry out of the bathroom, Silk added insult to injury by kicking the boy in his buttocks. He let out a tiny yelp.

“You wanna play in water, huh? I'm gonna put you back in those diapers if I catch you messing around in this sink again.”

“Please don't put me back in diapers, M'dear. I won't play in water again,” Bruce wailed, sniffling and shaking.

he glared at Bruce with disgust and then rolled her eyes at him. “I should hold your head under this here water to teach you a lesson, shouldn't I?”

Not knowing how to respond, Bruce wore a puzzled look. “Uh. N-no?”

Silk sighed. “If I catch you playing with toys in the bathroom again, that's exactly what I'm gonna do to you.” Silk took the toy boat out of the sink and threw it at Bruce. “Where's Myron?”

“He's in the backyard playing with his friend, Billy.”

“Go outside and get your brother. Tell him I want to have a talk with him.”

Bruce picked up his boat from the floor and scampered away, eager to escape any additional pinches or kicks in the behind.

A few minutes later, as Silk gazed in the mirror while brushing her teeth, Myron appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. “Yes, M'dear?”

Silk continued brushing her teeth without responding. She allowed Myron to stand in the doorway squirming while he waited for her to state the reason she'd sent for him. She leisurely brushed her teeth for approximately two minutes and after rinsing her mouth, she finally acknowledged Myron's presence.

“I have to go out and I don't have time to get a sitter for you kids. You're gonna have to look after your brother and sister. When they get hungry, fix them bologna and cheese sandwiches and a glass of milk.”

“Yes, M'dear.”

“And don't mess with my new records. If I find a scratch on any of them, I'm gonna tan you and your brother's hide. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, M'dear. We won't touch your records.”

“You better not. Oh, by the way, I'm expecting an important phone call. If a gentleman calls and asks for me, I want you to take a message and write down his number so I can call him back. Guard that number with your life. Don't you dare let your father find out that a gentleman called the house for me.”

“I won't, M'dear,” Myron assured her.

“You better not or I'll skin you alive. If you think I'm lying, try me. Now get out of my face. Scram!” She made shooing motions with her hands and Myron darted away.

Twenty minutes later, Buddy was outside the house, honking his horn. Silk gave the silent telephone a lingering look before walking out the door.

•  •  •

Nothing was more depressing than the pediatric ward. Silk would rather stick needles in her eyeballs than sit up in that place. The twins, with all their maladies, looked like death warmed over. Silk averted her gaze as Buddy rubbed their scrawny little hands and uttered comforting words. They lay in separate cribs, hooked up to monitors by wires and cords, which excused Silk from having to hold them in her arms.

“I wonder where their doctor is. I need to speak to him,” Buddy said, pacing agitatedly. “No one seems to be attending to my baby girls,” Buddy said, wringing his hands.

“Why don't you go to the nurses' station and try to get some answers,” Silk suggested.

“Good idea.”

The moment Buddy left the room, Silk walked over to the crib where Pamela lay. She was only able to identify one twin from the other by the tiny name bracelets on their wrists. Silk bent over
the crib and felt the baby's forehead. The child was as hot as an oven and her lips had a blue tint.

You're not doing yourself or anyone else any favors by clinging to life, little girl. Do you realize that every day you're alive, you and your sister are costing your daddy and me a fortune? And for what? Neither one of y'all will ever be worth a plug nickel.

Considering herself showing the child mercy, Silk covered the baby's little face with a pillow. The baby squirmed and kicked. Her little legs were much stronger than Silk had expected. She put up a valiant fight for life, but finally, Pamela's tiny body went still.

Silk peeked out the door and discovering that the coast was clear, she hurried over to Paulette's crib and began working on her next. She used the same pillow on Paulette. Being the weaker twin, Paulette didn't put up much of a struggle, making it easy for Silk to smother her, while keeping one eye on the open door.

Feeling perkier than she'd felt all day, Silk took a deep, exhilarating breath. Killing gave her a rush that was slightly better than good sex.

While waiting for Buddy to return with the doctor, she found herself humming a song. Excitement surged through her, and although Silk tried to occupy her time reading a newspaper that one of the nurses had left behind, she found that she couldn't concentrate on the newspaper print—not with the melody and the lyrics of one of Smokey Robinson's songs running through her head.

Wearing a concerned expression, Buddy walked in with an Asian doctor at his side. The name on the physician's lab coat, read:
Dr. Dongsheng
. A funny name that forced Silk to stifle a giggle as the doctor introduced himself.

Silk accompanied Buddy and the doctor as they walked over to Paulette's crib.

“Oh, my God! What's wrong with her?” Buddy asked, his voice filled with dread.

The doctor checked the baby's pulse. “I'm sorry, Mr. Dixon. Your daughter has expired.”

“Oh, God, no!” Buddy wailed and then hastily made his way over to Pamela's crib. “Jesus! Why?” Buddy screamed, looking up at the heavens after surveying Pamela's unmoving body. “I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to my babies,” he lamented while Silk rubbed his back and murmured soothing words.

“It's a miracle that your daughters lasted this long, Mr. Dixon,” the doctor said, trying to comfort Buddy.

Nodding her head, Silk agreed with the doctor. “Let's go home, Buddy. There's nothing else we can do for these precious babies.” With the twins out of the way, Silk was in a hurry to get back home and continue waiting for her phone call.

“If you need a moment for spirituality, the hospital has a chapel on the fifth floor. Some families seek comfort in the chapel,” the doctor said in a gentle voice.

“That's a good idea.” Buddy grasped Silk's arm. “Let's go to the chapel and pray for the twins' souls.”

Silk wanted to slap the dog shit out Dr. Dongsheng for making such a time-wasting suggestion, but she had to grin and bear it. Standing by her grieving husband's side, she joined him on the elevator that would take them to the chapel on the fifth floor.

G
etting rid of those money-draining twins had a surprise benefit that Silk hadn't anticipated. Buddy had life insurance policies on the babies for twenty-five hundred dollars each. Five thousand dollars would improve Silk's life, and she'd be damned if any thieving lawyer or crooked politician was going to get one nickel of it.

But she hadn't banked on having to wage a war against the head honcho at the funeral parlor.

Speaking in gentle tones, the funeral director steered Buddy toward miniature caskets. Silk was shocked by the price tags on those itty-bitty, little caskets. They cost an arm and a leg!

The somber-faced mortician made it a point to find out from Buddy exactly how much cash he was working with. Buddy revealed that he had five thousand dollars, and the greedy mortician seemed to be trying to spend up every penny, suggesting deluxe this and top-of-the-line that. He even tried to get Buddy interested in special little kiddy flower arrangements, among other costly funeral expenses.