God Ain't Blind Read Online Free PDF Page B

two months ago. I was glad to see that he had not made too much of a mess. The only things I could see worth complaining about were the four empty beer bottles on top of my red oak coffee table; a limp switch in his lap, which he must have used on Charlotte to make her behave; and some toenail clippings on the floor in front of him. I made a mental note to scold him about all that later. As tired as I was, the last thing I felt like doing was arguing with him.
    “Pee Wee, I am talking to you.”
    He grunted and gave me a surprised look, like he had just noticed me sitting in front of him, with my suede purse still in my hands and the yellow cashmere sweater he’d given me last Christmas still draped around my shoulders. “Did you say something?”
    GOD AIN’ T BLIND
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    he asked, with his mouth full of food. When I didn’t respond right away, he gave me an annoyed look, and then he dismissed me with a wave of his hand.
    I didn’t know what I had done to make my husband treat me like a nuisance. This behavior had been going on for several weeks now, and it was beginning to get on my last nerve. I didn’t like to brag, but if anybody had asked me, I would have told them that I was a wife and a half. I was attractive, I kept a clean house, I brought home half of the mighty big piece of the bacon that it took to make us comfortable, and I was a good mother to our only child.
    No man in his right mind could ignore that. Apparently, that was no longer enough for my husband. But that was his problem. If he didn’t appreciate me, I’d find somebody who did. And tonight was a good start.
    “I asked you if you made Charlotte take a bath before she went to bed.”
    “Uh-huh,” he replied, chewing so hard, his ears wiggled. I was beginning to feel like I was trying to pull his teeth. That was how hard it had become for me to make him talk. Barbecue sauce had saturated his goatee. But instead of using one of the napkins that had come with his order, he kept right on chewing. It disgusted me, but that didn’t seem to bother him a bit. Then he started to smack so loudly, it made me want to help him eat. You would have thought that he was gobbling from a platter at the Last Supper.
    “You had to whup her?” I asked, nodding toward the switch in his lap. I had received more than my share of whuppings during my childhood, but I didn’t approve of hitting kids. However, every now and then, it took a few whacks across Charlotte’s butt to get her attention.
    “She had it comin’,” he managed.
    “Well, don’t do it again unless I’m here,” I said. “You men get too heavy-handed when it comes to whupping a child.”
    He rolled his eyes, broke the switch in two with one hand, and dropped the pieces to the floor, next to his toenail clippings.
    “Did anybody call for me?” I asked, with an exasperated sigh, rising from my seat. I dropped my purse and sweater onto the sofa, and then I slid out of my shoes and kicked them to the side.
    “Naw.” He chewed and smacked some more. Then he swallowed 26
    Mary Monroe
    so hard, he had to tilt his head back and lift his butt a few inches off his seat. “Damn,” he complained, with his face contorted. My husband had become one of those people who made eating look like a sporting event. He punched himself in the chest with his fist, and then he expelled a grunt and a mild belch. “This grub is so screamin’ good, I want to put my whole face in it. You didn’t get yourself nothin’ from Al’s?”
    “We had pizza and beer at the bowling alley,” I replied. “Uh, I really enjoyed bowling tonight. I’m glad I joined Rhoda’s bowling team so I can do this every Thursday night. . . .” I paused and held my breath, anxious to hear what he had to say.
    “That’s nice. I hope you do. You need to get out of this house more, anyway. If you don’t do somethin’ for yourself, ain’t no tellin’
    how soon you’ll get old before your time.”
    His last comment made my ears