Your Cheatin Heart

I wasn't sure what to do. Roxa

"You are responsible for my Jimmy's death," she pronounced in a raspy voice that seemed to originate from deep within her chest. "He wouldn't have had to die like a sorry yard dog if he'd been able to stay away from you! I warned him time and again, but no, he had to keep sniffing around you!"

I didn't move, but I didn't look away either. If she sprang at me, I'd run back through the house and out my bedroom into the backyard.

Roxa

"Roxa

"Shut up," Roxa

"What are you saying, Roxa

"Years," she said slowly. "For years I watched you two. Neither one of you knowing I was there." Her voice drifted off and her eyes glazed over. I took a tiny step sideways, toward the dining room archway.

"Now you won't have him, ever!" she said, her eyes focusing on my face. "But I'll have him!"

"Roxa

"Shut up!" she screamed, startling me into jumping. Roxa

"You think I didn't know about you and him?" she said. I started to speak, but she rushed on, ignoring me. "You were pla

I gave up. Roxa

"I ain't done with you," she said. She was bending my arm painfully up behind my back. Her breath reeked of stale liquor.

I brought my foot up sharply, biting into Roxa

"Jimmy's dead," I said, and Roxa

"He didn't love me!" Roxa

A dangerous glint came into Roxa

"Mrs. Reid?" a voice said, and Roxa

"Keith," I said, pushing past Roxa

"Is this a bad time?" he squeaked, looking for all the world like a tall, scrawny rat.

"No, son," I said loudly, "Sheila's aunt was just leaving." I glared at Roxa

Roxa

"I've done all I needed to do here," she said, lowering her head and charging toward Keith and the open front door like an angry bull.

Keith scampered out of the way, letting her pass and fade off into the night.

"She looked upset, huh?" he said, dodging me as I rushed up to slam the door. I had hoped he would've stayed on the outside, but he jumped into my tiny living room like a dog avoiding a lick with a broom.

"No flies on you, son," I said. "It was her husband that was killed here."

"Oh." He nodded, his eyes following the floor to the blood stain. He had to have known about Jimmy. He only lived three doors down. But maybe he was stupider than I gave him credit for.

"I heard that woman yelling at you," he said finally. "I was just walking by, you know, and I, er, thought you might be in trouble or something. So I just came on up." He looked at me expectantly, like maybe I was going to tip him, or worse yet, decide to like him.

"Thank you," I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "I'm fine." Did he really think that coming to my rescue with Roxa

Keith was walking around the living room, his eyes rooted to the floor, as if maybe he'd lost something. Always his attention returned to the blood stain. I didn't have time for this. I was going to be even later for work if I didn't get my clothes and get out of here.

"Keith," I said, "if you don't mind, Fin kind of in a hurry. I've gotta go to work." I moved toward the door, but for some reason, Keith moved toward the dining room.

"Keith? The door's this way." Mama would've hated my ma

"Oh," he said absently, still wandering into the dining room. "You know, Mrs. Reid, I believe you've changed the furniture around in here."

"No, Keith, I…" But Keith was suddenly overtaken by a fit of coughing.

"Water," he gasped, collapsing into one of my dining room chairs.

"Oh, for pity's sake," I muttered. "Come on."

I swept by him and on into the kitchen. He followed me, coughing up a storm, his face reddening. I ran the tap, filled a glass with water, and shoved it into his outstretched hand. His fingernails were too long and they were dirty. What had Sheila seen in him?

I ducked into the walk-in closet that was just off the tiny galley kitchen. Maybe if I emerged with my outfit and started turning off the lights, he would take the hint and leave, He followed me, sipping on his water, his eyes darting around the room like a nervous cat.

"So, Mrs. Reid," he said quickly, "Sheila says you're the lead singer down at the Golden Stallion."

"That's right," I said, my face buried in the clothes rack.

"Well, that gives us something in common."

"How's that, Keith?" I said. I'd grabbed the purple denim outfit and was heading out into the kitchen when I stopped, staring at Keith. He had moved past the kitchen and the closet and was in Sheila's bedroom, down on his hands and knees, peering under her bed.

"Did you lose something?" I asked. He jumped, startled by my sudden presence, banging his head against the iron bedpost.

He jumped to his feet, his face beet-red. "I, uh, um, well, to be honest, Mrs. Reid…" I went on triple-guard when I heard that phrase. Mama used to say, sure as shooting, when a fella said "to be honest", whatever followed was sure to be a lie.