Springle... The House

Herman Blalock was another of my mother’s boyfriends. Herman was tall, dark, and not-so-handsome. Herman was married and mom was his side piece (mistress/girlfriend). Mom liked being the side piece. She was not enamored of being a wife. Mom always told me that being a wife and mother were the two most unappreciated jobs on the Earth. Her mantra was that every woman was a whore whether she was married or not. Her reasoning…? Women had to screw to get any and everything. When I asked her why she dated married men, she replied that she did not want the responsibility of being married and did not want to have to wash a man’s draws (underwear). She wanted the sex, gifts, money, and attention, but not the attachment. I guess the two marriages she had in the past had jaded her. Mom also grew up in a time when women did not have a voice, which made her feel that marriage was more of an expectation and requirement than the wedded bliss idea that is so bandied about from that era. She had no desire to be tied to one man, or so she said. Mom did not sing often, but when she did it was always The Side Piece Blues. Here are the main lyrics. He is not here on holidays. He does not want to be seen in public with me. I cannot call him. He does not spend enough time with me. Blah, blah, blah… One of the most hateful things about mom having boyfriends was that she always wanted, encouraged, and allowed her boyfriends to discipline Tony. The child counselor told her that he needed a positive, male role model. I guess you could call her married, alcoholic boyfriends that. At least they were male. I never let them get away with that shit though. I would wait until mom left the room, then I would tell Tony to leave. I told Herman he should go home and discipline his own children! I told him my brother already had his own no-good dad. He did not need a pretend one. Besides, Mr. Big Bad Herman was afraid of black cats and walking under ladders. If we were driving down the street and a black cat crossed in front of his car he would slam on brakes and drive backwards all the way around the block just to get where he was going so he could convince himself that a black cat had not crossed his path. He wouldn’t walk under ladders either. I guess that was bad luck too. He was such a positive, male, role model.

One night about 11 pm mom came shrieking into my bedroom. She woke me up and was going on about Herman being rushed to the hospital. So, I dragged myself out of bed to try to discover the details to the source of her hysteria. What I gathered was that Herman’s wife was fed up with him cheating on her with my mom and had thrown grits (cooked corn mush) laced with lye (corrosive drain opener) in his face. Not only would this concoction burn because of the heat, it would also burn because of the lye (plus the grits would stick to his skin, causing lingering burning from both sources) Inside my head my thought was, Yes!!!! If his wife had thrown hot, lye grits on him he most definitely deserved it. I do not know what took her so long. So, my mom wanted me to go call my boyfriend to take her to the hospital (we didn’t have a car). She also wanted me to go with her for moral support. Hah!!! I was not going to call my boyfriend to come to take her to the hospital to see about her married boyfriend, and I said I most certainly would NOT go to the hospital with her. I then went back to bed ignoring the grand cussing out mom was slathering on me. I wished more wives would throw hot, lye grits on their cheating-ass husbands. This event made me feel there may be a small amount of justice in the world. And, oh yeah, seeing as how Herman was so dark, the lye left him with lovely, permanent light scars everywhere he was burned. He also had to stay in the hospital for a really long time, because he had to have skin grafts. Yes again!!!! He got the pain and suffering he deserved, and he was marked for life! A two-for-one benefit!!