Read Online Some Things I Never Thought I'd Do by Pearl Cleage - Free Book Online

sponsor?”
    Her eyes flickered away from mine and then back, but veiled. “I'm sorry. I can't say right now.”
    “No cigarettes or alcohol?” There are some things that can't be justified, even in dire economic straits.
    She shook her head vehemently. “Of course not. I wouldn't cheapen Son's memory that way.”
    “Good. Go on.”
    “We're going to announce the tour in May when Morehouse dedicates the new communications center in Son's name, but …”
    Again with the eye flickering. “But what ?”
    She stood up again, but this time out of nervousness, I think. “I can't afford to have anything go wrong.”
    Now we were getting somewhere. “What could go wrong?”
    She didn't say anything, so I took another sip of my coffee and waited. When she finally spoke, she chose her words carefully.
    “I've had some phone calls. A few letters.”
    “What kind of phone calls?”
    “About Son.”
    “What about Son?”
    “He went a little crazy after you left him, Gina. He wasn't always as discreet as a man in his position should be.”
    The idea that Son's equilibrium was thrown off by the way we parted was news to me. I was so surprised, I let her blatant misrepresentation of who left whom go unchallenged.
    “He had a string of brief relationships with women he never would have considered his equals if he had been in his right mind—”
    “And now they're calling you?” I said, cutting her off. The kinds of women Son might have had sex with on the rebound was of no interest to me.
    She cringed at my directness. “Several of them have, yes.”
    “Blackmail?”
    She nodded, her disappointment in this posthumous manifestation of her son's imperfection written across her face. “It's nerve-wracking, especially with the dedication and the tour coming up. Lord knows, black folks don't need another hero with feet of clay. Jesse Jackson ought to be the last!”
    Under the circumstances, Beth's indignation didn't quite ring true. “Your sponsors probably wouldn't like it either.”
    Her eyes hardened along with her smile. “I'm sure they wouldn't.”
    It all made sense to me now. “So you want me to go through his papers and make sure Son didn't leave any incriminating evidence lying around to mess up your deal?”
    I was being cruel, but I didn't care. She had been cruel to me, and now we were even.
    “You're as sharp as you ever were,” she said evenly. “I'm glad you haven't lost your edge.”
    “Why don't you do it yourself?”
    Then her face seemed to crumple in on itself. The tears that had been a promise earlier now came splashing down across her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away, and I had to resist the impulse to offer her a tissue.
    “Because I can't bear it,” she whispered. “I just can't bear to touch his things.”
    I felt sorry for her. However she had treated me, Son had been her life, and now he was gone. All of sudden, she was just one more grieving mother who had lost a son and wanted him remembered a little better than he actually was. That wasn't a crime. I swallowed hard and resisted the urge to embrace her. You have to understand that Beth was not only my employer for five years. She had been my mentor, my teacher, my friend, my shero. She was trying to shape and activate a constituency that had never felt or experienced its real power, and I had wanted so much to be a part of that.
    I know, I know! Sue me! I told you I was the child of movement people. It's in my blood and Beth gave me a place to focus all that energy. I had loved it until she changed up on me and started selling herself to the highest bidder. When I saw her urge an auditorium full of first-time black female voters to cast their ballots for a good ol' boy who still called his secretary “sweetie face,” I knew it was time to move on.
    But by that time, I was in love with Son, so I stayed, and I stayed too long. The worst thing a true believer can do is to stick around once the bloom is off the rose, and by the