“Come on, baby, don’t be like this. Let’s you and me just talk like civil people, okay?”
Otis went on packing. The suitcase lying open on the bed swallowed his belongings as the sense of panic boiling in Billie’s gut bubbled. She’d seen him put his church clothes in there; a man didn’t need church clothes just to go spend the night on his mama’s couch. Otis had a mind to stay gone.
She stood by the dresser wringing her hands. “Baby, I’m sorry, okay? It was just a little glass! It didn’t even hit you! I would never hurt you, you know that!”
The suitcase ate its fill. Otis slammed it shut and flipped the latches, snatching it off the bed so fast Billie feared he’d throw out his back again. He clutched the handle in his right hand while his left curled into a fist at his side. He moved his lips as if to say something, then shook his head and charged forward with such power that Billie found herself swept aside and pinned against the dresser. He passed through the doorframe and stormed down the hall, his gait hobbled by the weight of the suitcase. Billie peeled herself off the dresser and went after him. “Baby…”
He whirled around, pointing an index finger like a gun. “Get thee behind me, Satan!”
She stopped as dead as if he’d shot her. Her lips drew together tightly. “You been talking to that whore again!”
“Say what you want,” he said. His voice had gone hoarse from the shouting earlier and he spoke now almost in a whisper. In the darkness of the hallway Billie could barely make out his eyes, big as dinner plates, staring at her with a mixture of anger and fear. “You know the truth. You got the demon in you.”
“The demon?” She clutched at her hair. Not this mess again, please! “Otis, that woman is a false prophet! False!”
“Oh, she for real, Billie. She for real.” He turned back around and started for the living room.
Billie hurried after him. If she let him get to the living room he’d get to the front door, and if he got there he’d get to the porch, and if he got there he’d get to the yard and his truck. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he got to his truck.
“Otis, stop and think! What kind of prophet of God is gonna come between a man and his wife? What kind of prophet of God is gonna do the things she been doing with you? That’s the devil!”
The hallway ended and Otis steamed into the living room. The waning rays of the sun glinted off shards of glass on the kitchen floor. “What do I got to do?” Billie cried. “What do I got to do to show you what a liar she is? Otis, I love you!”
He opened the front door but threw a look her way over his shoulder. For the first time, she noticed his hands were shaking. “Lies!” he hissed. “You don’t even know how much you lying, you had the demon in you so long!” His eyes watered. “And I’m through. I can’t take this no more. I done all I can do. You change your mind and want to beat this thing, you go see Nell. I’m out.”
“Baby…”
He laid a hand on the doorknob. “Don’t follow me. You follow me, I ain’t responsible for what I do.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
Billie remained in the living room, supported by a pair of knees that wobbled and shook, her unblinking eyes staring at the space Otis’s body had occupied only seconds before. Her stomach spasmed, pummeled by the fist of an enemy she couldn’t touch or fight. She stayed there in the dead silence for quite some time as the shadows on the carpet grew longer and the lake of lemonade and shards from a glass she didn’t remember smashing dried to a sticky mess on the kitchen floor.
