Maybe You Never Cry Again by Bernie Mac

there, staring at me hard. “Bernard Mac,” she said. “What are you trying to tell me?”
    â€œI’m telling you I want to marry you, woman.”
    Rhonda jumped in the air, screaming. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” She threw herself into my arms and was bouncing so hard we both about fell off the couch.
    Her mother came running out to see about the ruckus. “Lordy, Lordy! What’s happenin’ out here? What’s all the hollerin’ about?”
    And Rhonda said, “Bernard proposed to me! Bernard just proposed to me!”
    And her mother said, “I hope you said yes, girl!”
    And Rhonda said, “I sure did!”
    Got so loud in that house! We were all of us jumping up and down now, screaming and hugging.
    â€œWhen you gonna do it?” her mother asked.
    And I said, “Now. Soon. Before the baby’s born. I want us together. I want us to be a family.”
    And her mother said, “Why don’t you do it on my birthday?” And Rhonda and I looked at each other. And that’s what we did.
    That mother of hers! Still in total control.

“BUT HEY, WE HAD EACH OTHER. WHY CRANK AND MOAN?”
06
MAC DADDY
    Marriage! A child on the way! Life was about to change in a big way, and I had to make some changes myself. I went over to see my grandfather. “Grandpa,” I said, “I’m getting married. I’m not going to work in no scrap yard fourteen hours a day.”
    My grandfather was still working for General Motors, but he was gettin’ on and was almost ready to retire. He knew what I was saying.
    Next day, he went over to the personnel office and talked to them, and he must have said the right thing because they asked me to come in for a physical.
    I went. They didn’t say much during the physical, but when they got done they told me, “You start tonight.”
    Shit. My grandfather was connected. Old man had power.
    I went over to Rhonda’s and didn’t say a word. Acted regular. I remember I was on the night shift at the time, at the yard, because at around three o’clock she notices it’s getting on and she jumps up and says, “Bernard, look at the time! You’re going to be late for work.”
    I just looked at her and smiled. “We gettin’ married, girl. I’m not working at no scrap yard.”
    â€œWhat? You quit?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œLord, Bernard. What you gonna do?”
    â€œI got me a job at GM, and I start tonight. But I don’t start till four-thirty.”
    Well, that girl just melted! “Blue Cross/Blue Shield!” Those were the things that mattered. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. “This is the kind of man I want to marry!”
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    We were married on Saturday, September 17, 1977: Rhonda’s mother’s birthday. Had a church wedding, with a big reception at a motel on 63rd and King Drive. There were more than two hundred people there, and I was walking around in a daze. I kept thinking, Wow, I’m married. I’m a month shy of twentyyears old and I’m married and I got a kid on the way. I can’t believe it.
    Rhonda looked beautiful. She was wearing that smile of hers—the one that sends my temperature shooting up—and I was a happy man.
    I had found us a little place on 80th and Champlain, and we got back there and walked through that door as man and wife. It was a magical time. The future looked bright. Rhonda was going to nursing school. We had our baby coming. And I had a good job.
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    The GM factory was at 103rd, off Cottage Grove, and they made locomotives. But I didn’t have anything to do with that part of it. I worked with my grandfather, cleaning the personnel building. He was in charge of the whole building, and he took his work very seriously. He was good at it, too. He taught me how to mop and buff a floor and how to keep the water off the baseboards. He taught me how to