It's Not All Downhill From Here

by Terry McMillan

  Somebody would sit me up and wipe my face with a moist washcloth, rub my hands and feet, and stick a spoon in my mouth. “Eat this, baby,” or put a cold glass or a warm cup against my lips and say, “Drink this, sweetheart.”

  Somebody brushed my hair.

  B. B. King refused to leave my side, lying on the throw rug at the foot of the bed except when he heard the side door open, which was when he tried to run to meet Carl. When he realized it wasn’t Carl, he just dropped to the floor and whimpered. He perked up when he saw me stand up and try to tighten the sash on my bathrobe, but I couldn’t do it yet. My fingers were swollen and numb. Somebody tall put their arms around my back and guided me to the bathroom. I closed my eyes and wished it was my husband. But it was Poochie. “Lean on me,” she said, and squeezed my right hand, which I felt tingle.

  “Thank you for coming, Poochie.”

  “Don’t you dare,” was what she said, as if I had offended her.

  It may have been the second or even the third day when I insisted on walking through the house just to see if I could. My friends and family had taken shifts and some slept in Jalecia’s old room. She wasn’t here. When I walked into the living room, my friends jumped up and parted like the sea and cupped my elbows to make sure I wouldn’t crumple. When I made it to the kitchen, which had not been my destination—I just needed to move—I saw all kinds of casseroles and bowls of fried chicken and a honey-baked ham and macaroni and cheese on the table, and all four burners had pots with steam bursting out of the tops of them. I saw squares of yellow cornbread and collard greens and sweet potatoes in chafing dishes. This was what was done, what we always did at wakes, but now I was the beneficiary. I did not have an appetite and didn’t really care if I ever ate again. I opened the refrigerator just to see if I could. There were two glass pitchers of lemonade and iced tea. My throat was dry but I was not thirsty. When I looked around, I wished this was my surprise party, and for a minute I wondered why Carl was late.

  It was another day or two before I could accept that my husband was not coming home, and that I had to get up, because I had to get up.

  * * *

  —

  I did not wear black to Carl’s “Celebration of Life” service. I wore the white dress he’d bought for my sixty-fifth birthday. He always said, “You need to show off those curves,” and I thought he would like it. I didn’t care if it was inappropriate. When I made it inside that large banquet room it felt like I was sleepwalking. My chest felt like an accordion being pumped, and my palms were sore and chalky from being squeezed so hard. I pretended this was a wedding reception or a large baby shower or a banquet Carl was being honored at, and that he was just late getting here since we had come in separate cars. The scent of all those damn flowers on the twenty-five tables and the pictures of him as a teenager on the football team, of us when we got married, of him when he was in the coast guard, just made me angry. He should’ve been here by now to see all these people who came to acknowledge how important he was to them. But Carl was not late. He was not coming to this “celebration” of his life. He was in a silver urn at home on our fireplace mantel.

  * * *

  —

  Sadie insisted on handing out the programs. I was grateful, although a lot of people had no idea who she was, so she just pretended to be a family member and introduced herself as such. Even Carl’s relatives believed her. I had given her a short Vivica Fox auburn wig she “just had to have” a few months ago, but with her beige skin and faded freckles it made her look like she was on fire. Sadie is afraid of makeup so it’s a good thing she’s basically pretty. She wore one of the many black suits she owns, but this one still had the tag on it. I managed to pull it off.

  There was too much black in this room. Not people but suits and dresses. Carl had friends of every shade and ethnicity, and they were all here. Ma insisted on leaving an empty seat next to me for Carl.

  “That seat is taken,” Lucky or Korynthia or Poochie would politely say for me.

  Odessa helped Ma sit in the chair directly on my left, and then patted my right shoulder and handed me a long white envelope.

  “This may be the wrong time, but don’t open it until you’re calm.”

  “Why does she need to be calm?” Ma asked.

  Odessa raked her fingers through her thick black pageboy and started pulling on the ends. “I just meant when things calm down. This is a lot to handle and I’m sorry I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to make it over more. It looks like I might be moving, but this is not the time or the place to talk about it. My heart goes out to you. Carl was a good man.”

  Everybody at the table just nodded.

  I rolled the envelope in my hands until it looked like a thick cigarette, knowing there was probably a check inside. Odessa’s timing was always bad, and today was no different. I had forgotten that I’d given her that black dress last year because it was too tight on me. I had to admit, she looked good in it.

  She sat to Ma’s left and kept her white handkerchief balled up in her hand and tried not to notice the liquor that was melting the ice in the light blue goblets at many of the tables, including ours. I was grateful she’d brought our mother, and that Ma’d insisted on coming. Ma said Carl was the only real son-in-law she had. Which was not true; she’d had two others from me and one from Odessa. But according to Odessa, Ma had said, “None of those others amounted to s-h-i-t so they don’t count.” Odessa, of course, couldn’t bring herself to say shit.

  “Why don’t they have valet parking here?” Ma had asked as soon as she sat down. “What kind of golf club is this anyway? Tiger wouldn’t play nine holes here, no doubt about it. Are they serving Hennessy at this Repasse?”

  “No alcohol for you, Ma,” Odessa said. “We’re here to say goodbye to Carl.”

  “A double shot wouldn’t stop me,” she said, and squeezed my hand. “All I can say is I’ll be glad when I die. To be honest, I thought I’d be dead by now but it seems to be taking forever.”

  I didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t think she meant it.

  I hadn’t seen Ma in real clothes in almost a year. She was wearing a navy blue suit with rhinestone buttons that hung off her, along with white gloves, but she also had on gold Nikes because Odessa had forgotten to retrieve her real shoes from the boxes stacked in the garage at Ma’s empty house. And even though she was sitting next to me, Ma clutched her silver pocketbook as though somebody might try to rob her.

  “Where is my grandson? I don’t see him,” she asked, looking around as if she was hoping to spot Jackson.

  “He’s in Japan with his family, Ma. He lives there with his Japanese wife and his daughters,” Odessa said.

  “Why don’t you show some respect, Odessa?” Ma asked, not expecting an answer. “Who cares if his wife is Japanese? Even I know everybody can love who they want to love, my Lord. Could you try not to be a racist today, Odessa? Please?”

  This almost made me smile.

  Odessa just took a sip of her water.

  “I had no idea Carl was friends with so many Mexicans!” Ma blurted out as she looked around the room filled with close to two hundred people. “Who in the heck are all these giant Negroes? Carl’s people? Two of them young boys over there definitely got the best of the family genes, because the rest of them are downright homely. Look at how many tables they’re taking up!”

  She thought this was funny.

  The truth was, the “giant Negroes” she was referring to were about twenty of Carl’s all-male first, second, and third cousins, and a few of their sons. They had taken a Greyhound from Flint because they were able to get a group rate, even though quite a few of them had never even met Carl. One of them, who looked so much like Carl it was scary, said, “We just wanted to get out of Flint for a quick minute to see what California is all about, and to show our respects, of course.” One of the younger
ones, who appeared to be a little slow, shocked me when he asked, “Why’d you have to burn him up?” I didn’t know how to answer that question in a way he would understand, so I just looked him in the eye and said, “Because it was what Carl wanted.”

  The entire clan was staying at a Motel 6, but they’d been piling into a single room and sleeping on the floor—including one person in the bathtub. When I realized that, I offered to pay for enough rooms so they could all at least have beds. They accepted my offer. Two of the younger ones said they were not planning to get back on that bus to Flint, and could they move into the newly renovated two-bedroom apartment down the hall from Cinnamon and Jonas? I found myself saying yes, I would give them three months to find a job that paid the rent or back to Flint they’d go.

  I was shocked but relieved when I saw Jalecia saunter through the doorway past Sadie without even acknowledging her, looking like she hadn’t slept in days. She was wearing a crinkly black gauze dress and black ankle boots I had bought her two years ago from Macy’s, and she had that now-dull diamond stud in her left nostril. Looking at her cobalt blue polish, it was obvious she was in need of a fill. She walked over to my table and said, “So sorry for your loss,” like people do on a TV series. I almost slapped her. Carl was more a father to her than her biological one. She managed to give me a stiff hug and her mildew-scented dreadlocks scratched my right cheek. It almost felt like she did that on purpose. Her breath smelled like mint, but it didn’t cover the stink of what I knew to be eighty proof.

  I don’t know why I wasn’t surprised when her aunt Peggy came sauntering in right behind her with a small package of Kleenex in her hand. She looked unhealthy, too, and her long, thick black braids had lint in them, but then again, it looked more like dandruff, which made her collar look like Swiss dots, even though her black dress was solid. She pretended like she was mourning somebody, but it wasn’t Carl. I let her hug me, but I didn’t hug her back because I didn’t know what made her think I needed her sympathy.

  This time last year I was in the backyard gardening when Peggy called and said, “Happy birthday, Loretha.”

  “Who is this?” I asked, since the number was blocked.

  “Peggy.”

  “Peggy who?”

  “Don’t try to act like you don’t remember me.”

  Even though I could already tell that Peggy Whoever was a complete bitch, I said, “Refresh my memory.”

  “I’m your first husband’s half sister, which would make me your daughter’s step-auntie, or something like that.”

  “I don’t remember meeting you.”

  I did. But it was years before and I disliked her then, too.

  “How’d you get my number, and who told you it was my birthday, and why should it matter to you?”

  “Well, that’s a mouthful. Jalecia gave it to me a few years ago, right before Antoine died, but I didn’t think it was worth telling you then.”

  I remember shoving my shovel deeper into the soft soil because I was suspicious. I figured Peggy must want something.

  “What is it you want?” I heard myself ask.

  “Wow. I heard you always had a streak. But to make a long story short, I just saw Jalecia a few days ago, and she told me you were having a birthday party and I would like to come.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Just to catch up.”

  “But what do we have to catch up about?”

  “Your daughter.”

  “Then, another time,” I said and hung up. Peggy hadn’t come to my sixty-seventh birthday party. But then, neither had Jalecia. I hadn’t heard from her again. Until now.

  I turned to my daughter.

  “So, Cinnamon’s going to sing.”

  “Yes, and maybe the baby she’s carrying will be as happy as I am about it.”

  I smiled at her but she didn’t smile back.

  “Well, I hope we can catch up soon, Jalecia.”

  “It’s your call,” was all she said, and walked away.

  They sat two tables over with Cinnamon, who was her daughter, after all, and Jonas, close to the makeshift stage. When Cinnamon begged me to let her sing a song for her grandpa Carl, I told her I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also let her know how thrilled I was when her grandpa told me she was pregnant. I did my best to sound convincing.

  “I wrote it just for him, Grandma. Because both of you have been so good to Jonas and me. He would love it.”

  I didn’t have the heart to say no.

  Korynthia, Lucky, and Poochie filled the seats to my right. They all wore simple black dresses.

  Cinnamon gave me a look as her mother sat down beside her. Was it time?

  I gave her a look back. It’s okay.

  Cinnamon stepped up to the mic and announced that she’d be singing a song she’d written just for Carl, which everybody thought was touching until she started singing something about him being in “a better place.” Everybody was trying to look as if what they were hearing was pleasant, but they kept looking down and turning their heads to the side, and after four-going-on-five minutes, their frozen smiles started to thaw. It wasn’t until Cinnamon put the microphone back into the stand and backed away that folks realized she had finished, which was when they started clapping. She didn’t sound good, but she didn’t sound half as bad as I thought she would. I could tell her mother was pleased as I watched her squeeze her daughter and kiss her on the cheek. Then Jalecia stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder and, as she headed toward the door, Peggy whispered something in Jalecia’s ear.

  “Well, at least she came,” Ma said.

  Everybody just hummed.

  When I saw Peggy sauntering over to me, I felt myself tensing up.

  “Hello, everybody. Loretha, I know this may not be the appropriate time, but do you have a minute?”

  “The testimonials are about to start. Is this something that can wait?”

  “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  So I got up and walked to the back of the room. She looked over at the door and I could see Jalecia standing with her back turned, waiting.

  “At first Jalecia said she wasn’t coming because you two have been on bad terms ever since you fired her from one of your beauty supply stores for something she didn’t do. But that’s between you two. Anyway, you should know she’s been living with people she probably shouldn’t be living with, and as you can see she doesn’t look so healthy. I just want you to know that I will do all I can to watch over her until you do. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  And she turned and walked toward the door.

  “Who was that?” Ma asked.

  “Jalecia’s ex-aunt. Antoine’s sister or something.”

  “Is something wrong?” Odessa asked.

  “No,” I said, and tried to change the worried look on my face back to grief.

  “Well, I thought Cinnamon sounded sincere,” was the best response I could muster. I waited for one of my friends to say something, but they all just nodded in agreement.

  After everyone gave their testimonials about how much Carl meant to them, Ma turned to me and said, “Remember, Loretha, I don’t want to be cremated. I’ve already got my favorite dress picked out, and by the way I’ve changed my mind about a wig. I want to show whatever hair I have left but I want to wear my mint green hat over it. They’re both in my pink suitcase in the garage at my house. Promise me.”

  “Okay, Ma. But this isn’t the time to talk about it.”

  “I don’t see why not. Try to see if you can get these same caterers when my time comes because this food was delicious and everything was just so classy.” She then leaned over and whispered, “I also want you to know I’ve changed my mind about moving back into my house. I’ve started to like being around folks my age. I’m leaving it to Odessa, but please don’t tell her
until after I kick the bucket because I don’t trust her. She might try to have me bumped off. But she can’t have my Corolla. This is all in my will.”

  I didn’t want to tell her we donated that Corolla right after we found it in the parking lot where she’d lost it, or remind her that Carl and I bought that house for her eighteen years ago, that it was still in our names, and that we had been planning to put it on the market to help defray the costs of her assisted living care.

  I did not give a speech at the “celebration” because I couldn’t. Besides, Carl knew I had celebrated his life every single day for the twenty-five years he was in mine.

  * * *

  —

  I did not change his pillowcase. I inhaled it for weeks. And when I couldn’t smell him anymore, I sprayed it with the cologne he always wore. I turned his pillow sideways and clutched it, hoping I might feel Carl’s heart beating again. But my arms went limp each time because he had disappeared and I knew that nothing I did was going to bring him back. I tried anyway. I dreamed more than once that this was all just a big misunderstanding. That he had just taken a vacation without me.

  I walked around the house in a daze, stopping to sit down at random. On the couch. In a kitchen chair. It was too quiet. I wanted to rewind this horrible movie. Back to the beginning. I let myself cry quietly and sometimes I’d just wail. I did not know what I was supposed to do without him.

  * * *

  —

  I put a CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE sign on the door of the Pasadena House of Beauty and I paid the two girls who’d been working there three months’ salary. They didn’t know how to run it without me. I did the same for the Los Angeles store even though I had been thinking about selling that one. It was too much work, and besides, I didn’t need the money.