Dinnertime was the worst. Eating alone. But I had a hard time at bedtime, too. Sleeping alone made me feel empty. I often fell asleep with the TV on and woke up to shows about glaciers and mountains and the sea and planets and forests on the BBC channel. Their beauty was like a lullaby. I didn’t know what to do with Carl’s toothbrush. I could not bring myself to throw it away. I hated walking into our walk-in closet and seeing his suits on their hangers. His size-thirteen shoes lined up like they were on a shelf in the Famous Footwear outlet. What to do with his socks? His underwear? I did not want to give up what he’d left behind.
This was just not fair. I wanted to die first! Carl was stronger than me. He knew how to handle loss. When his brother died in a head-on collision ten years ago, Carl ached, but he was more concerned with helping his brother’s wife and kids get through it. “You do what needs to be done when people need you to be strong, Lo.”
I’ve been trying to do what needs to be done, but I was not prepared for this hole Carl left in my heart, in my life. How in the world am I going to fill it? And with what? And where on earth do I go from here?
I have no idea.
* * *
—
About five years ago, Carl and I made a little show of “exchanging” our wills. He wanted to have a party to celebrate his life, rather than a depressing service. But his biggest demand was if he should go first, that I not spend the rest of my life mourning him, and that I not give up on finding love again. I had actually cracked up laughing while I was reading it. He didn’t think it was one bit funny.
“So, you mean to tell me that if I happen to leave this world first, you would really be thinking about how to find another woman to replace me?”
“Well, I’m not saying I’d be out looking, but I’d imagine it could get lonely, and having a dog around isn’t the same thing as having somebody to talk to and have dinner with.”
“But where in the world would you look?”
“You’re taking this too far, Lo, considering we’re both alive and kicking.”
“Answer the question, Billy Dee Williams.”
We both laughed, and I remember throwing a piece of French bread at him and missing. B. B. King—who still was very quick at the time—grabbed it in his mouth and took off. Carl was lucky I didn’t grab a handful of my delicious spaghetti and meatballs, or he’d have been covered in it!
“Not church, I hope. Those old biddies aren’t any fun and probably wouldn’t even let you kiss ’em,” I said.
He laughed. “They have dating sites now for seniors, you know.”
My eyes got big, and I was giving tossing that last meatball a lot more consideration.
“You mean you’ve already put some thought into this?”
“No, sweetie. But they advertise them on TV. I wouldn’t want you to sit around here all by yourself. I would like to know you’re still having fun.”
“Okay. Well, if I should happen to go first, would you please send me a text to let me know when you’ve found an adequate replacement?”
And then we both started laughing and I ate that meatball. I also asked if we could read mine another day because I didn’t want to spend the rest of the night thinking about dying. He agreed, and we downloaded Coming to America and watched it in each other’s arms.
* * *
—
Truth be told, I’m really pissed at Carl for keeping his high blood pressure a secret, because he lied when he said the pills he was taking were only for his arthritis. I know why he didn’t tell me. He didn’t want to scare me, or give me cause to worry, but I have since found out from his doctor that he could’ve and probably should’ve had surgery to fix the problem in his heart. But Carl was afraid he wouldn’t survive. If he was here, I would really like to kick his ass.
But I can’t.
I was pretending to watch Access Hollywood when the doorbell rang. B. B. King growled. He’s still grieving, too, and hunches down on all fours whenever I take out his leash. I gave up trying. He has put on weight. But he’s not the only one.
“Just a minute,” I tried to say in a friendly tone. But friendly people call first. When I looked through the glass, I was surprised to see Odessa. But rules of etiquette have never applied to her.
I opened the door and tried not to look suspicious even though I was. Odessa has never subscribed to our mother’s advice that “the only place you should look bad is at home.” She dresses like a lumberjack, always in plaid shirts and black leggings, no matter how hot it is. She seems to be afraid of lipstick and only wears gloss, but she hadn’t even bothered with that today. Her lips were dull.
“Why haven’t you deposited that check?”
“What check?” I asked, and then immediately remembered she had given me an envelope at Carl’s celebration, which I realized in that moment was now almost two months ago.
“How about a ‘Hello, Sis? How are you doing?’ And ‘Sorry I didn’t call first.’ ”
She stormed right past me, flopped down on the sofa, crossed her legs, and rocked her right foot up and down. She didn’t have socks on in those New Balance sneakers.
“I’m sorry. How’ve you been doing, Lo?”
“Not great.”
“Well, it’s to be expected. They say grief takes as long as it takes. And I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I’m glad you didn’t deposit the check yet.”
I went into my bedroom and opened both closet doors. When I reached up to a top shelf to grab the black clutch, my elbow accidentally knocked one of Carl’s sports jackets off its hanger and onto his black loafers. I looked down at it and then my eyes zigzagged back and forth toward the rows of his other shoes and then back up at all of his dress shirts on the left and then over to his favorite five suits and—
“You can’t find it?” a female voice yelled.
Find what? I looked toward the door because for a moment I didn’t know who it was or what she was asking me. And then I did.
“I found it,” I said.
I picked up Carl’s sports jacket and laid it flat across the bed. Then I wrapped my arms around his suits and pulled them out and placed them gently on the bed. When I looked at the shoes and shirts, I realized this was not the time. But it was time for me to pack his personal belongings. He wouldn’t need them anymore.
I opened the purse and saw the white envelope Odessa had given me, rolled up like a straw. I took it out and walked back into the living room, where she had helped herself to a Pepsi. “Here it is.”
“Why didn’t you deposit it? You didn’t think it was good?”
“I just forgot. There was a lot going on, if you remember correctly.”
“Don’t deposit it.”
“Why not?”
“Because something else has come up.”
“I’m not even going to ask.”
“I borrowed against my house a while back and I owe the bank a lot of money. More than I owe you. Anyway, how’ve you been holding up?”
I’d already told her I was not great, so I didn’t bother to respond. But then I heard myself say, “I’m thinking about selling both my stores and retiring.”
“To do what?”
“I said I was thinking about it.”
“You know, it’s not smart to make rash decisions when you’re grieving.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“They say you should give yourself at least a year.”
“Well, I’ve closed both, at least temporarily, but I’m serious about selling the L.A. one at least.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t make any sense to keep it. I don’t need the money or the hassle and I’m too damn old. And plus, I’m just tired.”
“Well, we all grieve our own way.”
“I suppose I’ll know when the day comes that I�
�m not consumed by sadness. But right now, it feels like a wound that’s never going to heal.”
“Come to my church. The Lord can help you mend faster.”
“Don’t start with me today, Odessa.”
“Fine, do it the hard way, then. Not to bring up a sore subject, but how close was Carl to finishing up the renovations on Ma’s house?”
“It’s not Ma’s house. Carl and…I own it.”
“But she told me I could have it.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“At the Repasse!”
“She said she wasn’t going to say anything to you! Look, Odessa, can we talk about this another time? I’m not in the mood.”
“I want the house.”
Just then I heard B. B. King at the back door, whining to be let in. When he saw Odessa, he started growling. He has never cared for her.
“That dog is going to outlive all of us.”
“Let me say this clearly. I have tried to be nice to you, Odessa, because you’re my sister. I have bailed your ass out every time you get in financial trouble, which seems to be some kind of ongoing illness you have, but I am not the cure. I don’t know why you think I owe you something just because you’re my sister, but guess what? I’m not your keeper and how I make money is my business. You can’t have Ma’s house because it’s not hers to give.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“You drive a 530i BMW and every time I look around you’re at Nordstrom or headed to Cabo. You’re too old to be living hand to mouth, Odessa, and I’m tired of you thinking me or Ma should fix things for you.”
“This is why nobody likes you.”
B. B. King growled at her.
“Don’t twist this around on me, Odessa. I have a basketball team’s worth of close friends who will do anything in the world for me. How about you?”
“I have a lot of friends.”
“Then why don’t you ever call them to help you out when you mismanage your damn money?”
“I don’t mismanage. I can no longer afford my lifestyle. Which happens to a lot of people when they get old. You need to learn how to express yourself without cursing.”
“You’re a shopaholic. And you’re a hoarder. You buy stuff you don’t need, don’t use, and don’t even wear.”
And then she started crying, but B. B. King was not moved because he growled at her again.
“Stop it, B.B.,” I said, and he dropped to the floor and put his chin on his front paws to watch what I could tell even he knew was a bad soap opera.
“I’m sorry. That was mean,” I said. I didn’t want to, but I walked over and hugged her. She felt limp, pitiful, so I squeezed her harder.
“I do a lot of things butt-backwards,” she said. “But I’m trying to get better. Maybe if you just let me move into Ma’s house for a year or two I could pay off my bills and get out of debt. I promise I’ll take good care of the house.”
“Why do you need a three-bedroom house to live in by yourself, Odessa?”
“I have a lot of furniture.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“We should keep it in the family, Loretha.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?” I heard myself blurt out, and regretted it right after I said it.
“How long before it’s ready?”
“I haven’t exactly been focused on finding someone to oversee the rest of the renovations yet, Odessa.”
She stared at me blankly.
“Go home, Odessa.”
“That’s what I’m hoping you can help me do one day soon.”
As she headed toward the door, B. B. King growled at her a final time.
“He’s probably going to be next to go.”
And she walked out the door, proving once again that just because someone is family doesn’t mean you have to like them.
* * *
—
Even though it’s been three months since Carl has been gone, I have not had the strength to start thinking about doing any of the things he’d promised my girlfriends I would. To their credit, they haven’t been harassing me about it.
We’re here for you, is what they say in our group text. Whatever we can do, we’ll do. Just let us know when you’re ready to let us help you smile.
I don’t know what I’d do without them.
* * *
—
“I’m glad you agreed to walk with me,” Korynthia said.
“I need to do something, but you know I cannot walk around the entire Rose Bowl, Korynthia.”
“You don’t know that, now do you, Lo?”
“No, but cut me some slack. I said yes. My bones are rusty and my muscles have atrophied. Look at you and look at me.”
She just shrugged her shoulders.
“I just wanted to get you out of the house, Lo. Away from everything and everybody—including B. B. King.”
This of course made me laugh. He wanted to come but I shut him in the backyard on the side of the pool under the one shade tree we have. He looked at me like he was being abandoned. His water bowl was full but when he saw the two small Milk-Bones I had given him since I was now limiting his snacks, I swear he rolled his eyes at me.
“You’re more out of shape than me, Mr. King, and we both need to snap out of these blues. Carl would want us to. Now, I’m going to walk at least one-quarter of the Rose Bowl with your aunt Korynthia, who I’m sure sends her love. Bye.”
He looked like he wanted to bark at me but changed his mind. Probably because he knew dinner would be more of the same if he dared.
“So,” Korynthia said while bending over and stretching those long black legs that do not look like they are sixty-eight years old. “I have some good news.”
“I would love to hear some good news, Ko.”
“I finally passed the real estate exam.”
“Really?” I said, since this made her third or fourth attempt, but then I cleaned it up. “Congratulations! So you’re going to be selling houses?”
“I want to fix them up and flip them. C’mon, let’s move.”
“You know, I’m now the owner of a construction company.”
“So, what are you going to do with it?”
“I haven’t thought about it. I’m not at all interested in operating a construction company. I really think Carl just wanted to make sure I was financially solvent should something happen to him.”
“Carl was not just a good man, but a smart one. I can’t even begin to imagine anybody thinking that far ahead about me.”
“I think he would want me to sell it so it wouldn’t be a burden.”
“So sell it.”
“I can’t walk fast,” I warned.
“I’m not expecting you to.”
We huffed forward silently for the next five or six minutes.
“So how are you feeling, Lo, even though that’s probably a silly question?”
“No, it’s not. Like this is all a bad dream and I’m just waiting to wake up.”
“That’s normal. I felt like that when my mama passed. You remember that. We were in ninth grade.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I didn’t talk for two weeks.”
“Because you couldn’t?”
“Because I was pissed at her for taking all those pills and leaving us kids to pick up the pieces.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked up at all the houses peeking out through a forest of all kinds of trees. One of them was where Lucky lived. When Korynthia’s mother died, none of us had ever known a black person who had taken their own life. We’d thought only white people committed suicide and that was only because we had seen so much of it on television.
“I don’t think your mama did that to
hurt you or your brothers, Ko.”
“I know that now. But back then I didn’t. Aren’t you pissed at Carl for dying?”
She stopped and turned to look me in the eye, forcing at least ten people to walk around us.
“Yes, I am. Not deep in my heart. But I wish he hadn’t felt the need to keep his health issues a secret.”
“What about you, Lo? Have you been taking care of yourself? I know the answer is no, which is why I asked you to come out here and walk with me.”
“My heart hurts, Ko, and I wonder: if it stops hurting, will that mean I’m forgetting about Carl?”
“Of course not,” she said and grabbed me by the hand and started moving again.
We walked for ten or fifteen minutes without saying a word.
“So. When are you thinking about getting back to your businesses? I still want to work at the shop part-time.”
“I’ve been thinking about retiring.”
“Don’t. You’ll be bored out of your mind, Lo. Plus, it’s not good to make big decisions when you’re blue. But maybe closing the L.A. store is a good compromise. It makes sense at this stage in your life.”
“You mean old.”
“We’re senior fucking citizens. Forgive me for swearing—no, don’t. Lighten your load, girl.”
“You must be reading my mind.”
“But please sell it to somebody black. Make Madam C. J. Walker proud. You heard from Jalecia lately?”
“No. And I’ve reached out quite a few times.”
“Keep on her, Lo. All of us worry about her. We all agree that she probably needs to go to AA or maybe even one of those rehab places.”
“She won’t return my calls.”
“Like I just said. Bug the shit out of her until she does.”
“How’s Bird?”
“Well, let me put it this way. He’s my oldest son but I don’t trust him. He lies about everything, including the variety of drugs he’s on. And he’s selfish as hell, a lot like Jalecia, actually. All he cares about is himself.”
“How old is he now?”
It's Not All Downhill From Here Page 5
