It's Not All Downhill From Here

by Terry McMillan

  But she wasn’t there.

  The attendant had no record of her checking in.

  I was angry but mostly scared.

  I dialed her back but it went straight to voicemail. On my third call I left a message.

  “Hi, Jalecia. This is Mom. I’m at the shelter but you aren’t standing outside like you said you’d be. I even went inside and they didn’t have a record of your being there but I’ll just wait here a little longer because maybe you’ll be here soon. I’m praying you’re okay. Please call me. I’m worried about you. Love you.”

  And then I just sat there for ten or fifteen or twenty minutes hoping she would call me and that maybe she was just around the corner, or upstairs asleep and had used a fake name. Maybe she was in the ER, but if so, which one? And what would her emergency be? I called the closest ER but they weren’t allowed to give out that information, so I just sat there and worried and waited.

  Then I called Peggy.

  “I haven’t heard from her. She’s probably somewhere trying to sober up. Just wait a little longer.”

  “She said you kicked her out.”

  “It wasn’t the first time. When she gets out of control she has to go.”

  “Are you trying to help her or not, Peggy?”

  “Look, I’m her aunt and she can trust me, but she’s got issues and I’ve got rules. I’m doing all I can to keep her healthy but I’m no psychiatrist.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think there might be more to her drinking than she lets on. Jalecia is smarter than you might realize, but something is making her crave self-destruction.”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, but rather than piss her off I just said, “When and if she decides to stop drinking, maybe she’ll be her smart, witty self again.”

  “If only,” she said. “God, she reminds me so much of Antoine, and myself of course. I’ve been where she’s headed and I’ve just been trying to stop her from going there.”

  And she hung up.

  I still wasn’t ready to leave. I believed Jalecia might be in there or on her way. So I decided to wait.

  I didn’t realize how hard I had been gripping the steering wheel until I let go of it. I was trying to figure out what to do. I was also trying not to cry, but then I cried. Where could she possibly be? And did she lie? I wondered if I should call the police. But what would I tell them? That my forty-one-year-old daughter is missing? I was starting to wonder if she’d done this on purpose, just to upset me. I never knew what I did that made her think I was her enemy instead of her advocate. Except say no to her. But I said no to Jackson, too, and he respected my authority. Jalecia resented it.

  I looked around and there were homeless people asleep in a park across the street, some lying on the grass, some on top of a royal blue tarp, and some rolled up in dirty blankets. Quite a few had dogs with them. I watched cigarette smoke swirl into the air and disappear. Grocery carts overflowed with possessions. I pretended I wasn’t looking for my daughter, even though that was exactly what I was doing. But I didn’t see anyone who looked like her.

  I wondered if her being so lost in life was my fault. I had tried to be a good mother to her and Jackson. All I ever wanted to do was make them both proud that I was their mother. I always wanted to make everybody proud. That was why I spent four years in college, and that was fifty years ago, when black girls weren’t getting degrees in business. But I wanted to work for myself. I wanted to be a modern Madam C. J. Walker. But being ambitious can backfire when you’re black, a woman, and a mother.

  Maybe I should’ve been there more. Maybe I shouldn’t have used the money my absent father had left me to open my beauty supply store. And maybe I shouldn’t have married Jalecia’s father because he was in love with drugs and alcohol. And maybe I shouldn’t have married Jackson’s father who turned out not to be crazy about the truth. I can’t even remember why I said yes, except that I was pregnant and he wanted to marry me. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Jalecia quit singing or stop playing the piano, even though she lost interest when she got pregnant in her senior year. Her brother went to art school and she resented him for loving what he did and being good at it. Maybe I should have been a better referee. I always felt split because I loved them both.

  The parking meter clicked Expired but I did not get out of the car to add more money even though I didn’t want to go home yet.

  I called Cinnamon.

  “Have you heard from your mom?”

  “Yes. She was drunk but she said she loved me and the twins and you and that she was sorry for always disappointing us. She said she is tired of not being a good mother and daughter and that she is going to clean up her act, and not to worry if we don’t hear from her for a while because she’s going somewhere safe to dry out.”

  I pressed the palm of my hand against my chest because this was the first time I’d ever known Jalecia to admit that she cared about my feelings. It didn’t matter that I had to hear it secondhand. Some emotions are hard to express, and maybe my daughter had to go through hell to get to higher ground. I just wished I knew what demon she was struggling with. But maybe she didn’t know yet either.

  “Do you really think she’s somewhere safe drying out, Cinna?”

  “I hope so, Grandma. I give her credit for reaching out and for saying what she did. I’m going to try not to worry. Even though she was drunk, she seemed steely. Love you.”

  I said the same and hit End.

  I sat there until a police officer pulled up beside me. Before he could write me a ticket, I started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

  * * *

  —

  I didn’t want to go home.

  I turned the headlights on and drove straight to Sadie’s new church because I knew it was Tuesday and she had choir practice.

  I felt like praying.

  Her new church was old. It used to be a movie theater. The front had dull blue-green columns and the windows needed to be washed. It was another nondenominational church. When I pulled into the parking lot, I wondered how I would explain what I was doing there. I would tell Sadie the truth. She liked honesty, except when it came to herself.

  But as soon as I put my Volvo in Park, I changed my mind because Sadie was not the one I needed to talk to, which was why I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and wove my fingers together.

  “Dear God, first of all, please forgive me for not going to church on a regular basis, well, for years, even though you already know that. But I also hope you know how much respect I have for you and all that you’ve done for me, especially helping me learn how to live without my husband. It has not been easy. I still believe in your power and, right now, I’m just asking if you would give some relief and strength and courage to my daughter. I’m not asking you to fix her problems because I know you’re not a magician, but it would be our little secret and I promise to do my best to be a better mother. My daughter needs more than my help. She needs yours, too. Thank you. And Amen.”

  As I slowly lifted my head I heard a tapping on the window. Wow! That was quick!

  “Girl, what are you doing here? Why are you sitting in your car in the dark with the lights off? You okay? Roll the window down!”

  And I did. At first I was embarrassed and then I wasn’t.

  “I was coming to see you, Sadie.”

  “I find that hard to believe. This is about Jalecia, isn’t it? I can just tell.”

  I nodded my head slowly.

  “Well, God will hear you. You feel like stopping by my apartment? I’ll make you some hot tea.”

  “Is the minister there?”

  “No, he is not.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I evicted him.”

  “You did? For real? Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “I bust
ed him talking to his wife and I told him he should go back to her.”

  “Good for you, Sadie. Really, I mean it. So, did he go back?”

  “Nope. She didn’t want him back. She changed the locks and filed for divorce.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I called her to apologize for what I had done, and she told me I wasn’t the first but I was the last. She said as women we need to stop blaming each other when it’s really men who are weak.”

  “And you thought she was your enemy,” I said.

  “The problem was I never thought about her at all, enemy or otherwise.”

  “Well, Sadie, I just have to say how proud I am that you finally showed some self-respect. Where’d you get the courage?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “What all of us committed to in Las Vegas was just what I needed to hear. You said what I already knew to be true. That it is still important to keep improving our lives, even at our age, and we should treat ourselves better and stop acting like our best years are behind us.”

  “Amen,” was all I could say to that.

  “What are you doing, Lo?” Korynthia asked after I picked up the phone.

  “Watching TV.”

  “What are you watching?”

  “How to lift saggy skin.”

  “What channel is it on?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I pulled the covers off and pressed Pause on a woman who had wings.

  “What’s wrong, Ko?”

  “Poochie didn’t call you yet?”

  “No, why? Is it her mother? She’s gone, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. Her message said she passed yesterday evening.”

  “Yesterday? Did you speak to her?”

  “Of course I did. She sounded okay but still, it’s her mama. Doesn’t matter how old she was.”

  I lifted the comforter up with both feet and swirled it to the side.

  “I think mentally she was prepared, but it’s still devastating when it happens.”

  “Because we only get one mother.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Poochie’s already done it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She already had her cremated and is going to spread her ashes out in the desert.”

  “What? No service?”

  “Poochie respected her wishes.”

  “So, what’s Poochie going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. Before we left she told me she didn’t want to stay in Las Vegas after her mama passed but, you know, she’s got her surgeries to schedule, so we’ll see.”

  “She hasn’t scheduled them yet?”

  “I don’t know if she ever really intends to do them. The recovery time is supposed to be six to eight weeks for each one and she already booked the cruise for May and that money is nonrefundable unless one of us dies, so we have to go. That being said, Poochie doesn’t want to be there all by herself.”

  “You think she could come here to have her surgeries? I don’t know how this stuff works, Ko. Her doctors are there, but she could find new ones, right? We’re her family. We could take care of her.”

  “I’ll call her as soon as I hang up. In fact, I think I’ll just drive back up there to see her. No, I won’t. I’ll fly. That way I can be there in two hours. You want to come?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Jalecia is missing.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since Tuesday.”

  “Is Peggy sleeping on her responsibilities?”

  “She’s not responsible for Jalecia, Ko. But she’s been acting as her caregiver. She said she’d let me know as soon as she heard from her.”

  “Do you really trust that bitch?”

  “I’ll put it this way: technically, she’s the only lifeline besides Cinnamon that I have to my daughter, and I believe Jalecia’s well-being and safety are Peggy’s primary concerns.”

  “I don’t trust her ass. I mean, the first time we saw her in years was at Carl’s Repasse. Where the hell has she been all these years?”

  “How should I know? But until I can figure out how to get Jalecia to trust me enough to get her some help, I just have to deal with Peggy.”

  “I think Jalecia needs to see a shrink. I wish Bird had been able to talk to one. Maybe he could’ve gotten help sooner.”

  “Black folks don’t go to shrinks,” I heard myself say.

  “That’s such an outdated stereotype, Loretha. How else are you supposed to figure out the shit that confuses you?”

  “Pray,” I surprised myself by saying.

  “Well, God is not a doctor.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “I’m not going to bother calling Poochie back. I’m just going to get on the plane first thing in the morning. Oh, by the way, I think I may have found the perfect spot for the House. There might be a snag or two, but location and square footage are perfect and it’s a steal. I’ll send you the link and you can tell me what you think. You might have to use a little imagination. I’ll let you know when I land.”

  I texted Poochie my condolences and turned off the TV. I didn’t want to watch any more about other women’s sagging skin. I had my own to pull at, and it covered almost every inch of my body.

  * * *

  —

  In the morning I left Poochie a message, but when she didn’t return my call, I sent her a longer text and told her that if there was anything I, or any of us, could do to help her get through this, to just let us know. I also told her that Korynthia should be landing by the time she read this. Within minutes she texted me back and said she was grateful to hear from me, and Ko had just reached out. She said she would call me as soon as she figured out what to do next.

  * * *

  —

  I thought the address the agent gave me had sounded familiar, so when I drove down Fair Oaks Avenue I knew exactly what building I was going to see. It used to be a boutique I shopped at back in the day, but five or six years ago the owner just up and moved to Lake Tahoe. It’s been empty ever since. No one else in our posse ever shopped there because the clothing and jewelry and even the shoes were too funky for them, but I never wanted to look like what I was wearing came from a department store, so it suited me just fine.

  Pasadena is old. And a lot of the shops and storefronts—especially in Old Town—have been restored to preserve the art deco charm from the early 1900s. This building was three miles from there but had the same charm. The shop was foam green stucco, and pale pink bald eagles with gold heads were perched on both sides. The doorframe was dark oak and the beveled glass was so thick I wouldn’t have to worry it would break if someone slammed it.

  I cupped my palms on the sides of my eyes to block out the glare and saw what was missing. Everything. I remembered the long wooden case with the glass fronts where all the imported and handmade jewelry had been displayed. The owner was a beautiful woman with thick silver braids that went down to the middle of her back and the most sincere smile ever. She would hang all of my must-have items on a rack to give me time to change my mind. She didn’t push. To the immediate right had been a wall of shoes and boots and sandals that looked like an art installation by designers you would never find in Macy’s. And farther in, one step up, was another large room where they’d sold gorgeous velvet and silk nightgowns and pajamas that would make you feel like a movie star from the thirties and forties. Carl loved seeing me in everything I bought from here. “Try it on for me, baby,” he would always say. And I would. And I’d feel sexy and glamorous and beautiful.

  As it turned out, the building was not for lease. It was for sale, which was probably why it had been on the market for so long. That beautiful owner ha
d passed away not long after she had moved to Lake Tahoe and apparently her children had fought over the building all these years and then finally decided to sell it.

  With no racks of clothes to hide the cracks in the plaster and parts of the ceiling, floors, and walls, I realized this place would need to be restored. I didn’t know whether it would be worth it.

  I would wait until Ko got back. Maybe she could help me decide what I knew I had already decided. Spend the money, she’d say. Take the time to turn this into the coolest beauty supply in town. I’d find someone who knew how to design the store specifically for beauty products, so it would be more interesting than a generic Sephora, and because it was three times the size of the old House, I could also hire legitimate makeup artists who could do before-and-afters and styling appointments for graduations or weddings or any special occasion like they did at Nordstrom. The difference is, we would offer hand and foot massages, good wine, espresso, and sparkling water, and if Kwame was back by the opening, maybe he could make me some new playlists.

  * * *

  —

  “I’m probably next,” Ma said. “Death can sneak up on you. Sometimes you don’t know you’re sick until you just die.”

  “Come on, Ma, don’t say that.”

  She was sitting there in her gliding chair with knitting needles and orange yarn, but it didn’t look like she was having much success.

  “What is that you’re making, Ma?”

  She just looked at me. “What does it look like I’m making?”

  “I couldn’t say. Maybe it’s too early to tell.”

  “I have no idea what it is. I just started taking a knitting class.”

  “Is this why I haven’t gotten any notes or anything from you in a minute?”

  “I suppose. I got bored doing it and, plus, I made a big mistake and lent my friend some of my stamps, but she passed before she could pay me back.”

  “Well, I do miss them. And, look,” I said, and pulled out two sheets of stamps.

  She dropped her needles in her lap. She was wearing the exact same outfit she had on the last two times I was here. Pink sweats. Pink sneakers.