It's Not All Downhill From Here

by Terry McMillan

  “Don’t you think there’s a reason for it?”

  “Of course there is, but I don’t think you’re qualified to diagnose her. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I need to see my daughter, Peggy.”

  “She’s not quite ready to see you because she knows it’s going to be a confrontation. Just do this, Loretha. Give her a minute to get her head on straight. Now that she’s got insurance, I can try to coax her into talking to somebody. Would you just let me try?”

  “Okay. But, Peggy, promise me you’ll let me know what she decides?”

  “Of course I will. She’s in good hands. I promise you that.”

  I believed her.

  Because I had to.

  “You know, she’s also got other needs that I don’t have the financial means to see to, so, if you could put another couple hundred dollars into my account, I would really appreciate it. Jalecia may be suffering but not when it comes to her appetite.”

  They’ve started to recognize me at Western Union.

  * * *

  —

  “Did you finally get a housekeeper?” I yelled to Lucky because I thought I was in the wrong house. It was spotless. As usual, I was the first to arrive, but it was because I wanted to be helpful. Not really, I was just being nosy and wanted to see what mood Lucky was in. When she heard me, she came from down the hall in a pretty purple paisley muumuu. I couldn’t believe she had on makeup and somebody had improved her perm. She also wore orange earrings that dangled and matched some of the orange swirls in her dress. If I wasn’t mistaken, Lucky even had on some kind of perfume.

  “Hey, you,” she said in a tone I hadn’t heard in years. It was nice. “No, I didn’t get a housekeeper. I got three. They come in here and in one hour they’re out the front door. It took me long enough.”

  “So, what brought this on, Lucky? You couldn’t come up with yet another lame-ass excuse as to why we couldn’t have dinner here?”

  “Yes and no. I was just tired of living in a pigpen. And Joe said something to me about it one night.”

  “What?”

  “Honestly, he said he didn’t understand what was happening to me. No. What has happened to me. He said I used to care how I looked. I used to be sweet. Do you remember when I was ever sweet, Lo?”

  “No, but I wasn’t having sex with you.”

  “Oh, shut up and let me finish because I don’t want to talk about this at dinner. Anyway, so then he said that both of us needed to lose weight because we shouldn’t be the cause of our own deaths, and then he said he really didn’t want a divorce. He just wanted us to be nice to each other again and he was lonely sleeping in the guesthouse.”

  “I love hearing this, Lucky! I love Joe. We all love Joe. Why wouldn’t you want to share this with everybody?”

  “Because instead of talking about what I want to do, I want to do it first and then you all will respect me more. I have been a mean bitch for too long and I don’t even like myself. I don’t know how you guys have tolerated me all these years.”

  “Because we love you, that’s why. We know you don’t mean to be a bitch, but you’re our bitch. Did you go to Sadie’s new church or something?”

  “No. Do you remember that TV show called Scared Straight!?”

  “Carl used to watch it.”

  “Well, my weight and losing a man I’ve loved for more than forty-five years has scared the hell out of me. I’m going to be seventy fucking years old this year, Lo.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” Korynthia said.

  “Three,” Sadie said.

  “How much did you guys hear?” Lucky asked.

  “Everything we needed to.”

  And they rushed over and hugged Lucky.

  “So, did you guys carpool?”

  “No,” Korynthia said. “We Ubered. Poochie should probably be here soon, too. She used to be the first one here, back in the day.”

  “So,” Sadie said, walking over to the picture windows and looking at all the lit-up homes sprinkled throughout the hills. It was truly magical to see, especially now that Lucky actually had the shades up. “What are we having that smells so good, and are there any appetizers?”

  “I’m keeping it simple. We’re having marinated rib-eyes, steamed brown rice, no bread, a salad with oil and vinegar, and sparkling water for me and Loretha, right, Lo?”

  “Hell yeah!”

  “And for dessert?” Sadie asked suspiciously.

  “Fruit salad. Take it or leave it.”

  “Did you have a few hits before we got here?” Korynthia asked.

  “No. I’m tired of living in a goddamn fog. I want to know how to think on my own again. I want to feel whatever I feel and see what I see clearly. Plus, I’m tired of it stinking up the entire fucking house. I want Joe to move back in and we want to get a dog and I just want to live better.”

  “I concur,” Sadie said. “But can we try for a change to start cutting back on the profanity, just a little bit?”

  “No,” Lucky said. “Sometimes there’s no other fucking word that will do.”

  And we all laughed.

  “Okay, so go wash your hands and everybody grab a plate, dish out whatever you want, and take a seat.”

  “Aren’t we going to wait for Poochie?”

  “She should be here in a minute. Poochie’s never late.”

  “Then let’s wait for her,” I said.

  “Yeah, let’s,” Ko said.

  “You’re right,” Lucky said.

  Sadie nodded in agreement.

  Five minutes passed.

  Then ten.

  Then fifteen.

  “Call her,” Lucky said.

  And we all grabbed our cellphones.

  “I’ll call,” I said. It went straight to voicemail.

  We dropped our plates on the counter and when we heard one fall on the floor and crack, nobody cared.

  We piled into my car and drove straight to Poochie’s senior apartment and when we saw her car in her parking space we took two elevators up to her floor and ran to her door. We pounded on it and yelled her name over and over and over, but we did not get an answer.

  She was in her bedroom, under the covers, fully dressed, her arms crossed. She looked so peaceful. As if she was having a good dream.

  After we stopped howling and stomping our feet in disbelief, each one of us bent down and kissed her on both cheeks and backed out of the room in slow motion. It hit us that our best friend was in that bed and she was not going to wake up. We sank back into the sofa as if we’d been pushed, which was when we saw two envelopes on the coffee table. One had all of our names on it and was propped against what we realized was not a silver vase but an urn. The other one was lying flat and faceup, and on the front Poochie had written: Open Immediately.

  I got up and sleepwalked back into her bedroom. “Poochie,” I whispered, and touched her hand, which was not soft or warm. “I wish you had told us how bad it was, sweetheart. We would’ve helped you take baby steps. You didn’t have to go through this by yourself. We are your sisters, Pooch. We will always be your sisters.”

  “Come on back out here with us,” Sadie said, and I felt her wrap her arms around my waist, then she took me by the hand and walked me back out to the living room.

  She closed the door behind her.

  “Leave it open,” I said. “She needs to know we’re out here.”

  Sadie did and then she went out into the hallway and called for help. The rest of us were staring at the envelopes.

  “I think we should open that one now,” Lucky said, pointing to the one lying flat. “Because whatever is in it is important.”

  And she picked it up and opened it.

  “Don’t read it out loud,” Ko said.
“Please.”

  I was shaking my head in agreement.

  Lucky read it to herself, then slowly and methodically folded the paper and slid it back inside the envelope.

  “She wants to be cremated. Tomorrow. She has already made arrangements. And she does not want a memorial service.”

  We were quiet, trying to process what we had just heard, wishing we could go in that bedroom and ask Poochie if she was sure about this.

  “Did it say where she wants her ashes?” Sadie asked. She was standing in the doorway, which none of us heard open or close. She was used to being around the dead from all of her hospital visiting, but Poochie was her friend and I resented the matter-of-fact way she was handling this. At first. But the reality was that Sadie was the only one who could think and move, so I—we—were grateful she was able to do what we couldn’t. We looked at Lucky.

  “She didn’t say,” Lucky said.

  “I know where,” was all I said.

  * * *

  —

  None of us wanted to open the other envelope. And it took us two days to get the courage and another two to gather our bearings. Sadie had agreed to keep Poochie’s ashes at her place until we went on the cruise and none of us had any objections. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

  We met at my house because we didn’t know when we’d ever be able to go back up to Lucky’s house again. No one was really hungry but I ordered Chinese anyway.

  “I’m not hungry,” Lucky said, which was the first time I’d ever heard her say that. “But you all go ahead. I’ll wait.”

  And then one after the other we shook our heads because we couldn’t swallow our grief.

  I got up and threw the entire bag in the trash.

  We just sat at the dining room table and folded our hands in our laps.

  Lucky opened the envelope and unfolded the single piece of paper. We could all see Poochie had typed this on the computer. Just like her: so efficient. We all took a deep breath and made ourselves blow it out slowly.

  I’m sorry, Lo, Ko, Sadie, and Lucky, and I hope you know I didn’t do this to hurt any of you. I have not been honest about a lot of things. I have been battling colon cancer for quite some time. Remember our first dinner after Carl passed, when I lectured you huzzies about taking care of yourselves? I knew then. But I didn’t want to scare you all and I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me. I invited you all to Las Vegas, sort of as our last hurrah. When I learned I was going to have to have both knees replaced, and then my hip went out, too, I knew I was not going to be able to withstand all of it. And I couldn’t. But know this: I am at peace now and I don’t feel any pain. But you huzzies are still very much alive and I am begging each of you to please please please give everything you’ve got to taking the best care possible of yourselves and of each other for the rest of your lives. It does not have to be all downhill from here. So put it in fourth gear and floor it! Love, Poochie. P.S. Check your cruise tickets. Bring a friend.

  We did not, could not, move.

  We swallowed her words.

  And we all had smiles on our faces.

  When I stood up, I felt lighter. Much lighter. And from the look on everybody’s faces, I was not alone.

  * * *

  —

  “You will never in a million years guess who came to see me,” Ma said.

  “I can’t,” I said as I held her hand and we slowly walked down the wide hallway to the visiting room.

  “Jalecia!”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Jalecia?”

  “Two or three days ago. I almost didn’t recognize her. She looked a little wild even without those dreadlocks and she was talking a mile a minute, but she brought me some flowers.”

  “How did she get here?”

  “She said she took a bus because there’s something wrong with her car.”

  We turned into the crowded room where everybody’s hair was white or silver. Even the frail ones were wearing smiles.

  “Where should we sit, Ma?”

  “See that old lady over there who has the nerve to wear red?”

  “You can’t miss her.”

  “I don’t want to sit anywhere near her because her ears are too big and she can hear clear across the room. So just keep walking.”

  The woman waved to Ma and Ma threw a wave back.

  “Why be so mean, Ma?”

  “She’s putting on an act. Nobody likes Millie. She likes to swear for no reason and she’s senile as hell. See that table back there by the window? Let’s sit there. I like looking at the parking lot.”

  So we sat. And she crossed her legs and then pulled her beige shawl so it covered her bare arms, which I hadn’t seen in years. They were golden and the wrinkles looked like soft spiderwebs.

  “Anyway, how’ve you been?”

  “I’ve been better,” I said. “I lost one of my best friends a few weeks ago. Poochie.”

  “I heard. Odessa told me.”

  “Who told her?”

  “Cinnamon.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s not easy losing a good friend. I’ve lost quite a few over the years. Makes you wonder if you’re next.”

  I didn’t need to hear that.

  “I heard she took her own life.”

  “She was terminally ill and decided she couldn’t take the pain anymore.”

  “I want to say I understand but I don’t. I’m in pain, too, with arthritis running wild, but I’ll take as many pills as they’ll give me just to be able to look out a window. Anyway, I’m sorry you lost your friend, Loretha.”

  “I am, too.”

  “I’d send you a sympathy card but the ones in the gift shop are ugly and depressing, and I don’t want to depress you.”

  “Thank you, Ma. So what did Jalecia have to say?”

  “She said you’re mad at her.”

  “I’m not mad at her. I haven’t heard a word from her in a couple of months.”

  “She was pregnant, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “But now she’s not. She said with all the drinking she’d been doing she didn’t want to take a chance that something might be wrong with the baby.”

  “She said that?”

  “Anyway, she didn’t stay long. But she said she was coming to see you soon.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Did she say how she was doing?”

  “No. But I know something big is wrong because she has never just come here to see me. She was a little fidgety.”

  “I’ve called and called but she doesn’t return my calls, Ma.”

  “Is she still living with that Peggy?”

  “Yes, the last I heard.”

  “Then go see her.”

  “I think I will.”

  “So, nothing in your pocketbook for me?”

  She started laughing.

  “As a matter of fact, here you go,” I said and whipped out the latest issue of O magazine.

  “I do still love Oprah.”

  I left it on the table.

  “One day I hope you will be thoughtful enough to sneak a half-pint of Hennessy in here.”

  “One day I just might.”

  “You know good and well I’m just kidding. Are we through visiting?”

  She pushed the chair back and stood up slowly.

  “I suppose we are, Ma.”

  “Good, because Bingo is starting in ten minutes and I’m feeling lucky. Give me some sugar.”

  I bent over and kissed her.

  “And go see Jalecia. I think she wants to be found.”

  * * *

  —

  As soon as I left, I put Peggy’s address into Waze and drove straight to Comp
ton. It took an hour and ten minutes. I was afraid but mentally prepared, knowing I was entering a gang-filled war zone. But when I turned on to Peggy’s street I saw her black car parked on a spotless tree-lined street with small but well-maintained houses, manicured lawns, trimmed shrubs, and flowers of every color. Happy children played on the clean sidewalk and waved to me as if they knew me. I was ashamed of myself for believing what I now knew was a stereotype.

  I didn’t see Jalecia’s car.

  I dialed Peggy’s number.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “If you’re looking for your daughter, she’s in the hospital. Right there in Pasadena. I thought you would know, since you’re her next of kin.”

  “What’s she doing in the hospital, Peggy? Is she okay? Why didn’t you call me? What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s depressed, Loretha. Clinically depressed. It’s a good thing you got her that insurance.”

  “What hospital?”

  “Huntington. You can be there in ten minutes.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why not? Where are you?”

  “I’m outside your apartment building.”

  “Took you long enough to finally get out here. Come on up the stairs. I’m in apartment C. I look a mess because I wasn’t expecting company, so please don’t judge. I’m retired.”

  “Did Jalecia call you?”

  “The hospital did.”

  “Why didn’t they call me? I’m her fucking mother, Peggy.”

  “I guess she gave them my number. Don’t start tripping over that right now. Would you, please?”

  This hurt. I’m her mother. Not this bitch.

  “Then why didn’t you call to tell me, Peggy?”

  “Slow your roll, Loretha. Maybe check your messages.”

  She hung up. I looked down at my phone.

  I had two missed blocked calls and voicemails. Sometimes I forget to check them regularly. I listened to her messages. Peggy hadn’t made it sound like it was life threatening. In fact, she made it sound like Jalecia had been checked in to a hotel for the last three days.

  I called Peggy back.

  “I apologize. I do see that you called. I’m going to head over there right now.”