I texted photos of their websites to Jalecia. And then, when I thought about it, to Peggy. I explained the who, what, and why. And I said something about hope.
A month inched by.
I did not hear a word from Jalecia or Peggy. But I continued to make deposits into Peggy’s bank account.
I stayed busy overseeing the renovations of the new store, which was coming along nicely and would be finished before we left for the cruise. It was still a month away, but we had decided not to tell one another who we were bringing, mostly because some of us either didn’t know or didn’t want it to be known. Except, of course, Lucky. She was bringing Joe.
* * *
—
“Don’t embarrass me when I walk into class,” I said to Korynthia. “In fact don’t even act like we know each other, please.”
We were at the dog park watching B. B. King party with his new and old friends like he was a rock star. His new arthritis medication was starting to work.
“Maybe we don’t know each other,” she said, then chuckled. It was good to hear her joke. Although I was serious.
“I’m going to pretend like exercising is fun because I’ve been warned that if I don’t start soon, one morning I’m going to have a hard time getting out of bed.”
“It shouldn’t take a doctor to tell you that when you’ve got common sense. The truth is, you’re lazy as hell, Lo. But you’ve got a lot of company.”
“I get it, sweetheart. I’ll just be glad when Lucky starts losing weight, then maybe she’ll bring her behind in there, too.”
“You need to adjust your attitude and worry about what you’re not doing or you’re going to be spending the rest of your life alone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve got all the symptoms of a lonely old lady and you aren’t even old yet. You complain about everybody except yourself. Anyway, just to loosen up those rusty muscles, have your ass in room 10 for my hip-hop class tomorrow morning by seven thirty sharp or I will call you out.”
* * *
—
I was surprised how many old people were in the room. I take that back. Older. Korynthia did pretend like she didn’t know me, but she embarrassed me anyway.
“Looks like we have a new dancer! Introduce yourself!”
“Hello,” I mumbled. “My name is Loretha.”
Everybody applauded and yelled out: “Welcome to the club, Loretha!”
Korynthia winked at me. In her orange top and purple leggings she looked like she could be one of those senior models.
There were at least forty people in this room. And all different sizes and shapes, although at least half of them looked pretty damn fit. It also looked like the rainbow coalition in here, which was refreshing. I was standing between a black fella who looked somewhat familiar and a handsome white guy who looked like an old wrestler.
“You know the drill, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s warm those muscles up first, and remember, take it slow,” Korynthia said, and everybody in the room started swaying to the left and then the right, raising their arms and rotating their ankles and bending their knees and making their fingertips touch the hardwood floor. I was confused but just tried to imitate Korynthia, which was impossible, so I watched everybody else. They all looked like they’d been doing these exercises all their lives. But what was clear to me after those first few sways and bends was I should not have worn a thick sweat suit because I was already sweating like a pig and we hadn’t even started dancing. I had wanted to hide what I wanted to lose.
Finally, the music started.
And Korynthia started yelling into the microphone that was strapped on her head. With each song she demanded that we move this way and that way. Some folks could and some couldn’t but they all moved, including the black guy on my left and the wrestler on my right.
I had forgotten how to move my hips. I was having a hard time proving I had rhythm. I got confused when I tried to get the top of my body and the bottom to do two different things. My body knows how old it is and my mind was telling it you cannot trick nature. But I resented the weak side of my mind telling me what I can and cannot do, so I took a few deep breaths and when I heard one of my old favorites, “Don’t You Worry ’Bout a Thing” by Stevie Wonder, my hips and feet got a second wind and they just mimicked what Korynthia was doing. Then my body realized it had a memory and I swirled and flexed and twisted, and before I knew it, I heard Korynthia say, “Good class! See you next week. Stay loose!”
I did not say goodbye to Korynthia, except by making eye contact. She managed to give me a thumbs-up, which I knew I had not earned, but I just winked at her as if to say, I showed up.
When I got home, I fell across the bed to relax and congratulated myself for just walking into the class. And while I lay there and dreamed about the moves I was going to master in the next two or three classes, I felt B. B. King nudging my still-socked-and-sneakered feet to let him out.
* * *
—
Our usual dinner would have felt off now that Poochie was gone, so we decided to have Sunday brunch. At the Langham hotel. Under the covered terrace. Where a couple was going to be married under the archway in a matter of hours. Where people were already enjoying the pool and would soon be kicked out. Where, back in the day, movie stars used to hang out and hide out in bungalows. Where I spent the night once when I was mad at Carl for not remembering to tell me he was going on a two-day fishing trip until he was on it. I’d rented a suite, had a massage and a facial, and sat in the steam room melting away my anger. And when I got back to my room there was a bouquet of flowers almost as tall as me waiting with a note asking if I would please forgive him and meet him downstairs on the patio for brunch. The patio where I was now sitting with Lucky, Sadie, and Korynthia.
“Snap out of it,” Lucky said.
“I’m out of it,” I said.
We were all dressed up. We looked pretty. And we knew it. We were doing this for Poochie, who loved to look fancy whenever she could.
“So,” Lucky said. “I haven’t seen you huzzies in almost a month and we agreed before we came not to be mushy and sentimental or talk about anything that will depress us, right?”
We all nodded.
“Then let’s eat,” Lucky said.
And we walked over to the buffet, which looked like the Last Supper. Everybody filled their plates and we were shocked that Lucky beat us back to the table and her plate was not only not full, but the only things on it were cottage cheese, scrambled eggs, a small piece of chicken breast, and a peach that she was already cutting.
“Are you sick?” Sadie asked.
“You did it, didn’t you?” Korynthia asked.
I looked at Lucky and knew the answer.
“Yes. A month ago. Just after Poochie.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Korynthia said. “What if something had happened and we didn’t even know you were in the fucking hospital?”
“I agree,” Sadie said. “This was pretty inconsiderate, but we’re glad to see you.”
“Yes, we are, and I thought it looked like there was less of you,” I said.
“Me, too. But I didn’t want to say anything,” Sadie said.
“So, how do you feel?” I asked.
“Good. I’ll tell you all something, though. I don’t know what I’d do without Joe. He has been so thoughtful and patient. If I had known this was all I needed to do to get his attention I’d’ve done it years ago.”
“That’s not the reason,” Ko said.
“Then, what?” Lucky asked, but not in her usual nasty tone. In fact, she actually sounded curious.
“He just wanted to get the woman he married back, and not the size of your body but the size of your heart.”
“Oh, shut up,�
� Lucky moaned, with tears falling from her eyes right on top of that pile of disgusting cottage cheese.
“Okay, remember what we said we weren’t going to do today? Nothing sentimental!” I said and grabbed for Sadie’s napkin because mine had fallen on the floor, but Sadie was using it to wipe her eyes so I just pulled the edge of the tablecloth up to mine, dried them, and stuffed the corner back under the table.
“But these are happy tears. We are proud of you,” Sadie said.
“Yes, we are,” Ko said. “So how much have you lost?”
“About thirty-six-and-a-half pounds.”
Then Lucky started laughing. It was nice to see.
“So, that means a string bikini by summer then, huh?” Ko asked.
“I’ll wear it when I go down that slide on the cruise, and finally everybody will know I’m not a whale.”
“Stop that right now, Lucky,” Sadie said.
“I’m sorry. I’m working on being more positive. Rome wasn’t built in a day. And I know that’s a cliché, but it’s the best I’ve got.”
“Okay, let’s eat and say whatever we feel the need to share that’s going on in our lives, but make it short because I need to be home by four,” I said.
“Hot date?” Ko asked.
“Yes. And they can’t talk yet.”
“Then, why don’t you start, Miss Motor Mouth?” Ko said.
“Hold on!” Lucky said. “I’ll go. I have signed up to take a writing class at Pasadena City College.”
We all just looked at Lucky like maybe she was losing weight too fast.
“And Joe and I are thinking of selling our house and moving to Panama or Costa Rica next year.”
We just kept looking at her like: Are you fucking serious?
I took a long sip of my detoxifying apple-cucumber-celery-spinach-cranberry-pomegranate drink, and then stared at my steel-cut oatmeal with no raisins and definitely no brown sugar. I then looked up at Lucky again and realized she was serious.
“Where the hell is Costa Rica again?” I asked. “And what’s wrong with Pasadena?”
“Nothing,” Lucky said. “Joe and I just feel like we could get us a boat and…”
“And what?” Korynthia said, who sounded like she was really pissed. “Walk around in banana leaves and eat coconuts? Do they get Hulu and Netflix down there? Do they have a Whole Foods? How do they feel about mixed marriages in Panama or Costa-fucking-Rica? Have you looked into that? And what about hurricanes? Do you not watch the fucking news, Lucky?”
This was something coming from Korynthia, who’d almost abandoned us for San Diego.
“I think you should do whatever you and Joe want to do,” I heard myself say, even though I didn’t mean it and I knew Lucky and Joe weren’t moving to any Panama or Costa Rica.
“Thank you, Loretha.”
“Wait. One more thing,” I said, and took the last sip of my detoxifier. “If you move I will kick your ass and never speak to you again. And I will push Joe down the hill so he lands in front of a bicyclist doing forty miles an hour on the outside lane at the Rose Bowl.”
“I get it, ladies. You love me and you’ll miss me. We have not bought our tickets yet, so please, slow your roll. Ko, why don’t you share something uplifting with us?”
“She has to finish that Hawaiian French toast with the rum-battered Kona-coffee whipped cream and pineapple marmalade because she doesn’t have diabetes and she teaches a hip-hop class, and a tone-and-body-sculpt class on the side, and she is the only one of us who is having sex,” I said.
“Well, that’s pretty fucking uplifting,” Lucky said and started laughing. It was good to hear her swear, which meant we hadn’t completely lost her to the light side.
“Sadie?” I said. “Beam us up while Korynthia eats all the calories she wants and I will finish eating my delicious oatmeal, which would be much better with sugar and raisins.”
“I’ve finally met the right person.”
“And?” Korynthia asked, now that she was finished chewing.
“And, she’s perfect.”
“Well, it’s about fucking time!” I said.
“What took you so long?” Lucky asked.
“What’s her name? Is she pretty? Is she black? Not that we really care. How old is she? Does she go to your church?” I asked, and then took a breath.
“All your questions will be answered on the cruise,” Sadie said, with a smile we never saw when she told us about the minister.
“I say love who you want to love,” Ko said. “Speaking of which, I’m in love, too!”
“I didn’t say I was in love,” Sadie said.
“Well, I am. And I’m going with the flow even though he’s younger than I am and…”
“How much younger?” Lucky asked.
“He’s sixty-five.”
“You cradle robber!” Lucky said.
The young waitress, who had been listening to every word, had to cover her mouth as she refilled our water glasses because she was laughing so hard.
“Yes, we’re crazy old ladies,” I said.
“I hope to be as wild and crazy as you all when I hit fifty,” she said, and we gave her high fives.
I was somewhat relieved when Cinnamon called to tell me the twins were coming down with something and not to come.
“We will pay you anyway,” she said.
“And I prefer cash,” I said as I pulled into my driveway. I was shocked to see Jalecia’s car there. I didn’t want to say anything to Cinnamon but heard myself say, “Take care of the little ones, and your mom is parked in my driveway.”
“I know. She’s been waiting for you for at least an hour. But please don’t freak out, Grandma, because I think you might be relieved to hear what she has to say. Really. Love you.”
I pulled up beside her and wondered if it was safe to smile despite what Cinnamon had just said. Jalecia got out of the car and I was surprised at how peaceful she looked. I hadn’t seen this look on her face in so long I couldn’t even remember. Her eyes were clear and her skin looked like she had had a facial or was wearing good makeup. She even had on lip gloss. Her lips looked just like mine: full and shaped like a wide heart. She was wearing the black gauze dress she wore to Carl’s celebration of life. The nose ring was gone and her nails were manicured and painted clear. Something was going on.
B. B. King started barking from inside the kitchen door as I found myself staring at my daughter.
“Hi, Ma. Don’t be scared.”
I closed my car door softly.
“I’m not,” I said. “I’m just surprised to see you here, but glad to see you. Are you okay? You look good. Better.”
“I’m going to be.”
I walked over to give her a hug and was nervous and afraid that she might not hug me back, but she did. In fact, she hugged me harder than I ever remember her hugging me.
When she let go, or I should say when we finally let each other go, she stepped back and said, “Maybe you should let B. B. King join us?”
And then she actually smiled.
I walked up the few steps, opened the door, and B. B. King came dashing out, his tail wagging, and he licked my hands and then licked Jalecia’s, something I hadn’t seen him do in eons.
“Hi there, B.B.,” she said, and rubbed his ears like she meant for it to feel good.
“So,” I said. “Do you want to come in?”
“No, I’d rather sit here on the steps. I can’t stay long.”
“You have somewhere you need to be?”
“Yes.”
“Where, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’m going to a treatment program.”
This made me sit down on the top step.
“A treatment program for what, Jalecia?”
“A lot of things.�
�
I just sat there because I could tell she had thought about what she needed to say and I wanted to give her enough air to say it.
“Something is wrong with me, Ma. With the way I think. The way I feel. I often feel like I’m drowning. And I’ve been feeling this way for a long time but too ashamed to tell you or anybody, which is why I think I drink too much even though I don’t always like feeling drunk. But thanks to both of those wonderful and smart doctors you were thoughtful enough to find, what I know now is that I’ve been depressed for years, which is why it’s been so hard for me to control my behavior. I’ve learned that it would do me a lot of good to take some time to understand it.”
“This is so good to hear, Jalecia. So, what more can you do besides what you’re already doing?”
“Dr. Gordon, she’s the psychiatrist, suggested that a twenty-eight-day inpatient treatment program could help me get properly diagnosed.”
“You mean you’d live there for twenty-eight days?”
“Yes.”
“But why can’t you just go during the day?”
“This place has a whole program to help folks dealing with all kinds of mental health issues learn how to manage them and understand them, and part of that is withdrawing totally from your normal life. I want to know what’s going on inside my head that’s been making me self-medicate.”
“Where is it?”
“All I’m comfortable saying is that it’s close to water. And thanks to you, insurance covers almost all of it.”
“And you’re sure about this?”
“I’m more than sure, Ma. I’m tired of doing and saying hurtful things to you when inside I don’t really feel that way. I’m tired of not being a good mother and now grandmother, and I want to stop feeling hopeless and powerless and sad and angry when I shouldn’t. I haven’t been abused or suffered any major trauma but it feels like I have. The medication they gave me helps, but there’s more to it that a pill can’t help me solve, and I want to stop this train before I’m totally derailed. I sound like a shrink, don’t I?”
It's Not All Downhill From Here Page 25
