And she started laughing. And so did I. We hugged each other and sat there rocking until B. B. King started feeling left out and tried to wiggle his way between us.
We broke apart.
“So, when do you go?”
“Check-in is in three hours.”
“Check-in?”
“It’s not like Cuckoo’s Nest, Ma. This is voluntary.”
“So, are you driving yourself there? Would you like me to drive you? I can. I don’t care how far it is.”
“No, I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to know where I am until after I finish the twenty-eight days. And I will finish.”
“And how does your aunt Peggy feel about this?”
“Not happy.”
“Really? I’m surprised to hear that.”
“Well, one thing I’ve already learned is that sometimes people act like they want to help you when what they really like is knowing you need it. Aunt Peggy has some issues of her own that have been ignored, too. But I’m grateful because I might have been dead if it wasn’t for her.”
“I’ve been trying to help you, too, Jalecia.”
“I know but I didn’t want your help because I didn’t think I needed it.”
“So, what can I do to help you?”
“Can I park my car in your garage for a month?”
And she actually started laughing.
I was just happy to see the light in her eyes.
I had forgotten that Kwame’s car was in there, but I was not about to bring that up, so I just said, “Absolutely.”
“And I might have a small bill for what insurance won’t cover for the treatment facility.”
“You’re worth it, Jalecia. And I’m so proud of you for doing this.”
“Thank you, Ma, and I want you to know how sorry I am for all the mean things I’ve done that have hurt you. When I come back, I hope I will have learned why I did them and how to stop.”
“Don’t worry about that right now.”
“There’s my Uber,” she said and pointed to the white Impala coming up the street.
She signaled to the driver, who pulled up behind her car as she popped open the trunk. He took two large suitcases out and put them in the Impala. She then handed me the keys.
“Can I visit you?”
“You can but I don’t want you to.”
“What about phone calls?”
She shook her head.
“You can change your mind, though, can’t you?”
“I’m not leaving there until I feel like I have figured out what I need to do to live a healthy life.”
And she kissed me on the lips.
And I kissed her back.
* * *
—
“So, you know she’s gone,” Peggy said when she called me.
“I know,” I said.
“She called you?”
“No, she came by.”
“Do you know where this place is she’s going?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Why didn’t she tell me, then?”
“Let me just say this, Peggy. She’s somewhere safe. And she’s getting the help she probably needed a long time ago.”
“She’ll be back,” was all she said.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high.”
“Well, she owes me about three hundred dollars.”
“She doesn’t owe you three hundred anything, Peggy. What would’ve been more ethical was if you’d just admitted that you needed help, but since you tried to make my daughter your dependent, now that she’s not, your bank account with me is closed. Goodbye, Peggy.”
And I hung up.
But I put five hundred dollars in it anyway. Just because.
* * *
—
“Mama-Lo! It’s me! Kwame! I’m coming back! Please call me back at your earliest convenience. Moms is doing much better but she’s going to need care and I’m bringing her with me because she deserves to have a better life for the rest of her life and I’m willing to do everything I can to make sure of it. I only have one mom. My bad, you make two. Love you. And hope you’re well.”
And there were more voicemails.
“Mama-Lo, I forgot to mention that my moms gets social security and Medi-Cal or Medicare—I get them mixed up—but if you know of any of those senior facility places that take it, that would be great.”
And:
“Mama-Lo, I know I’m probably getting on your nerves, but I forgot to tell you that because I’ll be back in time, I can still take two classes at LACC this summer! I’m psyched! And guess what else? Boone says he wants to come back to L.A. because ain’t nothing—I mean—nothing is happening for him in Flint and his girl drop-kicked him to the curb, so he said he’s willing to give L.A. another chance. That’s it. No more voice messages. I promise! Tell B. B. King I said woof woof!”
I couldn’t call him back because I was in the shop and the workers were drilling and hammering and asking me a million questions I couldn’t answer, and I couldn’t go outside because it was pouring—something it rarely does in Southern California—and the awnings weren’t up yet, so I decided to send a text. Great news! At new shop! Drilling going on. Raining! Glad you’re bringing your mama. I know of a good senior facility. Tell me when to start looking for an opening for her. I’m going on a short cruise next month. Are you sure about Boone?
I decided to buy myself a treadmill. I’ve only been on it four times, because it was boring and made me feel lonely. I like going to Korynthia’s hip-hop class better. She’s also threatened to hurt me if I don’t start coming to her tone-and-body-sculpt class, so I told her I would after we come back from the cruise. Lord knows I’m dreading it because I don’t like the idea of bending and lifting weights and getting down on the floor on my back and then getting back up with a whole lot of folks looking at me when I do something wrong or when I can’t do a movement at all. The treadmill is for when I want to sweat in the privacy of my own home.
But I don’t want to be old and fat.
And I don’t want to end up in a wheelchair.
And when I die, I don’t want it to be because of some stupid shit I did to myself. Or because of what I didn’t do for myself. And from the looks of things it does not look like we get a do-over.
It’s been hard trying not to worry about Jalecia but it’s been three weeks and I was hoping she might have reached out by now, especially since we’re scheduled to leave on the cruise soon and I’m worried about whether she’s still at that place and if it’s helping her. I was hoping she might be feeling good enough to call just to give me a clue how she’s doing. I suppose I’d know if she had changed her mind and left because she would’ve picked up her car. Against my better judgment I decided to call my BFF.
“That was very kind of you to put all that money into my account, Loretha. And not only did I appreciate it, I needed it. Did you get my thank-you card?”
“You’re quite welcome, Peggy. And I apologize for being such a bitch that day. I do appreciate everything you’ve done to help my daughter. I’m not sure if I got your card because I don’t check my mail that often, but I’ll take a look.”
I walked over to Carl’s chair, slid the basket close to me, and started sifting through all the envelopes. There were quite a few from Ma, which was a relief that she had decided to start sending them again, and as I flipped through more junk mail than anything, I came across a small yellow envelope that looked like a party invitation.
“Have you heard anything from Jalecia since she went to the treatment place?” she asked, as I slit open the envelope and saw the little card with a colorful bouquet of flowers that said: THANK YOU and inside: BUNCHES AND BUNCHES.
I was touched.
“No. Have you?”
“No
. But I wouldn’t worry. Not hearing from her is a good sign. I think she’s serious, because after she started seeing those doctors she did not miss an appointment. You know you can’t call them to get any information, but I’m just glad they’re black. I apologize for sounding so negative about Jalecia getting treatment because I was just thinking that she might not want to be bothered with me anymore, but this is why I’ve also been thinking I could probably use a mental tune-up myself.”
“Well, if either of us hears from her, let’s just let each other know. How’s that?”
“Great. I’ll do that.”
* * *
—
“Boone bailed, Mama-Lo. And it’s a good thing because I don’t have time to babysit him.”
I had to admit to myself that I was relieved, but I just said, “He just didn’t seem suited for Southern California. So, tell me, when will you and your mom be here?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“That’s two days from now, Kwame! I thought you were going to give me a heads-up.”
“I just did. But not to worry, Mama-Lo, we can stay at a motel.”
“No, you will not. I’ve got two empty bedrooms. Well, one—my new treadmill is in one. But fortunately, it’s not being used much. Wait, what is your mother’s name? I’ve only heard you refer to her as Moms.”
“Carolyn. Carolyn Bledsoe.”
“How old is your mom? I don’t think you ever told me, not that you had any reason to.”
“She just made fifty-five, Mama-Lo. But you wouldn’t know it looking at her. She’s been through a lot.”
Fifty-five? I was trying to do the math in my head. How old was Carl back then? But it wasn’t really all that important. It was still before me.
“Well, we’ll figure this all out, Kwame. So please don’t worry. I was going to start looking into it, but I didn’t know your timing.”
“Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay with you? Seems like I’m always imposing; and I don’t mean to, but you’re all we’ve got.”
We’ve.
That was so refreshing to hear.
“Don’t worry about anything, Kwame. Just tell me what time you’re getting in and I’ll pick you up.”
“No, we can Uber! It’s what has kept me from starving in Flint and I can get reinstated in Los Angeles. But thank you so much, Mama-Lo. We get in about nine P.M. We’ll call you when we’re on our way. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Kwame.”
* * *
—
When I heard B. B. King barking, I looked in the driveway and saw Lucky sitting in her brand-new white Range Rover. I opened the kitchen door and walked down the steps as she rolled her window down.
“So, is this a late-night life crisis or something?”
She started shaking her head. Then tapped the steering wheel with her palm.
“I have made too many wrong turns,” she said, and opened her door and got out. Was that a black bathrobe she was wearing?
“What’s going on, Lucky?” I asked, worried about what she was going to say. I gave her a hug. Lucky smelled like mint.
I could hear B. B. King crying but I was not letting him out.
“Have you been smoking?” I asked.
“Yes. I needed something.”
“Then maybe I don’t want to talk to you since you’re under the influence.”
“Then don’t. But I need to eat something sweet and I need to spend the night.”
“For the second time: What the fuck is going on, Lucky?”
“Can you make B.B. shut up? He’s getting on my nerves.”
I ran up the steps and let him out.
“He lives here and he knows something is wrong, so if he wants to cry he can cry.”
“Is that dog ever going to die?” she asked. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, B.B.”
“See what I mean? That shit gives you Tourette’s. You say whatever comes into your head, which is usually something mean-spirited but not what’s really in your heart!”
“Do you have to yell, Loretha?”
“What’s in here?” I asked, grabbing the In-N-Out bag of what I knew was probably a double cheeseburger and French fries. It fell to the ground and B. B. King snatched the bag and ran with it to the side of the garage. I was in no mood to stop him.
Then Lucky walked over to B.B.’s water dish and threw up in it. B. B. King dashed over and just looked at her as if to ask, Are you crazy? That’s my water dish. Then he looked at me wondering if I was going to do anything about this.
“Sit,” I said to him.
And he sat.
When Lucky stood up she looked at me and said, “I don’t want to move to any fucking Costa Rica or Panama. That was all Joe’s idea. I told him I’m not leaving my friends and he said he would go without me.”
“He didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, yes he did.”
“Come on in.”
“I feel sick. My stomach hurts. And I need to drink some water and just lie down, Lo. I fucked up. I should never have smoked that weed. And I’m sorry for doing this to you.”
I put my arms around her and walked her into the house and into the guest bedroom, where she sat down on the bed Jalecia had slept in.
“Don’t move,” I said, and walked back to the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. I didn’t know if I could handle a whole night of Lucky.
“Did you bring anything to sleep in?” I asked, and handed her the bottle, which she drank completely.
“No. I sleep in my underwear, but don’t worry, you don’t have to look at me. I could use a robe.”
“You’re wearing a robe.”
She looked down as if she was surprised.
“Just get into bed, Lucky.”
But she just sat there.
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Then go on back home,” I said, not really meaning it. “No. Sleep that dope off. Then tomorrow morning talk to your husband, and stand your ground without being a bitch.”
Just then I heard my phone ding with a text message. I started to panic thinking it may have been Jalecia, but when I pulled it out of my pocket I was relieved to see it was from Jackson.
Mom, are you still coming in June? We haven’t heard back from you in a while and we want to see you! We’ve moved into a bigger place, which is still small by American standards but we now have an extra room and the girls are saying “Nana” when we show them your picture!
I texted him back and gave him a firmer date I would confirm as soon as I knew when the new shop was going to open.
“I’m finally going to Tokyo!” I said to Lucky and B. B. King.
But Lucky was snoring and B. B. King, who had been lying next to my feet, just looked up at me as if to ask: Where is Tokyo?
* * *
—
Lucky was gone when I woke up. I was surprised I didn’t hear her leave, or B. B. King whimper or something when she opened the side door. I peeked inside the bedroom and could tell she hadn’t even gotten under the covers. I texted her because I didn’t feel like talking.
“I hope you came to your senses, Lucky. I thought we were all trying to be more reasonable.”
With Lucky gone, I remembered I was supposed to go to the hip-hop class. Lord knows I didn’t want Korynthia to curse me out for missing it.
I ate an apple. And half of a whole wheat English muffin that I toasted and spread this stuff called ghee that Jonas told me to buy instead of butter. It tasted like butter but better. I wanted a glass of orange juice so bad I could almost taste it. I didn’t have any because I had stopped buying it, but I had yet to figure out what I was supposed to drink instead of it.
Maybe I’ll find the answer in one of the million books on diabetes I ordered from Amazon. I th
ink it would be helpful if there was a Diabetics Anonymous where you could meet people struggling with this disease, and we could share tips and not feel so bad if we slipped and had a chocolate chip cookie or a juicy cheeseburger with fries and a vanilla shake.
I had already decided I was not trying to be perfect, but I wanted to prove to myself, Dr. Alexopolous, and my friends—and especially Poochie—that I was finally starting to take this disease, and this third act of my life, seriously.
* * *
—
“Welcome, Loretha!” Korynthia just had to yell, embarrassing the hell out of me. “We’ve missed you and we’ve got some new moves, right, ladies and gentlemen?”
And they all screamed: “Yes, we do!”
“But first, let’s warm up.”
And we warmed up.
And the black guy who occasionally found his way into my row waved at me. He had some good moves and he was friendly, but not overly friendly, which was why I was also friendly to him. But when he eased his way back to my row and stood next to me, I asked where the wrestler was by pointing to the empty spot. When he said he had recently moved to Costa Rica to retire I almost choked.
“Why is everybody moving to Costa Rica?”
“I’ve been a few times and it’s not a bad place to retire. It’s beautiful, but I like it here. How have you been? It’s Loretha, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and to be honest I don’t remember you telling me your name.”
“I did but you don’t remember because you thought I was forgettable.”
“That’s not true. What is it?”
“Excuse me, James and Ms. Loretha! Are we warmed up? Am I breaking something up?”
I wanted to give her the finger. But instead I said, “I was having a problem and James was kind enough to help me solve it.”
“This is how it starts,” she said, embarrassing the hell out of me.
I left during the cooldown so I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to James.
* * *
—
It's Not All Downhill From Here Page 26
