It's Not All Downhill From Here

by Terry McMillan

  My mouth dropped open.

  But I felt my fist fly up in the air. Along with applause.

  “Okay,” Korynthia said. “Now, how about we all get checked into our staterooms and make our reservations for our spa treatments, and then us ladies will put on our string bikinis and meet up by the pool in a couple of hours?”

  “It doesn’t take two hours to do any of that stuff, so what are you and Henry going to find to do in your stateroom?”

  “Act stately.”

  She laughed. We all laughed.

  Including Odessa, who looked so pretty, soft, like a tall black angel in all white, and I was surprised when she walked over and hugged me, and then whispered in my ear. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m already having fun. I’d forgotten what it felt like.”

  “Well, I hope you get used to it.”

  We took the glass elevator up to the eleventh floor, which was where all of our rooms were. I couldn’t look down, so I looked at the carpet until the gold doors opened like we were royalty or something. Sadie, who was pulling a carry-on, patted it tenderly, and then smiled at me. We had all been grateful when she had volunteered to keep Poochie’s ashes. She had even told us how she talked to Poochie every day, but none of us wanted to hear what she said. We had also decided we would say goodbye to Poochie on our last night, after dinner. I was not looking forward to it.

  * * *

  —

  Our room—or stateroom as it is officially called—was beautiful. It was almost as big and as nice as the resort room Carl and I stayed at in Palm Springs, except the Pacific Ocean was outside this window and below the long balcony.

  “Lord have mercy,” Odessa said when she stood there looking at the two queen-sized beds with swans made out of soft white towels perched in front of the pillows.

  “Which bed do you want, Loretha?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, I think they’re exactly the same.”

  “But you should pick the one you want.”

  “I don’t care, Odessa. Fall down on whichever one you want.”

  And she did. On her back. And she spread her white wings like the swans across the long blue pillowcases. The sheets were so white they looked light blue. We had a honey-colored leather sofa, a round table in front of it, and an orange leather curved chair. I suppose this was for company. Nice artwork. And through the sliding glass doors the Pacific Ocean was out there waiting for Poochie. This was nothing like the souped-up motel room I had when Poochie first started this tradition. This was a stateroom all right. Carl would have loved this.

  I fell down on my bed after I made sure the shower was big enough for us to turn around in, and I pulled the blue throw across my chest and arms and closed my eyes.

  “This was a good idea,” Odessa said. “I mean that your friend Poochie set this up for all of her friends to do.”

  “Sure was.”

  “Are you all going to stop this tradition now that she’s gone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you should keep doing it and maybe consider adding some new friends. Or sisters. Or daughters. You know what I mean?”

  “I do. And I think you might be on to something.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “What are you sorry about, Odessa?”

  “For not being a good Christian and not being a good sister.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for holding you hostage, for wanting you to be more like me, or I should say, wanting you to like me. I didn’t know what I did that made it so hard.”

  “You were happy and I wasn’t. You had a husband who loved you and I didn’t. You had a child and I didn’t. You had a college degree and I didn’t. And you were very successful and I wasn’t.”

  “You were successful, too. The problem was comparing our success.”

  “I’m starting to admit a lot of things to myself.”

  “Do you still go to church?”

  “Not like I used to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was losing a lot of faith in God.”

  “He’s not a magician, Odessa.”

  “I know but I thought He was.”

  “And He doesn’t judge. We do.”

  I sat up.

  She was crying.

  “I don’t know what would make you feel all this, Odessa.”

  “It’s because I have not been happy with the choices I’ve made or haven’t made in my life, and if you want to know the truth, I’ve also been lonely.”

  “That makes two of us. But I’m trying to learn how to live forward instead of backward.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “It’s going slow but I’m taking one step at a time.”

  “I want to be a better sister,” she said.

  “Then let’s both start now,” I said.

  “I think we already have.”

  “I do love you, Odessa.”

  “And I love you, too, Loretha.”

  And then we were quiet.

  “You should give Ma’s house to Cinnamon and Jonas because they need it more than me. I actually do like my apartment and it’s plenty of room for one person.”

  I heard her exhale.

  “I’m so glad to hear this, Odessa, and they will be, too.”

  Then I started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Lord, if Ma could see us or be a fly on the wall she would love this.”

  “Then let’s pretend. Hi, Ma!”

  “Hi, Ma!”

  And we got up and hugged each other, then fell back on our beds and we both fell asleep until we heard a knock on the door that our baggage had arrived. But we knew we had already emptied ours.

  * * *

  —

  I heard a banging on the door and jumped up.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s us: Korynthia and Henry!”

  I ran to the door and opened it.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “We changed our minds.”

  “Nooooo. Please don’t tell me the wedding is off, you guys.”

  They both smiled.

  “No, this is a done deal,” she said pointing to Henry’s chest. “We decided we don’t want to get married in Ensenada today. We can get hitched right here on the ship anytime. I’ve been to Ensenada and so has Henry and we’d rather spend the day out on the deck and then go to the club tonight and do a little dancing to celebrate and then sleep in. Are you two good with that?”

  I turned to look at Odessa. “If you still want to go to Ensenada, you can.”

  “I didn’t come here to be on dry land. I like this ship.”

  “And I want to dance,” I heard myself say.

  “Then we shall dance the night away tonight. And tomorrow we can sleep in, have our treatments, go to a show, and gamble. Then our last evening, well, you know…”

  And we did.

  I had a hot stone massage. I asked Odessa to join me, but she didn’t want a stranger to touch her body.

  I took the stairs instead of the elevator for six of the eleven floors.

  I went to a body-sculpt class with Korynthia and I almost had to crawl out.

  I walked around the jogging track with Sadie and Callie for two miles, which was sixteen times around, while Ko and Henry jogged for four miles. Lucky and Joe kicked their feet in the water. It all worked out.

  We went to the disco and were surprised we weren’t the oldest ones in there. Some guy even told me my silver hair looked beautiful under the lights, and so did I.

  We all learned how to twerk.

  Except Odessa and Sadie.

  We all had too much to drink.

  Except Odessa and Sadie.

  And what really
shocked me was how good the entertainment was. The group was under forty and sang songs I knew the words to. I really enjoyed twerking and suggested that Korynthia add these moves to her hip-hop class. She agreed.

  And who was it that hit the jackpot on the one-dollar slots after betting five? Loretha Curry. That would be me. I intend to spend, give, or use every dime of this extra $3,790 on my daughter, my mother, Carolyn, Kwame, and my great-grandbabies. Odessa told me to take her off the list because I had done enough for her.

  At breakfast, I did not put any sugar in my coffee but I did put in cream. I was starting to get used to it. And instead of eating French toast or pancakes topped with bananas and hot syrup or waffles with hot syrup or eggs and bacon with hash browns and toast with butter and jelly, I had plain yogurt with berries and whole wheat toast. It was delicious.

  For lunch I had a salad with a thousand different vegetables and cooked prawns and then chunks of chicken and oil and vinegar dressing. I did eat a breadstick.

  For dinner I had baked chicken. Brown rice. A salad. Steamed vegetables. I passed on the sourdough bread and butter.

  I did not give dessert any consideration at all.

  I went down that Plexiglas pool slide once I realized I wouldn’t get stuck in it.

  I sat in the pool.

  I did not hide my hips under a cover-up.

  I sat there watching everybody doing laps and decided I might take some damn swimming lessons, since I have a damn pool in my backyard. Was sixty-nine too late to learn how to do something new?

  As we played miniature golf, I pulled Korynthia aside and said, “And you’re sure about getting married, Ko?”

  And she said, “Yes, I’m doing it, Loretha. Please don’t ask me again about what if it doesn’t work out. It will. If it doesn’t, fuck it. I tried something new.”

  As Korynthia and Henry said “I do” in a small chapel and we were all dudded up while Korynthia and Henry wore their exercise clothes, I was just thrilled for them. It also made me wonder if I might ever be kissed again, but what was really weird was that I was even asking myself this question.

  * * *

  —

  On the last evening, the four of us gathered on the top deck. Sadie had her bag with her. The moon was out and there was no breeze even though a staff person had given us a pencil and a piece of string to tie around it so we could see which way the wind was blowing.

  “Poochie planned this,” I heard myself say.

  And when that string moved, instead of feeling scared we all seemed calmer.

  Sadie carefully unzipped her bag and pulled out another black nylon zipped bag. She set it slowly on the deck floor and unzipped it. We watched as she pulled out the silver urn and held it in her hand. We all touched it gently with our fingertips.

  “So,” Sadie said. “Loretha, go ahead, you said you would say goodbye for all of us.”

  “And remember she said she didn’t want us to be mushy or sentimental or sad. This was supposed to celebrate her life,” Lucky said.

  “Well, would you like to speak?” I asked.

  “No, because I can’t.”

  “Then be quiet,” Sadie said.

  “Do you hear these bitches, Poochie?” Ko asked. “Nothing has changed except you’re not here to put them in their places.”

  And then I said, “Okay. Everybody please shut up.”

  And the breeze stopped.

  “Poochie, we just want you to know how much we loved you and how glad we are that you were our friend and sister. We know you miss us as much as we miss you, but one day we hope to see you again—and don’t you owe me five dollars?”

  Everybody looked at me, and then the urn, and then started laughing.

  “Yeah, and I think you borrowed a book from me, and one day I hope to get it back,” Sadie said.

  “You don’t owe us anything,” I said. “But we promise, if you can see or hear us, that we will make you proud with what we do and how we spend the rest of our lives.”

  Then there was silence.

  And Sadie walked over to the edge of the railing, opened the top, and turned the urn upside down until it was empty, which was when we felt another breeze.

  I hadn’t seen Ma since Carolyn moved into Valley View. According to Kwame, she apparently does feel like she’s living in a fancy hotel. He said she never wants to move, and he has moved into a studio apartment three blocks from his college and is happy knowing his mother’s spirits are up and that she’s getting the care she needs. He is also thrilled to be an official college student.

  “I wish I could’ve moved all my friends in here,” Ma said, as I sat in her gliding chair this time. “But that Carolyn seems nice enough. Too young to be living here. It’s too bad we won’t get to know each other.”

  “Why won’t you?”

  “Because I think I’m coming down with some kind of cancer.”

  I closed my eyes, then opened them as I looked down at the floor, then I took a deep breath and slowly blew the air out.

  Ma was in bed with the chenille bedspread pulled under her chin as if she was cold or had one. She has always been dramatic but this registered as melodrama.

  “What would make you say something like that, Ma?”

  She slid her hands up and down the right and left sides of her body and said, “Because there are places on my body that are hard that should be soft. Or maybe it’s the other way around.”

  “You don’t have cancer, Ma.”

  “How do you know that? You’re no doctor.”

  “I know that, but the doctors here would’ve let me know if you had any problems.”

  “Doctors miss the obvious.”

  “Ma. Stop it, please?”

  And then she started laughing.

  “I’m sorry. I’m healthy as a horse. I just wanted to see what it would take to alarm you. Anyway, what are you doing here? You were just here yesterday.”

  “I wasn’t here yesterday, Ma.”

  She looked at her little calendar on the side table that had four or five stamped envelopes addressed to me next to it.

  “Put those in your purse and don’t read them until you’re on the plane to Tokyo.”

  “News sure travels fast.”

  “It’s about time you went, though I wish Jackson could come see me before I kick the bucket. Just make sure you send me some pictures for my scrapbook.”

  I hate when she brings up dying. Like she’s looking forward to it.

  “So, why haven’t you been to see me?”

  “Because I’ve been busy. I’m just about to open the new shop! You want to come?”

  “No. I don’t really care about makeup. But take a picture for me. Wait a minute. How old are you now, Loretha?”

  “Sixty-nine.”

  “You’re old, too. And let me warn you: it’s all downhill from here.”

  “If that’s how you see it that’s what you get.”

  “You sound like Oprah. Didn’t she cancel her show?”

  “She did.”

  “What in the world is she doing now?”

  “She has her own television network.”

  “Well, that makes sense.”

  “Has Odessa been by to see you?”

  “Of course she has. She told me you took her on a cruise, and I was shocked to hear that considering she was still standing in front of me. I was surprised you didn’t throw her overboard. Which made me wonder if maybe she had snuck and had sex with a stranger or something, because she sure has been nice.”

  That made me chuckle.

  “I doubt that, Ma. We’re just finally trying to act more like sisters.”

  “Well, you are sisters. Anyway, Odessa told me she got her lawsuit money. Chump change. Not the hundreds of thousands she was hoping she’d get. Negroes liv
e for settlements.”

  “That’s a racist thing to say, Ma.”

  “I take it back. Poor folks of every color live for settlements. How’s that?”

  I stood up. Then bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Did you know she quit working here?” Ma asked.

  “No. Do you know where she’s working?”

  “No, I don’t, but I kinda miss her nosy ass. Can I ask you a personal question and promise you won’t get mad at me?”

  “It depends.”

  She put her glasses on and looked up at me real hard.

  “What is wrong with your hair?”

  “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “It’s green,” she said.

  I got up and walked over to her mirror. She was right. I was so busy rushing to get here I had forgotten to rinse it after I got out of the pool.

  “I’ve been taking swimming lessons.”

  “You mean to tell me you can’t swim?”

  “No. I was always too afraid after I almost drowned as a kid.”

  “Swimming was never much fun to me. It was too monotonous. And where do you get? Nowhere. I just liked sitting on the edge of the pool, kicking my feet in the water. But anyway, rub some Vaseline all over your silver hair or you’ll be looking like a palm tree.”

  “I usually wear a bathing cap.”

  “Oh, by the way, I told Carolyn I would teach her how to scrapbook even though I don’t know if she brought any pictures with her. So, could you please bring a scrapbook for her but with no flowers on it because she’s not big on floral anything, and maybe some writing paper and a Bic because she still has family in Flint she might want to write to, and I assume they can read.”

  “Stamps? Envelopes?”

  “Sure. She’s not getting any of mine. Anyway, did I tell you I’m also going to teach Carolyn how to knit?”

  “No, you didn’t. But you’re not that good at knitting, Ma.”

  “Who cares? She needs to keep her shoulders moving and she can run her mouth, I am not lying.”

  “But you like her?”

  “I like most pleasant Negroes,” she said, sitting up in the bed. “She seems lonely, and I’m good company.”