by Tiana Laveen
“I’ve seen some of the top professionals in the field and—”
“I don’t care who you’ve seen,” she said with a sweet smile. “Obviously, if it was working so well, you’d be in a blood red Ferrari right now, tearing up the roads, travelling to Cuba—well, maybe not Cuba, but you know what I mean. If we’re going to be friends then we’re going to play Chess, eat, dance, talk and go outside. Do you understand me? I can’t be cooped up in this house all the time unless you plan to sign it over to me and keep paying the mortgage, electricity and water. We’ll keep all of that shit in your name.”
He burst out laughing. The woman was a trip.
“You won’t be able to get me outside for a one minute job, let alone a picnic, Jessica, but you’ve made some good points so I’ll let you fall on your face and then we’ll just have our dates indoors.”
“I’m not trying to hear all of that. You didn’t get this way overnight so it’ll probably take more than one go.”
“Why are you willing to do this for me? That’s overly generous… Checkmate.”
She groaned as he greedily hogged all of her pieces, her Queen looking lovely as ever.
“It’s not overly generous. People are so used to others taking advantage of them and acting stupid, then when someone acts like they’re supposed to act, it seems suspect or strange.”
“I can’t argue with you there.” He shrugged, sighed, then leaned back in his chair.
“I’ll be back over real soon. I’ll pack a lunch and I’ll bring some wine and a blanket. Time for you to let the sun shine…”
CHAPTER SIX
Pear-adise
Mama stood in the produce aisle while the instrumental version of ‘I Can’t Stand the Rain’ by Tina Turner played through the speakers. She looked judgmentally at a bin full of light green pears. Jessica stood not too far from her, contemplating her own question: green or red grapes? Tough choice. She checked on Mama to make sure she was okay. Ever since her stroke, Jessica worried about the woman.
Mama wore homely gray shoes with thick orthopedic soles and white laces. She had on beige tights that made her legs look straight as tree trunks, jammed under a knee-length navy blue skirt. She sported a flared army green jacket and a black mock turtle neck beneath that, adorned with a bold red beaded necklace. Nothing matched, but the older Mama grew, the less she cared about such things. She always dressed in layers, no matter what time of the year it was, and at times, Jessica would worry about her getting too hot.
“Hey, Margaret said she made a pear pie and it tasted better than her apple pie but I don’t know which pears to get, Jess. I thought they only had one type of pear, but see, there’s all kinds here.” She pointed to a pretty display of various fruits. “They’ve got somethin’ called… let’s see here,” the old woman leaned forward and began to read the titles aloud, “a Chinese White pear. It’s expensive as hell so I damn sure won’t be gettin’ any of those. Bartlett, Asian, Comice, Anjou, Bosc, you name it. Which’ll work best? What do you think?” Mama looked at her with sleepy eyes the color of maple syrup. Those peepers were set apart into a canvas of smooth black silk. Her thin rimmed glasses danced on the tip of her nose. Soft salt and pepper hair was pulled taut in a ponytail and the naturally loose, wavy tresses flowed to the middle of her back.
“Mama, I don’t know which is better since I don’t make any pies. You know I’m not a baker.”
“But you eat everything.”
Jessica sucked her teeth as she regarded the smart-mouthed old lady.
“There aren’t as many varieties of pears as there are apples though, Mama, so that’s a plus to helping you narrow it down. I’ve only had the Bartlett, I believe. I imagine if you’re not careful, the pie could be mushy and less sweet. Maybe you should just wait until you can talk to her and ask her what types she bought to make her desserts? You could call her right now, if you want to.”
Mama rolled her eyes and tossed the pear back down as if it had done her wrong.
“You know I don’t mess around wit’ that cell phone! I heard they give you ear cancer, too. You better watch out, girl.”
“Ear cancer? Mama, ear cancer is not that common but from my understanding, it starts with the skin, not because of radio waves or from some cellphone. Where do you hear this mess from?!”
“Margaret.” Jessica grimaced and shook her head. Margaret was an old lady who loved conspiracy theories, and despite being biracial, seemed to believe all White folks were the Devil and were devising a plan to erase Black folks from American history. She put all kinds of silly ideas in Mama’s head, but of course this was nothing new. Anyone Mama enjoyed spending time with seemed to easily convince her to believe total nonsense, no matter how silly it sounded.
Mama definitely wasn’t no stupid woman, but she swam in the river of the gullible and was drenched in the mess every waking hour. She woke up each morning sopping wet with nonsensical notions pouring out of her mouth and as the years passed, she got worse.
“I’m not trying to get electrocuted. You and the rest of these peoples on these phones from the time you wake up until you nod off for the night finna find out, probably ’bout twenty years from now, that all your hair on the side of yo’ body that you use that there cordless cellular phone the most on is going to turn all crispy like browned chicken wings and fall out. Bald on one side, hairy on the other. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you come out here lookin’ like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Fried, Dyed and Laid to the Side.”
“Are you sure you aren’t Alicia’s mother, too?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Mama, if you weren’t dead serious right now I would laugh until my stomach hurt. Listen now, there are studies about radiation and the phone, but you’re barely on yours and honestly, the radiation from all of these towers and mess they are pumpin’ into our air is far more toxic and just a way to shift blame around. The truth is nobody really knows what the hell is going on if you ask me, so in the meantime, I’m going to keep using my phone and you should, too.”
Mama grunted and went right back to the pears, now checking out a few small ones.
“Mama, I bought you that cell phone for cases such as this and for emergencies. To you, right now, they seem to be one and the same.” Jessica chuckled. “Come on, now. We don’t want you buying the wrong type.”
Mama’s nose scrunched and wrinkled as she shook her head in defiance.
“I’ll call Ms. Margaret myself then. What’s the number?” She slipped her phone out of her purse.
“Naw, don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“I thank she might be at bingo. I’ll just ask later.” Mama waved her hand dismissively, her lower lip jiggling in frustration. “Lemme get my regular apples for now then. Would hate for this to be a wasted trip.” She grabbed two big bags of apples and plopped them down into the buggy.
“Mama, unless you have twenty other children that I didn’t know about besides me and Corey, I don’t understand why you need all of those apples for a pie or two. They’ll go bad and you’ll have to make a bunch of other stuff like that one time just to avoid wastage. Nobody likes apple sauce and apple butter that damn much.”
“These ain’t for me this time. I gotta make some pies for the church raffle.”
“Oh, all right. I remember you mentioning they were having a raffle last month. You want me to swing over and grab you the brown sugar that’s on your list?” She waved the little white piece of paper in Mama’s direction, her items listed on it in blue cursive. “It’ll save you some time.”
Mama appeared thoughtful, as if it were an earthshattering decision that had to be made.
“Okay. I want the good kind though, Jess. Don’t get that off brand. I want the big bag of it, too. In fact, get two large bags so I won’t have to worry about coming back out here to get more.”
“Okay.” Jessica placed a bag of green grapes in the cart next to some oranges and a bottle of white wine then headed over to t
he aisle where all the sugars and baking goods were. As she searched the shelves for the brown sugar, her phone buzzed. It was her brother, Corey. She answered with a groan.
“Corey…”
“Jess, I need a favor!”
“No ‘hello’? No ‘how the hell are you doing’? No ‘How’s Mama? No nothin’! Corey, I’m busy. Unlike you, I’m out here with Mama at the grocery store on my day off! You ain’t never around to take her to the doctor, store, nothing and now here you come and—”
“Jess, hush now! Look, I need to borrow fifty dollars.” The vision of her baby brother’s face flashed in her mind. She could just imagine Mr. Pretty Boy’s rich milk chocolate skin, hard jawline, slanted dark eyes under thick lashes and brows, full lips, and his head full of soft curly hair that made the girls go crazy. She could also see her hand rising up like the phoenix and slapping the shit outta him. She wished she could smack him so good that he’d be dazed and confused for an entire year.
“You always need something. What is the money for this time?”
“I got something good going on. Check this out. At my job, there’s a game the employees like to play. Everyone here at the call center is putting their money together and making a bet, see? This time, it’s on a television show. We predict what’ll be in the next episode. Winner takes all. I got good chances because it’s Blackish which I watch often, but the money is due today by five.”
“I got five for you alright! Five damn fingers to slam against your face! Comin’ at me with this nonsense!”
“Come on, Jess! Help a mothafucka out! I won’t ask you for shit else until Christmas! Promise!”
“Christmas is right around the corner. You make me sick, Corey. Why don’t you ask one of them girls that’s always up underneath you? I’m sure you got about three sugar mamas lined up like candy on an assembly line. That one White girl practically threw her whole life away for you. I wonder if she knows you peed in the bed for a real long time and that your middle name is Delfon?”
“Jess, you ain’t got to be hateful today. You gonna help me or not?”
“Give me one good reason why I should?”
“I can give you three. ’Cause you love me, and I love you, and you gotta remember all the mothafuckas I beat up in school on your behalf.”
“That was almost twenty years ago.”
“But I still beat ’em up.”
“I’m talking about the me loving you part,” she teased, drawing a laugh from him. “Come by the house tonight so you can throw my money away in this foolishness. Might as well light it on fire with a match.”
“Thank you, Jess!”
“This is a loan, Corey. I ain’t playin’! You and Melissa treat me like my name is Bank of Jess, Sucka Savings and Loser Loans. I’m going to start charging interest since you and she wanna keep playing this game, but at least she gives me my money back.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Two weeks and I’ll have it back to you. Next pay period. Promise. How’s Mama doing?”
“She’s doing good, silly as ever. I know you better bring your ass over to the house this week. She said she hasn’t seen you since last month and trust me, I am reminded about that every day.”
“I’m coming. See you at five tonight.”
“All right.” She disconnected the call, walked a bit further and spotted two large bags of brown sugar. There they are. She snatched them off the shelf. She felt the protective plastic covering and smiled. Soft. Squishy. Back over at the produce section, Mama was chatting on her cellphone, hand on her hip and laughing.
I see she changed her mind about the radiation.
She approached the old lady with a big smile on her face, placed the two bags of sugar in the buggy and they walked side by side towards the check-out lanes. Mama’s voice escalated as she cackled and gossiped with someone, presumably Margaret, her partner in crime. As they stood in line waiting to place their groceries on the belt, her phone buzzed once again.
She read the text message from Kane:
KANE: I found some old board games while unpacking. Let me know if you’re interested in any of these, too.
She quickly responded.
JESSICA: I like board games. We’re still having a picnic though.
KANE: We can have it indoors.
JESSICA: You can have a car indoors, too. That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. See you tomorrow.
She put her phone away and caught her mother’s gaze fixed on her. She hadn’t even noticed the old woman was off the phone, let alone staring all in her mouth as if she needed to study teeth, tongues, and tonsils for some upcoming medical exam.
“Who was you hexing?”
“Hexing? Mama, you know darn well the word is texting! You’re just trying to be funny.”
“I wasn’t sure. Texting sounds stupid.”
“And hexing sounds better? I’m not putting any spells on nobody. If I had that kinda power, you think I’d be using coupons today? I’d have played the lotto a hundred times by now and been a billionaire. You kill me sometimes.” She helped her finish placing their items on the conveyor belt.
“It was a man, wasn’t it?” Mama snapped, her lips quivering in that funny way whenever her mind was heavily occupied.
“Yes, it was.”
“Are y’all courting? I sure as hell hope so because between you and Corey, I ain’t gone nevah get no grand-churrin’!”
“Oh, Mama, don’t start that mess again!” The cashier began to ring their items up. “Me and this guy are just friends so you’re barking up the wrong tree. It’s not even like that. Do you want to pick up some lunch before I take you home? Someplace with a drive thru.” She stepped in front of her mother and presented her coupons then whipped out her debit card to pay the remaining balance.
“That’ll be fine. Here’s some money, baby,” Mama mumbled, shoving a wad of ones into her hand.
“Mama, I told you I’d pay for your stuff. You didn’t get much anyway.” Mama smiled at her and squeezed her fingers around the crinkly notes, then patted her hand.
“No, you take it. It’s yours. It belongs to you.” Before Jessica could respond, Mama shuffled away and made herself comfortable on a nearby bench. The woman had a way sometimes of saying something, while meaning something totally different. Jessica stuffed the cash into her wallet then slid the card in the reader to pay for their items. She even engaged in small talk with the cashier, only partially paying attention.
What else belongs to me that I’m not taking?
Here was a brand new question to ponder, not one she recalled asking herself before. Perhaps her name was written in invisible ink on a letter mailed to God, one she’d penned, in which she’d listed all of her hopes and dreams? She looped one arm around her mother’s and pushed the buggy with the other. The air caught them as soon as they stepped outside. A hearty breeze swept past them then ran circles around their bodies, reminding them cooler weather was on the way. The temperature was changing, falling low to its knees in prayer for the pending Winter. Mama’s scent blended in with everything else. She smelled like strong medicinal oils with a hint of sweet and spicy perfume. Somehow, there was much comfort in that fragrance. A sense of coziness she clung to, especially in times of bewilderment, melancholy, and need…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Come Rain or Shine
“He’s stiff as a board. Feet straight up and body swollen as if full of angry bees. Hopefully someone will come and scoop him up,” Jessica said.
Kane took her tan jacket that smelled of vanilla and lavender and hung it in the hall closet. She stepped right into the living room, holding a wicker basket he imagined was full of delicious foods. At least, it smelled like it.
“The raccoons around here can be aggressive. One time a few were hanging in my backyard when I took the trash out. They looked like a band of thieves.” She chuckled at that. “I doubt anyone will go out of their way to deal with any roadkill today but since it’s considered unsightly and there’s an o
pen house for one of the properties across the street, maybe they’ll make a fool out of me and do it anyway. Thanks for kicking him outta the way from the bottom of my driveway.”
He slid his hands into his pocket and closed the distance between them.
“I’ve been seeing a lot of animals lately, both alive and dead. Definitely more so than usual.” She rubbed up and down her arms, as if feeling chilly. “I see you’ve been working on the house again.” She sat on the overstuffed gold and amber couch.
“Yeah, I do something every day. I’m enjoying it, actually. Staying occupied is doing wonders for me.”
When she crossed her legs, he noticed her short heels that clasped around the ankle, below her jeans. Practical, yet sexy. She sported an off-the-shoulder oversized black blouse and it was then that he spotted a small black rose tattoo, on said shoulder. His lips curled in an appreciative smile.
“It smells like turpentine in here.” She sniffed and looked about.
“I tried to air it out. Maybe I should open another window.” He stood close to her, his shadow contrasting with the rays of light that peeked through the window leaving them both in stripes.
“You don’t have to. I like that smell. I like gasoline, too.” He sat down next to her.
She told him about her day, and he listened, enjoying the sound of her voice. They’d spoken on the phone several times since her last visit. Short conversations, funny conversations, ones with long pauses then bursts of laughter for no particular reason. He felt so close to her, their friendship nourished like a plant as they watered one another with a text message joke sent at just the right time, or a simple, ‘Good morning, Beautiful.’ A smile spread on her face like smooth jam and peanut butter on bread.
“That’s funny, isn’t it?”
“What’s funny?”
“How some people enjoy certain scents and others find them nasty or gross?”
