“Honestly, Bubbles,” Joey replied as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I’ve seen you do some pretty bad shit.”
“Yeah?” Michelle replied as she turned away from Joey and began putting dishes in the cupboard. “Welcome to the working world.”
It took another two hours of arguing before Joey finally agreed to let Michelle and Adesina into her mind—and then only with the understanding that if Joey gave the word, the experiment ended.
“Where do you want to do this?” Joey asked. They were in the living room, and Joey had cleared out the usual zombie guard because Adesina mentioned that they were stinky.
“It easiest when the other person is asleep,” Adesina said. “That’s how I found Momma. When she was in the coma.”
“Well, I’m not tired,” Joey said.
“We could go upstairs and use the guest bedroom,” Michelle suggested. “You could lie down and just try to relax.”
“Fuck,” Joey muttered as she turned and stomped out of the room. Michelle and Adesina followed her. And Joey couldn’t help noticing that Michelle didn’t say anything about her bad language in front of the child.
Adesina had a fluttery feeling in her tummy. She was pretty sure she could bring Momma into Aunt Joey’s mind. But once they were there, could Momma really protect her? Adesina loved Aunt Joey, but there were things lurking in the dark corridors and rooms there that scared her.
Aunt Joey lay down on the bed, and Momma lay down beside her. Adesina hopped up and snuggled between them. Aunt Joey’s body was rigid, her arms stiff and tight against her side. Momma rolled onto her side, reached out, and took Aunt Joey’s left hand. Aunt Joey sighed, then relaxed a little. And then Adesina slid into Momma’s mind.
It was a comfortable place for Adesina. Momma’s mind was like a big, open house. There were pretty views out the windows and lots of bright, airy rooms. There were a couple of rooms Momma wouldn’t let her go into, but Adesina didn’t mind. Momma had explained that some of it was grown-up stuff, and some of it was private.
And there were bunnies in Momma’s mind, too. Adesina liked the bunnies, but never could figure out why Momma had so many of them.
“Hey there, kiddo,” Momma said. She was standing next to the windows looking out at the view holding a fat rabbit. “You ready to do this?” She turned toward Adesina, put the bunny down, and Adesina ran and jumped into her arms.
“I’m ready, Momma,” Adesina said. And then she reached out for Aunt Joey.
One moment Michelle was in her own mind, or at least Adesina’s interpretation of her mind—and the next, she and Adesina were in the front entryway of a version of Joey’s house. But it was bigger than Joey’s actual house. There were corridors that spawned from the main hallway. Michelle saw that they were lined with closed doors.
“Joey?” Michelle yelled. She tried not to shout in Adesina’s ear, even though she knew she wasn’t really carrying the child in the crook of her arm. “Where are you, Joey?”
“Here,” Joey replied from behind her. Startled, Michelle spun around. There, in the multicolored light from the stained-glass windows in the front door, was Joey. She looked frailer and younger than she did in real life.
“You scared the crap out of me,” Michelle said. She reached out and touched the intricately carved chair rail that ran the length of the hall. “Your house looks different in here.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if that’s me doing it or the Pumpkin,” Joey replied as she slowly turned around and took in the front entrance and hallway. “I guess if I ever got around to sprucing the place up, it might look like this. And that front door is really fucking cool.”
Michelle kissed Adesina on the head and then put her down. “End of the line for you, kiddo,” she said. “I want you to stay here, okay? Aunt Joey and I need to go the rest of the way alone.”
“Wait,” Joey said. She brushed by Michelle and opened the first door on the left. “I did something for the Pumpkin.”
Adesina and Michelle turned and peered through the doorway. Inside the room were overstuffed couches upholstered in a faded chrysanthemum print. The couches were positioned in front of a large flat-screen TV. A couple of burly zombies played checkers on a table under the bay window. Several otters sat on the couches eating popcorn and watching cartoons on the TV. Adesina gave a squeal of delight, then ran into the room and hopped up on the couch next to the smallest otter.
Michelle looked at Joey and then cocked her head. “Really? Do otters even eat popcorn?”
“My head, my rules,” Joey replied with a grin that surprised Michelle. “Besides, Adesina really loves those otters.”
“I know,” Michelle said. “Weird, huh? I guess we should get going.”
Joey’s smile faded. “Yeah, I guess we should.”
“You’re going to have to lead,” Michelle said. “I have no idea where to start.”
“I do,” Joey replied. Her voice was sad. “It’s this way.” Then, much to Michelle’s surprise, Joey took her hand.
They went to the second to the last corridor leading off the main hallway and turned into it. There were sconces lining the walls here, but several of the bulbs had burned out. The walls were painted a dull grey, and the hall runners sported an undulating pattern in chartreuse, smoke, and brown. There were three doors along each wall in this hallway, and there was a door at the far end as well. Joey slowed, and Michelle had to tug her hand to get her to move forward again.
“I know you don’t want to do this,” Michelle said. “But it’s the only choice.”
Joey stopped in front of the first door on the right. “I know,” she said as she reached out and threw open the door.
Sunlight spilled into the hallway. They stepped through the doorway. The light was so bright that, for a moment, Michelle was blinded. She blinked, and blurry images turned into people.
Michelle and Joey stood at the top of a hill. Below them, a tall, willowy woman in a blue sundress was laughing at something a bandy-legged man standing beside her had said. She took a long drink from the tallboy in her hand. Around them ran a short, skinny, young girl.
“Mommy,” Joey whispered. Then she pointed at the little girl. “And that’s me down there, too.”
“How old were you?” Michelle asked. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the scene. Everything about it was golden and warm.
“Eleven,” Joey replied, her voice wavering. Michelle glanced at her.
“Why are you crying?” Michelle asked, perplexed. “You look so happy here.”
“It’s the last fucking happy memory I have.”
Michelle looked back to the scene. Joey’s hair was done up in braids, and she wore a pink T-shirt and overalls. She threw head back and laughed and laughed, the perfect image of her mother.
“Screw this,” Joey said. She yanked them out of the room, then slammed the door shut. The golden light was gone, and they were back in the gloomy hallway.
Joey dropped Michelle’s hand, then ran to another door and yanked it open. Michelle sprinted to catch up with her. Inside, Joey’s mother was sitting on a bed with Joey. Joey’s mother wore a tatty floral housedress and her hair hadn’t been combed. Joey was wearing a blue T-shirt with faded but clean jeans.
“I’m never gonna leave you, baby girl,” Joey’s mother said, her words slurring. She patted Joey’s head and toyed with her braids. “I don’t know where you get these crazy ideas.”
There was a sick look on Joey’s face. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in bed, Mommy,” Joey said, touching her mother’s cheek. “And you forget stuff. And you never want to eat anymore …” Joey’s voice trailed off.
“Oh, baby girl, you know your mother has a bad memory,” her mother said as she lay back against the pillows. Michelle saw now that Joey’s mother’s belly was distended and her skin was ashy. Even the whites of her eyes were yellow. Joey’s mother was ill—very ill. “Always have had a poor memory,” Joey’s mother continued. “There’
s nothing to that. Your uncle Earl John is here to help me remember things.”
“Mommy,” Joey said, inching closer to her mother. “I don’t like Uncle Earl John. I don’t understand why you’re with him.”
“Baby girl,” her mother said as she pushed herself up again. It looked like it took an effort. “When you get older you’ll understand that it’s hard to make a living. Your uncle Earl John takes care of us. He buys us what we need.”
“I don’t fucking want what he buys,” Joey said in a surly voice.
Her mother slapped her across the face.
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Joey’s mother said. Her tone was angry, but her eyes were scared. “And don’t you use that nasty language.”
Young Joey rubbed her cheek, and adult Joey mimicked her. Michelle wanted to say something to help, but she was at a loss. Her parents had been horrible, but at least they had never hit her.
Then Joey’s mother began to cry.
“Oh God,” she said, pulling young Joey into her arms. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I love you and I just want you to be safe after … I just want you to be safe. Uncle Earl John will keep you safe. He promised.”
“It was the only time she ever hit me,” adult Joey said, her voice hitching with tears. “She never let anyone touch me. Not ever. None of those cocksuckers she married. None of the ones she just fucked. They could beat the hell out of her, but never once did she let them hit me.” She pulled Michelle out into the hall again and slammed the door shut.
“Where to now?” Michelle asked. At the dead end of the hall was a door flanked by flickering sconces. She pointed at it. “What about that one?”
“No,” Joey said, taking a step backward while wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Maybe it’s what we’re looking for,” Michelle said, grabbing Joey’s hand and pulling her toward the door.
“Michelle, don’t!” Joey cried.
But it was too late. Michelle was already opening the door. She stepped through the doorway, dragging Joey along, and found herself on a rise overlooking a cemetery. A small knot of mourners was gathered around one of the small crypts.
Michelle saw young Joey. She as wearing a dark blue dress and was sobbing. Next to her was the man from the first room. He was rubbing Joey’s back, and the sight of that action made the hairs on Michelle’s neck stand up.
Abruptly, Michelle found herself in the living room of a shotgun house. There were casserole dishes laid out on card tables, and a group of women were fussing over the dishes and Joey. Michelle could see into the kitchen where a group of men were talking and drinking. The women in the living room clucked over the men’s boozing between attempts to get Joey to eat. But Joey just sat curled up on the ratty sofa and cried.
The scene shifted again. It was dark outside, and in the back of the house Michelle heard someone banging around. Joey was still on the sofa, her legs pulled up under her chin. Her face was vacant. The guests had left, and someone had cleaned up the living room.
“Hey, baby girl,” came a loud, slurred voice. Joey didn’t respond, but Michelle turned. The short man with bandy legs leaned against the doorjamb. There were sweat stains on his shirt, and he’d pulled his tie loose. It was the man from the funeral. Joey’s uncle Earl John.
“Baby girl!” he said louder. Michelle could smell the liquor on his breath. “You hear me?”
For a moment Joey didn’t answer, but then she turned toward him. “Don’t call me that,” she said in a flat voice. “No one but my mother calls me that.”
“Well, your drunk-ass, junkie momma is dead as a doornail,” he said, pushing himself from the doorjamb. He staggered into the living room. “All the money I spent on that lush, down the drain. But you, well, you’re going to fix it. Goin’ to clean my house, goin’ to fix my dinner, and goin’ to get in my bed.”
He grabbed her. Joey shrieked and tried to yank her arm away. But he held on tight and jerked her off the sofa.
Michelle instinctively tried to bubble—but nothing happened.
Of course not. This was Joey’s memory, and Michelle was just a spectator. And then Michelle realized that her Joey—grown-up Joey—was gone.
“Let me go!” Joey screamed, but her voice and face switched back and forth from child to adult Joey. “Let me go!” She kicked, but it didn’t do any good. Joey was just a skinny slip of a thing.
No. No. No. No. I don’t want to see this, Michelle thought. God, I don’t want to.
The memory began to fragment. Michelle found herself in a bedroom. A slice of light fell across the bed from the open bathroom door. The heavy smell of bourbon was everywhere.
The ceiling had a stain on it, a brown water stain from a roof leak. Joey remembered exactly how it looked. The edges were darker than the center. And then he was grabbing her legs and forcing them open. Joey screamed, and he released one of her legs and fumbled with his pants. The stain looked like Illinois.
There was a heavy weight on Joey’s chest. She couldn’t move. The world spun, and she thought she was going to be sick. She rolled over and started gagging. Earl John pushed her off the bed.
“You puke in the bathroom,” he said.
Joey crawled to the bathroom. The floor tiles were blue, and until today Joey had always loved the color of them. She lifted the seat on the toilet and dry heaved. Nothing came up because she hadn’t eaten in two days.
Something ran down her leg. She wiped at it. Her hand came away sticky and smelled like the river.
The memory jumped again. Earl John was holding Joey facedown on the bed. Joey pushed her face into the pillow and breathed in her mother’s smell that still lingered there. It was Mommy’s favorite rose perfume. Joey heard her own pathetic cries and Earl John’s grunting, but it sounded as if it were coming from somewhere else. Somewhere far away.
Then he was done and he rolled off Joey and went into the kitchen. There was the sound of the refrigerator opening, and a glass being filled with ice cubes.
Joey wanted to die. She could die here with Mommy’s smell in her nose. They’d be together, and she wouldn’t have to feel the disgusting stickiness between her legs anymore.
“You just stay like you are, baby girl,” Earl John said. “I’m going to break all your cherries tonight.”
Joey didn’t know what he meant. But she knew Mommy wouldn’t want him to touch her. Mommy never let any of them touch her. Ever!
Earl John threw back his drink and set the glass on the dresser. He started toward Joey and there was another jump in time.
Someone was banging on the front door. Then there was the sound of wood smashing. Earl John jumped up, went to the side table, and pulled a gun out of the drawer.
“What the hell?” he said as he turned around. Then he gave a high-pitched shriek. Joey rolled over and saw Mommy in the doorway.
“You hurt my baby,” Mommy said. But it was Joey’s voice that came out of her mouth. “I told you to take care of her.”
Earl John shot Mommy twice in the chest.
But Mommy just smiled.
“Can’t hurt us no more, Earl John,” she said. Joey mouthed the words, too. “Can’t hurt us no more, you fucker.”
And then Mommy ripped Earl John’s head off.
Joey sat in the middle of the bed, her knees pulled up under her chin. She hurt all over. Mommy came and sat on the bed, too.
“I’m sorry, baby girl, I shouldn’t have left you alone,” she said. Her voice was still Joey’s.
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Joey said. She crawled to Mommy and put her arms around her. Then she laid her head on Mommy’s shoulder. “You’re here now.” Then Joey looked around the room. Earl John was scattered everywhere. The sheets were gross and streaked with blood. Then she looked at herself. There were bruises on her legs and arms and blood on her thighs. She started to shake. “What do I do?” she asked. “I gotta do something.”
Mommy laughed. “Well, baby girl, you need to get dressed. But before you do tha
t, you should wash up. Use my shower.”
Joey slid off the bed, but her legs were weak and barely held her. Mommy grabbed her and helped her get to the bathroom. Mommy ran the water in the shower until it was warm—almost hot. She helped Joey into the shower, and then Joey lathered herself over and over until all she could smell was Mommy’s soap.
Then Mommy helped her get dressed and braided her hair again. And together they went into Joey’s room and packed a suitcase. Then Mommy went back into her own bedroom and rifled through all of Earl John’s things until she came up with all the cash he had. Joey waited for Mommy to finish.
“Where are we going, Mommy?” Joey asked when Mommy returned.
“Wherever you want, baby girl,” Mommy said in Joey’s voice. “Wherever you want.”
After Joey’s mother saved her, the memories fragmented.
But the one constant from that terrible night onward were the zombies. After reanimating her mother, Joey began to raise more and more of the dead. They were often in different stages of decomposition, but the smell didn’t bother Joey at all. And the more zombies Joey raised, the stronger she felt. And Mommy was proud of her.
But, like all zombies, Mommy began to fall apart. It was then that Joey realized her mother was really gone.
Joey put her mother back into her crypt and left her there. Then she plunged into the underworld of New Orleans and turned herself into Hoodoo Mama. As Hoodoo Mama she ruled the grifters, the street hustlers, and the people who were lost and stuck on the fringes. Joey was a queen in this world, and her justice against men who hurt women was swift and terrible.
And Hoodoo Mama never let anyone hurt Joey again.
And as she watched all of this, Michelle realized she’d been wrong. Even though Michelle wanted nothing more than to erase the horror of what had happened that night from Joey’s mind, it wouldn’t be right to do it. What had happened was part of Joey now. It had made her who and what she was. There were ways for Joey to deal with her pain, but having Adesina just cut that part out was wrong. To do so would banish Hoodoo Mama forever.
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