by J. J. Murray
“Who is white,” Crystal hisses, “and who has a freak for a daughter.”
“Nyana-so ninyu do doun, keh do za-nyohndeke,” Junior says.
We both look at him for the translation.
“‘Smoke does not affect honeybees alone,’ ” he says. “‘Honey-gatherers are also affected.’ ”
Crystal’s shoulders droop. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know exactly, but Amina says that when people are gossiping, kind of like what goes around, comes around.”
“Are you calling me a freak, Junior?”
I think he is doing exactly that, but I am staying completely out of this one.
“No, but you don’t know anything about Rose,” Junior says. “And the little that you do know is not enough to call her a freak.”
Thank you, Junior.
“And,” I add, feeling more confident, thanks to my man-child, “whether you like it or not, Crystal, she will be living in the same house as you.”
Crystal is absolutely speechless. I have completely shut her up. This in itself is a miracle.
“Now, I don’t know where we’re all going to live, and it might be a little cramped at the beginning, but ... y’all are about to get two more brothers and a sister, and I am going to get a husband.”
Crystal looks at the ceiling. “And you don’t care how it will affect us?”
“Oh, I care.”
“Right,” she says sarcastically.
“I do. And I almost cared too much what y’all might think and almost talked myself out of being with this man. But then it hit me, and don’t you say a thing about this, Crystal. God brought this man into my life, and if God brings a man into your life, you don’t ... say ... no.”
Crystal throws her head back and sighs. “But, Mama, you met him online!”
“God’s in the Internet, too.” He has to be. He prepared Joe for me there.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Mama!” She starts for her room again. “I can’t believe any of this.”
“You think I’m doing this to you? This isn’t about you, Crystal. God has provided another good man for me, and if you try, you’ll see that he is a good man. I care what you all think and feel, I do. But I’ve been lonely, and I hope you never know what it’s like to be wanting someone to hold, night after night after night.” Here come the tears.
“Don’t cry, Mama,” Toni says.
I can’t help it. “Crystal, he makes me happy. All I want you to do is to give it a chance, just ... give Joe and his family a chance.”
Crystal punches a wall. “So when’s the wedding?”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet, but ... soon.”
“Before or after I graduate?”
I don’t like the way she’s talking or what she’s talking about. “Weddings take time to plan. Maybe by the end of the summer or early next fall.”
“Uh-huh.” She rubs her knuckles. “Well, the second I graduate I’m moving out, Mama, and you won’t have to give me a wedding invitation.”
Then she storms off, leaving me with a hurricane of emotions inside because ...
Because I may have just lost my daughter.
Junior stands and hugs my shoulders. “I’m happy for you, Mama.”
“Me, too,” Toni says, and she kisses my cheek.
“Thank you both.”
“Chanda chema hurikwa pete,” Junior says. “‘A handsome finger gets the ring.’”
I look at my ring finger, ashy and callused from dishwashing, cooking, living thirty-eight years ... “It’s not that handsome.”
“Handsome enough,” Junior says.
“I don’t think he’s marrying me for my hands.” I lower my voice, because I’m sure Crystal is still listening. “We have to work on Crystal. I know this is going to be hard, but be supernice to her, okay? She’ll probably still move out.”
“She’s stubborn,” Junior says.
“Yes,” Toni says.
They’ve noticed. “But I want her last days with us to be happy so she’ll come back.”
“How is she going to move out?” Junior asks. “She’s never had a job.”
“When a Mitchell sets her mind to it,” I say, “a Mitchell can do just about anything. And maybe when she’s gone, she’ll miss us enough to come back.”
“You are so wise, Mama,” Junior says.
“I am?”
“Mtoto akililia wembe mpe. ‘When a child cries for a razor, give it to her.’ ”
“Say what?”
“It’s Amina’s way of saying to learn by experience.”
“Oh.” I squeeze his forearm. “You really like Amina, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I saw them kissing, Mama,” Toni adds.
I giggle. “I got my first kiss today, as a matter of fact.” I look at Junior. “I’m sure you two are way ahead of me, but be careful, okay? I’m glad God brought her to you, Junior, but don’t have God bringing me a grandchild just yet, okay?”
“We won’t until we are married, Mama.”
I blink. “You’re that serious about her?” At sixteen?
“Yes.”
He’s so sure. “So you know how I feel about Joe. And if you have any reservations about him, any at all, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
Junior shrugs. “But your mind is set, right?”
“It is.”
He smiles. “So any reservations I have won’t change anything, right?”
“Right.”
There is much sense in what my son says.
35
Joe
I’m standing in the upstairs hallway in front of two closed doors. Should I go in to see Jimmy, or should I see Rose first? Jimmy might listen to reason more ... maybe.
I knock. “May I come in?”
After twenty seconds, I open the door and see a surprisingly neat room for a change, only a sock or two lying around. Jimmy lies on his bed with his face to the window.
I shut the door behind me. “I thought we could talk.”
“About what?”
“My announcement.”
Jimmy shrugs.
“I didn’t expect you to understand everything.”
He turns his head. “I don’t understand anything about it.” And he’s crying? My rock of a he-man has been crying? How often can my heart break before being damaged beyond repair?
I sit on the end of his bed. “Maybe I can help you, Jimmy. What don’t you understand?”
“Mom just died, right?”
I sigh. “That was over six months ago, Jimmy.”
“So? Aren’t you supposed to wait or something?”
“I’ve been wrestling with that very question, too, Jimmy. I’ve tried to wait, but ... I want to be with Shawna.”
“Well, it isn’t fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“It isn’t fair to Mom.”
That hurts, but it makes sense. I don’t disagree.
“And it isn’t fair to me.” Huge tears drop from his eyes, every drop shaking my heart to pieces. “I miss Mom. Don’t you miss Mom?”
Here come my tears again. Will my eyes ever be empty? “I think about your mom every day and every night, Jimmy. Yes, I miss her.”
“So why? Why do you want to be with Shawna and her kids instead of us?”
Jimmy’s logic sometimes escapes me, but this time, I think I understand. He’s afraid of being replaced. I wipe my face with his bedspread. “Jimmy, I will be with you every day like always. That’s not going to change.”
“Right.”
“It won’t. I promise. You’ll always be my son, and I’ll always be with you.”
He sits up. “Well, I’m not sharing my room with anyone.”
“I hope you won’t have to, son.”
“Like we have enough money to live in a house big enough for all of us.”
“We’ll figure something out, and if we have to add on to a house—even this
house—I know I can count on you to help me.”
His eyes brighten. “Help you do what?”
“Well, you helped with the deck and the playhouse, remember?” He’d only cut and nailed a few boards, but he was so proud of himself. “ ‘Look what I helped make, Mommy,’ ” he’d told Cheryl.
“But what about till then?”
Jimmy is so immediate, so now about things. “Well, hmm,” I say. “What do you think?”
“Huh?”
“What do you think we should do? How would you solve the problem?”
He slides back to sit more upright against his headboard. “Well ... we could get some bunk beds. We could probably put two in here.”
Great idea. “For the men.” And I’m looking at a boy who is fast becoming one.
“Yeah.”
“Should we put the beds in your room or Joey’s room?”
“This room’s bigger.”
So true. We even measured it one day. “What about the ladies?”
“I guess ... the other two, what are their names again?”
“Toni and Crystal.”
He nods. “They could take Joey’s room.”
And this child is having trouble in school? He’s a genius!
“Rose can keep her room,” he says.
I don’t want to hit him with “What if Crystal wants a room of her own?” Jimmy is just working out in space what he can’t quite grasp with his mind yet, but if that helps him figure it out, I’m glad.
“We may have to add another bathroom,” I say. “I’ve never done one of those.”
“Where would we put it?”
Good question. “In the basement, I guess. Maybe a standup shower, sink, and toilet for the men only. I’m sure the ladies will appreciate that. I’m sure it can be done.” Though a shower would probably be enough. “We’d probably have to take a jackhammer to the floor down there.”
“Yeah.” His eyes are suddenly dry. Whatever this child lacks in book sense, he makes up in common sense. “It’ll be kind of nice not to be the youngest anymore.”
Ah, the dreaded little brother–brat status will vanish. I’m fully familiar with that.
“Is, um, Shawna a good cook?”
“The best.” I’m assuming here, but her kids look healthy enough. “She’s a manager at McDonald’s.”
“Yeah?”
Is that a glimmer of a smile? It is.
“Can we get free food?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say with a laugh. “I’m sure we’ll get a discount.”
“Cool.”
Thank you, Jesus ... for McDonald’s. I never thought I would ever pray that. “Well ...”
“Are you going to talk to Rose now?”
“I’m going to try.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
I’m going to need luck and prayer and guidance and courage and strength and ...
36
Shawna
I don’t want a fight tonight, but hot water never burned down a house, so here goes.
Crystal is in her room on the phone, to LaTonya, no doubt. I knock once and open the door. “Let me know when you’re done. I want to talk to you.”
Crystal looks away, a scowl on her lips. “LaTonya, I’ll call you back.” She turns off the phone and drops it onto the bed. “What’s to talk about?”
I sit on the edge of her bed. “How you’re feeling.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I feel worse than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, Mama.”
I smile. “Say what you mean, child. Don’t beat around the bush.”
She turns away. “That’s how I feel.”
I look at her daddy’s picture on her nightstand. Sorry, Rodney, but you’re the reason. This child is still in love with you. “How so?”
“Huh?”
“You say you feel worse than you’ve ever felt before. I want to know how so.”
She sighs. “Could you find a man more unlike daddy than Joe-Bob?”
“His name is Joe.” But what’s his middle name? What if it is Robert? “And he’s not that different from your daddy.”
“Are you blind, Mama?” She whips out her fingers, counting on wicked-looking fingernails. “He’s white, he’s short, he’s not in any kind of shape, he dresses terribly, he has no kind of rhythm—”
“How do you know all that?”
“He’s white, isn’t he?”
“So he’s white,” I say. “And as for his appearance”—which I kind of like a lot—“so what? And he’s not that short.”
“He’s shorter than me.”
I ignore her. “While I like what I see, that’s not why I want to be with him. He has touched my soul, and whenever I think about him, I feel good inside. And for whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to mind my appearance. I mean, I’m black, I’m short, I’m not in any kind of shape, and I dress terribly, too.”
No response at all, her face a mask. That hurts! She could have at least disagreed a little.
“So, what’s really your problem with all of this?” I ask.
“I told you.”
I have to make her say it. “I don’t think you have. Spit it out.”
She crunches up her lips and starts chewing on her tongue, something I wish she would do more often to keep from speaking. “He’s not Daddy.”
Time for some hard truths. “You’re right. He isn’t your daddy, and he will never be your daddy. In fact, I doubt he will even attempt to be your daddy. Joe isn’t crazy.”
She almost smiles.
“He’d have to be right out of his mind to try to be your daddy, Crystal. You are a one-daddy girl, and if Joe ever even says something that sounds daddylike to you, I’m going to cut him off with an ‘uh-huh, Joe-Bob, don’t go there.’”
She almost giggles.
“He knows you’re a grown woman now and you don’t need a stepfather to give you any advice or, God forbid, tell you what to do. I’m the only one who can do that, at least until you graduate. After that?” I shrug. “You’re on your own.”
She almost gasps.
This reverse psychology stuff is fun!
“What?”
“You said you wanted to leave us after you graduate. I won’t stand in your way. It’s what you want to do, right?”
“Yeah.”
She sounds so unsure! I’m getting to her.
“So go on and do it. No sense staying with us if you’re not one hundred percent sure about us.”
“You mean ... you’d let me move out?”
Well, maybe reverse psychology isn’t so fun after all. “I’ll even help you pack and move into your new place. I had always hoped I would be moving you to some college or university away from here, but ... there will be time for that. You will be taking classes this fall at Virginia Western, though. Your daddy started your college fund the day he knew I was carrying you inside me, so that is not negotiable. A year or two at Western, and then ...”
She’s squinting. She’s waiting for the “catch,” only there isn’t going to be one.
“You’re kidding about all this, right?”
“No.”
“You’d let me go like that?”
Lord Jesus, I know I am going to have to let her go one day, but does it have to be today?
“Crystal, I will never let you go. You’re in my heart forever. You’re with me when I wake up, and you’re with me when I go to sleep wherever I am and wherever you are. And if you feel moving out is the best thing for you to do, then ... I’m okay with it.” Did I just say all that to my firstborn child? What kind of mother am I? “So, um, what are your plans?”
“Plans?”
She hasn’t thought about any of this at all! I still have the upper hand. “Well, if you move out, you’ll need a job first.” Please, Lord, let reality set in to her rash words and make her doubt those plans.
“So I’ll get a job.”
&n
bsp; My turn to play twenty questions. “Doing what?”
“I don’t know, uh ... I’ll get a job at the mall.”
I nod. “Smart move. You don’t want to work fast food. The grease messes up your hair something terrible, and I ought to know. Any particular store?”
“Well, maybe Footaction or Foot Locker.”
“Whew. That’s good.”
“Why?”
“So we can get discounts on shoes, girl. Y’all go through them so fast. Toni will grow three sizes at least this year. Um, isn’t there a Lady Foot Locker?”
“Why would I want to work there?”
“I’m sure men come in there to buy shoes for their ladies.”
“Right, Mama.”
I shrug. “It was just an idea.” I pace a little. “What about”—what stores are in the mall, a place I avoid until Christmas?—“Victoria’s Secret?”
Crystal blinks.
“What? I’m going to be needing some ling-er-ee, right?”
“Gross!”
“I have to look sexy for my man, right?”
“Mama, I don’t even want to hear about that.”
“What about ...” What’s that creepy store she went into looking for “body apparel,” also known as nose rings, tongue studs, and other pain-inducing jewelry? “Hot something.”
She sighs. “It’s called Hot Topic, and they only have white people working in there.”
“So you’ll be the first black woman working there. You go in there every time we go to the mall. Didn’t you get your latest belly button ring from there?” The things a modern mother has to say to her daughter.
“Yeah. So?”
I take her hands.
“What?”
Time to smooth out a few things, or at least try to. “Do you remember how you reacted when Daddy died?”
Her face clouds over. She remembers. “What does this have to do with Hot Topic?”
Everything. “Just bear with me. Do you remember?”
She sighs. “I remember.”
I wish I could erase those memories. “Do you remember how much you changed in a very short period of time from a straight-A student in the PLATO program to a not-so-straight-A student in regular classes?”
She drops my hands. “I told you I remembered.”
“But that wasn’t all, was it? You used to play sports year round, do a little cheerleading. You remember that, girl?”
“I told you I did.”
