by Donald Welch
< SEVEN >
Afternoon Delight
Philly is known for experiencing some brutal days in the summer, but not today. Today couldn’t be more perfect. The humidity was surprisingly low for the month of July, and by one in the afternoon, the temperature was a comfortable eighty-four degrees. After checking out of her hotel, Storm stepped out into the sunlight. Immediately a city cab approached her and asked if she needed a ride. At first she said yes, but then changed her mind, opting to walk the twelve blocks to South Street. The cabbie frowned, rolled the window back up, and sped off, but not before spitting the word “Cunt!” out of his mouth. Normally this would have pissed off Storm; she thought that was the lowest name to call a woman. Even she refrained from using that word and she held a dictionary of cuss words in her head. She would have screamed obscenities right back at him, but she let it roll off her back. A foul-mouthed disgruntled cab driver was not going to spoil her mood. Not today.
Today she was free and the taste, smell, sights, and sounds of freedom wrapped around her like a comforting soft sweater as she turned off Chestnut Street onto Walnut. She couldn’t believe all of the trendy new shops and restaurants that had opened since she went away. She barely recognized anything. Where was the Philly she used to know? She had known all the businesses on Walnut when she was on the street. Everything had changed. A twinge of sadness crept over her as she tried to remember which store used to be where, what restaurant had closed and what new one replaced it.
Storm was headed for her old apartment building, walking up to the corner of Eighteenth and Walnut, where The Rittenhouse Claridge stood. Not ready to be recognized by any of her old neighbors or Ernie, the doorman, Storm walked on the opposite side of the street until she was directly across from the eighteen-story place she had called home before Muncy. Watching the comings and goings of all the people brought back memories of Storm’s society days. Days when she’d step out of The Claridge in a Donna Karan mini jersey print dress, with a Dior handbag, Prada boots, a Movado watch, and Fendi earrings. And that was just for a Saturday afternoon brunch with friends. How she longed for the return of those days.
Deciding on a park bench across from her old residence, she sat down and took in all the scenery. As long as she had lived on Rittenhouse Square, she never fully realized how beautiful and scenic it was. A stone’s throw from the South Philly neighborhood in which she grew up, Rittenhouse Square sat in the center of the downtown area, surrounded by numerous high-rise office buildings, shops, and condominiums. The square was adorned by ten-foot trees, some with white and pink blossoms, and manicured patches of rich green grass, and in its center sat an ornate Roman-style fountain. During the summer, birds and squirrels would perch themselves on the edge of the fountain or dip their faces in the water, oblivious to the assortment of urban professionals, businessmen, moms with strollers, and folks sitting around having lunch or chatting endlessly on cellphones all around them. Storm was enjoying all of this for the first time. This must be what they call taking time to smell the roses.
Before prison, her life was so full that sitting down in a park watching other people wasn’t even a consideration. If anything, they would be watching her. There was another reason Storm chose to sit idly in the park, taking a moment or two to get herself together. She was preparing to see her sister, Skylar.
< EIGHT >
Sunrise, Sunset
Nettie entered the club, stylishly dressed in a pair of hip-hugging black slacks, red three-inch pumps, and a solid red silk tank top. She carried several bags in her hand and was in mid conversation on her cellphone. Her mood was jovial. It was obvious that she and June had patched things up because they were flirting the night away.
“Okay, so you gonna make me tell Skylar that I have an emergency back at home, yeah, that my space heater has overheated and I may have to go home a little early to have it taken care of.” Putting the bags down on the table, she let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, really, you’re going to do all that, huh? I see. Well, I tell you what, you just make sure you’re awake when I get there and you can show me how badly you’ve missed me, okay?” Nettie said while clicking on the lights and heading over to the bar.
“I love you, too, baby.” She softened her tone, “And I’m sorry, too. It was both of our faults, baby. I’m not the innocent one here,” she cooed. “Okay, well, let me go. You know we are going to have another packed house tonight. I can already see the flashing light on the phone. We’ve got reservations up the ying yang! Okay, sweetie, see ya later. Bye-bye.”
Even with all the fussing and fighting they went through, Nettie had always known that June loved her. Even with all the jealous behavior and insecurities, there was no mistaking that June Alvarado adored her some Nettie Flowers. The thought of this brought a smile and chuckle to Nettie’s lips.
Although Nettie had known for years that she was attracted to women, June was normally not her type. For one, June was overweight and short. Second, she was entirely too young for Nettie. But June pursued her and wouldn’t take no for nothing in the world. In short, she wore Nettie down until she gave in. And Nettie had to admit: She was glad she did. Nettie knew she could be a handful in relationships. Her abrasive, controlling, foul-mouthed ways would normally send women screaming for the exit. She certainly wouldn’t tolerate the mess she dished out to June if the tables were turned. Thinking about this brought a touch of guilt, and Nettie mumbled to herself, “I promise … I’ll try to be better from now on.” She would try to not fly off the handle as quickly as she usually did and understand that there was a generational gap. Perhaps she would be more patient with June when she went on her jealous binges—and she had to admit that it was a bit flattering.
Putting her cellphone away in her oversize purse, she noticed a small gift-wrapped box with a card attached. She assumed that it was something from June. What has this girl gotten me now? The card read, “Nettie, I know that sometimes we argue and get mad at each other, but I just want you to know that I love you more than you’ll ever know. This is a little something for you. I hope you enjoy it. I had no idea who these women were or ever heard of their music except for the lead singer, and you play a lot of their old-school tunes in the house. But I know what they mean to you. Enjoy, June.”
Ripping the paper off the small package in anticipation, Nettie opened the box to find that it was indeed what she was hoping for. The rock and soul group Labelle’s reunion DVD. She had gotten the CD in 2008 when it was released, but was waiting for the tour DVD. Patti Labelle, Nettie’s favorite singer, had reunited with group members Nona Hendryx and Sarah Dash after thirty years for not only a CD but a series of concerts, and this was the DVD of the group’s one-night-only appearance at The Apollo Theater in New York.
“Yes!” an ecstatic, hand-clapping Nettie shouted, and she got lost for a moment, reading the text on the back of the case. She thought of calling June right back and telling her thank you and how much she appreciated the gift, but more important, her. But she decided against it after looking at her watch and remembering that there was no such thing as a quick call with June. She would thank her later, when she got home. In more ways than one.
Approaching the bar, Nettie noticed that someone had bumped the picture of Dutch that hung directly on the wall above the bar. The lopsided frame seemed to be hanging on by a thread; it looked as if a mere touch would send it crashing to the floor.
“I wish people would leave my shit alone!” Nettie said, annoyed. “This is my area. I don’t bother nobody’s shit, so they shouldn’t bother mine!” Straightening the photo, she continued fussing out loud even after the picture was returned to its rightful position. “Whoever it was, they better hope that I don’t catch ’em over here! Make me sick.” She bent down behind the bar to retrieve a few unopened bottles of Ciroc vodka, and did not notice that someone had quietly entered the club.
“Excuse me,” the stranger said.
Without standing up or missing a beat, Nettie matter-of-factly stated, �
�Sorry, baby, we ain’t open yet. Come back around eight o’clock, okay?”
It was Storm. She decided to tease Nettie by disguising her voice. “But I just want a beer or something,” she growled in a low voice, trying not to laugh.
“Well, get you some water!” Nettie snapped. “The fountain’s out in the front lobby. Now I don’t want to sound rude, but we’re not open now, shit!”
“I heard this was a classy, sophisticated joint and that the staff was professional.” Storm dragged out the word for dramatic effect. “That must have been before they hired you!”
Nettie, now really annoyed, stopped what she was doing and prepared to confront the stranger. She was in too good a mood for a verbal battle but someone needed to be put in their place.
“I know one thing, before I turn around you better haul ass …” Before she could finish she turned and saw that it was Storm. Tears quickly formed in her eyes as she lit up with joy. “Over here and give me a hug!” They both screamed in delight and rushed toward each other, arms spread wide open for an embrace.
“Hey, Nettie, gotcha!” Storm said gleefully as she hugged her old friend.
“Girl, you damn sure did.” Without letting her go she continued, “How did you get here? Did Skylar pick you up?”
Relaxing in the embrace but still holding on to Nettie’s hands, Storm told her how she’d wanted to surprise everyone.
“Girl, now you know I would have come and got you. What the hell’s wrong with you?” She playfully hit Storm on the shoulder.
“I know, I know. It’s okay. I’m here now aren’t I?” An excited Storm smiled and thought about how much she had missed Nettie.
“Lawd have mercy, look at you. You look good, Baby Girl.” Nettie’s eyes gave Storm a motherly once-over.
“I’m okay, Nettie, I’m okay,” Storm replied. There was a quiet moment between the two of them as Storm glanced around the place.
“Well, it sure is good having you back. Did you get all my cards and letters I sent? ’Cause if I remember correctly, I think I maybe got like, what, two or three from you the whole time you was down,” Nettie said as she stepped back with both hands on her hips, waiting for an answer or an excuse.
“I’m sorry, Nettie. You know I was never much of a writer. But I did send you a card for your fiftieth birthday. Did you receive it?”
“Bitch, I know you crazy. You know damn well I ain’t fifty,” Nettie said, rolling her eyes. “I turned forty-seven and yes I did get that one ol’ cheap card!”
“I’m just playing, Nettie, you know that!” Storm said as she demanded another hug from Nettie. Nettie steered her over to one of the tables and they sat down and played catch-up.
“Nettie, I’m just so glad to be out of that place and I never plan on going back.”
“I know, chile.” Nettie shook her head. “Prison ain’t no joke. You know I’ve been down that road. Shit, there was a time I was locked up more times than a bank vault.” They both let out a hearty laugh. “Shit, I don’t know where I’d be if yo daddy didn’t accept me off the street.”
Storm’s expression became solemn and her gaze drifted to the framed portrait of Dutch on the wall.
“Well, that stuff is all behind you now, Baby Girl.” Nettie tenderly rubbed Storm’s hand. Baby Girl was what Nettie always called Storm. Hearing that name again soothed and comforted Storm instantly. “You’re gonna work here, ain’t you?” Nettie asked.
“For a while, I suppose. I spoke to Sidney and he said there would be something available,” Storm added.
“Oh, that’s right. Well, let me run upstairs and get the new menus your sister had printed up.” Nettie stood, gave Storm a hug, and started to leave.
“Menus? Y’all selling food, too?” Storm asked as she scanned the club.
“Yeah, girl, just some little hors d’oeuvres and appetizers—shit like that. Your sister hasn’t decided on a full menu yet.”
“Sky’s doing it like Dutch, huh? Serving food like we used to when it was Morrison’s?” Storm managed a nervous smile.
“A little bit.” Nettie winked. “I need to run in the back and get a few more supplies, Storm. I’ll be right back. Settle yourself in. Your sister should be here soon.”
“Okay. Cool.”
Reaching the door that led to the second floor, Nettie suddenly stopped and turned toward Storm. “So glad to have you home, baby. You know, you and your sister are like family to me,” she said tenderly as tears formed in her eyes.
“I know, Nettie. I know,” Storm said and smiled at Nettie.
Storm decided to take a tour of the club. Checking out the decor and layout of the main room, she made her way over to the Legends wall with its photos and paintings of musicians and artists and actors. As her eyes scanned the wall, she zeroed in on another black-and-white photo. It was a picture of two little girls, holding hands and smiling broadly at the camera—her and Skylar at age five. Dutch had taken the girls to Hershey Park, the amusement park outside Philadelphia, the summer they finished kindergarten. In one hand each girl was holding a few miniature Hershey’s candy bars; with the other hand they were holding on to each other.
No mistaking that these girls were twins. Although dressed differently, they had the same excited expressions on their faces. Even the way they were pointing their left feet and leaning back was identical. Storm remembered Skylar telling her that when taking a photo, you must stand like Janet Jackson. Janet was the only common interest the girls shared. They were both huge fans, especially after Janet released Control in 1986. That’s how I remember you that day, Sky. Controlling.
Storm touched the photo gently and laughed at the memory. At this moment, the door swung open and Skylar entered. She was on her cellphone and unaware that Storm was there. Although Storm didn’t turn around, the sound of her sister’s voice paralyzed her for a moment.
“Okay, so you’re saying we should expect the delivery of the tablecloths and the matching chair covers by tomorrow morning? Okay, thanks, bye.” Skylar hung up her cell, relieved that at least one headache had been cured. She was startled by the silhouette of the woman whose back was to her, facing the Legends wall.
“Hello, may I help you?” She couldn’t make out who the woman was because the limited lighting threw a shadowy edge over everything, but there was something eerily familiar about her posture. At that moment, Storm slowly turned around and stepped out of the shadows.
“Storm?” Skylar’s eyes widened in surprise as she whispered her sister’s name.
“Hey, girl,” Storm answered. Neither one of them made a move or gesture toward the other. Their eyes locked and they both stood still for a few more moments. Skylar nervously broke the silence.
“When did you …? How did you get here? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Slow down, girl. Which of these questions am I supposed to answer first?” Storm managed an innocent smirk.
“You look good, girl. You look good.” Skylar smiled.
“I’m doing okay. Thanks,” Storm said.
“Where are all your things?” Skylar looked around Storm.
“Right over there.” Storm pointed to the table where she’d sat with Nettie earlier.
“Oh.” Skylar saw the lone tan duffle bag on the floor by the table and wished she had not asked. Skylar stepped a little closer toward Storm, but not too close. Just close enough for her to get a good visual of her sister.
Prison life had not been that kind to her. There was a hardness in her face and a sadness in her eyes that Skylar had never seen before. After a few more moments, Skylar informed her, “We have the guest room ready for you, and you’re welcome to use my car, you know, to help you get settled in and all.”
“Thanks, Sky, but I’m fine. I already have a hookup for a spot to stay.”
“Oh, okay, fine then.” Skylar wondered who the hookup was, but dared not ask. She really didn’t care.
Storm could tell that Skylar was happy. That she was in a good place in her l
ife. Success, a good man—everything appeared perfect in Skylar Morrison’s life, which was in direct contrast to what Storm’s own life was like, to what it had been like for the last three years.
“Look like you’ve stayed in the gym, missy.” Storm gave her a once-over and smiled.
“What?” Skylar said coyly. She knew damn well she looked good. She didn’t need Storm’s validation. Working out and eating right had been a longtime practice of hers.
“Yeah, but it gets harder and harder to maintain, the older I get,” Skylar offered.
“Don’t I know it. I mean, we are the same age, right?” Storm laughed, and the statement drew surprising laughter from Skylar as well. Changing the subject, Storm brought up the job situation.
“Listen, I was wondering if you could spot me for a while. You know, like a little job around here until I get back on my feet? The last time I spoke to Sidney, he said that he was sure that something could be found to do around here. Did he speak to you about it?”
“Yes, yes he did, and sure. Let me think on it. We can always use a little help around this place. Let me talk to Nettie. She’s more involved with the day-to-day operations around here,” Skylar said. “Have you seen her yet? I thought she was already here…”
“She is, I saw her. When I came in she was over at the bar area fussing about something.” They both laughed.
“Well, as you can see, much hasn’t changed. She’s still Nettie,” Skylar declared.
“But that’s what we’ve always loved about her, right?” Storm’s voice lowered.
“Yeah, you’re right about that,” Skylar agreed. “So what are your long-term plans?” Skylar asked, folding her arms across her chest while giving her the eye. Immediately recognizing the familiar condescending manner with which Skylar approached a question confirmed for Storm that she was right: Nothing much had changed.
“Actually I’ve been thinking about taking a few culinary classes. You know, maybe becoming a chef.” Without thinking, Storm mirrored her sister, folding her arms across her chest and smiling at Skylar.
