by L. Divine
“No, Jayd. Don’t mess with them,” Mama says, stopping in her tracks before reaching the back door. She turns around and faces me. “They were not properly married to their spiritual heads but instead to Esmeralda’s will. She can manipulate them to do whatever she needs them to do and be whoever she wants them to be. And with Rousseau summoning his godfather—my father—on her behalf, who knows what kind of demented thoughts they’ve already managed to put in their heads.”
“Good evening, ladies,” Rousseau says, appearing at the back gate adjacent to the same driveway where Pam’s body was found. “Did I hear someone call my name?”
Lexi charges and stops short of the gate, growling fiercely at our unwelcomed visitor. I feel like doing the same thing.
“Returning to the scene of your latest crime, I see,” I say, stepping toward the gate behind Lexi.
“Get in the house, now,” Mama says, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind for speaking to Rousseau. Mama ignores the intrusive neighbor, ushering Lexi and me through the door. Once we’re safely inside the kitchen, Mama smacks me on the back of my arm like she used to do when I was a little girl.
“Ouch!” I say, rubbing the sore spot. “What was that for?”
“That was for being a smart-ass,” Mama says, slitting her eyes at me. “Whatever you do from now on, don’t engage he or Esmeralda. Ever.”
“I have a feeling you’re not telling me something,” I say, following her through the living room toward her bedroom.
I nod what’s up to my cousin, Jay, and other uncles. It’s still early for them to go out. Bryan’s the only one missing because he’s at his weekend night gig deejaying for the local independent radio station. Bryan doesn’t get paid for his show, Night Science, which is dedicated to conscious music across various genres. Bryan loves that job almost as much as he loves his girlfriend.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, which is exactly why you need to watch your step.” Mama removes her sandals and sits down on the corner of her bed. I follow suit and sit down on mine ready to listen. “When Esmeralda lost her spiritual house in New Orleans she also lost her powers to influence animals the same way she used to when we were younger. It’s a divine gift, indeed. I know what Lexi’s saying because we communicate in various ways, but to talk to her like we’re talking now is beyond my scope of understanding.”
“I feel you,” I say, touching the spirit book on my bed. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to constantly hear animals’ voices in my head. The sample I got when I saw as she does a while back was a complete trip.” No wonder Esmeralda’s one step away from the insane asylum.
“When it was just Esmeralda over there I could handle it. But now that she’s got her partner in both crime and in life back from the undead, it’s going to take a lot more to tame her wild ass,” Mama says, staring at Lexi making herself comfortable in the hallway separating Mama’s room, Daddy’s room and the bathroom.
“Mama, why don’t we just fight fire with fire,” I say, recalling one of my visions where Maman’s dress caught on fire when her husband walked into the room. My great-grandfather’s head belongs to Shango, just like G’s. Everything he does is hot.
“Never that, Jayd. We are sweet water children, daughters of Oshune. We don’t need fire or their type of evil to win this battle.”
“Then what do we need?” I ask, settling into my pillow.
Mama looks at the shrine next to her bed before claiming the mail from the nightstand in between our beds. She doesn’t have to voice her frustration; her eyebrows always crinkle at the sight of bills.
“What I’ve learned from the ancestors is that through it all you keep going. No matter what you never lose faith—period. And that’s what we have to do.”
“But Mama, that’s not an answer.”
“We have to trust in the process, Jayd,” Mama says, visibly exhausted. “How many times have I told you that? The answer will come as long as we do the work.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, ready to drift off.
I promised Rah I’d hook he and Rahima’s hair up tomorrow after church. His younger brother Kamal should be home for the weekend. He started middle school this year and rarely comes back to Los Angeles to hang with his brother and baby mama drama. Who can blame him? There’s peace at their grandparent’s house on the other side of Compton. Maybe Rah should consider moving back there for a while to get away from Sandy’s crazy ass. It could also help with the financial pinch he’s been feeling since his mom stopped paying her half of the bills and rent.
The alarm from the oven in the backhouse sounds loudly and the neighborhood dogs respond. We can smell the pound cake through the bedroom window. I hope Mama lets me taste it in the morning.
“Jay, go and get the cake out of the oven and turn it off, please,” Mama says out of the opened bedroom door.
Jay’s the only man Mama allows in the spirit room alone. Bryan can go sometimes but has a habit of borrowing incense and candles from the supply cabinet, which works Mama’s nerves.
Mama replaces the mortgage payment in the neatly opened envelope and puts it on the edge of her dresser before climbing into bed. Daddy will pick it up when he comes home. This is my grandparent’s system: It allows them to communicate once a day without being too intimate. In their brief conversation they’ll exchange important household information such as necessary groceries and other bills, chores and a brief discussion on children and neighbors in that order, every time. Daddy might ask me about my day, but usually I just sit on the corner of my bed and stare at whatever’s on television. It must be uncomfortable for Daddy to stand at the threshold of what used to be his room, but that’s the way it’s been since I can remember.
I can’t imagine Jeremy and I ever becoming that distant but it feels like that’s the direction we’re headed. Hell, I never thought I’d date a white boy in the first place but I did, and I fell in love with him—hard. Lord knows I want to help Jeremy in any way that I can but it’s his family’s disease that’s got him thinking his way of life is okay. I hope Jeremy can find his way back to us before I completely move on.
“Speak for your ancestors and they will take care of you.”
-Mama
Drama High, volume 10: Culture Clash
* * *
CHAPTER SIX: BLOOD TIES
Sometimes I forget just how many people attempt to fit into the crammed sanctuary at First AME Church of Compton. Mama, Netta and I decided to dress in yellow and white honoring both Oshune and Pam’s spirit. Had I known I was going to end up wearing everyone else’s scent I wouldn’t have bothered putting on my own perfume. I wish I had time to take a shower before I came to work but we all drove straight to the shop. Clients started arriving at noon and have been coming steadily for the last six hours.
Mama and Netta are wrapping up the last sister’s hair now, sending her home with a few samples of our latest products. All the proceeds from the Heavenly Healing line will go to Pam’s funeral first, and then G’s defense fund. Mama’s meeting at the church was good for that and for finding a team of lawyers to volunteer in the meantime. Mama promised they would eventually get paid for their services and the church congregation backed her up.
Daddy’s sermon was very inspiring, so much so that he called the entire congregation to service. He walked straight out of the church and down the street to all of the other churches of various denominations to ask them to join us for the early morning outing, and they did. We walked several blocks until our feet hurt. Bryan, who was at home with the rest of my uncles and Jay, said we looked like Jehovah’s witnesses. Mama said we looked like God’s soldiers, handed them a tambourine and made them all join us on our trek.
“Jayd, you’re free to leave, honey. It’s been a long day,” Netta says, kissing me on the forehead.
“Yes, baby. Get some good rest,” Mama says, following her best friend into the back office.
I finish sweeping the floor before preparing to head out. I’
m glad tomorrow’s Columbus Day, even if I could care less about the holiday. As Mama says, only in this country can you be rewarded for getting lost and enslaving every indigenous person you encountered along the way. At least we get a day off from school. I have plenty of work to catch up on and an ASU meeting to plan. Spirit week and Homecoming are both around the corner leaving our group little time to recruit new members.
“Bye. I love y’all,” I say, knowing they’re in the back counting money and checking the books.
“Be safe, Jayd. Mo feran o,” Mama says, sending her love in Yoruba.
My phone vibrates in my jean pocket. Every time it rings I half hope it’s Jeremy but it never is. Instead, it’s Rah.
“Hello,” I say, hanging my work apron up in my locker and retrieving my purse from the hook. I take a quick look out of the peephole and head out the front door.
“Jayd, what up?” Rah asks. “We still on for tonight?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I say, starting the car.
My mom’s clutch has been acting funny lately. Rah said if it needs replacing he could get me a good deal on the parts and do the labor free—yet another thing I need to save my money for.
“Cool. I’m going to drop off Kamal at my grandparent’s house. I’ll holla when I’m on my way back.”
“I was hoping I’d get to see him,” I say, pulling away from the shop. “Tell him I said what’s up.”
“Bet. In a minute,” Rah says, ending the call. I guess I can get some studying done in the meantime.
Mama said we need to keep the faith and the answer will come. I get that, but I also want to see if our ancestors have any advice on how to stop Esmeralda’s sinister plan in this moment. We’ve got enough going on in our hood without her twisted bull adding to the pot. I brought the spirit book with me to look up more on my great-grandmother as well. If anyone knows how to deal with Jon Paul it’s his wife, Maman.
*
Luckily, my mom didn’t find my Lay’s stashed away in the cupboard. They were just as good today as they would’ve been on Friday, which is when I originally planned to eat them. I haven’t had a moment to myself in this apartment since then and am enjoying the peace and quiet as well as my readings on Maman and her favorite great-ancestor, Queen Califia. She was gangster with her style and her power of sight.
Califia was able to see through anything and anyone to reveal hidden treasures and vulnerabilities. If she was looking at the earth, she could see vaults, valuable stones and other things hidden beneath the surface. If Califia was dealing with a person she could see their intentions before they manifested. No wonder Maman liked summoning her energy. Predicting one’s behavior has many advantages especially when dealing with those who want to do me harm.
The spirit book also talks about the many women in our bloodline who’ve either had our veve tattooed or branded on their bodies, usually on the left shoulder. From the drawings Maman left behind, Califia’s brand was a gorgeous brick red color against her dark brown skin.
“That looks like it hurt,” I say aloud. I don’t think I’m woman enough to get a brand. I know some fraternity brothas practice the outdated method of claiming ownership on slaves and cattle. I think there’s a reason tattoos have become more popular than the hot iron to skin method.
Rah probably won’t be back from Compton for another hour or so. The ever-present luggage under my eyes tells me that I could use a quick nap. The spirit book will be nice and cozy on the coffee table; I’ll study some more when I wake up.
*
“Queen Califia, he’s coming for you,” a young girl whispers to me. We seem to be in some sort of cave with several dozen other people of various ages. The only light comes from the fire burning in the center of the circle of chained bodies. My ankles are bound together and my right hand is bound to the girl’s left.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, comforting the child even though I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Aren’t you scared, Queen?” I look into her big, brown eyes filled with fear.
“Scared of what?” I asked, confused about the situation.
“Of Master Cortez doing what he did to them on you.”
I follow her eyes to the other Africans, all shackled and freshly branded with the letter C on their left shoulders. I feel my shoulder and notice that I haven’t been burned—yet.
“There’s no time to be scared, Sophia,” I say, quickly assessing the situation. No matter the outcome Queen Califia wouldn’t go down without a fight. “We have to fight fire with fire to defeat the evil taking over our land.”
I grab the eleke around my neck with our family veve in gold hanging from the center and kiss it to my forehead. “I’ll be damned if he claims my body as his property, not like this.”
Tired of sitting in the near dark, I stand up forcing Sophia to also stand. I glare at the wall until my eyes begin to take on a green glow similar to Maman’s. At first nothing happens, but moments later I can clearly see through the wall. Cortez and his men are searching for a new tool to brand me with. He wants to make sure he makes an example out of the dethroned Queen of California.
The other captives blankly stare at me, traumatized by the day’s events. One minute they were wealthy property owners and the next violently captured by Cortez and his army. Surrendering was never an option.
“Come on,” I say to Sophia, gently pulling the shackles and moving toward the flames. I take my necklace off and dangle the gold charm in the fire until it’s bright red. Sophia’s eyes glow with tears ready to fall.
I grit my teeth and smile. “Everything will be okay because we know who owns our souls.” I lay the necklace on my left shoulder; the hot metal burns my skin adding to the stench of freshly seared flesh in the air. Rather than scream from the pain, I feel Califia’s sight become stronger with each passing moment.
“Are you all right, Queen?” Sophia asks, the water in her eyes suspended as she awaits my answer.
All of the captives are staring at me as if I’ve just sentenced us all to death. Weren’t we already dead? “If I’m going to be claimed it’ll be by my own hands, not his.”
Cortez enters the space and approaches me with his new tool in hand. He spits fresh tobacco juice on the ground and advances toward Sophia and me. Ignoring my young companion’s terror, Cortez grabs me by the arm and stops short of throwing us to the ground.
“What is this witchcraft you’ve defiled your body with?” he screams, throwing me against the stone wall with all of his strength.
Blood drips from my mouth. Sophia cries out in fear as Cortez curses our gods in his native tongue. Queen Califia knows what she’s doing. I smile at my abuser, ready to give him a taste of his own medicine.
“Sir, it’s glowing!” one of Cortez’s soldiers exclaims, pointing at my arm. “Ay dios mio! The brand’s on fire!”
Cortez opens his water canteen and pours out the entire contents onto my shoulder. Instead of quenching the fire the water fuels the flames and Califia’s power.
“We will all burn to the ground before you make slaves out of us!” I say, calling my relatives to arms.
At first, the other women, men and children in the room stare on in silence, but one by one they rise to their feet in solidarity. With flames dancing all around us, we are finally set free.
*
My cell rings loudly and scares me half to death.
“Hello,” I say groggily into my cell. How long have I been out?
“Jayd, it’s Rah. Did I wake you?”
“You could say that,” I say, touching my right shoulder. It feels hot much like it did in my vision a moment ago. “Are you ready for me to do your hair?”
“First me and Nigel are going to get new tats real quick. Want to roll?” Rah asks like they’re going to Ralph’s for groceries. As many tattoos as they both have I guess it is a bit like shopping to them.
“What about your hair?” I ask, suddenly aware I’m losing money to Rah’s impuls
ive buy. “I need my ends, sun.”
Rah laughs at my East coast accent but I’m serious.
“We’ll take care of all that.”
I think it’s interesting that I just had a dream about a tattoo of sorts and now my boys are talking about going to get one. I wouldn’t mind getting out of the house and doing something other than working for a change.
“Okay. Give me fifteen minutes to get over there,” I say, rising from the couch and wiping the drool from my chin. I was out like a baby and grateful for it. “A quick face wash and I’ll be ready to go.” Thank goodness it’s just my boys. If it were Keenan or Jeremy I’d have to go through a whole other process before walking outside.
“Aight. We’ll see you when you get here,” Rah says, hanging up.
It may not be the perfect time to drill Nigel on his feelings for Mickey but there’s no time like the present. I just pray Mickey’s rekindled feelings for G are a form of temporary insanity at best. If Nigel finds out that they’re back together there’s no telling what he’ll do.
*
When I arrived at Rah’s house my boys told me all about me how Mickey disappeared with the baby last night. I haven’t talked to my girl since I couldn’t go to the party with she and Nellie on Friday. This is the fifth time I’ve called Mickey in the past hour and she refuses to pick up the phone. I know Nellie’s churching it all day with her boo so I haven’t even bothered trying to reach her. Mickey has truly lost her mind this time. From what I can tell Nigel doesn’t know about her and G’s recent family plans. I don’t want him to find out the wrong way nor do I want to be the one to tell him. Hopefully I can convince Mickey to change her mind and there’ll be no need for the confession.
By the time we get to Sunset Boulevard it’s packed with fly-ass whips and people walking around. I didn’t know they were rolling like this on a Sunday night. Maybe it’s just because of the holiday tomorrow. The only homework I have due on Tuesday is our Columbus Day history report. When is Mrs. Peterson going to give up and retire? It should be illegal to have the meanest History teacher and the most evil English teacher in the same semester.
