Frenemies

by L. Divine

  “So, Jeremy,” I say, not sure which issue to bring up first. I want to know exactly what’s up with his dad before approaching the matter of the purse. Depending on how far we get and what he says, I’ll know how to tell him I’m returning his gift. “Can we finish talking about your daddy and Black girls?” I say, making light of the heavy topic. I can tell by the way he’s tightening his jaw that he was hoping to avoid the topic indefinitely. But it’s too important to me to just let it go.

  “Jayd, what difference does it make? You’re with me, not him. I love you for who you are, not what you are, and I wish you could just be happy with that,” he says. Jeremy does sound sincere, but the pain in his voice is too deep for me to ignore.

  “Jeremy, that’s all well and fine,” I say, stroking his leg while he pulls up to the front of the school to drop me off. “But it makes a huge difference to me. This is the problem I have with Mrs. Bennett, Mrs. Peterson and other ignorant people who hate on me and my sistahs because of our strength.” Jeremy rolls his eyes as though he’s heard my speech before. But I continue anyway because it obviously hasn’t sunk in yet.

  “I’m serious. This isn’t funny to me, and I want to know exactly what I’m dealing with the next time I see your father.” Finally taking me seriously, Jeremy looks at me and spills the truth.

  “My dad doesn’t like Black women because he says they’re too loud, bossy and rude.” I’m a little taken aback by his confession but satisfied nonetheless.

  “Then how did all his sons end up with Black women?” I ask. According to Ms. Toni, the Weiner boys are notorious for dealing with girls that aren’t White.

  “I don’t know, really. I guess it’s just one of those things. But for the record, me and my brothers like women, not just Black women,” he says, his signature smile gleaming in the morning sun. And I like men; however, I do prefer the brothas overall. But Jeremy doesn’t need to know all that.

  “Okay, so what does this have to do with Tania? She’s not Black, she’s Persian.” Jeremy’s smile disappears as students start to walk up the path toward school. What is he hiding from me? “Jeremy, what is it? You can tell me anything, I promise,” I say, holding his hand with my left hand and turning his face toward me with my other.

  “Look, Jayd, I keep telling you some things are better left alone,” Jeremy says. “You know Tania’s pregnant, you know she’s engaged to someone else and you know I’m not going to have anything to do with the baby. Isn’t that enough? I have to go so I can get back before the bell rings,” he says, kissing me gently on the mouth, making me almost forget about the receipt. I’ll get it later. Right now, I want to stay in the bliss of ignorance as I long as I can. Whatever he doesn’t want to tell me is big. And I don’t know when we’ll have the opportunity to kiss like this again.

  When I make it into the partially empty main hall, I see Ms. Toni and Mrs. Bennett exchanging words by the ASB room up ahead of my locker. I wonder what that’s all about. Out of all the staff at South Bay, these are the main arch enemies and each equally lethal in their own way. I better go over there before Ms. Toni has Mrs. Bennett’s bleached-blond head for breakfast.

  “Hey, Ms. Toni,” I say, stepping up to her side as Mrs. Bennett’s frown turns to a sinister smile. This is one twisted broad; I still don’t understand how Jeremy and his crew love her so much. One of the main reasons I can’t wait to graduate is just so I can get away from her.

  “Hey, Jayd,” Ms. Toni says through a forced smile. “It’s nice to see your bright face.”

  “Jayd,” Mrs. Bennett says. I love that she doesn’t even pretend to like me. It makes it that much easier for me to hate her. “I think I’ll leave the two of you alone now.” Mrs. Bennett walks toward the front door. “And, Ms. Toni, remember what I said. Good teachers are irreplaceable.” I wonder where she parks her broomstick before landing her wicked ass on campus.

  “What was that all about?” I ask before we start walking back toward my locker. The bell’s about to ring, and I know Ms. Toni has to get to her class, too.

  “Oh, you know there’s always something political going on at this school. That woman makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up,” Ms. Toni says. It must be something big to make her this upset. She’s always telling me to be cool, even when dealing with this school’s administration. Now it looks like she’s the one who needs to chill.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll find a way around it,” I say, opening my locker as Ms. Toni looks off into the distance, staring at nothing in particular.

  “Everything isn’t that simple. Do you know how hard it is to find good teachers?” Ms. Toni says. “And then to keep those same good teachers from working at good schools like this one—because teachers that need to retire won’t—just makes my blood boil.” What the hell is she talking about?

  “Ms. Toni, what’s going on? Who’s retiring?” I say, slamming my locker shut. I know I’m going to be late if I don’t get going, but it sounds like Ms. Toni needs to talk.

  “Oh, Jayd, I wish I could say something, but I can’t,” she says, looking just as defeated as she did when we went up against Mrs. Bennett together. It makes me feel sad that I can’t be of more help to her. “Just pray for a little consciousness at this school.” She walks off toward her office and leaves me to ponder her last statement. Maybe there’s something I can do to help her situation after all. Besides, all good things start with a little positive thought, and that I can get to work on right now.

  After yesterday’s mall drama, I was grateful for the long day and distracting AP meetings. Nellie was absent, and Mickey and Nigel were in the office all day, explaining their absences, I assume. With Jeremy in his meeting after school, I had a lot of time on the bus to think about everything that’s been going on lately. Is it that easy to replace the people in our lives?

  Mama tossing Daddy’s cake yesterday really hit home with me. She wasn’t upset just because Daddy’s eating someone else’s cake; it hurt her to think that Daddy had replaced her with another woman. I know how she feels. It also hurts that Nellie replaced me and Mickey without as much as a bat of her mascara-coated eyelashes. It also hurts to think that Jeremy could think that buying me an expensive bag would ever replace me knowing the truth. Right now, I’m not feeling too hot about myself, and I really need Mama’s guidance. I hope she’s chilled out from yesterday’s festivities before she gives Netta a rogación de cabeza. If not, all her negative energy could end up in Netta’s head, and that wouldn’t be good for Netta or Netta’s clients.

  When I get home, Daddy’s outside polishing his baby-blue Cadillac El Dorado. I think he loves this car more than he loves Mama or their eleven children. My uncles are in the house watching television and fixing their dinner, as usual. When Mama does cleansings for her clients, she spends the whole day in the spirit room prepping for the ritual. I’m sure she already has my clean whites in the back with her, waiting for me to come help. I’ve already missed the major labor—cleaning the room, gathering the remaining herbs and plants, preparing the water. But I did help with some of the preparations last night while studying.

  “Hey, there, tweet,” Daddy says, looking up from his fun labor to give me a smile and quick peck. “Your mama’s in her room with Netta,” he says, pointing toward the backhouse behind the garage. If there was a full bathroom, I’m sure Mama would live out there all the time.

  “Hey Daddy. You gone let me drive her when I get my license next month?” I say, caressing the spotless ride. I still haven’t told my mom or Mama about my dad paying for my lessons. It keeps slipping my mind, but I’ll get around to it soon enough.

  “Girl, you know I don’t let anybody drive my car,” he says. I remember my uncle Junior took the car one night thinking Daddy would never find out. And he wouldn’t have found out, but Jay couldn’t wait to tell on Junior the next morning. Daddy kicked his ass all the way down the block and back over that one, permanently checking anyone who’d ever think of drivi
ng one of Daddy’s cars again.

  “I know, Daddy. I’m just teasing you,” I say, kissing him on the cheek. How can he be sweet to me but so awful to Mama? “Daddy, can I ask you something?” Maybe he’ll be truthful with me about his relationships with other women since I’m on the sidelines of their adult games, no matter how similar the playing field.

  “Sure, tweet, what’s on your mind?” I love it when he calls me my nickname. It’s just between me and him; no one else has ever called me tweet, and he’s never called me by any other name.

  “Why do you want other women when you have Mama at home?” Stopping in his tracks, Daddy takes a deep breath and looks at me very sternly. Oh, shit, I knew I went too far when the words came out, but I had to ask. He looks back at the car and continues polishing before saying another word.

  “This here is a nineteen seventy-five convertible Cadillac El Dorado. No matter how many new cars they come out with, there is no replacement for this vehicle. They don’t make them like this anymore,” he says, polishing the same spot for what must be the fiftieth time. Why is he talking about this damned car when I just asked him why he cheats on my grandmother? Before I can walk away, he continues his sermon, gluing me to my spot.

  “Lynn Mae is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, entranced by his own movements. “When I first saw those fiery green eyes and that long black hair, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I vowed right then and there, if she’d be my wife, I’d never lay eyes on another woman again—ever.”

  “Well, what happened?” I say. I know Mama’s looking at the wall clock and wondering where I am. It’s already past five now, and I know there’s still a lot of work to do for Netta. But I need to know what happens to make people feel like they can replace their loved ones or even friends, because a sistah’s hella confused right now, and I need some answers.

  “Time happened,” he says wearily. “Shit happens, people talk, more shit happens and then, well, you disconnect and it all falls apart after that.” Damn, that actually makes sense to me. In all my friendships, even with Misty, that’s pretty much the same recipe for destruction I’ve experienced.

  “But why stay together?” I say. “Especially for as long as you and Mama have been together?” I can’t even stay with KJ or Jeremy for a couple of months, and they’ve been together for over thirty-five years.

  “Tweet, no matter how many times you go out hunting, you always come back home. I could never leave your grandmother, not even if I wanted to. There’s nobody else in the world I trust like that hotheaded woman back there. And Lynn Mae won’t admit it, but she feels the same way. We love each other, no matter how it may appear to the outside world. And like the Bible says, love is patient, and I’m willing to wait for things to turn around, even it does take a lifetime.”

  “Well, all righty then,” I say, taking Daddy’s words to heart. As much as it may appear that they hate each other, it looks like the onlookers, including me, are terribly wrong. I wonder if Mama knows how much she still means to Daddy. Maybe if she did, they’d be a little sweeter to each other. “I better get back there. And thanks for the talk,” I say, leaving Daddy to his work and us to ours.

  “No problem. And, tweet, no matter what happens in life, stay sweet. That is, after all, why I gave you your nickname,” Daddy says, returning to his waxing.

  “I thought it was because I looked like a little yellow bird when I was born,” I say, repeating the story my mom told me.

  “Well, that, too, but mostly because when your grandmother saw you for the first time, she said you were so sweet. In that baby talk of hers it sounded like tweet, and that’s what stuck in my head.” The rare times he’s home, I love vibing with my grandfather. But I better get to the back before Mama sends Lexi after me.

  “Where have you been, girl? I was starting to get worried,” Mama says, filling the large tin basin with water and white flowers for Netta’s bath. Netta must be inside grating her cocoa butter and concentrating on her prayers. The cleansing process starts in the mind, as my lessons stated last night. Nobody gives a head cleansing like Mama. “Go clean up and put your whites on, Jayd. We have a lot of work to do.” Mama picks more roses from the bushes next to the miniature house. The scent of the flowers rises to my nose, making me feel calmer than I’ve felt all week. The term “soul work” must’ve originated with the Williams Women legacy because I always feel lifted when doing Mama’s work.

  “Are you feeling better?” I ask her. She looks like nothing ever happened. How can she be so forgiving all the time? I guess that family trait skipped both me and my mom.

  “I feel good, girl. Now go get dressed and bring Netta out here with you when you’re ready. Did you study the rogación ingredients and their purposes?” Mama asks, grilling me before I even have a chance to get in the door good.

  “Yes, I did,” I say as I walk into the tiny kitchen where Netta, also robed in white, sits at the table with a plate full of shredded cocoa butter in front of her. The soft Cuban drumbeats in the background massage my temples, inviting me into the sacred space. This is why I come home. I nod hello to Netta—who can only nod back, as during a cleansing the client is forbidden to speak—and head to the back of the breezy room. There are windows on each wall, leaving little privacy, but Mama’s fixed that, too.

  I take my whites off the hanger behind the bathroom door and go behind the Chinese screens to change; there’s no room in the small washroom to even turn around in. Mama’s maximized all the space in this room to perfection. It’s amazing that she can fit everything in here that she does. None of her clients have ever complained about the cozy space or the prices Mama charges for her work, which I think isn’t nearly enough. The only thing they ever say is that they feel the spirit in here, as do I.

  “Are you ready?” I ask Netta as I take her by the arm and lead her out of the room, cocoa butter in hand.

  “Jayd, help Netta kneel beside the basin and then go and bring me all the ingredients for an Ori cleansing,” Mama says, confident I already memorized my lessons. Since we’ve been concentrating on the power of thoughts, all my lessons have been about one’s Ori, or personal destiny. Osun, our deity, isn’t even as powerful as an individual’s Ori. Nothing can substitute the blessings of one’s destiny when you really need to get something done.

  I walk back into the kitchen and retrieve the soft black soap I pounded last night, fresh spinach from our garden and some red palm oil from the cabinet. When Mama sees my loot, she looks at me, proud of my progress. I have to admit, I’m kind of proud of myself for this one. Because the lessons weren’t all about Queen Califia, Osun or Maman but also about other important elements of our way of life, I didn’t take it seriously at first. But now I see the value in the individual sections of Mama’s spirit book, and I’m anxious to learn more. This must be where my mom got bored and stopped studying.

  “Jayd, hold this sheet up so I can begin the cleansing,” Mama says, handing me a kingsize white sheet to hide us from any nosey onlookers along the exposed side of the wall. Luckily we’re shielded by fig trees and the garage on the other side facing the house. But you never know who may want to sneak a peak. Clients are always cleansed outside, even Netta. I prefer to do my cleansings out here as well. But Mama prefers we do ours inside to be closer to our family shrines.

  After we finish Netta’s ceremony, her husband picks her up while Mama and I clean up and catch up on yesterday’s happenings at school.

  “Jayd, I know you don’t want to help her, but you and I both know that Nellie’s in way over head with this one,” she says, sweeping the floor where a nesting Lexi lies. Oh, to be a dog in Mama’s world. “Mickey will eat her alive if her true enemies don’t get to her first.”

  “I know,” I say in total agreement. Nellie has crossed dangerous territory messing with her friend turned enemy. “I don’t understand how she thought Tania and them would make better friends than me and Mickey. The girl’s completely lost her min
d.” I wash the rest of the ceremonial dishes before drying them off and return them to the counter. If people saw all the work Mama puts into her rituals, they’d give her at least double what she asks.

  “It’s not about who would make a better friend, Jayd,” Mama says, taking a seat and stretching her legs under the table. Mama’s been back here all day and still has more work to do before Halloween this weekend. I still haven’t got my costume together. I’m going to raid my mom’s closet as usual when I get there on Friday. Jeremy’s going to take me straight there because he knows I have to get ready for the dance.

  “Then what is it, because I don’t get it. A crown can’t be that serious,” I say, joining her at the table. It’s almost nine, and I’ve got mad homework due by the end of the week. Tomorrow will have to be another crunch day in the library if I’m going to get it all done.

  “Oh, Jayd, some people don’t know how good they’ve got it until it’s gone,” she says, sounding like she’s not talking about my school problems at all. “I’m sure Nellie regrets everything she’s done by now and wants to find her way back to y’all, but it’s hard to admit when you’re wrong.”

  “So you’re saying we should just forgive her like she didn’t betray us both?” I say. I can’t believe Mama’s giving me the “turn the other cheek” rationalization after all she’s been through with frenemies. And although Mama may turn the other cheek, she never closes her eyes.

  “No, I’m not saying be stupid, Jayd. I’m just saying try to put yourself in her shoes before you’re so quick to write her off as your enemy. Real friends are hard to come by, no matter how stupid they may act sometimes. Mickey was right to smack her; I would’ve done the same thing,” Mama says, her emerald eyes displaying the youth behind her gray hairs. “Sometimes it’s better if a friend kicks your ass, rather than an enemy; the pain is out of love more so than hate. And sometimes that’s what it takes to turn things around.” Mama’s right; I’ve been too soft about this whole thing. I need to concentrate on checking Nellie’s ass first, Tania next. I need all my allies with me, and if I have to get rough, then that’s what I’ll have to do, no matter what Jeremy or his dad may think of how we sistahs handle our business.