A Day Late and a Dollar Short

by Terry McMillan

  "Mama, wake up," Janelle is saying. But that's impossible, 'cause I ain't sleep. But my body is being shook, and I realize my eyes is closed, been closed for a few minutes, I guess. The mail I was opening laying next to me look like a fan of white envelopes except for that brown one from the IRS threatening for the last time to take this house. They can have this raggedy hole. I ain't losing no more sleep over this dump. Let Cecil worry about it. Let him figure it out.

  "Granny, how are you feeling?"

  "Shanice?"

  I try to sit up, and when I do, she helps me, while Janelle stands at the foot of the bed putting on rubber gloves. "When did y'all get here? Is Lewis back yet?"

  "No, thank the Lord. We got here about fifteen minutes ago, Mama. You were out like a light, and we wanted you to rest, but your nosy granddaughter here insisted on sitting next to you until you woke up. Did she wake you?" "No I didn't," Shanice snaps.

  "You better watch the tone of your voice when you talking to your mama, girl."

  "Sorry, Granny. Sorry, Ma."

  "So are you feeling close to normal yet, Ma?"

  "Fair to middlin', but I'm alive, so I can't do too much complaining. How about you? I know you tired. Y'all drove all the way here?"

  "We sure did. It was a nice drive. We needed the time together."

  I look at Shanice. Her eyes ain't got no glaze, like she trying not to show no feelings one way or the other. She's good at it, too. Then I glance up at Janelle, whose eyes is doing just the opposite: straining to hold back something. Not tears. Something way past that. What in Lord's name could it be? I hope it ain't what I think it is. She'll tell it when she wants to. And I'll wait. "You putting on weight?" I ask Janelle.

  "A couple of pounds, maybe."

  "I thought you liked being a anorexic," I say with a smirk.

  "I don't like being fat," she says.

  "Well, for what it's worth, I dreamt about fish last night."

  "And?"

  "It usually means somebody's pregnant. How you feel about that?"

  "Old wives' tales haven't stood the test of rime, Ma, and you know it."

  "Oh, but you'll spend ten dollars going to a psychic and consider it money well spent?"

  "It's another way to gain self-knowledge, insight, and an opportunity to get to know yourself better."

  "Spare me, would you? Who in the world would know you better than you know yourself, besides me? Have any of them psychics mentioned when you might graduate from college or get a real job?" - "I have ajob."

  "No, you don't," Shanice blurts out.

  "I run a household and I'm raising a child. Look, Mama, I just got here, so don't start yet, please?"

  She rolls her eyes at her daughter, so I decide to cut in. "Shanice, go get Granny's glass that your Uncle Lewis left sitting in the living room, would you, baby?"

  "I poured it down the drain," Janelle says.

  "What? Why?"

  "Because the last thing you need right now is beer. Paris was just telling me about this article she read in a holistic magazine about hops-which is the stuff they use to make beer-and a lot of other things asthmatics should stay away from."

  "Paris believe everything she read. Where is she, by the way? Did she change her mind?"

  "She and Dingus should be here any minute. Their plane was supposed to land a half-hour or so ago. She didn't want anybody to pick her up. She's renting a car. You know how she is."

  "Yeah, I know how she is. Shanice, stand up and let your granny look at you!"

  She gets up. All legs. Not a drop of meat on them thighs.

  "How come those shorts is cut so high?"

  "They're Daisy Dukes," she says.

  "Daisy who? I don't care what her name is. You can't bend over to get nothin' in those things without your behind hanging out."

  "So?" she says, about as sarcastic as it gets.

  I reach over and get my inhaler and take a few puffs. "I don't wanna see you wearing 'em in my presence or out in public so go take 'em off and put on something decent."

  "It's all right, Ma?"

  "It ain't all right," I say. And if I could jump out this bed and slap the taste out of my granddaughter I would, but when I look at her eyes, I realize something is missing. That little smart remark she just made is not the way my granddaughter talks to me. Not using that tone. Something ain't right. So let it go, Vy. Let it pass. "All right."

  "So-where's Daddy?" Janelle asks.

  I hear engines in the driveway. "Go see if that's him," I say, before catching myself. Both of 'em head out toward the living room and I force myself to get up. At first, I feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded, but I'm okay. By the time I get out to the living room, we're at the beginning of what looks like a Price family reunion, minus two.

  Okay. So everybody hugs everybody but don't nobody act like they really mean it, except for when I wrap my arms around my grandson, who is now some kind of giant. Dingus kisses me on my forehead, then takes me by the elbow and leads me over to the couch. He's wearing blue jeans and a long red sweatshirt. This boy look good in red. "Should you be up, Granny?"

  "I'm out the hospital, baby. And I ain't about to become nobody's invalid. I just had a little asthma attack. I swear, you looking more and more like your daddy by the minute. And what you doing, growing a inch a month or what?"

  "Nope. Can I get you anything?"

  He's grinning, showing off those braces. I hope they work out, 'cause the boy's teeth was two deep in some places. Before I can answer him, here come Paris and Lewis from outside. They're already arguing about something.

  "Ma, would you tell her that you asked me to get you McDonald's?" Lewis is looking like he's on trial for a crime he didn't commit. Poor thing.

  "I did. And give it here, I'm starving."

  "Mama, you know you shouldn't be eating this junk," Paris says, standing with her hands on her hips. If she don't look like me twenty years ago, I ain't sitting here. Them blue jeans look like twelves, and she filling out every inch of 'em, too. But them ain't my breasts on her chest. No, Lordy. The other girls been calling her Tiny Tits for years. I snatch the bag from Lewis and take out a few fries. "Is there anything to eat around here?" Paris asks heading toward the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator door open and close. Shanice done fell asleep across Cecil's bed with a book in her hand. Her mama's running water in the bathroom. I know she ain't in there bathing 'cause she took the portable phone, and, plus, she's wearing rubber gloves.

  "What happened with my prescriptions, Lewis?"

  He's back outside, sitting on the steps doing one of them crossword puzzles and smoking a cigarette. He probably deep in thought 'cause he don't answer me.

  "Uncle Lewis, Granny wants to know what happened to her prescriptions?" Dingus asks from the doorway and then goes over and turns on the TV. Like some kind of magic, a basketball game is on.

  "Oh, yeah," I hear him grunt and open the screen door and limp in. "You won't wanna hear this."

  "What?" I ask. "It's way more than seventy dollars, that much I do know."

  "All together, the total came to $497.83."

  "What did you just say?"

  "I have it written down right here, because I couldn't believe it either."

  I put my hand across my chest and just watch one of them Utah Jazz guys make a three-pointer.

  "Where's the pharmacy, Lewis?" Paris is asking.

  "Just a few blocks from here."

  "What about the grocery store?"

  "They're one and the same," he says.

  "Then let's go," she says. "We'll be back in a half-hour or so. Anything in particular you need or want, Mama?"

  I just shake my head. She always coming to my rescue. I wonder who comes to hers?

  Dingus waves his long arm in the air. "Mom, would you bring back some Diet Pepsi, please?"

  "Wait a minute!" I say. "Some Velveeta cheese and tortilla chips would sure be nice. We could have us some nachos while we watch the game- right, Dingus?"
/>
  He winks at me. But his mama is shaking her head like it's about to fly off. "No dairy products for you, Mama. If you want to start feeling better, forget about cheese, milk, and eggs altogether. I have a list of things for you to avoid. Anything else you can think of?"

  "Why don't you just tell me what I need?"

  "Granny, I forgot," Dingus says. "I can't eat that cheese either. It gets stuck between my braces and it's too hard to get out."

  "We'll be right back," Paris says, turning. "And, Lewis, I'm warning you. If you so much as mention Donnetta I'll stop the car and you'll walk back. Got it?"

  He looks confused. "You're the one who just brought her up. I wasn'l even thinking about that woman."

  "Just a minute," she says, and reaches inside her purse, and sprinkles out a white pill into her palm.

  "What's that?" I ask.

  "An Advil. I feel a headache coming on."

  "I ain't never seen no white Advil," I say. "What strength are they?"

  "Strong," she says. "Lewis, are you ready?"

  "I've been ready. And just for the record, my mind is so far away from my ex-wife I can't even begin to get you to understand."

  "Then don't try," Paris says, and I just slide my hand from my chest to cover my mouth so nobody will see me laughing.

  I guess we all musta dozed off again during halftime, 'cause the next thing I know, Paris and Lewis is back and it seem like they just left. Dingus is laid out on the floor, his red arms spread out like wings of a hawk. He taking up most of my living space, so that his mama have to step over him in order to get to the kitchen, but first she gives him a litde kick, and he looks up. "Would you help us get some things out of the car, and bring our bags in?"

  "Sure, Mom. Where's my granny?" he asks, looking around.

  "Right here," I say from behind him. He looks up at me, nods, and smiles.

  "Where's your bowling ball, Granny? I dreamed we were all bowling."

  "In there, under the bed, I guess. I can't think about no bowling for at least another couple of weeks."

  He stops to watch a play. Shanice walks out the bedroom wiping sleep from her eyes. She still ain't changed them shorts. She waves hi to Dingus. "Where's my mom?" she asks me.

  "On the phone with George, I guess. She's been talking to somebody since we starting watching the game."

  Shanice rolls her eyes 360 degrees.

  "Why you trippin' so hard, Niecie?" Dingus asks, pushing the door open when he sees Paris coming to get him.

  "I ain't trippin'," she says in a nasty voice.

  "I believe you are. And you best to watch the direction of those eyes," he says, and out he goes.

  "Come sit over here next to your granny," I say, motioning to her. She sits down at the end of the couch. I pat the cushion in between. "Come down here and sit close to me."

  "Why?"

  "Shanice, are you talking to me, your granny, or to somebody else?"

  Seems like she comes to or something, and then eases down close enough where her arm touches mine. She looks straight ahead at the TV but I know she don't watch 110 basketball. "Shanice?"

  "Yes," she says without turning to look at me.

  "Look at me."

  She turns her face toward mine in slow motion, and when she's facing me, now I can see that something done happened to this child again. That's what's in her eyes. Sadness, and some kind of hurt. Right now they red and glassy, like she been crying or slept real hard. But wait a minute. If I ain't mistaken, is that beer I smell coming from her breath? This can't be right. Her mama poured that beer down the drain. Even still, I know beer when I smell it. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine. Just tired and hungry. Aunt Paris, did you get anything fun to eat or only healthy stuff?"

  "I got some halibut," she says.

  "I talked her into buying some pork chops," Lewis says with a little chuckle. He's standing at the screen door, puffing on another cigarette and sipping on a bottle of something. He always sounds cheery after his first couple of drinks, but his happy thermometer drops to depressing in a matter of minutes after that third one.

  "What are you drinking now?" I ask.

  "Just a cooler. It's only seven percent."

  "But this is the third one. You forgot to mention that," Paris yells from the kitchen. "Ma, have you heard from Charlotte?"

  "I can hold my liquor, Paris, thank you very much. I'm not a child, so you don't have to spill the beans on me to Mama like you used to. I think we've all grown up, if I'm in the right house." "Shut up, Lewis," she says.

  "She ain't coming," I say. "She still scared to fly. Said she'd have to take a train or something. I don't care. She said Al might be going on some kinda vacation. I don't know what she talking about."

  "Janelle! Hurry up and get off" the phone. I need to use it!" Paris yells.

  "Where's my prescriptions?" I ask.

  "In here," Paris says in a much lower voice from the kitchen. "I'll make dinner. And trust me. It'll be something everybody can recognize and eat."

  "I'll get them for you, Granny," Shanice says, apparendy looking for any excuse to get up. Janelle finally comes out the bathroom with the portable in her hand. She looks like she just lost something. She hands it to Paris.

  "What's wrong with you, girlfriend?"

  Janelle just shakes her head. "Nothing."

  "Well, do something besides look pitiful. Help me. Make the salad."

  "Ma, Daddy just pulled up," Lewis says.

  I pop five of the seven pills with a sip of Diet Pepsi, which I cannot stand the taste of, that Dingus set on the cocktail table. I hope one in particular works fast. "Shit," I grumble.

  "Why'd you say that, Ma?" Janelle asks.

  "None of your business."

  "I haven't seen Gramps since last year," Dingus says, and gets up from the floor. I see Lewis shake his daddy's hand from the top step, and then Cecil pats him on the shoulder while he moves toward the door. When he comes inside, you'd swear he was Santa Claus or something, the way his grandkids rush over and give him big burly hugs. Dingus is taller than Cecil, of course, and Shanice ain't too far behind.

  "Hello there, everybody," he says.

  "Hi, Daddy," Janelle says, and gives him a kiss.

  Here come Paris. She stands on a spot and don't move. "Hi, Daddy. Glad you found time to stop by."

  "Stop by?" Janelle says.

  I forgot she don't know.

  "I wanted to make sure the old gal was all right, and not over here by herself."

  "By herself?" Janelle says.

  "I told you Lewis was here, didn't I, Cecil?"

  "No, you didn't."

  "Did I miss something?" Janelle asks.

  "You didn't tell the kids?" Cecil asks me.

  "Not all of 'em."

  "Tell us what?" Janelle says.

  "Isn't it obvious, Ma?" Shanice says. "Gramps doesn't live here anymore. Hel-lo."

  "Since when?"

  Poor thang. She looks so confused. "Around New Year's."

  I don't think this house ever been this quiet. Everybody just kinda don't move, and Cecil look like he wish he could disappear. But ain't nowhere to run. Serve his ass right.

  "Daddy, did Ma put you out, or you left?"

  Cecil just kinda look Southern pitiful and say, "Talk to your mama about that."

  "Well, when are you coming back home?" Janelle still don't get it.

  This time he don't even bother to answer.

  "Why don't you tell them when George is coming back," Shanice blurts out.

  "Where's George?" I ask.

  "Where's Charlotte?" Cecil asks.

  Paris grabs the phone and starts dialing her number. This is getting too deep for me. "Where's my inhaler?"

  "I'll get it, Granny," Dingus says, and heads for the bedroom. Cecil still don't know what to do: you can see he trying to decide if he should sit or keep standing. "And bring me that brown envelope from off the bed, too, would you, baby?"

  "The one that says IR
S on it?"

  "That's the one," I say and eyeball Cecil. It's easy to see now that he wished he hadda come another time.

  "Charlotte?" Paris says. "Yes. We're all here. At Mama's. She got home today, but I guess the fact that she almost died doesn't seem to faze you all that much, does it?"

  This is a big mistake: calling her, and using that tone of voice. She ain't gon' like it. Knowing we her audience, too?

  "Yes. And what kind of vacation is Al going on? I figured as much. You don't have to raise your voice, Charlotte. I did not. And stop swearing at me. All I'm saying is that Mama could've died and you should have your selfish ass here like the rest of us!"

  Paris takes the phone away from her ear and just looks at it. "She hung up in my face."

  "Surprise, surprise," Janelle says.

  "Bitch," Paris says.

  "Where is George?" I ask Janelle.

  "He's gone."

  "Gone where?"

  "I don't know, and don't care."

  "Well, look. How long you all gon' be in town?" Cecil asks.

  "Just for the weekend. Why? Do you want to invite us over to your place?" Paris asks.

  "Can't you stay for dinner, Daddy?" Janelle asks.

  "No, he can't," I say.

  "I can't, sugar," Cecil says. "I gotta get to work."

  "Work?" Janelle says.

  "You might not be too familiar with the term: work," Paris says to her in a sarcastic way. She really is just trying to be funny. I think.

  Dingus is back down on the floor, just listening, his head moving back and forth like he at a tennis match. He's got a smirk on his face, like this shit is better than The Young and the Restless. He's about right. Shanice done disappeared into the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator open. Ain't nobody thinking about it but me. Gotta watch her. It's beer today, scotch tomorrow. Gotta talk to my granddaughter. Get her to understand. Get Janelle to do something.

  "Go straight to hell, Paris," Janelle says. "Daddy?" "I work security at Harrah s."

  "You think that's smart, being inside a casino for all those hours?" Paris asks. She should stop.

  "I manage okay."

  "Paris," I say, "is your pill working yet?"

  "Not quite."

  "Maybe you should take another one."

  "Why?"

  "Because you still seem a little testy."