by E. N. Joy
“Child, they ain’t but five years old.” She looked Lorain up and down. “And I don’t see you depriving your size fourteen self of any cupcakes.”
“Twelve,” Lorain said, correcting her.
“Your clothes might be a twelve. That little black thing you wear up under them that cuts off your breathing and blood circulation might make you look like a ten, but them hips and that tummy pouch scream fourteen.”
Lorain was highly offended. “Well, I never.”
“You never what? Been black before? Because that’s sure how you acting.” Eleanor shook her hand at Lorain. “We black folks . . . that’s what we do . . . eat.”
“And we get high blood pressure and sugar diabetes,” Lorain argued. “I don’t want my girls having to stick a needle in their stomach and prick their fingers all the time.”
“Heck, you married a doctor.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Let him do it. He knows what he’s doing.” She shooed Lorain. “You worry too much. Let them kids be kids.” Eleanor pushed Lorain out of the way as she headed for the couch. “Now, move on out my way before you make me cuss.” She sat down in a huff. “And I ain’t like none of them ole fake Christians, talking about the cussword slipped out. When I cuss, I cuss on purpose, and you know I know how to string my words together to cut you up so tough, it’ll make ya heart bleed.” She looked up, for the first time acknowledging her son-in-law. “Hey, Nick. How you doing, sweet baby?” Her tone was now laced with nothing but sugary gumdrops and cotton candy.
“I’m good, Ma. I’m good.” Nicholas smiled and shook his head as he walked over and kissed his dear mother-in-law on the forehead.
“I don’t know how you stay good.” She pointed at Lorain. “With that one over there acting like Diahann Carroll, a black woman trapped in a white woman’s body.”
“That is not who Diahann Carroll is,” Lorain said, disputing her mother’s claim. “That’s just a role she plays.”
“My point exactly. You been pretending to be somebody you’re not ever since you got involved with all that doctors’ wives business.” She shook her head at Nicholas, as if he’d fibbed. “And you good. Tell me anything.” She looked back at her daughter and wagged her finger at her. “But I know you good . . . good at pretending. I watched how you were around them women at that last party thing y’all had here at the house. Made me sick to my stomach. That’s why I couldn’t be around ’em today or have my grandbabies around them, either. Fake, fake, fake, the all of you. Fake as a two-dollar bill.”
“Two-dollar bills are real,” Lorain said, correcting her mother for the second time in their conversation.
“Then it looks like a two-dollar bill has got one up on you,” Eleanor snapped back.
Nicholas couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let a chuckle slip out. No matter how many times he witnessed the back-and-forth banter between mother and daughter, he couldn’t get used to how comical it was.
Lorain snapped her neck toward Nicholas and gave him the evil eye.
“See? Even your own husband knows you’re fake,” Eleanor said, rolling her eyes.
“Nick, really?” Lorain said. “You’re really going to let her stand here and talk to your wife like that?”
Nicholas snapped his own neck back and gave Lorain a crazy look. “She’s yo’ mama. Besides, if I don’t take her side, she might not make me any of her famous neck bones, black-eyed peas, and corn bread.” He kissed Eleanor on the forehead and then his wife on her pouty lips.
“Hmm,” Lorain said to her husband. “You need to be worried about what you might not get from me.”
“Child, you are forty plus. He ain’t studdin’ none of that vintage vagina,” Eleanor said. “Besides, he’s a good-looking man with ‘Ph.D.’ behind his name. He can get pu—”
“Ahem.” Nicholas cleared his throat loudly to interrupt Eleanor’s rant.
“From anywhere,” Eleanor said, finishing her statement.
Nicholas shook his head. “I’m going to leave you two alone and go check on my two beautiful daughters. You two ladies finish up your conversation without me.” He gave Lorain another kiss and then headed off.
“Coward,” Lorrain shot at him under her breath, then folded her arms. She then looked at her mother. “I can’t believe you even waste your time getting up on Sunday mornings to go to church and use that mouth to praise the Lord when all week long, nothing but junk comes out of it. Just sickening.”
“Well, ain’t the church like a hospital? Ain’t it for sick people to go and get better?”
Lorain threw her hands up. “Why do I bother? I can’t beat you.”
“And I thought by now you would have stopped trying. But I ain’t mad that you haven’t. Keeps my mind sharp.”
“You mean your tongue?” Lorain flopped down to rest her tired body. This time she landed on the oversize yellow chair across from the couch. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.
“Mommy’s baby worn out?” Eleanor asked, back to her sweet, buttery tone.
“Indeed.” Lorain exhaled.
“I’m sure it is draining pretending to be something you’re not.”
Lorain opened her eyes and lifted her head. “You know what? I’m not sure how much more of you calling me fake and phony I’m going to endure. I’m the same person I was yesterday and will be tomorrow.”
“But you ain’t the same person you were before you got involved in that little clique.” Eleanor thought for a minute. “As a matter of fact, you really ain’t the same person you were when Unique left for West Virginia.”
Lorain tried to hide the uneasiness that swept over her at the mention of her firstborn’s name. Unique was the baby Lorain had thrown away in the trash and had left for dead. When the baby was found alive in the garbage and placed in the foster-care system, Lorain had been none the wiser. For years Lorain had been under the impression that the baby had died and had been carried off to a hole in the earth by a garbage truck. When Lorain met a young, fresh-mouthed, single welfare mother of three boys with three different fathers, she had had no idea that she’d come to learn that this young woman was her biological daughter. She’d been clueless about the fact that her daughter was even walking the earth. Lorain always joked that in hindsight, she should have easily been able to put the family connection together, given Unique’s mouth and Eleanor’s mouth. Unique had gotten her fresh tongue from her grandmother for sure.
Eleanor snapped her fingers. “That’s it, ain’t it? You miss your baby girl, so now you’re trying to forget all about that life with her, or the life you didn’t have with her. You’re doing it by having this new life with Victoria and Heaven. I should have figured it all out before now.” Eleanor began to show a sympathetic side. “Why didn’t you just tell Mama? I would have understood and saved my digs for somebody who really deserved them.”
“Mom!” Lorain said, agitated. “That’s nonsense. Why would I try to cover up an old life with a new one?” She let out a nervous chuckle. Her insides jittered due to her fear of being found out and called on the carpet by her mother. She had received a rug burn or two thanks to her mother and knew how painful they could be. But then again, the truth had a tendency to be painful. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. Besides, it’s impossible.”
“Not really. Covering up your old life with a new one . . . Ain’t that part of being born again?”
“Yes, when the Lord does it,” Lorain said. “He washes away people’s old life for a new one all the time.” Her mother was right. Lorain couldn’t argue with that.
“But then again,” Eleanor said, “I guess it works only when He does it. When we try to run from our old life or cover it up with plastic, I guess, just like with plastic, eventually, folks are going to see through to the real you, anyway.”
Eleanor’s theory sent chills down Lorain’s spine. As crazy as some of the stuff that came out of her mother’s mouth was, it always tended to be right on point. Lorain had been desperately trying to cover up her
old life. There was entirely too much guilt and shame to bear in acknowledging it. So, yes, at first she had felt that burying her past was for all the right reasons. She’d hated the person she was growing up and the promiscuous life she once lived. Once she gave her life to Christ, though, she didn’t have to cover it up anymore. It was washed away. She had admitted it, quit it, and been forgiven for it. Who she used to be no longer haunted her or taunted her.
God began to give her opportunities to atone for her past. He opened the door for her to be able to release the secrets and the lies, for them to become a testimony. But it was almost as if once the door opened, all the skeletons fell out of the closet right on top of Lorain and began to suffocate her. There were too many truths she’d have to tell to make things right, and all of her truths were falling upon her at once. There was Unique being back in her life. There was having her molester back in her life. Then the twins came along. In the midst of all that, she was juggling her relationship with Nicholas. Everything was connected.
Lorain got lost in the shuffle. She didn’t know what to share, how much to share, who to share it with, and when. Too many secrets and too many lies to protect made it difficult for Lorain to be the honest Christian woman she had set out to be. The more secrets she kept and the more lies she told in order to keep the secrets a secret, the further she felt she was drifting away from God. And it was her own doing. But she kept promising herself that as soon as she got things under control, she’d get right with God.
Time was all Lorain felt she needed. She needed enough time to pass so that she felt comfortable enough to be real . . . with everybody. But time needed to hurry along. If not, one of two things was going to happen as far as Lorain was concerned. One, everyone was going to eventually see right through her phony, plastic self, just as her mother had said. Or two, she was going to suffocate underneath it all.
Chapter 3
Wearing green and black plaid pajamas, Nicholas didn’t looked up from the medical journal he was reading in order to speak to his wife. “Did you finally get the twins to bed?” he asked Lorain as she entered their master suite and closed the door behind her.
He lay in their California king bed, which was decorated in burgundy and silver. The three fringed decorative pillows had been thrown to the foot of the bed. The draperies were cream and had burgundy tassels. Lorain had gone with lighter draperies because dark curtains in addition to dark bedding were too depressing, in Lorain’s opinion, but she couldn’t do without the comforter set. It was the decorator’s idea to go with the cream draperies instead of the ones that matched the comforter.
“Yes, one bedtime story, two books read, and three prayers later, Victoria and Heaven are sound asleep,” Lorain said as she walked over to her wooden antique vanity table and sat down. She’d lucked out and snagged it at an estate sale at a Victorian home in a neighboring suburb. Every time she sat down at it, she felt like Joan Crawford at the height of her career. Lorain had already showered and changed into her nightclothes. The only thing she needed to do before calling it a night was to wrap her hair.
“I’m so sorry they wore you out.” Nicholas placed the journal on the nightstand so that he could give all his attention to his wife. After all, this was their sacred time together. During the day their lives were so busy that they’d agreed that at night, when alone in their bedroom, they would have their special time together. Whether they were enjoying one of those reality shows Lorain forced him to watch; talking about their lives, other people’s lives, the future, or the kids; simply holding one another in their arms; or getting their married grown man and grown woman on; they refused to take that time for granted. They referred to it as their mini vacation, even though they never even left the house. Their bed was an island.
“No need for you to apologize. That mother-in-law of yours is the one to blame, letting the girls eat all those cupcakes. They were on a sugar high.” Lorain looked into the oval-shaped, unframed mirror and began wrapping her hair with her hairbrush.
Nicholas laughed.
Lorain briskly turned on the stool, its original upholstery burgundy mixed with dark blue and tan, to face her husband. “Oh, you still think she’s funny, huh?”
“Come on. Your mother is a character, and you know it. Surely, you don’t take her serious and let her get to you. She’s harmless.” He shrugged.
“No, she’s just from the old school, where older people get a pass for speaking their mind. She clearly takes advantage of that.”
“Well, isn’t that what the new school considers ‘keeping it real’? Same difference.”
“Yeah, and I don’t like either one, not when speaking your mind or keeping it real means hurting someone’s feelings.” Lorain faced the mirror and continued wrapping her hair.
“Life’s too short. Brush it off. You have only one mother.”
The last thing Nicholas had said made Lorain pause. She quickly regrouped, swiped her hand around her wrapped hair, then reached for her silk scarf. She proceeded to wrap the scarf around her head in a stylish manner. Nicholas’s words still echoed in her ear.
You have only one mother.
She had only one mother; that was true. But that wasn’t the case with Unique. Let Korica, the woman who had raised Unique, tell it, and Lorain was only some woman who had popped back in the picture. So what that she happened to be the woman who had given birth to Unique. And Korica made it her business to remind Lorain that she wasn’t the woman who had raised Unique. She was not the woman whom Unique called Mommy. Unique called Lorain Mom—short and sweet, to represent the time she’d been present in her life.
It was true enough that Unique had a special bond with Korica, and for good reason. That had been evident the day Lorain went to the jail to visit Unique. Unique had been arrested and charged not only with some sort of drug trafficking, but also with the death of her three sons. Lorain could only imagine how Unique had felt all alone in that jail cell, just wanting somebody, anybody, to be there for her. Lorain had wanted to make sure she was there for her, but she hadn’t been the only one. Korica had been there waiting to visit Unique as well.
When the guard called for Unique Gray’s mother to come back to visit, both women had stood. That was their first time ever meeting one another. It was quite awkward for Lorain, to say the least. The guard thought it was a joke that both women insisted they were Unique’s mother. Eventually, it was determined that they’d let the alleged daughter decide which woman she wanted to come back first.
Lorain thought the wind had been knocked out of her when the guard returned, only to tell them that Unique wanted to see Korica before she visited with Lorain. Lorain would never forget the look of victory Korica gave her before the guard escorted her back to spend time with Unique. That was the beginning of the battle of the moms . . . and Korica had fired the first shot, shooting Lorain right in the gut. And she had many more bullets where that one had come from, taking aim at Lorain every chance she got. That was not to say that Lorain didn’t carry her own ammunition.
Once Lorain discovered that Unique was her baby girl, alive and well, she tried to connect with Unique and be the mother she hadn’t been to her all those years. Once Unique was in the battle of her life, fighting for her freedom, Lorain was determined to be there for every round. Korica didn’t like that at all. It brought out the green-eyed monster in Korica. She saw it as Lorain coming into the picture to replace her.
“You might be the woman who spit her out from between your legs, but I’m her real mother,” Korica had said to Lorain. “I’m the one who, all those years ago, sacrificed being able to take care of my own flesh and blood so that I could take care of yours. I’ll be darned if I sit back and watch you take over the reins after all I’ve done to raise Unique.”
Now sitting at her vanity table, which was covered with the finest oils and perfumes, and hearing Korica’s words play back in her head made Lorain’s blood boil all over again. “I should have beaten her—”
“Did you say something, honey?”
Lorain hadn’t realized she was muttering the words out loud through her teeth. “Oh, nothing.” She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and continued fiddling with the scarf.
“Come on to bed and quit letting your mother’s words get to you,” Nicholas said. He patted the empty spot next to him on the bed, where his lovely wife usually lay.
It wasn’t just Eleanor’s words that Lorain had allowed to get her all riled up. Somehow Korica’s words—even though she hadn’t heard a peep out of that woman in years—had managed to resurface and agitate her as well. Lorain had worked too hard to fit into the mold of a doctor’s wife, and she wasn’t going to let the witch of Christian past, Korica, or the witch of Christian present, her mother, make it all for naught and ruin her future. All she wanted to do was live happily ever after as the wife of Dr. Nicholas Wright and the mother of Heaven and Victoria Wright and the mom of Unique.
Nicholas was right. Life was too short to be worried about nonsense, and so was the night. Lorain had a handsome husband waiting for her in a warm bed. Thinking of all the naughty things they could fit into the last hours of the night, Lorain quickly used a technique she’d seen on YouTube to finish tying the scarf fashionably around her head. Searching the Internet for fashionable ways to wrap her hair with a scarf was something her mother had urged her to do.
“Can’t you do nothing better with that scarf around your head?” Eleanor had fussed. “I mean, does your husband really think that’s sexy? You coming to bed, looking like Aunt Jemima?”
Well, as fine as Lorain was looking, she was sure that Nicholas was glad Lorain ain’t hismima. She stood, shed the gown-like robe to the matching short nightie underneath, and sashayed over to the bed. “You are right,” Lorain cooed to Nicholas as she climbed into the bed. “Life is short, and perhaps so is the night. But I know something that’s not so short.” She made googly eyes at him, then peeked underneath the covers.
