Gloria didn’t see Tarik, probably because he was lugging stuff out of their brand-new Sequoia. Next to appear was Stone. He’s six. The oldest of the three. His afro looks like black cotton. He has the nerve to be wearing a wifebeater, baring muscles that look like chocolate Easter eggs. Diamond’s cheeky face hides behind a cascade of braids. She’s almost three and doesn’t talk. She did up until a year ago, then she just stopped. She’s a sweet little devil. Says everything with her eyes, especially “no.” She was diagnosed as autistic, but Nickida refuses to believe it. “She’ll talk when she has something to say.”
“Hi, Gawa,” Stone said as he tried to hog a hug from Gloria. He’s tall for his age, and a little on the pudgy side. “Where’s Grandpa?”
“He’s at the nursery, buying flowers for us to plant.”
“Can we plant some?” he asked. He’s a mini-me of Tarik, even down to a mole on the left side of his neck. He’s also smart, smarter than Tarik was when he was little.
“Let’s wait until Grandpa gets here and see what he has that might be easy for you. How’s that?”
“Okay.” He plopped down on the bottom step of the deck and already looked bored.
“Happy anniversary, Mom,” Nickida said. Those three-inch heels slowed her down. Nickida doesn’t look like she’s had three babies in four years. Her stomach is flat but Gloria suspects that Tarik gave her money to have a tummy tuck and her breasts lifted, because they look the same as when she breastfed.
“Thank you, Nicki.” Gloria pushed her hand into the soil and struggled a little to stand up. The kids rushed to help her. They immediately started giggling, digging their hands in the dirt and throwing huge clumps at one another.
“Stone! Blaze! Stop that right now! You know better! Now go over there and turn on the hose and wash your hands.”
“It’s okay,” Gloria said.
“It is not okay. Anyway, Tarik’s getting the things out of the truck, Mom. We have a big surprise for you and Pops!”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Marvin?” Diamond walked over to Gloria, looked up and smiled. Her little teeth are so perfect they look like baby dentures. Gloria picked her up. She couldn’t weigh more than thirty pounds. Gloria rubbed her nose against Diamond’s—something Gloria knows she loves—and sure enough, she laughed.
“Well, sure. But we can’t stay long because the kids are going to two separate birthday parties. One starts at noon and the other starts at one.”
Tarik finally appeared with two grocery bags. He’s as tall and black and handsome as he ought to be. He walked over to Gloria, bent down and gave her a warm kiss on her forehead. He kissed Diamond, too, or she’d have had a fit. “Happy anniversary, old woman! Where’s Pops?”
“Thank you, sugah. He’s still at Clarkson’s.”
“You guys sure like to live by the book, huh?”
“But it’s our book, baby.”
“That is the honest-to-goodness truth, Mom. Stone and Blaze, turn that hose off! You’re getting all wet and dirty, and you cannot go to your parties if you’re not clean!”
Tarik smiled, as if Nickida were such a great mom. He was starting to look so much like his father, David. It’s funny how that works. The father who turned out to be gay, and to whom Tarik has not spoken to or about for more than fifteen years. David had tried reaching out to him but Tarik jumped back, said he couldn’t handle having a dad who was a fag. Gloria told Tarik his dad was homosexual, not a fag. That he wasn’t gay because he chose to be. He was born that way and had simply fought it for years. The last Gloria had heard, David was still living in Seattle.
“Mom, do I smell oxtails?”
“You know what you’re smelling.”
“Are they ready to be taste-tested?”
“They need another hour or so. When Marvin gets here I can add the butter beans and tomatoes. But go ahead and taste ’em if you just have to.” She untied her bibbed apron and tossed it into a wheelbarrow. “Don’t get too close to me, because I’m dirty and stinky!”
The kids ran up behind her and yelled, “Stinky Gawa! Gawa’s dirty and stinky!”
“Gawa’s been gardening. She smells like the earth and that is clean dirt on her, not the other kind,” Ms. Martha Stewart said. “Come inside where it’s cool and help get your Gawa and Pops’s anniversary presents out of the bags!”
Off they went. Her wonderful grandchildren. Stone. Diamond and Blaze: human rock, carbon and fire. Although she wasn’t one to criticize, Gloria couldn’t help but ask what some of these parents are thinking about when they name their children. Years ago, black people gave them African and biblical names but then they just seemed to stop and started making up the most ridiculous combination of sounds and syllables, most of which didn’t make any damn sense. They were just tongue twisters.
Nowadays, parents were naming babies after anything and everything: numbers, letters of the alphabet, trees, spices, flowers, the weather, seasons, colors, perfume, cars, designers, alcoholic beverages and a slew of other inanimate objects. Gloria’s friend Robin was no better. She named her daughter Sparrow. So now there are two birds in their house. White folks have gotten worse than black people, as if they’re trying to outdo one another to see who can come up with the weirdest names ever. Pets are the ones getting all the human names: Jake, Jo, Bo, Max, Romeo, Juliet, Chloe, Annie, Lizzy, Bill, George, etc., etc. Gloria feels sorry for some of these kids although she’s gotten used to and has even grown rather fond of her grandkids’ names.
“Nicki didn’t tell you our good news, did she?”
“What good news?” Gloria asked, praying to God Nickida wasn’t pregnant again.
“I haven’t had time to tell her about your promotion or our winning the trip to Hawaii.”
Tarik, who was dipping the ladle into the Crock-Pot and scooping out a small oxtail, just gave her a look. “Well, maybe next time I have a surprise, I might be able to tell it.”
“I didn’t tell her!”
“Who got a promotion?” Gloria asked. “And what kind of raffle was it that you won a trip to Hawaii?”
“I made lieutenant, Ma.”
“Oh, my Lord! That’s just wonderful, baby,” Gloria said without having to fake her enthusiasm. “When?”
“I’ve known for a few months but it became official yesterday.”
She walked over and gave him the kind of hug she used to give him when he made the honor roll or after the first time he played his saxophone in a parade. “I’m so proud of you, Tarik. So proud.”
“I know you are, Ma. Anyway, Nicki bought five dollars’ worth of raffle tickets from the kids’ school, and we just found out a couple of days ago that we actually won! An all-expenses-paid trip to Honolulu. Can you believe that?”
“I guess you two need to pinch yourselves to make sure this is real, then, huh? This is fantastic! I’ve never won anything in my life.”
“Neither have I,” Nickida said.
“I think I won a case of Pepsi once at a picnic, but I left because the grass was killing me. Anyway, Ma, we went online and got the hookup, and it looks like we can both get off the second week in June, and we were wondering if you think you and Pops might be able to watch the kids for us that week. Actually, it’s ten days all told.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.”
“You know we’ve never been on a honeymoon?” Nickida asked like it was a statement. Gloria did know. They were broke back then. Tarik was paying off the last of his student loans and had finally decided he might not ever be any Branford Marsalis or Kenny G, and sold his saxophone.
“I do recall that being the case,” Gloria said. “Just e-mail me the exact dates so I can give Joseph a heads-up.”
“Are you sure they can run that place without you?” Nickida asked.
“Joseph’s been helping me run Oasis for more than twenty years, Nicki. Plus, the kids like going to that place we call a hair salon.”
“Well, if they just have to get their hair braided,
could you make sure they don’t mix that synthetic hair with theirs?”
Gloria was trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes at this child, but she simply blinked and said, “I wouldn’t dream of it, especially without asking you first, Nicki, you know that.”
“I was just . . .”
“Gawa!” Blaze yelled. “Come see!”
Gloria turned the corner, and there in the middle of the dining room table were two more clay masterpieces, the colors and shapes unrecognizable, but Gloria mustered up her sense of delight and surprise by saying, “They are just beautiful! Thank you so much for making these for us!”
“Wanna know what mine is?” Stone asked, pointing at the ugliest of the two, which looked like a grayish brown coffin with a lid that didn’t quite fit. “Guess, Gawa, guess!”
“A lot of things come to mind.”
“Okay. It’s a thing for butter.”
“Oh,” Gloria said. “I was thinking that might be what it was. I just wasn’t sure. I like it. I hope the butter fits.”
“Just break the butter in half if you have to. I won’t mind.”
“Do you like mine, too, Gawa?”
“I do indeed. Isn’t yours a saucer?” Gloria asked, praying she was right.
“It’s a cat dish,” Blaze said proudly. “For your cat.”
“But I don’t have a cat.”
“It’s for when you get one.” She had a look on her face that said, “I’m way ahead of you.”
“Who knows, maybe one day we will, but I think Pops is allergic to cats.”
“Then get a kitten.”
“We will give that some thought. But thank you both so much for our lovely gifts.”
“Okay, kids, give Gawa a hug, because we need to get going,” Nickida said.
“What time is it?” Gloria asked.
“Almost eleven-thirty.”
“Marvin should be here in a minute.”
“Well, if we miss him, we also wanted you guys to have this,” she said and handed Gloria a small gift bag from Blockbuster.
“What on earth . . .” Gloria said, and peeked inside the bag. She could see it was a CD or a DVD.
“You can go on and look at it, Ma. We thought you guys might want to consider not getting on the Titanic tonight and instead consider watching Casablanca, which is not three hours long.”
“Why, thank you for being so thoughtful.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll answer it,” Stone said and started heading toward the door.
“Hold it right there, mister. What have I told you about answering the door? First of all, this is Gawa and Pops’s house, and if anybody answers the door, it should be her or him. Now just cool your heels.”
It rang again.
“You want me to get it for you, Ma?”
“Sure, go ahead. I hope it’s more flowers!”
“Come on, kids, let’s get everybody strapped in. We’ll wait for you in the car, Tarik. Happy anniversary again, Mom.” Nickida gave Gloria a quick peck and squeezed her hands, something she rarely did.
“I have to peepee,” Blaze said. Little Diamond crossed her hands down there to indicate that she had to go, too.
“I didn’t have to go, but now I think I do,” Stone said and ran to beat them to the bathroom.
“Use the one in our room,” Gloria said, and off they went.
Tarik not only didn’t put the top back on the Crock-Pot but had dripped gravy all over the counter. Some things just don’t change. After Gloria wiped it up, she went to get four eggs out of the carton to start the cornbread and her foot slipped on a few drops of gravy she hadn’t noticed. All eighteen eggs hit the floor. Gloria just shook her head, grabbed a handful of paper towels and got down on her knees to clean them up. Tarik could sign for the flowers.
When her son opened the door, instead of another floral delivery, there were two uniformed police officers standing there to greet him. They were surprised to see him. “Hey, Tarik, what are you doing here?” the younger of the two officers asked him.
“My mother and stepfather live here. What’s going on, guys? I know this isn’t a social visit.”
“Can you step outside for a minute, man?”
“Yeah,” Tarik said. He was suspicious because he knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant. Police officers don’t ring your doorbell unless it’s bad news.
“Is your mother at home?”
“She’s in the kitchen. Talk to me, fellas.”
“Slow down a second. Anybody else here with you?”
“My wife and kids. What’s going on?”
“Look, you’re an officer of the law, Tarik, and we’re going to need your assistance in this.”
“Has something happened to Marvin? Does that have anything to do with why you’re here?”
They gave him an affirmative look.
“Marvin King, your stepfather, was killed about an hour ago in a drive-by.”
“What?” Tarik asked, backing away from his colleagues as if the space would make room for the truth. But he knew this was the truth.
“We’re really sorry, man. Right now we need you to bring out that law-enforcement soul. Do you hear me?”
Tarik wiped his eyes and stood erect. He’d been drilled on exactly how to deal with death without breaking down, without taking it personally. But Marvin was the only father he’d ever really known. “I hear you,” Tarik said. “It’s their anniversary.”
“Oh, wow, man. We’re really sorry.”
“This is going to destroy my mother.”
“It’s probably better if a family member tells her.”
He was the only family member she had. It fell to him, then, to tell her. Right then, Tarik’s heart didn’t have a badge on it. From inside the house he could hear the kids running down the hallway. He knew they were heading straight toward the front door. “Nicki! Get the kids! And don’t let them come outside!”
She appeared inside the open doorway. “What’s going on? I need to get them to their parties, and we’re going to be late as it is. Hi, Doug. Hey, Jose.”
Both officers tipped their hats and nodded hello to her. She wondered what they were doing here. Whatever it was, she knew it wasn’t good.
“Go talk to your wife,” the older of the two officers said. “And ask her to get the kids out of here or take them to a back bedroom.”
“Give us a minute, Nicki. And please, just go back in the house and stay with Ma for a few minutes. I’ll be right in.”
“Is everything all—”
“Please, just do it! Okay?”
“Okay.”
“So, exactly what happened, guys?”
“The only information we have is that your stepdad was an innocent bystander. Right there in front of Clarkson’s Nursery. There were twenty-eight rounds exchanged between gangbangers and six stray rounds struck your stepdad. Three in the head, three in the chest. He went down at the scene, man.”
“Do you have anybody in custody?”
“Not yet. When we got to the scene, they were of course already gone. You know how they do this shit, man. And we’re really sorry to have to be here. Several eyewitnesses have been interviewed by Homicide and they’re still over there. Some are just in shock.”
“Do you have any idea which gangs they were?”
“That’s not known to us right now, Tarik, but we’re pretty sure it’ll be easy for us to ascertain. You know we’ve been having problems in that area and a couple of these groups are at war.”
“Aren’t they always,” Tarik said, nodding his head slowly. He, of course, knew all of this already. “Where is Marvin?”
“Right now he’s on the way to the coroner’s office.”
“He’s on his way to the coroner’s office,” Tarik repeated.
The younger officer wanted to reach out to squeeze Tarik’s arm or something, but knew this wouldn’t help his blue brother, at least not right now. Plus, this wasn’t in the codebook. “We’ll just wait
out here until after you tell her.”
“Tarik,” Gloria said. She was standing in the doorway and eyeing the officers suspiciously. “Is something wrong?”
Tarik opened his eyes as wide as possible, hoping the air would ventilate them and evaporate the moisture and redness. He wasn’t sure if it worked. All he knew was that he needed to be strong right now. As he turned to look at his mother, he saw her take in sips of air and a look of terror was filling up her eyes.
She already knew.
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you,” I say to Isaac as soon as he walks in the door. I’m sitting on the love seat in the Great Room. Two cold crab cakes sit on a paper plate on the cocktail table. The salad is wilted, the French fries hard. I thought I could eat.
“How about, ‘Welcome home, Isaac’?”
“Welcome back, Isaac. I meant what I just said.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” He sits down on a stool at the counter. His legs are long. They’re crossed at the ankle. The lace on one of his running shoes is undone. I‘m tempted to tell him, but then that would mean I’m creating some kind of intimacy, which is the last thing I want to do. I need to keep my distance because of course you don’t stop loving someone on a dime just because they do something you might find unforgivable. I want to hate him, so I have to keep the focus on how pissed off I am more than on how much I am hurt. Falling apart would give him just the room he needs to touch me. Not this time, buddy.
“What if I walked in here and said, ‘Savannah, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you,’ how would you feel about that?”
This gives me a jolt. “Is that how you feel, Isaac?”
“Look, can I just get a glass of water and take a hot shower before you read me the riot act and tell me what I’ve done this time that’s so deplorable? I’m beat, Savannah.”
“Take your time.” He doesn’t look the least bit tired. In fact, he looks quite rested. There’s something different about him. He’s wearing the same look on his face that I’ve seen right after we’ve had great sex. I’m surprised I can still remember. I’m not going to think about this because I almost don’t care. He did something in Vegas besides touch wood. That much I do know.
Getting to Happy Page 7
