Getting to Happy

by Terry McMillan

  If I Sit Still Long Enough

  What Gloria remembered about that day was falling. First to the floor. Then being picked up by her son. And then falling into his chest. She remembered him saying something about Marvin being shot. With bullets. Stray bullets. Aimed at someone else. Aimed at another gang-banger. That he was caught in crossfire. She melted. Then her body stiffened and froze. Her teeth would not stop chattering. She bit her tongue trying to silence them. And she went looking for her car keys anyway, because she figured Marvin would need a ride home.

  “Where on earth did I put those damn keys?” she asked Tarik as she walked from one room to the next, looking for them. They were, of course, in the same spot they always were: hanging on a hook by the door that led to the carport. Her grandkids wanted to help Gloria locate them. Nickida just shook her head back and forth in disbelief and grabbed Gloria by the wrists, then wrapped her arms around her mother-in-law as tight as she could.

  “Ma,” Tarik said, bending over and pulling her close and with a firmness that made it hard for her to move. “You don’t need your keys.”

  “But I have to go get Marvin,” she said, wiggling her way out of his grip. “It’s our anniversary and he’s going to want to eat his oxtails before he goes anywhere. That much I do know.”

  “Ma, you’ve gotta calm down.”

  Gloria looked at him as if he were crazy. “Can you give me a ride, baby? I think he’s going to be so surprised to see that boat in the driveway! But first, I need to finish cleaning those eggs up off the floor. After we get Marvin I might need you to pick up another carton because he cannot eat oxtails without cornbread. And I need to take a shower because I’m filthy. Can you give me ten minutes? I should call him and let him know I’m on my way. Where’s my cell phone?”

  “Ma.” Tarik sighed.

  That’s when she remembered Tarik breaking down and drooping as if he didn’t have a muscle in his body. He folded his arms on the kitchen counter and his head dropped on top of them. Gloria heard him wail, then whimper. She wanted to hold him and help him feel less pain than she was feeling, but she had collapsed on the sofa and could not get up. She crossed her arms but they broke apart and fell into her lap. Gloria forced herself to blink enough to see through the tears and then pushed herself to the edge of the cushion and sat up straight. She closed her eyes and felt herself balancing. She was thinking that if she sat still long enough, maybe she could rewind this movie to the butter beans. She knew exactly how she would change it. She would call Marvin and say, “Baby, how soon before you head home?” And right after he said, “I’m about to start loading the truck . . .” she would cut him off and say, “Wait! Would you please go back inside the nursery and see if you can find some Red Paramount or button cactus at a good price and call me back as soon as you see them?” She would not have even mentioned butter beans. “And take your time, baby. There’s no rush.”

  This would’ve changed everything. Marvin would’ve come home and flipped when he saw the boat in the driveway. “Have you gone and lost your entire mind, woman?” he would’ve yelped, though standing there in awe, because Gloria knew he had always wanted a boat and now he had one. He would’ve given her a small pair of diamond studs from Zales, to replace the ones that were stolen out of their luggage when they went to Cabo last year, and she would’ve put them on immediately. He would’ve run back to the grocery store to get the butter beans and another carton of eggs and she would’ve made the cornbread and Po’ Folks Pie, and by six o’clock they would’ve started their official date night.

  Tarik called Bernadine first. She did not answer, and he didn’t want to ask his mother for her cell number. He left a message. “Auntie Bern, this is Tarik. I’m here at Ma’s. Something has happened to Marvin and it would be nice if you could stop by. I’ll try to get in touch with Auntie Robin and Savannah. Thanks.”

  He then dialed Sparrow’s number; she answered on the first ring. “Everything is up in the air.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “You need a babysitter, cuz? Fair warning: my rate has gone up because of inflation. Heard of it?”

  “I have. And I don’t need a babysitter, Sparrow. Where’s your mom?”

  “At work. You want the number? You sound weird. What’s going on?”

  “Marvin is gone.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “Probably up. He got shot by some gangbangers and didn’t survive.”

  “You mean he’s dead?”

  “That’s what it amounts to.”

  “Oh, fuck! You mean to tell me Uncle Marvin is really dead for real?”

  “I’m afraid so. I don’t want to call Auntie Robin at work to lay this on her, so maybe I’ll call back. What time does she usually get home?”

  There was no response.

  “Sparrow?”

  “What?” She is obviously angry and she’s also obviously crying because she—like everybody else—adored Marvin. He was the father and uncle and brother none of them had been fortunate to have. They all claimed him. “How is Auntie Gloria doing, or is that like a dumb question?”

  “She’s not doing so hot.”

  “If I had my driver’s license I would zoom over there right this very second and hold her hands. I swear to God, I would, Tarik.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But just wait until your mom gets home, could you do that for me?”

  “I will. I will do that. But I hope when I hang up the phone that this was just a prank call. Love you, cuz. Bye.”

  Tarik dreaded the next call. Auntie Savannah didn’t know how to take bad news. And Uncle Isaac. He and Marvin were tight. They built things together, smoked cigars on the deck Isaac helped him build, watched March Madness together, all the NBA playoffs. The Super Bowl. And Tiger. Hell, they were buddies. Tarik wasn’t sure who would be the hardest to tell.

  “Tarik, why on earth are you calling me? You never call me! What’s going on, and it better be good news!” she said.

  “I’m afraid it’s not.”

  “Please don’t tell me something has happened to Gloria? It’s not her heart, is it? Please tell me it’s not her heart.”

  “It’s not her heart.”

  Savannah let out a sigh of relief and then said, “What do you mean?”

  “It’s Marvin’s heart.”

  “What do you mean by that, Tarik?”

  “Okay. Earlier today Marvin was accidentally shot by some gangbangers.”

  “I know you’re not telling me Marvin is dead, are you?”

  “I’m afraid he is.”

  Tarik heard her scream.

  “Noooooooooooooo! No no no no NO! Not Marvin! Not today! Please. Come on, Tarik. Not our Marvin. Where is Gloria? Who’s there with you and her?”

  “It’s just the two of us here now.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Is Uncle Isaac at home?”

  “He doesn’t live here anymore, but I’ll figure out a way to get this—”

  “What do you mean he doesn’t live there anymore? Why not? And where’d he go?”

  “This is not the time to talk about me or Isaac, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “In front of Clarkson’s Nursery.”

  “But how? Even though I think I already know.”

  “I’ll tell you later. I’ve got a few more calls to make.”

  “Where is Gloria right now?”

  “I think she’s asleep.”

  “Poor Marvin. Poor Gloria. And today of all days. On their goddamn anniversary! Which gang was it? Oh, never mind. They don’t even know what they’re fighting over, do they? Turf they don’t fucking own. Drugs! Drugs! Drugs! This isn’t the Wild Wild West. It’s fucking Phoenix and it’s 2005, isn’t it, Tarik?”

  “I know, Auntie, I know.”

  “I’m sorry for swearing.”

  “Why don’t you wait until you calm down and maybe come over tomorrow. I wouldn’t
want anything to happen to you in this state. Ma’s okay for right now.”

  “I can’t stay in this house. I’ll drive slow. Please don’t say anything about Isaac to Gloria. It’s not important right now.”

  “So she doesn’t know?”

  “No.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “Not long enough,” she said. “Tarik, who else knows about Marvin?”

  “I left a message for Auntie Bern, asking her to stop by to see Ma, and Sparrow is going to tell Auntie Robin when she gets home from work.”

  “That was a mistake. I’ll call them,” she said. “What about Joseph and the girls down at Oasis, do they know?”

  “I’m about to call them after I hang up. This is so surreal, it’s hard to believe.”

  “You’re telling me. Lord, have mercy. Just like that, huh? Your life can be snatched away from you. In a split second.”

  “That’s the whole truth.”

  “And how are you holding up, Tarik?”

  “I’m doing the best I can,” he said. “Trying to be strong for my mom.”

  “You don’t have to be strong when it comes to something like this. None of us do.”

  As it turned out, Robin had gone straight to the gym after work and forgotten her cell phone in her locker and she wouldn’t hear about Marvin until she got home. It was after nine.

  Savannah and Bernadine arrived minutes apart. They didn’t ring the doorbell, just walked in. Tarik was sitting in a chair near the door. “Hey, Aunties,” he said, standing up to give them both a much-needed hug.

  Savannah had a balled-up tissue in her hand. When she opened her mouth, her voice cracked. “Where’s Gloria?”

  Tarik pointed to the family room. Gloria was sitting at the far end of the chocolate brown sofa as if it were full of people. She was in a white robe. Her elbow was on the arm and her face was held up by her palm. Her eyes were blank, even though it looked as if she were staring at something on the floor. Savannah eased next to her and put her arms around her. Bernadine knelt down on the floor and began to rub her bare feet. When Robin got there, the three of them helped Gloria get into bed. They took her robe off, only to discover she was fully clothed. One by one, they removed her socks, pants and T-shirt, and each of them wet washcloths and bathed her lying down. When they finished, Robin saw the crimson nightgown hanging on the closet door, but opened one drawer after another until she found a short, pink cotton gown, and the three of them propped Gloria up and pulled it over her head. They kissed her on her forehead, tucked her in and sat on the bed until she fell asleep.

  They did not say a word.

  The house filled up with people almost overnight.

  Joseph closed Oasis for three days, and just about all of their clientele showed up for the memorial service, which was short because years ago Marvin had made Gloria promise him that if he checked out first, not to spend too much of her precious time grieving over him. “Don’t stop living because I’m not around. And please don’t have no sad funeral for me, Glo. I mean it! Make it a party and help me celebrate my life! I want you to chuck my ashes on one of these fine golf courses because I believe that’s where my heaven is, somewhere close to the eighteenth hole!”

  Gloria would follow his wishes to a T.

  Tarik had done his best to comfort his mother but he had lost the only father he had ever really known, so he, too, needed to be comforted. Nickida did the best she could. Gloria didn’t know how she would’ve been able to fill out all those damn death papers if it wasn’t for her friends. The first few weeks, when Gloria could barely get out of bed, they cooked for her and massaged her hands. They helped her get up. They helped her lie down. They held her when she moaned and when she screamed. They cleaned the house. They took turns sitting with her, watching her do nothing and listening to her not say a word.

  Gloria couldn’t sleep. She just couldn’t get warm. Marvin’s side of the bed was empty and cold. She had never slept in this bed without her husband, except for the time he had to go to Oxford, Mississippi, when his brother called to tell Marvin a long-lost relative had left them some property. She missed him lying beside her, but she knew he was coming back. This was just a big mistake. Until then, she’d sleep in her grandkids’ room, on the lower bunk bed. She took Marvin’s pillow in there and hugged it until the feathers flattened.

  It took a while before she was able to walk into Oasis, and even when she did, she couldn’t bring herself to go through all her mail. Gloria didn’t know what she’d do without Joseph. “Don’t you worry about a thing, baby,” he’d told her when she tried coming back a few days after it happened and she had to go back home.

  Gloria wanted to return the boat, but of course she couldn’t. The dealership couldn’t care less that it was a gift for her husband and he had died. So Gloria gave it to Tarik, who gladly accepted it but on the condition that he take over the payments. With his new raise, and with Nickida’s income, it wouldn’t be a hardship.

  It had been only a few weeks when Gloria got a certified letter from Marvin’s insurance company with a check made out to her for $300,000. She was not moved. In fact, that check would stay in the envelope, in a slot on the kitchen island, for weeks.

  She sleepwalked through the days down at Oasis. It was like being at one long wake.

  “Girl, let me give you a hug.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Can I give you a hug?”

  “I lost my husband a few years ago, baby. Time is the only healer.”

  “He’s in a better place.”

  “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

  “Can I give you a hug?”

  Gloria was grateful for the ongoing show of sympathy but she was also glad she didn’t do hair anymore. She couldn’t concentrate or focus on too much of anything for more than a few minutes at a time. She avoided all paperwork. Couldn’t fill out forms. Why were they so long anyway? She often forgot to order inventory. Her snail and even e-mail was often backed up for weeks. Robin’s corny jokes didn’t make her crack a smile.

  Coming home from work was the hardest. She hated the silence when she walked in, which was why she left both TVs on: the one in the family room and the one in their bedroom. They kept her company. Sometimes when she pulled into the driveway, she hoped to smell a steak sizzling on the grill or some kind of fish searing in a hot skillet or bow-tie pasta or spinach noodles boiling in chicken broth and chopped garlic, since Marvin did most of the cooking on the days she worked.

  Way back in ’90, Marvin King—whom Gloria would learn was a recent widower and retiree—had moved into this ranch-style house, which was right across the street from where she and Tarik lived. Back then, Marvin had no idea there was any more love available to him. In fact, he thought he’d used up that card, and was ready to settle into his living room with the remote control. Before he could get acquainted with all the channels on his new satellite TV, Gloria Matthews—being neighborly and glad to see another black family finally moving into the neighborhood, and thinking he had a wife and family—had gone over to introduce herself and bring them her famous sweet potato pie.

  Gloria’s knees felt a little wobbly after Marvin told her he was a widower, mostly because he was handsome and she found his stark white teeth surrounded by that mixed-gray mustache and goatee dangerously sexy. Plus, Gloria hadn’t wobbled in years. No one was more surprised than she was when she found herself adding a little rhythm to her stride as she headed back across the street, where on a platter she created mountains out of collard greens, candied yams, her famous honey cornbread, chilled potato salad and enough slices of ham to feed a family of four.

  When she met Marvin, Gloria was fat. She hadn’t thought or cared how she looked until she had to buy a bigger size. On the day she felt something churn inside her chest, she was up to an eighteen. Her blood pressure was off the chart, but Gloria never thought she would or could possibly have a heart attack. Until she had one.
She was thirty-seven years old. Marvin was there. He helped her walk her way down to a healthy weight. Taught her how to eat, and how to cook to save her life.

  Over the next six or seven months Gloria would discover how quickly time passes when you’re happy and how slowly when you’re sad. She found herself crying when she tried so hard not to. She lived in constant twilight, despite the comfort of her friends and the long hours she had started putting in at Oasis. She was the one who felt dead.

  They would catch the boys responsible for Marvin’s death; of course they would. The idea that the three young men would spend the rest of their young lives in prison was not at all gratifying to Gloria. It wouldn’t bring her husband back. Their young lives were over, too, except they had to die every day while still breathing. These were boys who would probably never grow up to live as free men. She did not—could not—go to their trial. Her girlfriends would.

  Gloria was sitting at her desk, watching Joline, Twyla and Joseph weaving, braiding and cutting hair, when Tarik walked in. She was surprised to see him here. He rarely came to the salon. She prayed nothing was wrong. He looked good. At peace. He was obviously on duty, because he was in his dark blue uniform, with a holster around his waist and a gun in it.