“You didn’t seem to feel that way about a lot of the stories I did, and it hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sorry, Savannah. I wasn’t dismissing them or their relevance. I just wanted you to take it a step further.”
“Meaning?”
“Offer up some solutions.”
“But I don’t have the answers.”
“You’ve got opinions, this we all know. You should make them known. That’s what’ll get people to thinking.”
“You might have a point. But maybe not. I respected what you did, even though I didn’t go ga-ga over fences and decks. I sure loved ours. The bed in the backyard is still kick-ass.”
“I hope you never make love to anybody else on it. But then again, I’ll never know, will I?”
We sat there silent for a minute or two. Maybe five.
“You want to know what I don’t miss?” I asked.
“I’m afraid to say yes.”
“Camping and fishing. It’s not as much fun as you think it is, Isaac.”
“No comment.”
I pushed him this time.
“I’m beginning to wonder if divorce is making you violent, young lady.”
“I like the sound of that: young lady.”
“You are young, Savannah. Your heart is young and so is your spirit.”
“I wish that was true.”
“Please. You and those crazy girlfriends of yours won’t be senior citizens for years to come. I’m glad you have them in your life, and they should be glad to have you in theirs.”
“We are. You always liked them, didn’t you?”
“I did. Robin is a hoot. Gloria’s just sweet. I don’t know how she’s managing without Marvin when I’m having a hard time accepting he’s gone. I feel for her. I don’t know who I’m going to watch games with. I really miss him. I hope you stay close to Bernie, too, Savannah. She’s been bitter too long and it seems to have taken its toll on her.”
“Well, some people do really rotten things that can make getting over it and moving on a little harder.”
“I know. You know what else I want you to know?”
“I’m listening.”
“That everything doesn’t always have to serve a purpose.”
“I know that.”
“I don’t think you do. If you meet somebody else—and I pray that you do, Savannah, seriously—loosen up and lighten up. Be as silly as you can be sometimes. Waste time. Don’t try to fill up every minute with shit you think is important because everything isn’t.”
“As for you. Take a phobia class so you can get your old ass on a plane and go somewhere you can’t get to by car. You are missing out, Isaac. There’s a world out there worth seeing and I sure wish we could’ve seen more of it together.”
“I’ll consider it.”
As the sharks were being fed, we sat there and watched them rush to eat.
“I started going to PAA meetings.”
“That’s really good to hear. I hope it helps.”
“You want to know how it got started?”
“Not really, but spill it.”
“When I was about fifteen one of the neighbor kids shared some of his dad’s porn stash with me. Of course I liked it. Had never seen anything like it. We laughed about it and even bragged about it. Fast-forward to the Internet, and I never in a million years would have thought of it as addicting until you busted me, really. Well, it had gotten way out of hand and I knew it, but I couldn’t talk to you about it.”
“But you didn’t know that, did you? I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of and I would much rather you’d told me than have me find out the way that I did.”
“I know. My poor computer. You were serious, weren’t you?”
“I was. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and I think I was more hurt that you were sharing so much of yourself with these strangers, and of course, over time, you ended up not being as warm toward me. But it’s water under the bridge. I think I better get going now, though.”
We both stood up and stretched.
“I’ll always love you, Savannah. Know that.”
“That’s nice, Isaac. Now here,” I said and gave him a quick peck on the lips, but before I was able to back away he slid those long arms around me like he used to and squeezed me so tight I didn’t think I was going to be able to breathe.
Thunderstruck
Bernadine is sitting inside a nice little bistro, sipping on a cup of coffee, waiting for Gloria. She’s a half hour late. She wants to call to see what the holdup is, especially since Gloria has canceled on her three times in the last month. But she doesn’t feel like harassing her. Marvin’s been gone four months now, and Savannah, Robin and Bernadine have been doing their best to help her get through this. They’ve been trying to get her out of the house to do some of the things they used to do—lunch, brunch, shop, anything—but she has resisted.
“What do you feel like doing today?” they’ve asked her.
“I’m doing it,” she’d say. Which was nothing.
The last one to see her was Robin. That was over a month ago when Joseph tightened her weave. “Gloria looks like she’s packing it on,” Robin had said. Bernadine hasn’t brought up this topic. She knows grief takes its own time, that it can end up on your plate or in a pill but you still can’t swallow it. After weeks of cajoling and warm threats, Gloria finally agreed to meet her for brunch.
Bernadine is staring out the window at those heat waves wiggling. At that giant sun. The cloudless sky. The breeze is so hot you don’t want to inhale.
“Are you almost ready to order?” the waitress asks as she freshens Bernadine’s coffee.
“Just give me a few more minutes. Thanks.”
She calls Gloria. “Where are you, Glo?”
“Right around the corner. Sorry I’m late, Bernie. I just found out one of the girls has quit, so I had to call Joseph about rescheduling her Tuesday appointments.”
“I hope it’s not Twyla or Joline.”
“No, thank goodness. Monique. I don’t think you know her. She did mostly hot lathers. Anyway, she was flaky and not half as good as she thought she was.”
“She quit on a Sunday afternoon?”
“Why are you acting like you don’t believe me? She’s moving to Seattle. Where she’s from. Anyway, I’ll be right there.”
When she spots Gloria heading for her table, Bernadine is shocked and saddened by what she sees. Robin was right. Gloria has put on at least twenty pounds. She looks older, tired. “Hey, girl.” She stands up and gives Gloria a hug. “You look good.”
“I look like hell, so stop lying, Bernie.”
“You don’t look like hell. And that dress is pretty.” She was also lying about this. It was the wrong purple and looked like a maternity dress.
“Thanks anyway. I’m starving. What are you having?”
“Maybe an omelet.”
“I would love some banana pancakes and bacon,” Gloria says.
The waitress brings more coffee and takes their order. They are quiet for a few minutes. They look out the window, then at each other. “So, how are you holding up, Glo?”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“I know this isn’t an easy thing to go through.”
“That’s an understatement, Bernie. You have no idea what it feels like to lose your husband.”
“I’ve lost two husbands.”
“But they didn’t die, Bernie.”
“That depends on how you look at it. They didn’t come back.”
“Anyway,” she says, perking up. “My grandkids are staying with me for ten whole days next month. Tarik and Nickida are going to Hawaii.”
“They’ll keep you busy.” Bernadine pours more cream in her coffee. “Tarik still deserves better.”
“Let’s not go there today, Bernie. My son loves the huzzie, so I have to tolerate her.”
“And Tarik still doesn’t think anything about that oldest boy—what’s his name again?�
�
“Brass.”
“That every year that goes by, he’s looking less and less like his so-called biological father?”
“If he’s figured it out, he hasn’t said anything to me and I’m not saying anything to him. He loves that boy, regardless.”
“It’s his mama I don’t trust from here to the corner.”
“Well, Tarik thinks she can walk on water, so I’ve just pretended all these years not to know where she’s been.”
“How’s your pressure and cholesterol these days, Glo?”
“They’re both fine, thank you for asking.”
“You know none of us want to see you go through anything like that again.”
“Who is ‘none of us’? Have you guys been talking about me behind my back?” She adds another package of sugar to her coffee and stirs it fast. “They are taking their sweet time with the food and it’s not even crowded in here.”
“Come on, Glo. Robin just mentioned that you’d starting putting on weight and then we couldn’t help but remember when you had your heart attack. We love you Gloria, and just want you to be careful.”
The waitress brings their food and gives Gloria’s pancakes to Bernadine and Bernadine’s omelet to Gloria. “I’ll take that,” she says to Bernadine, and swaps plates. “I’ve got all that under control despite how things might look. It’s just been hard, Bernie. So you can report back to Robin and Savannah that they can stop worrying about me even though I appreciate the concern.”
Bernadine eats some of her omelet. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned this. Maybe she should just mind her own business. And maybe she should just change the subject.
“So what do you think about Savannah divorcing Isaac?” Gloria asks.
“I think it’s sad.”
“I think it’s stupid.” Gloria pushes an entire strip of bacon into her mouth.
“Why is it so stupid? He’s a porn addict. He even admitted it. Plus he was cheating on her.”
“You think all men cheat, Bernie.”
“Not all of them. Most of them. Anyway, Isaac even admitted he was seeing another woman.”
“First of all, don’t you think it’s a little odd that he didn’t tell Savannah about this other woman until after she told him she wanted a divorce?”
“Well, it’s not like men broadcast when they’re having an affair, Gloria. Are you trying to say you think he made it up?”
“Sometimes folks throw darts when they’re attacked.”
“She didn’t attack him!”
“The bottom line is, Isaac is a good man and he was a good husband. I love her to death but Savannah lives in her own idealistic world, you know. I’m surprised Isaac was able to hang as long as he did.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“She treated him like she was superior.”
“But she is,” Bernadine says and props her fork and knife against her plate. “You’re making it sound like she should’ve played down how intelligent she is just to make her friggin’ husband feel secure. Please.”
“She married him knowing exactly who he was.”
“Then maybe she made a ten-year mistake, Gloria. It happens you know.”
“I think it’s a knee-jerk reaction to a situation she’s given more weight to than it deserves.”
They continue to eat, Gloria cleaning her plate. “So what about you, Bernie? You’re so concerned about everybody else’s problems and worries, how’s everything going with you? Are you going to be able to reopen Sweet Tooth anytime soon? How are the kids doing? Wasn’t Onika here a few months ago? And how’s John Jr.?”
“Slow down, Gloria! That’s quite a mouthful. Maybe I should just write a book and put all the answers in it.” Bernadine is surprised when Gloria chuckles.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m good. Sweet Tooth had its day. It’s time to move on to something else.”
“Like what?”
“I’m weighing my options.”
“You and me both.”
“Onika is a lesbian,” Bernadine blurts out.
Gloria reaches for a slice of honeydew from Bernadine’s plate, takes a small bite and chews it. “It’s about time that child came out with it. You can’t sit here and tell me you didn’t have a notion.”
“I thought maybe.”
“So how’d you find out?”
Bernadine wishes she could tell Gloria the truth but she can’t. “She told me.”
“Just out of the blue?”
“She brought a girlfriend home for the weekend and I put two and two together.”
“Did you catch them doing anything?”
“No!”
“Are you disappointed about it?”
“No. She is who she is and I’m just glad she knows it.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good. So many parents freak out when they find out their kids are gay. When Joseph came out right after he started working at Oasis, his family disowned him. That was centuries ago, but there are still a lot of young kids out there who are terrified. How’d John take it?”
“Onika hasn’t told him yet. He wasn’t around the weekend she was here.”
“You’re not planning on telling him, I hope.”
“Of course not. It’s Onika’s call, not mine.”
“So what about John Junior? Does he ever come up for air? I haven’t seen that boy in over a year.”
“He’s doing fine. Lots of research, plus word on the street is that he’s madly in love with some southern belle and claims they might drive out here sometime this summer.”
“How old is he now?”
“Twenty-four. Anyway, Glo, can I ask you a favor?”
“How big?”
“Not big.”
“I’m listening.”
“Are you still getting the bootleg DVDs?”
“You don’t have to say it so loud, Bernie!” Gloria whispers almost as loud. “And don’t ever mention this in front of Tarik or I could be in big trouble. Anyway, to answer your question: yes. What kind of favor?”
“Can we please start having Blockbuster Night again soon? We miss it. We miss you. We miss us.”
Gloria looks down at her empty plate and then up at Bernadine. “I’ll see what they have in stock and let you know. Give me a few weeks, okay?”
“Okay.”
Not long after she gets home Bernadine is upstairs changing when she hears someone knocking at the front door. She does not rush to answer it. For starters, she has a doorbell, and second, there’s a sign out front that says as plain as day in English and Spanish and in giant red letters, NO SOLICITORS.
It was good to see Gloria. Bernadine wished she could’ve told her the truth about how and why she hadn’t remembered going into Onika’s room. But what would she have said? That she was scared because she didn’t know these sleeping pills caused her to black out? Bernadine didn’t feel comfortable talking about her issues. The whole point was to provide a little comfort for Gloria, but it was clear she hadn’t done a very good job of it.
She puts on a pair of shorts, and while pulling the tank top over her head, Bernadine can’t believe it when she starts crying. She hasn’t cried since Marvin’s funeral. She doesn’t know why, but then again, she does.
The person at the front door is now knocking hard, entirely too hard for any solicitor. She wipes her eyes and runs down the stairs. Bernadine is surprised to see John through the peephole. He has a worried look on his face. He has never dropped in on her, so she knows something is wrong. She opens the door.
“Bernie, you okay? I’ve been standing out here forever but I saw your car in the garage and I figured maybe you just didn’t hear me. Can I come in?”
She steps away from the door and opens it wide enough for him to enter.
“What’s going on, John?”
He shakes his head back and forth, but doesn’t say anything.
“Is it Taylor? Nothing’s happened to our kids, because I’d know. Talk to me.”
“It’s me who’s not doing so hot.”
“It’s not your health, is it?” Bernadine asks, finally closing the door. John heads for the kitchen. He knows this house because he used to live in it. She follows him, praying that nothing is wrong with him. At the same time she’s thinking that if there was ever such a category, John would certainly get top honors for being a good father to Onika and John Jr. Since their divorce, he’d been a hands-on dad. Bernadine also realized that he made a much better ex-husband than husband.
“No, it’s not my health. And I’m sorry for dropping by like this, Bernie, but I’m not sure what to do about this situation.” He leans on the counter and then stands up as if he’s been ordered to.
“What situation?”
“Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying? Is this a bad time?”
“It’s my allergies,” she says.
“I’m sorry. I never knew you had allergies. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She’s wondering if maybe she should take a Xanax, at least half of one, but decides against it. John looks like he might need her full attention.
When she sees tears rolling down his cheeks she gets nervous. “John, why are you crying? If it’s not the kids or your health, then what’s wrong? Is it Kathleen?”
He nods his head.
Bernadine wants to get him a glass of water but decides that maybe it’s not what he needs right now. She stops in front of the refrigerator, turns around and faces him.
“Kathleen left me.”
Oh shit. She swallows a mouthful of relief that she wasn’t in some horrible accident and that she’s not dead. “What do you mean, she left? And went where?”
“To be with someone else.”
“Wait a minute. Are you standing here telling me that your wife has left you to be with another man?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, yeah. Basically, that’s the way it is.”
Bernadine is thunderstruck by the irony, considering this is a replay of how their marriage ended, but she doesn’t feel any gratification whatsoever. “Look, I’m really sorry to hear this, John. When did all this happen?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
Getting to Happy Page 11
