Getting to Happy

by Terry McMillan

  (10-20% discount on all referrals)

  The Management

  OASIS HAIR & BEAUTY

  “Good afternoon, everybody.” Gloria waved as she headed toward her office.

  “What up, Ms. Glo?” Joline asked, never expecting an answer. The tips of her blond dreadlocks were pink today.

  “Hi there, cutie,” Twyla said. She had greeted Gloria the same way each and every day for the past three years.

  “Hey, Miss Thang,” Joseph said. He gave her the two-cheek kiss even as he struggled, trying to cornrow Chrysanthemum’s one-inch snatch of hair so he’d be able to stitch an eighteen-inch bone-straight weft onto it. He was shaking his head so she couldn’t see him.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “You need some help with the vacuum?” he asked.

  “Oh, shoot!”

  “If you forgot my Brasso I’m going to beat you.”

  “I’m sorry, Joseph. They ran late at the imaging place and I was rushing to get back here.”

  “Rushing for what?”

  “Yeah, rushing for what?” Joline asked.

  “Just stuff I need to take care of. I’ll pick everything up tomorrow. Promise.”

  “Well, I’ll let you off the hook today, and we can make Twyla sweep up.”

  “I don’t mind,” Twyla said. She was prettier than most of the girls in those rap videos on BET. Her maple skin looked like satin. Today, her hair was pushed back and brushed up on top of her head like one huge comma.

  “Not to worry. I’ll do it,” Joseph said.

  When Sister Monroe walked through the door, Gloria almost didn’t recognize her. She was half of her old self. She looked weird, as if her head was now too big for her body. Her hair was no longer flame red but burgundy. Her roots were silver and those three-inch stilettos she was famous for wearing had been replaced by hush puppies. She still limped as if she weighed three-hundred-plus pounds.

  “Hello there, Sister Monroe,” Joseph said. “You are looking fabulous! Those missing pounds certainly agree with you.”

  “Why, thank you, Joey. It ain’t no fun feeling like you walking into church on a bed of hot coals.”

  “I hear you Sister Monroe. And it’s Joseph. But Joey is okay, too.”

  “You all can call me by my real name now, too: it’s Johnnie Lee. I quit my old church a long time ago. I worship at a non-what is it? demo, deno—demoninational church where you don’t have to prescribe to just one religion. Anyway, it’s nice to see at least one familiar face in here, Joseph. I see you finally got married!”

  He looked at his wedding band. “I did,” he said, and left it at that. He and Javier were married in Costa Rica a few years ago. They’d been together ten. It took a while for some folks to accept their union, since Gloria had insisted Joseph not hide it. Today, however, he didn’t feel like breaking it down to Sister Monroe or Johnnie Lee.

  “You had any kids yet?”

  “They’re on the horizon.”

  “That’s good,” she said, and headed to Gloria’s office. “Chile,” she said without even thinking about knocking, “I need to give you a hug with all you been through. You know I loved me some Marvin and you have been in my prayers nightly, baby.”

  Gloria stood up and accepted her hug, all the time hoping Sister Monroe wouldn’t be inclined to compare body notes. “It’s so good to see you, too, Sister Monroe. You have certainly been missed around here. You were our live entertainment.”

  “I know you all had to miss me. I’m blessed and highly favored. I could feel your spirit all the way out there in the Mojave Desert. How you doing, baby? Hanging in there?”

  “I’m hanging in there. You look fantastic. You truly do.”

  Sister Monroe tried and failed to blush. “I certainly try. I may not have but ten or twenty years left, but I’m going looking as foxy as I can. Lord willing.” She decided not to bother telling Gloria her real name. It could wait. She turned and looked out at the salon. “I sure like what you’ve done to this new place. It’s lively.”

  The walls were pale gray. The workstations were bold: chartreuse, cranberry and purple.

  “Thanks. I was looking for a much bigger place so I could add a day spa, but a lot has changed. I’m not so sure now. I just have to see how it goes.”

  “Un-hun. The Lord doesn’t give us more than we can handle. He will make a way when it feels like there is no way. Anyway, which one of them chil’ren is Joline?”

  Gloria points to her.

  “You mean to tell me that little white girl is supposed to do my hair? What is she doing in here?”

  “Working, Sister Monroe.”

  “I was baptized Johnnie Lee, Gloria. And I would really appreciate it if you would call me that from now on. Why can’t the pretty young girl”—moving her chin toward Twyla—“just standing there doing nothing—why can’t she do my hair?”

  “Because she’s waiting for a client, Johnnie Lee.”

  “Look, I am not prejudiced. None whatsoever. You sure she knows what to do with my hair?”

  “I wouldn’t have her doing it if I was worried.”

  “Well, one way or the other, you’ll be seeing me more often now that I’ve moved back home. You go to church any Sundays?”

  “Some. I think Joline is waving for you.” Gloria smiled and shook her head as Sister Monroe limped away. Johnnie Lee my foot, she thought, shaking her head. Before she had a chance to boot up the computer and start sifting through all the mail, the young men who sold the DVDs strutted into the shop with their black leather bags thrown over their shoulders. They waved to Gloria and ushered her to come on out.

  Neither Gloria nor anyone in here had ever bothered to ask where or how these young men got these DVDs—most of which included quite a selection of movies that were often still in theaters. Sometimes they had copies days after the film had opened, and not the ones where you saw silhouettes of folks getting up to go to the bathroom or carrying big bags of popcorn. You didn’t hear any laughter. No coughing. No babies crying or loud comments about what was happening on the screen. They boasted about how they had mostly “directors’ cuts” because they “got it like that.”

  The last time they were here one of them had said, “In a minute, we gon’ be getting all our DVDs in high definition, so you know that means there’s gon’ be a slight price increase. We should charge about thirteen but since Ms. Gloria and her customers are loyal patrons we gon’ give y’all our special discount: one for eleven, two for twenty or three for twenty five. You can’t beat that with a stick.”

  Like everybody else, Gloria was curious about what up-to-the-minute movies they had today. She had wanted to see Diary of a Mad Black Woman and Crash, but she hadn’t had the energy or the ability to be still for twenty minutes unless she was lying down. Gloria laughed at the thought that the last movie she and Marvin had seen was Meet the Fockers, and the last one she’d seen without him was when she took her grandkids to see The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie.

  “Why haven’t we seen you guys in so long?” Joseph asked. “You know we need our celluloid fix.”

  “We had family problems we had to deal with, and after we settled all that we needed a real vacation, brotha man. We went to Cabo. Sweeeeet! But them waves they got down there ain’t no joke. They’ll kill a brother, and can’t none of us swim so we wasn’t about to get in no ocean no kinda way. But. We partied like we was Prince. Loved it. Even stayed a few extra days. But we back. And here’s the new printout of our inventory. Take a look-see. And hey, again, sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Some of the first-timers or irregulars were letting out squeals. Gloria had left her glasses on her desk. “Just tell me a few of the latest ones, baby.”

  “Well, we got Crash, Star Wars: Episode III, Batman Begins and . . .”

  “Batman isn’t on DVD yet,” Chrysanthemum said.

  Everybody just gave her a look.

  “Go on,” Joseph said, while pulling the thread at the tip of that curved need
le just a little tighter through one of her cornrowed braids.

  “As I was saying. Just this morning we got Mr. & Mrs. Smith, March of the Penguins and Slutty Summer.”

  “I can only afford two,” Joline said. Sister Monroe just stared at herself in the mirror, waiting for Joline to make one mistake so she would have an excuse to jump out of that chair.

  “I’ll take Crash and Mr. & Mrs. Smith. I heard they’re both good,” Gloria said. This would fulfill her promise to Bernadine and they would start having Blockbuster Night again.

  “What’s Slutty Summer about, I wonder?” Joseph asked, and he started laughing because he was looking directly at Sister Monroe.

  “Ain’t this illegal?”

  The ten or twelve customers under dryers, being shampooed, getting cut or permed or just waiting on the long sofa reading Jet, Essence, Ebony, or Black Hair or People—including the salesmen—all gave her the most ridiculous look ever.

  “No, it is not illegal, ma’am,” one of the young men said.

  “Then I spoke out of turn. Would somebody mind picking a couple out for me?”

  No one said a word.

  “I will,” Twyla said.

  “Check it out, Miss Gloria. And by the way, we are so sorry about your loss. How you feeling these days?”

  “I’m feeling much better. Thank you for asking.”

  “That’s wonderful. Okay, looka here. We got The Longest Yard, Monster-in-Law—that’s the one with old fine Jennifer Lopez in it—then we got Inside Deep Throat—wait, scratch that one—we got Because of Winn-Dixie . . .”

  “Because of win-who?” Gloria asked.

  “Winn-Dixie! It’s some corny white movie, but a lotta black folks seem to dig it. Anyway, we got the Pooh movie for the little ones, The Pacifier for the bigger ones and The Ring Two for anybody who like scary movies, but this one is just white folks tripping on some weird stuff that don’t make no sense and it ain’t all that scary but you didn’t hear it from me. Anyway, for anybody looking for some real excitement we should have War of the Worlds tomorrow. That one’s been hard to get. Don’t be scared to check out our backlist. Our inventory is huge. My cell number is on the bottom, so if we don’t have what you want on us, we deliver. Same day. Just give us a two-hour window. Two dollars. Gas is going up up up. Ms. Gloria, may I use your restroom, please?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  “And for being so nice, yours are free today.”

  “Thank you. And tell me your name again, young man?”

  “Marvin. The same as your husband’s. Don’t you remember me telling you that a while back?”

  “I do now.”

  After everybody was gone, Joseph started sweeping up pounds of hair until it looked like he had enough for a bonfire. Gloria was sitting on the sofa, flipping through the pages of Jet. “Did you know that Bobby Brown is getting his own reality show?”

  “Don’t get me started,” Joseph said.

  “I wonder what he’s gonna be doing?”

  “Being Bobby Brown, Glo, that’s what. I can’t wait for Whitney to kick his ass to the curb and get her life back. I swear.”

  Gloria put the magazine down. “Okay, so I’m all ears,” she said and looked up, trying not to look suspicious or too anxious.

  “All I can say is some of these white folks kill me how they do business.”

  “I agree,” Gloria said, not sure what he was hinting at.

  “They certainly don’t mind throwing you out on the street if you can’t pay your bills as long as they can still make a dollar.”

  “I agree.”

  “So what are we gonna do?”

  “About what?”

  “About this?” he said and swirled his free hand in the air like those models do on game shows.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, maybe we should think about becoming partners. I mean, we’ve been together longer than some couples, and I think it could take some of the pressure off of you and make us both work a little harder to make the salon everything we’ve always dreamed of. It’s just a suggestion. I’m amenable to it if you’re amenable to it.” Joseph released his grip on the broom handle and let it fall inside the crease of his forearm.

  “You know I appreciate what you’re saying and everything, but tell me something, what brought this on, Joseph?”

  “Aren’t you a little nervous about the terms of the new lease?”

  “I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet.”

  “Well, I did. When I was trying to help sort through your mail. I figured it might warrant your immediate attention. I thought you read it and just didn’t know what to say or do.”

  “About what? I know there’s always a slight increase.”

  “Gloria, the bastards tripled the rent. Starting in September. Three short months from now.”

  “I know you have got to be lying to me.” She marched straight to her office, spotted that manila envelope, opened it and scanned down until she saw the new monthly rent: $I5,000. Her mouth opened wide. She threw the lease on the floor, then picked it up and tossed it in the trash. Gloria flopped down in her chair and rocked back and forth. She didn’t know if this was a sign that it was time for her to bow out or if Joseph was going to be her new partner.

  Grocery Shopping

  “What do you mean GoGo can’t come out there?”

  “Stop yelling in my ear, Sheila. And hold on a minute. I’m at the grocery store.”

  I point to a rib-eye steak and nod a “that’s all” and mouth “Thank you” to the butcher. “It’s not a good time, Sheila.”

  “When is it ever a good time? How do you think I ended up with a house full of kids?”

  “I told you I was going through a divorce. It’s kind of a big deal. And a first for me.”

  “People get divorced every day, Savannah. A hundred times a day. What makes you think yours is so special?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “You’re making it sound like this is so traumatic but the bottom line is you’re the one who wanted the stupid divorce, so you’re just getting what you wanted!”

  “I wish it was that cut and dry.”

  “You complicate everything, always have, and this is no exception. Men cheat. They lie. They love porn. They don’t respect you and don’t care if they hurt you. It’s the fucking breaks. Women divorce ’em ’cause we can’t tame ’em or train ’em or control ’em like we do household pets. End of story.”

  “You should get your own talk show, Sheila. You’re just full of insight.”

  “I know what I’m talking about. GoGo will not get on your nerves. He is very mature for his age.”

  “Look, Sheila. Nobody told you to run out and buy GoGo a damn airline ticket without conferring with me first.”

  “It’s all good, Sis. But. Let me just put this out there and you can take it any way you want to. We’re your goddamn family. You seem to go all out of your way for your silly-ass friends and what have you—and don’t even get me started on that little Hollywood-in-Phoenix job you’ve been working at forever: the one you kill yourself for just to come up with all these stories about problems that can’t be fixed. Mama shows ’em to me. After hundreds of ’em you still aren’t even on TV. So how are we supposed to see how well you’re aging since you don’t exactly break your neck coming to Pittsburgh—where you were born and raised in case you forgot. The only time we see you is when somebody dies or you just feel guilty and—”

  “That is not true and you know it!”

  “It is true. When was the last time you came home?”

  “Two years ago. And nobody had died.”

  “Yeah, but Mama had hip surgery.”

  “Who died, Sheila?”

  “You needed a reason. That’s my point.”

  “I’m not on camera because I’m behind the camera, Sheila.”

  “That’s what I just said!”

  “But it’s by choice.”

  “Who in their right mi
nd wouldn’t want to be like Oprah?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then something is wrong with you.”

  “Look, can I call you back when I get home?”

  “No. Pull the cart over and park it. We’re going to finish this.”

  “I’ve been standing in the frozen food section for the past ten minutes and it’s cold as hell in this entire store and I’ve got on short sleeves.”

  “Then push the cart over to the produce section. Fruit and vegetables aren’t cold.”

  She has a lot of nerve, telling me what to do, but I find myself pushing the cart in that direction, tossing stuff into it I know I don’t need. Foods that scream, “You will see us on your waist and hips next week.” I park in front of the melons. “Okay, now make it snappy. I’m working on something and I need to get home to look over my notes.”

  “What’s this one about? I liked that teen pregnancy one, I won’t lie. You outta come to Pittsburgh. These young girls here act like they never heard of birth control. They get excited about being pregnant. A diploma is not their ticket to financial freedom. A baby is income. I’m so glad I didn’t have any hot-in-the-ass daughters, ’cause I would’ve strangled her ass if she came in here bringing a baby at fourteen.”

  “Is this where I should say thank you?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Thank you. Anyway, I just want you to know you’re being very inconsiderate and selfish about this whole thing, Sheila.”

  “I think you got it backward, Sis.”

  “Look. My life as I’ve known it and lived it for the past ten years has changed, Sheila. Can’t you try to understand how this might feel?”

  “You know how many times me and Paul split up? How many hotels and motels I’ve dragged these kids to over the years? So don’t tell me anything about breaking up your life. Besides, you don’t have any kids. So the only person you have to worry about is Savannah.”

  “So does having a hysterectomy and not being able to have children make me selfish?”

  “I bet you don’t even know my kids’ names.”

  “From the sound of it, you probably don’t either. Even on the back of their school pictures you put their nicknames!”