“Ma, you know it’s gonna be pouring in a few minutes. You see those thunderheads up there? See how dark they are? We should get going.”
Something told her coming out here wasn’t a good idea. She gets up and starts folding up her chair.
“Is Nickida at home with the kids?”
“Afraid not. She’s at her sister’s house, where she’ll be until we can be civil.”
“Then who’s watching the girls?”
“The neighbor’s oldest daughter. You know Regina, who lives two doors down?”
Gloria nods. Nice people.
Without any warning, thunder begins to roar. And as if someone snapped their fingers to make it happen, raindrops start falling like they’re being shot out of a BB gun. Gloria grabs her sandals, runs as fast as she can (which isn’t very fast), heads toward the parking lot and jumps inside Tarik’s SUV. He tosses both chairs in the back, over the kids’ car seats, and then hops in. Everybody’s running to their RVs and parked vehicles because those who live here know the combination of wind and lightning and rain can sometimes be a life-threatening cocktail.
“Can you call and see if it’s raining over by your house?” Gloria asks. Even though it’s pouring down here, it could be sunny on the other side of town.
Tarik calls the babysitter. “Hey, Regina, how’s everybody doing? That’s good. Is it storming over there? Oh, it just left? Well, we got it out here. I’m at Lake Pleasant. That’s good to hear. Tell the girls I’ll be home in about an hour. Thanks a lot. I appreciate it.” He hangs up.
“So everybody’s good?”
“Yep. They’re eating pizza and watching cartoons.”
“Have you said anything to the kids or have they asked where their mom is?”
“I just told them their mom was visiting their auntie for a few days.”
“Have you thought about what impact all of this might have on them, Tarik?” Gloria asks.
“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Okay,” she says with a sigh. Gloria crosses her hands and lets them rest in her lap. What a mess. Treated his wife like she was Princess Di, and this is how she shows her gratitude and love? Gloria would really like to kick her ass. Or slap the shit out of her.
The sky is getting darker, and three flashes of lavender lightning just pierced through it. It is a spectacular light show but one Gloria would appreciate more seeing it from inside the comfort of her home. They sit tight waiting for it to stop. It could be a while.
“So, I’ve been hoping she would stop smoking that stuff but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anytime soon. She’s been jeopardizing our kids, not to mention putting me in a precarious position. I don’t know when she smokes it. But I think I know where she gets it, and apparently she’s been giving Luther something in kind. Something I thought was mine. This whole ordeal makes me sick, Ma.”
“I know, baby.”
“What would you do?”
“I don’t know what I’d do, to be honest. But sometimes it’s best not to make rash decisions, especially if you might end up regretting them later.”
“I don’t think I can trust her, Ma. In fact, I’m sure I can’t. I mean, she brought this motha—sorry, she brought another man into our bed. With the kids downstairs? Who does she think she is?”
Gloria keeps quiet.
“I want out.”
Gloria could ask a ton of questions, but she doesn’t want to press him. Tarik needs some breathing room. Right now, as the rain hits the roof of the truck like bullets, she will sit here for what will amount to another forty-five minutes, waiting for her son to let his heart admit how much this hurts, which he will not do. When the rain stops, it will be abrupt, and she will give him a big hug and get in her car and hope neither of them gets caught in the gushing silt rushing through one of the gullies.
The next afternoon, Gloria arrives at the Shelton Academy for Primary Education, registers at the front desk and gets a pass to enter the school. The hallway walls are plastered with drawings and paintings. When she sees a teacher holding a tiny girl’s hand—apparently taking her to the bathroom—Gloria asks her where the preschool classroom is and the teacher, who looks like she can’t be more than twenty-one, points two doors down.
As soon as she finds the room, it looks like Santa’s workshop of little black elves. There must be at least twenty of them. The walls are a potpourri of giant letters and numbers, animals in their natural habitat, the sun and the moon side by side and mountains observing them all. The children appear to be divided into groups, and everybody is busy and preoccupied. A small circle of children are peering up at a teacher as she tells them a story. Others are sitting at round tables, drawing or coloring. A few are curled up in fat-cushioned chairs, sound asleep. Diamond is one of them.
When Gloria spots Blaze, she’s standing in front of a pink-and-lavender sink full of plastic dishes in what appears to be a miniature kitchen. She is surrounded by four other little girls who are apparently preparing a meal on a pink stove with the tiniest plastic pots and pans Gloria has ever seen. One has a little spoon and is just stirring away. Another girl standing next to Blaze is talking to someone on the headset of an old white princess phone. Gloria forgot how big those things used to be. It’s almost as big as Blaze is.
“Gawa!” Blaze yells when she spots Gloria. “This is my gawa everybody!”
“Hi, Gawa!” they all seem to say at the same time.
“Hello there, everybody!” Gloria says. “What are you guys doing?”
“We’re not guys,” the little one on the phone says. “We’re girls.” She has two thick braids that fall like ropes past her shoulders and those big black eyes show she doesn’t miss too much of anything. The others are nodding in agreement. Ms. Operator smiles, displaying eye teeth that look like tiny vampire fangs. Gloria laughs. The little girl laughs, too. They’re all as cute as they can be.
“I’m sorry, girls. What are you doing, Blazie?”
Blaze looks up at Gloria, as do the other girls, as if to ask, “What does it look like I’m doing?” but instead she says, “I’m washing dishes.”
The other girls nod, as if saying that’s right, that’s what she’s doing. “Well, I came to pick you and Diamond up, Blazie, but it looks like she’s still sleeping.”
“This is nap time for the little kids,” Ms. Operator says.
“Oh,” Gloria says. “And who are you talking to?”
“Her not talking to anybody,” a little chocolate-chip girl says. She looks like she’s already seen some things. Her clothes are old and her hair looks like it hasn’t been combed in days.
“I am, too!”
“Well, I was wondering, I would really like to get my hair done today.”
“We’re too little, Gawa,” Blazie says, still rubbing her dry dishes and putting them into the dish rack. She positions them as if they’re actually going to drain into her waterless sink.
“Well, I was hoping to get my makeup done, too, while I’m waiting.”
“I can do your makeup,” Ms. Chocolate Chip says, raising her hand to make sure she gets Gloria’s attention.
“I have to call upstairs to the big kids and see if they have any abailability to do your hair. Want me to?” Ms. Operator asks.
“I would like that.”
“Hol’ on a minute,” she says while punching at least twenty numbers on that giant phone, so hard that the white cord hanging at the end of it swings back and forth. “Yes, I’m calling to see if you have any abailability for Blazie’s gawa to get her hair done today? Hol’ on a minute.”
“They wanna know what you want done,” she says to Gloria.
“I could sure use a new weave.”
“They don’t do weaves. You wanna get it braided?”
“How much does it cost?”
“Five hundred dollars,” she says.
“Will they take a check?”
“No! They don’t take no checks only credit cards,” Ms.
Chocolate Chip butts in as if she has had run-ins like this before.
“Then maybe I’ll get it done a different day.”
Gloria spots Diamond walking toward her with a sleepy smile on her face.
“You know, girls, it’s been such a pleasure to have met you but I’m going to have to take my granddaughters home now.”
“Can you come back and play with us again?” Ms. Chocolate Chip asks, as if she’s pleading.
“Yes, I will,” Gloria says.
“When?”
“Soon,” Gloria says.
“Can you give me a hug?” she asks.
Gloria is surprised and moved by this request, but happy to oblige.
“I want one, too,” Ms. Operator says.
“Me, too,” another one says.
The next thing Gloria knows, the other girls descend upon her as well. All she feels are warm little arms and hands squeezing her thighs and waist. She’s thinking that all these miniature people are real people. That one day they’ll grow up and become real adults and they’ll fall in love, and some of them will have their hearts broken and cry and wonder if they’ll ever recover. Some of them will probably get married and have babies and their husbands might die when they least expect it. Or one day they’ll be grandparents and their adult children will need them again, which is why Gloria is going to take two of these children to her house until their father, her only son, tells her just how long he needs all of them to stay.
Blockbuster Night
“Open this door before I break it down!” Robin yells.
“It’s open!” Savannah yells back as she heads on out to the backyard. “And I hope you didn’t bring those whiny little dogs with you, because we can never hear the doggone movie. Get it?”
“Oh, shut up, Savannah,” Robin says, coming through the double doors that lead to the deck. “I dropped them off at Macy’s. They’re looking for new outfits. What can I do to help?”
“Don’t ask a question you don’t really want the answer to,” Bernadine says after Robin passes her in the kitchen.
Savannah and Gloria are putting mint green sheets on the bed that Isaac built. It looks like something out of a movie. None of them has ever seen a bed in anybody’s backyard. At least not one you’d want to sleep in. What Savannah’s friends don’t know is she hasn’t so much as sat on it since she’s been living alone.
“Who’d you get all dressed up for?” Gloria asks as Savannah tugs to get the sheet snug under her corner.
“I got this dress at Target. Thirty-nine bucks. I’m tired of looking like a slob just because I’m not at work.” The dress is orange cotton, sleeveless, with a box-pleated skirt.
“Did I just hear you say you got that dress at Tarj’et? For under forty bucks?” Robin asks.
Savannah nods. They all know Robin can’t pass up a good deal.
“Does it come in any other colors? I can’t do orange.”
“White and bright yellow.”
“Why don’t you make those mojitos and settle down,” Gloria says. Robin obeys, heading over to the deck bar where Savannah has all the fixings ready and waiting. Perched high on top of a cabinet, the flat-screen TV awaits. Gloria has already slid Crash into the DVD player. It was the movie everybody wanted to see, since they missed it at the theater. Savannah has the remote, so Gloria started the movie manually. The previews are playing.
“What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without shopping?” Gloria asks Robin.
“I don’t know. Two, three days, tops. Why?”
“Were you sick and shut in?” Savannah asks.
“So I like to shop. Big deal.”
“That’s an understatement,” Bernadine yells from the kitchen, where she is, of course, spreading out the food she has prepared, as she has done for every Blockbuster Night. She always surprises and outdoes herself.
“Do you ever ask yourself why you buy so much stuff you don’t need?” Gloria is looking her dead in the face.
Robin turns the blender on high a little longer than it takes. Does a taste test. She’s pleased. “It’s not about need. I buy things because I like them.”
“I like monkeys, too, but I’m not going to run out and buy one,” Bernadine says, still from the kitchen. “Don’t make enough for me. I’m drinking water or iced tea this evening.”
Everyone tries hard not to look suspicious.
“Just tell us when we can eat, please.” Robin pours the mix into three martini glasses and takes a sip of hers.
“Anytime is the right time,” Bernadine says.
“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars you can’t go a week without shopping,” Savannah says.
“I don’t need to prove anything to you.”
“You’re right,” Savannah says. “So, let’s fix our plates and come back and watch this movie. I heard it’s probably gonna get nominated for an Oscar.”
During the next ten minutes or so they fill their plates with everything they see: chicken and sweet potato salad, tomato and olive pasta with giant prawns piled on top, and everybody’s favorite (which Bernadine borrowed from Tanya Holland’s New Soul Cooking), that mouthwatering confetti cornbread. For dessert: summer pudding, an English recipe. Bernadine usually makes huge bowls of it for everybody down at Oasis. She can almost make it with her eyes closed: fresh raspberries and sugar boiled to a thick liquid then poured over layers of stiff white bread. She staggers them with the same concoction of blueberries and blackberries, puts it in the refrigerator overnight and uses sprigs of mint as a garnish and ultra-rich clotted cream to top it off.
“Anybody want to hear a good joke while the previews are on? It’s hecka funny,” Robin says.
“No,” Gloria says.
“Save it,” Bernadine says.
“E-mail it to me,” Savannah says.
They head back outside and sit in their usual places, Gloria and Robin on the deck in chaises, Bernadine and Savannah on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Savannah looks over at Bernadine. She’s never seen anyone except Isaac in that spot.
“We couldn’t have picked a nicer night to be outside, huh, girls?” Robin says. “No rain tonight.”
Because Robin answered her own question, nobody bothers to respond. Gloria reaches over and presses PLAY on the DVD player.
Savannah hits the PAUSE button on the remote control. “So how’s everybody doing and what’s everybody been up to lately?”
Gloria rolls her eyes and lets out a long sigh. This is going to take all night. She can already feel it.
“Before I forget!” Robin yells out. “Lucille is selling—”
“I’m not buying another ticket to another one of those tired dances,” Savannah says.
“I think I’ll pass, too.” Gloria sets her now empty plate on the deck.
“When is it?” Bernadine asks.
“Are we gonna ever watch this movie tonight or not? I’ll be asleep in a few minutes if we don’t.” Gloria crosses her arms and legs and peers at everyone, hoping someone agrees with her.
Savannah sticks her tongue out at Gloria and presses the PLAY button. More previews.
“Early September. Did I tell you guys I’m going skiing with the black ski club this winter?”
“No,” Bernadine says. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired of not having any fun.”
“But aren’t they all like twenty-one?” Savannah asks.
“No. Most twenty-one-year-olds can’t afford to ski. Anyway, I’m buying four tickets to the dance, and if you don’t come you will hurt Lucille’s feelings. It’s for a good cause.”
“I believe in supporting a good cause but it doesn’t mean I have to go to the boring dance. Which one is it for?” Savannah asks.
“It’ll provide scholarships for black high school kids who have good grades but still need money for college. We need to stop being so selfish.”
“I agree,” Savannah says. “Okay. I’ll go if everybody else goes. Damn.”
“I’ll buy
a ticket,” Gloria says.
“Since you put it that way, Robin. It’s sad but true. None of us does anything for other folks the way we used to when we were in Black Women on the Move,” Bernadine says. “Does anybody know whatever happened to them?”
“I ran into Dottie a little while ago. Remember her?”
“You mean Miss Meany? That Dottie?” Robin asks.
Gloria nods. “She didn’t look so good.”
“Neither do we,” Bernadine says.
Gloria nods again. “Anyway, she had a stroke and she was in a wheelchair.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Savannah says. “She got on everybody’s nerves but I hope she’s going to be okay.”
“You just never know when tragedy might strike,” Bernadine says.
“Dottie told me there was some talk about starting it back up, but I think she was just saying it to be saying it. I’m thinking of giving Etta-Mae a call. She was the brain behind BWOTM.”
“I heard she died a few years ago,” Bernadine said.
“Let’s talk about this again. After we see if we can locate any of the old members,” Savannah says.
“I’ll look into it,” Gloria says.
“How much are the tickets this time, Robin?” Bernadine asks.
“Seventy-five, but it includes dinner and of course live entertainment and a raffle!”
“Remember a long time ago when Robin screwed one of the band members?” Bernadine asks. “And his wife was gonna kick her ass?”
Robin ignores this. Everybody is trying hard not to laugh. The credits finally start rolling. Now everybody seems to be daydreaming.
“I have to see if I can find something I can fit into,” Gloria says. “Maybe this’ll give me enough time to lose a few pounds. Everybody always overdresses. Like they’re going to a ball or something.”
“And do they love wearing sequins and rhinestones or what?” Savannah says while flipping the remote back and forth from one hand to the other. “I’ll tell you right now, when the DJ plays the middle-age theme song, I’m not doing the Electric Slide. I mean it.”
“I love doing the Electric Slide,” Robin says.
Getting to Happy Page 25
