Lady J

by L. Divine

  “No, Tania, I’m not,” he says, taking her hands in his and forcing her off of him. How can he be so cold to his baby-mama, even if they aren’t claiming each other? Dudes are a trip.

  “Not even a little bit?” Tania says, backing off, but still flirting with her eyes. A rich slut is the worst kind. I bet she’d fit right in with Paris Hilton and her crew. Maybe she’ll run into them while she’s in the Big Apple.

  “Could y’all take your soap opera somewhere else? We’re trying to eat over here,” Mickey says, again catching Tania’s eye. I don’t even know what made Tania think she could come over to where Mickey was sitting and feel safe, especially after what went down at the Halloween dance a few days ago. I thought Mickey was going to kill Tania for attempting to plant a worm-infested apple in the cauldron for Nellie to bite into. Too bad Laura took the bait instead.

  “No one’s talking to you. And besides, it’s a free country last I checked,” Tania snaps back. Now she’s done it. Mickey puts the remainder of her burger in its container and wipes her hands and mouth on a napkin before slowly rising from her spot next to Nigel, who’s smiling because he knows what’s about to go down. Nothing’s more amusing to guys than a chick fight.

  “I don’t care if the bitch is pregnant,” Mickey says, looking at Jeremy, but talking to no one in particular. “She’s about to get her ass whipped once and for all, talking to me like she knows me. Your last day here’s going to be the most memorable day of your life,” Mickey says, tossing her drink at Tania, who unwillingly catches it as red fruit punch splashes across her pink sundress, highlighting her flat chest. I hope the baby gives her some breasts.

  “You—you—hoochie!” Tania shouts, as the crowd around our table gets bigger. I wish I could leave and head to class like nothing’s happening. But Mickey’s my girl and she wouldn’t hate Tania so much if it weren’t for Nellie and me. So, the least I can do is have her back. Noticing my discomfort, Chance comes over to me and stands by my side, with Nellie right behind him. It’s nice to see him taking some initiative for a change.

  “Is that right?” Mickey says, walking around the lunch bench, ready to charge. “Hoochie is as hoochie does, trick!” She lunges at Tania, grabbing her hair as Jeremy blocks her full attack.

  “All right, break it up,” Jeremy says. Nigel pulls Mickey back as we watch the hectic scene in astonishment. I don’t think anyone even heard the bell ring. The cafeteria locking up is my only indicator that it’s time for us to go. I hope this is the last time I see Tania—forever.

  “This is what you chose over me and our crew,” Tania says to Jeremy as he lets her go. For the first time, I can sense her pain. So, she’s not completely heartless? Good to know. “You’d rather hang out with a bunch of rough ghetto girls than me?” And, just like that, I change my mind. This broad is as cold as they come. I feel sorry for their baby.

  “Who are you calling ghetto?” Nellie yells at her. I know she wants to kick her ass for the whole rotten apple incident, but that’ll never happen. Nellie’s way too prissy to fight. That’s why she’s got Mickey.

  “You and your raggedy little friends. This school used to stand for something. But now anyone can come here as long as they have a bus pass. I’m glad I’m leaving this tired scene.” As she walks toward Laura, who’s dutifully waiting with a handful of napkins, I feel like I have to say something. This is, after all, really my fight.

  “I’d rather be ghetto any day, than give up my life in high school to take the GED so I can become one of the Desperate Housewives.” I say, causing oohs and ahhs to ripple through the crowd. Patting herself dry, Tania looks genuinely pierced by my sharp remark. I know being pregnant and single wasn’t part of her ten-year plan, no matter how she tries to play it off.

  “I may be a housewife, but I’m never desperate,” Tania says confidently. But I can tell she’s shaken. Between my mouth and Mickey’s physical attack, I’m surprised the girl’s still standing.

  “Are you sure about that?” I say, ready to let everyone know exactly why she and Jeremy broke up. Luckily, Rah texts me right in time, silencing my exposé. Besides, I don’t want to be late for class. I can channel all of my frustration toward my rehearsal. Lady Macbeth is a raw chick and I’m going to need to release this anger somewhere. So, Shakespeare will have to do.

  “For real, ladies, just chill out,” Jeremy says. I look at his face, knowing he’s afraid I’ll spill the beans. But I’m not; I’m done with their mess. I have my own life to live and they’re not included.

  “I hope you live happily ever after, Cinderella,” I say, as Chance, Nigel, my girls and I all head away from the scene. Mickey devours the last of her lunch while the crowd rushes toward fifth period. I guess she worked up an appetite wailing on Tania. I’m still a little hungry myself. I can’t wait to go home. Only two more classes until I’m free from this madness. Why can’t I ever have a peaceful week at this school?

  When I arrive on my block after school, the scent of dinner is overwhelming. I love walking down our street in the evening. I don’t see how my uncle Bryan can be a full-on vegetarian, especially living with Mama. It’s cool to go “no meat” for lunch every once in a while, but Mama’s got me sprung on southern cooking—no tofu included.

  “Your grandparents are at it again,” my neighbor Brandy says from her porch. It smells like fried chicken’s cooking in her house. My cousin Jay comes out right behind her like he lives there. He and my uncles all have their homes-away-from-home around the neighborhood.

  “Yeah Jayd. You might want to sit this one out,” Jay says, devouring a chicken sandwich as my stomach growls.

  “I can’t. I’m too hungry.” The veggies and cheese sub didn’t do me justice and I’m ready to grub. I hope Mama cooked because I could use a home-cooked meal after the day I’ve had.

  “Well, you’d better order a pizza because the kitchen’s a wreck,” Jay says, putting the last of his dinner into his mouth.

  “What happened to the kitchen?” I ask. I hope the damage isn’t too bad. I could at least warm up some fishsticks or make a peanut butter and honey sandwich or something.

  “Mama’s wrath, that’s what,” he says, laughing and taking a seat on the porch steps. “She went way the hell off on Daddy and his latest admirer. You should’ve been there earlier when the chick was still there. Mama made her cry just by looking at her.”

  “Your grandmother’s green eyes are powerful. Are those contacts? Because if they are, I need me some of them,” Brandy says, loudly smacking her gum. If she only knew how powerful Mama really is she’d never joke about Mama’s sight. She and everyone else around here know that Mama’s eyes are real, and so are her powers.

  “They didn’t have to call the police, did they?” I ask. The Compton Police probably have our phone number on speed dial, with all of the shit that goes down at our house.

  “No, but it was pretty brutal,” Brandy says, taking a seat next to Jay while I post up against her fence. “But I ain’t mad at your grandmother. That woman was wrong for coming up in her house like that and bringing your granddaddy dinner, like he doesn’t have a wife.”

  “Was it the same woman who brought that pound cake last time?” I say, remembering Daddy picking up the broken pieces of the dessert from the ground. Mama doesn’t play when it comes to defending her territory, which begins and ends at home.

  “Yes, it was,” Jay says. He loves to gossip more than any woman I know. I think most men secretly do. “She knew what she was doing. But I don’t think she knew what she was getting herself into,” he says, laughing at the memory.

  “I wish some chick would come up to my man’s house bringing him food like he’s single. I’d beat her ass right where she stood,” Brandy says, rising from the bottom porch step, displaying her six-month-pregnant belly. Brandy’s in the same class as Jay and her older sister Kendra, who also attends Compton High and already has a one-year-old son.

  “Yeah, that was kind of bold. But Daddy puts it on
them from the pulpit, I guess,” Jay says. That sandwich didn’t come from Brandy’s kitchen. I wonder who made a chicken run. It could have been Bryan, but he wouldn’t go to a chicken spot as a first choice because he doesn’t eat meat, which means he probably didn’t make this run. And none of my other uncles are driving right now.

  “I think it’s what he’s putting on them away from the pulpit that’s got your grandmother pissed,” Brandy says, stepping into the house as Jay gets up to run after her. I know he wishes that baby in her belly was his. But she only goes for gangstas: the rougher the better. Her man, Bull, is constantly in and out of jail and scares the shit out of me when he’s around. I don’t see why she got pregnant by him in the first place. But to each her own, I guess. It doesn’t help that her mother left Brandy and Kendra in this house alone with their little brother, who’s my age and is now in juvenile hall for stealing car radios with his fellow gang members, one of whom just happens to be Brandy’s baby-daddy, who didn’t get caught this time.

  “I’ll catch y’all later,” I yell after them as I continue my stroll toward home. I’ve learned to deal with all of the fighting in our home over the years. Not that I’ve grown immune to it, but I know where to hide if need be. But getting dinner out of a destroyed kitchen is another challenge entirely.

  When I reach home, I see Mama’s dog, Lexi, sitting on the front porch, guarding the fortress. I also notice Daddy sitting across from Mama at the dining room table. Neither one of them notices me gazing through the window, so I know they’re in serious discussion mode. Rather than disturb them, I think I’ll go and chill in the spirit room. Maybe I can bake some biscuits or something while I’m out there.

  As I make my way through the weathered wooden gate leading to the backyard, I notice a cloud of smoke coming from the closed garage. I bet my uncles are getting high and trying to ignore the show going on inside.

  “What are y’all doing in here?” I say, entering the stuffy space. The television blares loudly from the corner, allowing some light into the otherwise dark room. I make out three bodies. One is definitely Bryan, the other I’m guessing is Bryan’s best friend Tarek, and the other is a little hazy. I know it’s not another one of my uncles, who I’m sure are all out causing trouble of their own.

  “What’s up, Jayd?” Rah’s voice bellows through the cloudy haze. A person can get high just from smelling this shit.

  “Raheem, what are you doing here? And where’s your car?” I say as I make my way over to where he’s seated behind the folding card table in the center of the floor.

  “Up the street at Rodney’s house. He’s putting in a new stereo for me. You would have known that if you’d bother to return a nigga’s messages,” he says, sounding irritated with me.

  “I was just about to call you. But now I don’t have to,” I say, sitting in his lap and putting a smile on his face. “I really could use a hug without all of the heat, please.” Sensing how tired I am, Rah passes up his turn in the rotation and puts his arms around me, making all of my troubles melt away. Too bad the fix is only temporary.

  “Bad day?” he asks as he takes my backpack from my lap and places it on the floor next to us. My uncle looks completely faded and although Tarek doesn’t smoke, he looks as chill as the rest of them.

  “Yes, but it’s much better now.” His scent of Egyptian Musk oil mixed with Unforgivable—my favorite cologne—calms me down, almost making me forget about my hunger. But my stomach hasn’t forgotten and now everyone in the room knows it.

  “You hungry? We’ve got some Popeye’s,” Rah says, pointing to the stacked table. This impromptu session is just what I needed to chill me out. I grab a bag with a two-piece meal in it. This will definitely hit the spot. If Rah were any other friend, I wouldn’t be too cool with him popping up at my house, especially not with Mama and Daddy at each other’s throats. There’s just something about Rah that feels comfortable, like he already belongs here. But when the wrong friends get too close, it’s anything but comfortable.

  3

  Too Close For Comfort

  “Don’t forget where you are and where you’ve been/ Life’s lessons then made you into woman.”

  —GLENN LEWIS

  After Rah left last night, I stayed behind in the spirit room until midnight working on my English paper and studying my spirit work. I found a recipe to help clear up all of the negative energy around us. I’m not the only one dealing with cheating dudes and trifling female trouble; so are my mom and Mama. That’s why last night’s lesson from my great-grandmother Maman was so important. It was about how everything we do affects our lineage, as well as others around us. That’s why our heads always have to be in a state of calm so that we can make the best decisions and, most of all, wield our powers carefully.

  Mama was at the shrine all night long, praying and crying. Whatever’s going down between her and Daddy must be big. She finally went to sleep right before I came in and I was glad. Mama needs her rest and all of this commotion isn’t good for her nerves. I’ll make sure to put her herbs and water by the bed this morning before I leave. She needs to keep herself up in order to deal with all of our haters. I also grated some fresh coconut and cocoa butter and wrapped them in cotton gauze before sprinkling lavender and eucalyptus oil on the combination and placed it in her eye pack before resting it on her face last night. According to the spirit book, the ingredients will help her to see clearly and cool her head. She hasn’t slept with it on lately, but I hope it will help her to get some much needed rest.

  “Jayd, are you up?” Bryan whispers through the closed bedroom door. It’s almost five-thirty in the morning and if I stay in bed any longer I risk missing the first bus. I wish I didn’t have to get up so early. It seems so unfair that Jay gets to sleep in an entire hour later than I do because he can walk to school from here.

  “Yeah, I’m up,” I grunt as I smack my alarm clock before it goes off. Mama must be in a deep sleep because she hasn’t moved a muscle since last night and she’s usually more dependable than the Tasmanian Devil’s ringing every morning. I guess the eye sack I made is working after all.

  Making my way out of my bed and to the back of the door where my clothes are hanging, I open it to find Bryan clearing out of the bathroom. He’s more polite than my other uncles. They usually leave shit everywhere, which is why I try to get in and out before they do.

  “Here you go, little queen,” he says, checking his reflection in the mirror one more time before stepping out of the steamy room. “It’s pure, now you may enter.”

  “Whatever, fool,” I say, as he smacks me with his towel, which I grab and tug out of his hand.

  “Give it back,” he says, reaching for it as I attempt to close the bathroom door and get some privacy.

  “You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself,” I say, as we struggle for the towel. Finally giving up, I let go and Bryan falls to the floor, almost loud enough to wake up the household. But, after yesterday’s excitement, I guess everyone’s worn out.

  “I let you win,” he says, gathering his fallen toiletries from the floor around him and rising to his feet.

  “This wasn’t tug of war, fool. That’s what’s wrong with dudes; y’all always playing games, even when there’s no opponent.”

  “Like I’ve told you before, Jayd,” Bryan says, leaning up against the hallway wall, “girls play games, too. But for real, though.” He displays his charming smile. He’s got so many girls it should be a crime—I’m sure it is in some countries. “Can I borrow five dollars? I get paid tomorrow. I’m good for it.”

  “Five dollars?” I say, closing the bathroom door in his face. “You’re my uncle. I should be asking you for a loan.”

  “Come on, Jayd. It’s hard out here for a pimp,” he says through the door. Running my water, I hang my clothes up and realize I left my toiletries in my bag in Daddy’s room. It’s already bad enough that we all have to share rooms, but there’s not enough closet or drawer space for me to keep al
l of my things in one place. I’ll be glad when the day comes that I can get rid of the three large Hefty trash bags that hold my stuff in Daddy’s closet, which is also where Jay and Bryan keep their clothes. Daddy uses the larger closet next to his bed across from the bunk beds where Bryan and Jay sleep. What I’d give to have my own room, let alone my own bathroom.

  “Then stop pimpin’,” I say, opening the door and stepping into his room ahead of him. Daddy and Jay are still asleep and the closet door is already open, allowing me quick access.

  “So you’re not going to help a brotha out?” Bryan says, sounding like a wounded puppy. Why is he always broke?

  “You better give it back to me first thing tomorrow,” I say, reaching into my small purse and handing him a five dollar bill. I keep my purse with me everywhere in this house. Things have a tendency to walk away from me if I’m not careful.

  “I got you and then some,” he says, taking the money and heading back into his room to finish dressing, leaving me to start my day. The official plan is to hide out in the library all day and get as much work done as I can—no drama allowed.

  The last bus ride is nice and calm this morning, unlike the first two. It seemed like everyone wanted to be early today. I had to stand the entire trip for both rides. Dudes don’t even give up their seat for the elderly, let alone a girl these days. I guess chivalry really is dead. I must admit, I already miss my daily rides from Jeremy. But, I’m ready to get my own ride. Until then, I’m at the mercy of city transportation. I wish the bus dropped me off a little closer to campus but I’ll take what I can get.

  As if he heard my wish, Jeremy turns onto Prospect Avenue headed to school but I don’t expect him to give me a ride. After all, I did break up with him and he doesn’t owe me anything. But to my surprise he notices me and looks almost happy to see me.