The college experience started out textbook style, standing in lines—lines to pay tuition, lines to get classes, lines to get on waiting lists for classes. Slowly a status quo emerged where learning and academics became a side note to parties and wild dorm nights. Staying up past two in the morning playing shots, popping quarters into small glasses of Cuervo Gold and taking a swig whether the quarter went in or not. The full assemblage of friendships that included openmouth kisses while six other people sat around deciding who would be next.
She’d meant it when she said she would love Tony Jones forever but had to admit that forever was relative, especially to a seventeen-year-old. Tony had shown up, knocking at her dormitory door, alarmed because Venus had no longer been sitting by the phone when he called. When she was home, she was shouting over Prince music and the voices that were too deep to be in a girl’s dorm room that late in the first place.
“What are you doing here?” Venus had asked, over the loud music that seeped past her at the door. She was dressed to go skiing in the San Bernardino Mountains, a two-hour drive east. It would be her first trip. Her roommates had donated a piece here and a piece there, giving her a Salvation Army slash Benetton look. Her hair hung straight underneath a purple fleece hat. She wore a yellow vest over a polar white turtleneck and leopard print purple pants. It was important to look cute on the slopes, her roommates had explained. “Especially when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing out there. Men love to rescue, but only if you’re dressed cute.”
She stepped outside to hug Tony with shaky arms. Afraid she smelled like last night’s party and a white guy who looked like a younger, thinner Alec Baldwin. They’d stayed up all night kissing on the floor, wedged between the sofa and the coffee table, his saliva dripping down the side of her mouth, falling into her ear. They were drunk enough to have gone all the way, but the Baldwin boy came in his pants before Venus got out of hers.
She had to force herself not to laugh at the memory while Tony stood in front of her. His freshly trimmed Afro in a shag, short in the front and thick in the back. She felt a little sorry for him in his letterman’s jacket. Blue and white all the way, remembering three years in the stands, cheering for him, proud that she had the best-looking boy at John Marshall High School.
“What’s going on, Venus? You haven’t been answering my calls, you’re never here?”
Venus nodded her head, yes, that was true. She pulled the door closed all the way to shut out Prince wailing “1999.” “I’m busy; school is so much harder than I thought. The classes are time-consuming. Lot of time at the library, can’t get anything done here with my roommates being so gothic.” She’d just learned that word in her humanities class, but generally it was used to describe the students who wore only black, with large boots and overcoats even when it was a hundred degrees outside.
“You can’t call? Not even between classes?” His hands were balled fists in his jacket pockets.
“I’m sorry, it’s just been hectic.” Another new word.
“Like now, you’re too busy now, too.” He could see the antsy pants she was wearing, needing to go back inside to let everyone know she was ready to go. Daryl and Michael were inside, too. Three girls and two guys. She could always deny neither one was there for her. “I can’t talk right now, but there’s some things we have to discuss, later.”
His eyes lowered. “Like what?”
“Like we’re in two different worlds now.” She didn’t mean to say two different worlds. He assumed she meant his job at the Stop and Go Gas center where he sat in the tiny red booth and took people’s dirty dollar bills for gasoline and cigarettes. She knew what was coming before it happened. He’d been angry a long time over the fact she was there and he was not.
The thumping noise brought her roommate, Jessie, running out first. Her Asian heritage permitted her eyes to open only so far while she covered her mouth in shock. Daryl and Michael filed out behind her, each grabbing an arm and pulling Tony backward. Venus pulled the acrylic sweater from around her neck, straightening out what she could of herself. Ignoring the stinging knot growing near her eye.
“Let him go.” Venus pulled away from her roommate’s grip, breaking free, then pulling on Michael’s arms to make him let go of Tony. They released him, still ready if he tried anything dangerous.
Tony yelled his good-bye so that everyone on the dorm floor could hear it. “Bitch, you ain’t good enough for me! Not the other way around! You’re only good for one thing”—he grabbed at his crotch while he was backing away—“and that’s all you’ll ever be good for.”
Last words always hurt. Venus still carried them with her, vivid and defining. She wondered if Jake Parson thought that was all she was good for. Just a pretty box underneath the tree that he couldn’t wait to get into. Whatever he thought or didn’t think of her was of no consequence. It wouldn’t make a difference in how things were going to turn out.
CHECKS AND BALANCES
TIMOTHY was standing behind the door when Venus let herself in with the house key she’d carried since she was twelve. The Johnston house had remained intact for over thirty years. A new roof, new carpeting, some cabinetry here and there, but solid. Unlike Mrs. Rayban next door, who’d never fully rebuilt after a fire her son caused while getting high with his friends. She also put bars on the windows to keep the boy out once he upgraded to crack instead of old-fashioned marijuana. Mrs. Rayban’s house looked hard and unhappy. Trees and shrubs had been chopped down to eliminate any hiding places for burglars, leaving dry stubs like gravestones in a cemetery.
“Ready to go, I see.” Venus reached around Timothy’s lengthy torso.
“Yeah.” He nodded with a sense of guilt.
Venus picked up his leather shoulder bag, and he grabbed another light suitcase. She looked back at him. Telepathy had been one of their games. They pretended to be able to read each other’s minds. It started out as a card game like Dante the Magician; one would write it down, then the other would try to guess, queen of hearts, four of spades. Then it turned to real thoughts, hopes, and fears.
“I said my good-byes last night,” he answered the unasked question. “They’re still sleeping.” He quietly closed the door.
Venus looked up and saw Mrs. Rayban peeking out her window. She checked for all noises, comings and goings, the unofficial neighborhood watchman. Venus thought about waving but decided not to spoil Mrs. Rayban’s security by letting on she was seen.
“Whatever happened to Scotty?” She started the car, backing out of the driveway.
Timothy knew the drill as well, ignoring the face hiding behind the curtain. “I don’t know. We would have heard if he died. He must be in jail, where it’s safe.”
“Safe?”
“People who do drugs die quickly, especially when they’re on the street. In prison, he’s got a better chance of getting sober and getting his mind back.”
“So you still thinking about Africa?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “Do you want to stop and get a coffee or something?” Venus looked at her watch. “You know Magic Johnson’s got a few more Starbucks opened up down here. He’s trying to reignite the whole concept of black business in black neighborhoods. I admire him.” She looked at her watch again. “I guess we don’t have time to stop, really.”
She continued not bothering to look over at Timothy. She knew he wasn’t listening anyway, at least not right now. He’d call two or three days later with a delayed response as if he’d just read the e-mail. “The thing I admire is that he’s trying to do things right here, things that make a difference. I mean, everybody doesn’t have to travel back to Africa to make positive things happen. If you’ve got so much to give, time and money, there’s plenty that can be done right here at home. Magic’s proven that.
“How was Mom last night?” She changed the subject to maybe get a response.
“Good. I’d say really good. We just had a time changing her bag. Dad left me there and went out to pick up so
me food. Mom has this drainage thing still attached and I freaked out But we did it. She’s riding this thing to completion. You know, she’s going to be fine.” Timothy kept his face to the window. His hand went up to his face, once, then again faster, wiping.
Venus reached in the backseat where her life-sized box of Kleenex sat. She pulled a few sheets and slid them into the hand resting in his lap. She hadn’t seen Timothy cry since he was a boy, when Henry gave him the spanking of his life for bringing home a D on his report card. Not just a D, a D minus. It was a sanctioned beating. Henry and Pauletta sat at the kitchen table over coffee trying to figure out the best way to deal with it. Their straight-A son nearly failing in math. Unacceptable. They’d met with his teacher earlier that day. Too much playing around. Inattentive, not turning in his assignments. His other grades had declined as well. A’s to C’s. But he’d never approached failure. It was one of those nights when everyone knew there was no choice in the matter. Success was measured by expectation.
A nine-year-old Timothy waited up in his room like a man waiting for execution. Pauletta started the vacuum so the neighbors wouldn’t know they weren’t perfect. Venus ran bathwater, pouring her Jean Naté body wash into the tub so Timothy could soak afterward. It was the only thing she could think of as an offering of help. It went quickly, the beating, because violence and anger were something Henry Johnston hated more than anything in the world. Even though his was a planned action, even though it was decided by logic and implemented with exactness, it was an act of rage nonetheless. The bathwater sat cold when Timothy hadn’t come out of his room. Venus tapped on the door, then pushed a folded piece of construction paper under it, “You’re invited to experience the luxurious Venus Spa. Your bath awaits.” He never came out, the entire night.
“Are you going to go see Mom today?” Timothy asked, still staring out the window.
“Yeah, I plan to, soon as I drop you off at the airport, head right back over.” She reached up to his frizzy locks that needed retwisting. “I’ll take care of her. Dad and I both will.”
He swallowed. The lump of his throat, bobbing, up and down, like he had more to say but it wouldn’t come.
They hugged at the curb. The LAX airport felt like a vortex, a circling spiral of time travel. Wherever you were, about to go would be so far removed from whatever you’d just experienced in Los Angeles. The swirling traffic, the thick dry air, the lifetime of sunshine. The atmosphere so completely different from any other place, from Mars to Earth.
She kissed him near his ear with extra effort since she was wearing her Reeboks instead of four-inch heels. He half-bent over to whisper in her ear. “I love you. Take care of Mom. She loves you, Venus. You don’t have to be afraid of her.”
Venus stayed on the curb until he was behind the glass doors of the terminal. A gust of pungent car exhaust blew around her face. She held her breath to let it pass, zipping up her sweatshirt and pulling the hood over her head. She didn’t want to go to Pauletta smelling like taxicab fumes.
“No waiting; you’re going to have to move your car, miss.”
Venus turned around and looked at the police officer. “No problem. I’m going right now.”
She turned back and blew a kiss to the glass doors, knowing that Timothy was giving her one last wave good-bye; even though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was there.
PAULETTA still ate the middle out of the bread, something she’d been doing all her life. It didn’t matter how many times Henry reiterated that the best vitamins, the best fiber, were in the crust. He finished cutting off the fine line of brown, leaving flat toasted squares.
“I’ll do the dishes, Daddy.” Venus got up from the dining table. She still had a slice of honeydew in her fingers. It dripped lightly into her open palm.
“No, I got it. I want you to take her this tray, visit with her while she’s in a good mood. She’s getting restless and it’s not even midday.”
“You sure?” Venus stayed planted, knowing she couldn’t stay downstairs forever. Pauletta was sleeping when she first arrived. She hadn’t been back up since.
Henry handed her the tray.
“Okay. I’m going.”
He stopped and turned around. His graying sides widened to the center of his receding hairline. “She’s not going to bite, Precious.”
You sure?
“I know, Dad, don’t be silly.” She turned around and pushed up the stairs. When she reached the top, she realized it had been a few weeks since she’d been to the gym. Out of breath, she clung to the doorjamb of her mother’s bedroom entrance.
“Venus?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“What’re you doing?”
Venus came inside and sat on the edge of the bed. “I was winded. I think I’m getting old.”
“If you think it, so it will be.” The sides of Pauletta’s mouth were enclosed by two thick comma lines. Her face was shallow, her high cheekbones prominent. “Grab that bag for me.”
Venus followed her eyes to the May Company shopping bag. She could see that it was dated, especially since the department store was now called Robinsons May. Venus set the tray down in front of her mother and went over to the bag. She knew before she picked it up. Bills. Envelopes with the utility company logos and a few credit cards. She sat on the bed. Venus reached in and pulled out the first envelope.
“You want me to write out the checks, just tell me how much?”
Her mother looked at her directly. “That’s exactly what I was going to do.”
“Good.” Venus relaxed a little. They could work together. Mothers and daughters were nothing more than two different dresses cut from the same cloth. One wore hers short, the other long, one maybe wanted a zipper, the other, buttons. Style limited to accessories, but the foundation was the same.
“That one, there.” She nodded to the yellow envelope Venus held in her hand. “Open that.”
Venus opened it and took a few extra minutes scanning before handing it to her mother.
“You’re not going to be all in my business now.” Pauletta took the invoice with her strong hand.
“No, ma’am.” It was a natural inclination to look at numbers. Any numbers. They were like puzzle pieces, orderly and magnificent, having only one answer. No confusion, no guessing of relevance. Always a yes or no, a positive or negative.
She opened up the next bill and wrote the amount her mother specified. The total was growing in her head. They were up to nearly two thousand dollars paying credit cards, insurance payments, and utilities. The house had been paid off a year ago. Henry had booked a cruise vacation in celebration. Pauletta said she didn’t want to be stuck on a ship with a bunch of fanny-pack-wearing tourists who were older than she. Venus asked her mother how she knew they were going to be older than she was, and Pauletta replied, “ ’Cause the theme of the cruise is Life Begins at Sixty.”
Venus had to suppress the urge to look at the check register to see the balance of their account. “Mom, do you want me to add up what we’ve written out so far, make sure it’s all covered?”
“No. I do not.”
“Oh, look, that was the last check. Where do you keep the rest?”
“They’re in the drawer downstairs next to the dining room entrance. Big blue box.”
“Be right back.” Venus got up and took the checkbook with her. She felt like such a lunatic sometimes, needing to know everything, constantly searching for things gone wrong.
She crept into the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. She smoothed a hand over her forehead. One day that crease would stay, the imprint of worry. One day it wouldn’t just wipe away. She sat on the toilet and thumbed through the register one page at a time. The entries in her mother’s handwriting were consistent—utilities, credit cards, and the Unity Baptist Church. Venus wondered why, if her mother claimed that all things were preordained, she needed to make payments on a ticket to heaven that had already been punched.
No way her parents had that
kind of money on a monthly basis. Pauletta had never worked and Henry was retired, receiving less than half of what he earned when she thought they were rich. Then there would be the doctor bills. Those were waiting around the corner to jump out and scare the crap out of everybody when they were least expected. Unexpected incidentals that weren’t covered by the insurance. She chewed the inside of her cheek. She wouldn’t bring it up to her mother. Henry would be more reasonable. They needed someone to look at their situation. A financial planner.
She flushed the toilet for sound effect, then carried the checkbook downstairs.
“Hey, Dad.” She reached around and kissed him on the cheek.
“How’s she doing?”
“Great, we’re paying bills. I feel like I’m playing with Monopoly money up there. Is this normal, like over two thousand dollars a month in expenses?”
Henry put the newspaper down, folding it in half. There was a large cartoon of the president on the page. She could blame him for skyrocketing inflation and inadequate health care.
“That’s not been my department for some time.”
“You don’t look, ever? I mean, you don’t look at the bank statements, the bills, nothing?”
“Your mother’s always handled it, and I think she’s done pretty well. Two kids through college; well, one who refuses to quit, but that’s not on my dime.” Henry smiled; it had been a while.
Would I Lie to You? Page 17
