by L. Divine
At the mention of Tre’s name, three of his boys take out their bottles of Vodka, beer, and Hennessey and pour out a little liquor with me, the rest of their crew following suit. If they only knew how far back this tradition goes. As they salute with me I continue my prayers.
“We thank you for your protection, your blessings, and your love. Ashe, ashe, ashe o.” I pour the remaining water into the flowers and end the prayer. I look up at Daddy, who gives me a stern smile. On one hand I’m sure he’s proud of me. But I know he wishes I would come back to the church. I close the jar tightly and walk back down the aisle of the quiet church with all eyes on me.
Rah smiles at me when I reach our row. He hugs me tightly when I return to my seat next to him. I’m not sure if it’s because of the service or what, but he’s got tears in his eyes and so do I. I love that we feel each other, no matter how much it hurts sometimes. True love is worth all of the pain that comes with it, and so is our friendship.
4
Lovesick
“It ain’t all roses, flowers and posing/
It ain’t all candy, this love stuff is demanding.”
—MARY J. BLIGE
In the true tradition of the black church, there’s plenty of eating and socializing after every event. Most of the church members have turned out to prepare the food and get the dining hall ready to host the large crowd. I can’t believe Mama used to ever do this kind of work. I was a young child when Mama left the church. I remember sitting in the first pew with her, wearing my Sunday dress with gloves and shiny black shoes to match. But our experience was always dictated by the eyes on us and not by the sermon.
The church hasn’t changed much over the years. It even smells like the same mixture of Pledge and Pine-Sol I remember as a child. The women of First Compton New African Methodist Episcopal Church keep this place spotless. There are still a few Christmas decorations lining the walls. It feels like the holidays were months ago, but the remnants of the drama they always bring still linger in the cool air.
Whoever said the holidays are the happiest times of the year lied. The past three months have been nothing but misfortune for me and my friends. Ever since Homecoming, Nellie has been tortured by her desire to be a rich bitch, Mickey and Nigel have managed to almost get themselves—and everyone around them—killed over their tainted love, and Rah lost his baby girl to his crazy ex.
I miss Rahima and I know Rah is sick with worry about his daughter. We didn’t get to talk in-depth about it, but he talked to Sandy briefly a couple of days ago. She won’t give up her location and Rah has no idea where to look.
Rah’s doing a good job of holding it together for today. Nigel’s the one who needs our support right now, as he faces his own mortality again. We could’ve just as easily been here for his funeral today. The somber look on Nigel’s face says that he’s thinking the same thing.
“I’ve missed hanging with y’all,” Nigel says, while devouring one of the five dinner rolls on his plate. We’re all eating well, even under the sad circumstances. “Y’all know y’all are family to me, no bull.” I guess getting shot can bring a brother’s sensitive side out.
“The feeling’s mutual,” I say. Mickey looks at me and rolls her eyes like she knows what I’m thinking, and she’s right: it is her fault our crew’s not together anymore. It hurts that I don’t have her, Nigel, Chance, and Nellie to hang with anymore. When Nigel gets back I’m sure he’ll be busy trying to get back on his game, so who does that leave me with? Mickey’s a mile away at the continuation school, and even if she was on the main campus I wouldn’t want to chill with her right now anyway.
“My moms and pops have me on lock-down for real.” When Nigel swallows the last of his roll, Mickey kisses him hard on the lips, church be damned. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since the shooting, and she’s not wasting a moment making up for lost time. On the other hand, Mickey and I haven’t spoken a word.
“So when will you be back at school?” I ask. I look past Nigel and Mickey to see Misty and KJ talking to our neighbor Brandy across the room. Misty looks back at me cold and hard, forcing me to stare down. What the hell? She thinks she’s got powerful eyes like Mama and Esmeralda, but she’s only got what Esmeralda lends her, and that’s not real power. Misty put this curse on me because she blames me for everything bad in her life, including the death of Tre, her first love. I shouldn’t feel sorry for Misty, but I can’t help myself. Anyone so desperate for love and attention that they’d accept it from a crazy-ass lady like Esmeralda needs some pity.
“I’ll be back on Monday. My shoulder’s healing slowly, but the doctors say I should make a full recovery. I have to see about playing the rest of the football season. I’m not sure when they’ll let me back on the field, but I hope it’s soon. I can’t stand sitting still for too much longer.”
“You won’t be still if I have anything to say about it,” Mickey says, kissing him again. The two of them are starting to make me ill in the worst way. This is the bull that got us here in the first place. If they’d never gone behind Mickey’s man’s back with their secret love affair in the first place, none of this would’ve ever happened. Nigel looks around and notices the church elders staring and whispering at him and Mickey. Obviously embarrassed, Nigel backs away from Mickey’s tongue and resumes eating his food, much to Mickey’s disliking.
“Why did you stop? Does my breath smell like ham or something?” Mickey asks, taking another bite of her dinner roll and leaving the meat alone. She shouldn’t eat swine anyway, but I don’t tell people how to eat. Me and that baby of hers will have to do some serious bonding once it makes its grand entrance. Someone has to provide a different female energy because the baby’s mama is always tripping.
“No. It’s just a little disrespectful for us to be all over each other in a church, don’t you think?” Mickey looks at Nigel like he’s lost his mind. “And it’s a memorial service for the brotha that got shot with me, but I’m the one who survived. The least I can do is be respectful.” Well said.
“Who are you?” Mickey asks, taking a sip of her grape Kool-Aid before continuing. She only stopped eating to kiss Nigel, and now I see that’s going to be replaced by going off. “I mean, really. We’ve been more affectionate than this in the aisle at the grocery market. Since when do you care what people think?”
“Since me not caring got three niggas shot—one of which was me—in case you forgot,” Nigel says, wiping his mouth with his free hand and rising from the table. He looks down at Mickey, throws his napkin on his plate of half-eaten food, and exhales deeply. I guess he’s had a lot of time to think about things since he’s been laid up for over a week. “I’m going to pay my respects to Tre’s family and then I need to take a walk.”
“I’ll come with you, baby,” Mickey says to Nigel’s back, not taking the hint. Nigel turns around with his free fist balled up like he wants to hit someone.
“Alone,” Nigel says, making his wishes crystal clear. Rah and I look at each other and then at Mickey, waiting for her response. She looks like she wants to cry and run after Nigel, but he’s already in the main sanctuary. I know she’s not going back in there without an escort. With all of the trouble Mickey’s caused, she’s liable to blow up without some spiritual protection by her side.
“What did I do?” Mickey asks. Rah and I look at my girl in amazement. She still doesn’t get it.
“I think it’s more like what you didn’t do,” Rah says in between bites. He’s never really had too much to say to Mickey since he knows her ex-man and therefore chooses not to get to know her that well. But her actions have affected two people he loves, and he can no longer remain neutral where Mickey’s concerned.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do everything just fine,” she says, pulling down her black miniskirt before readjusting herself in her seat. Mickey looks like she’s going to the club instead of a memorial service, and talking like it, too. Even if I don’t attend church anymore,
I still know how to behave when I’m in one. Mama would slap me silly if I acted like Mickey. Hell, she’d slap Mickey if she were here to witness this shit. It’s bad enough she was never faithful to her ex-boyfriend, but for Nigel to get shot by him is a bit much.
“If you’re the one pregnant, why am I the one who suddenly feels nauseated?” I ask, causing Rah to laugh with a mouth full of food. But the broad formerly known as my homegirl looks less than amused.
“Very funny, Jayd, but I wasn’t talking to you.”
“But you were talking to me, and I feel the same way,” Rah says. “How can you be so self-centered all of the time? I mean, don’t you get tired of it? It’s got to wear you out at some point, because I know I get tired of the shit and I don’t even see you every day.” Mickey’s jaw drops as Rah continues to clown her without missing a beat from eating his dinner. “Jayd, don’t you get tired of hearing about Mickey and her drama?”
“Yes, I do. Can you pass the salt, please?” I ask Rah, who promptly hands me the shaker. Mickey looks like she’s going to flip the table over she’s so pissed.
“You know if I didn’t know better I’d say she and Sandy were related. They both do what they want when they want, forget who gets shot in the crossfire—no pun intended.” Rah’s on a roll this afternoon. I know most of his frustration is because of his baby mama, but Mickey’s just as wrong in her actions as Sandy is, and I’m glad someone other than myself is finally calling her out.
“All of y’all are tripping around here. Nigel’s missing this opportunity to be with me and his baby for the first time in a week, and you two have the nerve to sit here and judge me like you’re so high and mighty,” Mickey says, turning red. That can’t be good for the baby. “Does Rah still get his from Trish, or have you decided to take that stick out of your ass and give it up?”
“Mickey, shut the hell up. As usual, you’ve gone too far in the wrong direction,” I say, even if she’s right about Trish and Rah. I really don’t know what’s going on between the two of them these days and I don’t care to ask. Rah and Sandy’s drama is enough for me to deal with. I don’t need Mickey throwing more salt in my fresh wound.
“I don’t have to take this shit,” she says, waddling her way back out of her seat and picking up her plate and purse simultaneously. “Tell Nigel I’ll holla at him later.” Mickey walks away, seething, and that’s just fine with me. Maybe pissing her off will shake her into an understanding of the severe consequences of her decisions.
“I hate to upset a pregnant chick, but she deserved it,” I say. I would continue eating my dinner but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
“Yes, she did,” Rah agrees. If Mickey doesn’t respect her pregnancy, someone has to fight for her baby—and who better than her friends or the friends of her maybe baby daddy? Misty walks in as Mickey walks out, almost running into Mickey and her growing belly. Misty looks around the room and catches my eye. She smiles big, like she just got a present she’s been asking for forever.
I would say I missed hanging out with her at school, but just like Nellie, Mickey’s unrecognizable now. What happened to my girls? This was the fist time in a long time I’d rather be at home and bored out of mind than at school hanging with my friends. Being at school’s going to be uncomfortable come Monday, unless I find a way to change the circumstances over the weekend. And with me sleepwalking and carrying on I doubt I’ll be able to help anyone else until I help myself.
“I’m surprised you had the nerve to show up here,” Misty says, walking up to our table like she’s got some sort of authority. Mama has this thing about people standing over her head and I feel her. Misty’s so short she would be eye level with anyone sitting, but she seems to have grown a bit since I last saw her. I look down at her feet and see her three-inch black stilettos. She never used to wear high heels. A lot has changed about my nemesis in the past month or so, and it’s gone straight to her curly head.
“I’m surprised you had the nerve to walk over here and face me. I know what you’re up to, Misty, and take my word for it, it isn’t working.” I look at her and focus in on her eyes. She’s wearing blue contacts similar to the ones Mickey likes to sport every once in a while. Misty may have changed up her entire stylo since hanging out with KJ, but her attitude still sucks.
“Wow, Jayd, I haven’t seen bags like the ones you’re wearing since I went shopping at Macy’s last weekend. Sleeping much lately?” Misty smiles deviously and it’s taking all of my strength to stay seated and not slap that smirk off of her face.
“Cool head, little girl. You know you can’t afford to lose any more of your ashe right now, Jayd. Ignore her. She’s air,” my mom says, mentally reminding me of one of Mama’s favorite lessons. I know she’s right, but it would feel so good to feel the heat of Misty’s cheek in the palm of my hand. Maybe kicking her ass is just what I need to get a good night’s rest.
“No, it isn’t, but I will make you a tea when you get over here, and that should help. Say bye to your little friends and come on. It’s getting late and you should really get away from Misty before it gets dark. Your ashe is too vulnerable to be out at night, especially around your enemies.”
Noticing the tense vibe, KJ walks over to stand behind Misty and to glare at Rah and me. Rah puts his fork down and stands up behind me, returning KJ’s move. If this were a chessboard I’d feel like a pawn. I’d better stand up and stop this before it goes any further.
“Actually, no, I haven’t been sleeping well at all. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you, Misty?” I look from her to KJ and lock onto his stare. I know he’s starting to feel as if there’s something Misty’s not telling him, but I know if she can influence my head then she’s working Esmeralda’s magic on him, too.
“You’re just jealous because you don’t have any friends to boss around anymore,” Misty says, crossing her arms across her tight black sweater.
My grandfather walks into the buzzing hall and catches my attention. Two women walk in behind him, both carrying more trays of food. One looks flushed in the cheeks and guilty of something. Daddy looks at me looking at her and his face carries the same look as the sistah behind him. I don’t even want to guess what’s going on between the two of them. Just the thought of them kissing or doing whatever in his office behind the sanctuary is enough to make my stomach turn.
“It’s time to go,” I say to Rah, who’s right behind me. “It was lovely as always,” I say, passing Misty and KJ by as we head toward the exit to the parking lot. If necessary, Rah would have gladly kicked KJ’s ass. He’s been anxious to repeat the whipping he served KJ on the basketball court a couple of months ago, but now is not the time, and my grandfather’s church is definitely not the place.
Once we make a successful escape from the crowded parking lot, we relax in Rah’s car and exhale the edgy experience. Misty knows how to rattle my tail feathers and so does Mickey.
“I love that you’re you, no matter what,” Rah says, turning out of the parking lot and onto Alondra Boulevard. We see Bryan walking down the street to work. Miracle Market is on the next block, which is on the way to Mama’s house. If we’d known we were leaving the service early, he could’ve gotten a ride.
“Do you really?” I ask as Rah stops at the sign. It’ll only take us a minute to get back to the house. We could’ve walked, like my uncle, if I were feeling up to it. But I’ve done enough walking the past few nights to win the LA Marathon in my sleep—literally.
“Yeah, I do. Look at how you went up to the pulpit and did your thang, girl. You’re going to be a bad-ass priestess one day, no joke.” I look at the smile in his eyes and know he’s telling the truth about that. “It also get on my nerves sometimes, no joke,” he says.
“The feeling’s mutual.” I can see why my mom was so shocked to find out Rah and I haven’t had sex yet. The way he treats me when we’re together has “serious relationship” written all over it, but I’m not going there yet.
“
Huh,” he says, turning up the music’s already thick bassline. “Then I guess this is our song.” We listen to The Roots and Erykah Badu sing about the woes of being in a relationship, and Rah and I can relate fully to the lyrics. “You know you got me, right? No matter if we get angry and don’t talk for a week or whatever, I’ll always come back to center if I know you’re standing in the middle with me.” Rah claims my left hand in his right and raises it to his lips, softly kissing each of my knuckles. Damn, his lips feel good.
“I wish it were that easy,” I say as we pull up to Mama’s house. My eyesight is now fully back after the good cry we all had at the service, so I should be able to drive to Inglewood on my own. But Rah’s going to follow me to my mom’s apartment anyway, just in case. I already put my backpack and weekend bag in the car, and I know Mama’s at Netta’s shop working in the back, which is where I would normally be on a Friday evening. But until I get Esmeralda’s curse off my back or get some solid sleep, I’m not allowed to touch anyone’s head or the hair products. This curse is costing me both sleep and money, and I need both to keep it moving in my world.
“It can be as long as we agree to have faith in us. I love you, girl, even if I did blame you at first for Sandy taking off with my baby. I know it’s not your fault and I’m sorry I reacted so strongly.” I admit I feel a little responsible for giving her the keys, but Rah chose to be with Sandy in the first place, and her crazy behavior is a consequence of that choice.
“I know, Rah. I know. I just wish we could have a normal relationship, where you bring me candy and flowers and take me out on a date.” He puts the car in park and reaches into the glove compartment, pulling out a box of Tic Tacs and a deodorizing tree for his car.
“Would you settle for some mints and an air freshener?” he asks, passing the items to me. I can’t help but smile at Rah’s silly self.
