Holidaze

by L. Divine

  “I guess it’ll have to do for now,” I say, surrendering to the moment.

  When I get to my mom’s, she is supposed to help me make a tea to help me rest, and I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep. My body is starting to feel the effects of sleepwalking and I can’t think about anything else right now. Rah looks like he hasn’t slept a peaceful night since Rahima disappeared either. I know he’s feeling me right now.

  “I’ll always be here for you, queen.” Rah does go above and beyond for me when I need him, like following me to my mom’s house, even though I know he’s as tired as I am. Who said chivalry was dead?

  When I finally arrive at my mom’s apartment, it’s dark and vacant, as usual. I turn the lights in the living room on and drop my bags on the floor by the door. I guess she and Karl had plans. I miss hanging with my mom on the weekends, but I understand how being in love can be. All I really want is the tea she promised and to go to sleep.

  I take the large bottle of horse-sized pills Dr. Whitmore gave me out of my weekend bag, and immediately decide against taking them tonight. It’s just something about swallowing these large things that makes my stomach turn in the worst way. Besides, I don’t want to mix the tea my mom mentioned with the doctor’s medicine. But since my mom isn’t here to make her concoction, maybe I can find the recipe in her spirit notebook.

  “Now, do you think I’d leave my baby hanging like that? When you get settled, your tea is in the pot on the stove. Don’t add anything to it. Karl and I have a tennis match tonight and a tournament this weekend. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Sleep well, baby.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to drinking this now so that by the time I’m ready to go to sleep I can just fall out,” I say aloud. My mom needs a pet, because when she’s not here I have no one to talk to. I don’t want the neighbors to think I’m crazy. I walk into the kitchen and take a mug out of the dish strainer and fill it with the warm, fragrant brew on the stove. I wonder what’s on television tonight. There must be a Girlfriends marathon on or something to keep me company.

  The couch looks so inviting, with all of the fluffy pillows and the velvet throw draped across it. I’ll make it up into my bed later. Right now I just want to sit down and unwind. I could sleep in my mom’s bed when she’s not here, but I feel like I can’t hear everything if I’m in the bedroom—not that I want to hear too much of anything tonight. If this elixir does the trick I should be down for the count soon, tired feet and all. My cream pumps have been pinching my feet since I got in my mom’s car to come here. I guess my Kenneth Coles don’t agree with pressing on a clutch.

  “’Cause I’m a boss, boss, boss,” Kelis sings, announcing a text message as I sip on my drink. It’s Jeremy, wanting to know if I’m all right. I guess not seeing me for two days has made him miss me a little bit. Good. He needs to miss what he could’ve had if he’d acted right. Both he and Rah have a tendency to take me for granted, and that’s changing as we speak.

  As soon as I’m back on my A game, they both won’t know what hit them, because Miss Nice is about to be replaced by a new and improved Jayd Jackson—no nickname needed, even if my license plates will read LADY J when they arrive. Rah and I already applied for them when we registered my old hoopty. I just have to get the registration transferred from that vehicle to my mom’s, if she decides to let me take it over completely. It all depends on how long Karl lets my mom roll his second ride. If things continue to go as smoothly between the two of them as they are now, I should be able to drive my mom’s car indefinitely.

  Speaking of taking over, my head is starting to feel heavy and the room is spinning slightly. Barely able to place the tea back down on the coffee table, I look down at my half-empty cup and lean back into the couch pillows. What’s in this stuff? I’m feeling overwhelmed by my tiredness all of a sudden, so I’ll have to worry about researching the ingredients tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to surrender to this feeling and let it lull me to sleep.

  “And for my beautiful girls,” my dad says, passing my mom a red box with a large gold bow on top. They’re seated by the Christmas tree, which is next to the fireplace. My father still puts up the tree in the same place to this day. Even the couch and other furniture in the living room are the same. My mom was right: when she left all she took was me and her cast iron skillets. Everything else my father held onto out of spite, or so my mom says. But Mama says he held on to my mom’s stuff because he still loves her and that’s his only way of both getting back at her and keeping some of her ashe around.

  “Oh, Carter,” my mom says, opening the box to find a gold, heart-shaped locket hanging on a gold chain. My daddy takes the necklace out of the box and puts it over my mother’s head. She moves her long, black hair out of his way and my father kisses her neck gently before closing the clasp. Once secure around her neck, she opens it to see a picture of my dad inside. Her face is less than thrilled at the sight. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I’m going to get the camera, especially since this day almost didn’t happen. I’ll be right back,” my dad says, exiting the living room and heading to their bedroom. And according to everything I’ve ever heard from my mom and Mama, he’s right. They weren’t even together when I was conceived.

  Waiting for my dad to come back, my mom warms herself by the fireplace. She looks into the glowing fire and truly appears to be happy and calm.

  Interrupting her peace, the phone rings and my mom picks it up from the end table next to the couch. She’s not as big as I pictured her at six months pregnant, and moves easily from one position to another.

  “Merry Christmas,” my mom says into the receiver, but her face looks anything but jolly. “No. Who is this?” she repeats into the phone. Oh, this can’t be good. I think I remember this incident from when I was in her womb. And if I recall correctly, it didn’t end so well. “You called my house. Who the hell are you?” Oh shit, I know that conversation all too well. It must be one of my daddy’s side hoes calling to wish him a happy holiday. I bet you she’ll think twice next time before calling this house.

  “Who’s on the phone?” my father asks, the camera in hand. My mom looks up at my father and throws the cordless phone at his face, breaking the skin above his eyebrow before he catches the falling phone.

  “Damn it, Lynn Marie. What’s gotten into you?” My dad returns the phone to its base without speaking into it. He then touches the blood dripping from his head. So that’s how he got that scar. The phone rings again and neither one of them answers it.

  “I knew I should have never listened to you. I’m out,” my mom says, making her way out of the living room and to the back bedroom he just left, going to pack up her things to leave—again.

  “You can’t leave. That’s my baby in there, girl. You can never leave me.” If I could wake up right now, I would. Before I can see what happens next, my dream shifts to a different scene and I’m forced to follow. Damn, I wish I could choose what I want to see and when, instead of being an unwilling passenger on this ride down memory lane.

  “You bastard!” my mom shouts at my dad. “You gave me the same heart necklace for Christmas. You think you’re slick but you’re not. What you are is busted.” My mom stands up in the crowded restaurant and throws his glass of red wine in his face. Rubbing her very pregnant stomach, she picks up her purse from the back of the chair and gets ready to leave him sitting there, embarrassed. From the red-and-white heart-shaped balloons everywhere, I’d say they’re celebrating Valentine’s Day.

  “You gave her my necklace?” the waitress asks. “How could you, Carter?”

  “He can do it because he’s nothing but a cheating jackass. Mama was right about you from jump street. Do you know how mad it makes me to have to admit that?” My dad looks like he wants to answer but he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

  “I thought when I left your ass on Christmas you had learned your lesson, but I see you’ll never change.” My mom looks from my dad to his mistress and then at th
e bottle of red wine on the table. “A toast to your new fool, because I’m done playing.” She takes the bottle and pours the remaining wine over my father’s head. “Bye,” she says, looking victorious as she turns around to walk out of the restaurant. His side trick picks up the napkins on the table and hands them to my father. Before my mom can make her way out of the now silent place, she doubles over in pain, holding her stomach.

  “Lynn Marie, are you okay?” my dad asks, throwing down his napkin and running over to my mom, who’s now balled up on the floor in a fetal position. “Call an ambulance, now,” he says to the hostess, who promptly dials the phone at her booth. His broad walks over with a handful of napkins, but it doesn’t look like she wants to help.

  “Lynn Marie, Lynn Mae Williams’ daughter?” I see she’s heard of our lineage, and by the way she’s now trembling, she’s heard enough to be scared, and rightfully so. “I heard she’s into that voodoo mess. Why didn’t you warn me you were married to a witch?” My dad looks at his scary-ass side skank and shakes his head as if to say “not now,” but the dumb broad doesn’t take the hint.

  “Ahhh,” my mom groans in pain. I remember feeling frustrated in the womb and I feel the same feeling now in my dream.

  “I didn’t know you were his wife, you have to believe me,” the woman says to my mom, who’s now panting heavily, like she’s in labor. My mom looks at the young sistah, her jade eyes glowing—she’s so pissed.

  “I’m not worried about you right now, trick!” my mom screams at her. She looks up at my father. He is trying to comfort her, but she doesn’t want him to touch her. “And you, why don’t you do me and my daughter a favor and leave. We have no use for you in our lives.” My father looks sincerely hurt by my mom’s words, but doesn’t budge from his stance by her side.

  “No matter what happens between me and you, Lynn Marie, that’s my baby you’re carrying and I intend to stay right here.” How sweet. Too bad he doesn’t feel the same way now.

  “Are you sure she’s yours?” my mom says, catching him completely off guard. What little color is left in my dad’s face drains at my mom’s venomous retort. I know she’s only playing with his head, but wouldn’t it be something if my mom had somebody on the side like he did? It would serve his ass right after all he put her through.

  “You’re just saying that because you’re angry,” my dad says, again trying to touch my mother’s stomach, but she’s not having it. The other couples in the restaurant look on as they wait to see how this dramatic scene will end.

  “You’re damned right I’m angry, Carter. I hate you for making me believe you loved me when the only person you really love is yourself. How could I be so stupid?”

  “Lynn Marie, please calm down. It’s not good for the baby,” he says, talking to her quietly, which pisses my mom off even more.

  “Shut the hell up, talking to me like you’re my daddy, you short-ass punk,” my mom yells, scaring his trick even more. The girl’s trembling and looks frozen in place. She hasn’t even seen a small fraction of how live my mom can get, especially where my dad is concerned. “I hate you with every bone in my body.”

  I read about a curse in the spirit book that talks about using the word “hate” in conjunction with the phrase “bones in the body.” It’s supposed to weaken whoever the intended victim is. That’s why Mama always warns against using such strong words haphazardly. There’s a lot of power in the spoken word, especially when an angry sistah with ashe spits them out.

  “You don’t mean that,” my dad says, looking around at all the eyes focused on the three of them. Even the restaurant manager’s into the holiday soap opera they’ve created.

  “The hell I don’t. If I weren’t in so much pain I’d kick both of your asses right where you stand.” Before my dad can respond, Mama walks in through the front door with Daddy right behind her. If it has anything to do with her children—grandchildren included—Mama doesn’t need a phone call to tell her something’s wrong: she just knows it. And when I was in my mother’s womb, Mama and I were even more connected than we are now. She could always communicate with me like no one else, and she could tell when I was in distress, like now.

  “Get away from my daughter,” Mama says to my dad and the girl who looks like she’s seen a ghost. Daddy rushes over to my mother lying on the floor, while Mama looks around the place, her green eyes shining brightly. I wonder what she sees through those things?

  “You’re going to be okay, baby. We’re here now,” Daddy says to my mom, kissing her on her forehead and nodding at my dad to greet him; unlike Mama, who ignores my father’s presence altogether. Mama kneels down next to her daughter and husband and touches my mom’s belly, instantly calming my mom and me down. My mother’s breathing returns to normal and her cramps dissipate, shocking everyone present. No wonder the people in the neighborhood are both afraid of, and respectful of, Mama’s powers. After seeing her work, who wouldn’t be?

  “Mama, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” my mom says, allowing Mama to embrace her. The paramedics arrive but they’re sent away.

  “I know, baby, I know,” Mama says. “You can get up now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  As Mama speaks, I’m forced out of my dream and back to the silent apartment I fell asleep in. I’m just glad I’m in the same place and not wandering around outside somewhere, sleepwalking.

  “Damn, what the hell was that?” I ask aloud in the quiet living room. I can hear my neighbor’s television downstairs, but nothing’s on in here. I guess I never got a chance to turn on the television. My entire body is dripping with sweat and I feel like I’ve been asleep for hours. My church clothes are glued to my body and my hair is completely sweated out. I should change into my sweats and a shirt anyway, so I might as well get up.

  I grab my phone from underneath my pillow and check the time. I wasn’t even out for a full hour, and there’s still more tea left in my mug. I also notice I’ve missed a phone call from Jeremy. I guess he’s really worried about me, but he’ll have to wait until tomorrow for a return call. I need more sleep, and I want to get back into my dream world. It’s been so long since I had a normal one that I forgot just how much I need them to sleep well.

  Without getting up from the couch, I reach down and grab my weekend bag and find my nightclothes inside. Unlike at Mama’s house, I don’t have to go in the bathroom to change. I miss this freedom every time I leave my mom’s house.

  “I hope I can’t overdose on this stuff. Well, here goes nothing,” I say before swallowing the rest of my herbal remedy. There’s still another serving in the pot on the stove, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary for tonight. Maybe seeing more of my mom’s relationship path will help me to deal with both of my dudes. Lord knows, I don’t want to repeat my mom’s mistakes in love.

  “It wasn’t all that bad, was it?” my mom asks, invading my thoughts before I drift off again. “And no, you can’t overdose. Had you taken the entire portion I made for you, you’d still be asleep.”

  “It was all bad from what I saw,” I think back to her, readjusting myself on the couch and returning my phone to its spot under my pillow.

  “Jayd, there’s always pain in love. Mind you, your daddy caused me more pain than necessary. But ultimately I should’ve known better, especially as many times as Mama warned me. All I can say is, learn from my mistakes, baby. True love takes time to develop, and you can’t give up. Luckily you’re young and you have a lot of time to fall in and out of love. Sweet dreams, baby.”

  From my mom’s lips to God’s ears, and I hope she’s listening. I need more sweetness in my life these days, and that can start with me getting some more sleep. I’ll worry about the love part later.

  5

  Sweet Hearts

  “You own my heart and mind/

  I truly adore you.”

  —PRINCE

  After finishing the rest of my tea last night, I returned to my slumber and straight into another dream that I ca
n’t recall at the moment. I again had no control over when I fell asleep, which is unusual when I’m as tired as I was last night. I admit I’ve never lost this much sleep before. But still, there was something in that tea that made me literally lose my head.

  Other than my first wicked dream, I slept better than I have since this whole curse thing started. Seeing my mom and dad at each other’s throats at the Christmas before my birth and again on Valentine’s Day, where she almost went into premature labor because she was so pissed off, was a bit much to handle. But at least I witnessed for myself how it all went down. To have been married once upon a time, my parents sure did—and still do—hate each other. I guess familiarity truly does breed contempt. And my parents are the poster couple for the truth of that theory.

  What’s really bugged out is that my dad had the nerve to give his wife and his mistress the same gift, even if it was for two different holidays. Maybe the jewelry store he purchased the necklaces from had a two-for-one special going on, or maybe they had the same sale for both Christmas and Valentine’s Day, since those are the most popular holidays to give gifts of love, supposedly. When I think about it, there’s really not much difference between the two holidays. They both make you think love is what it’s all about, when that’s the biggest load of bull ever sold legally to the masses.

  If my parents, grandparents, friends, and personal experiences have taught me anything, it’s that love is a shot in the dark. And the person who does the most loving is usually the one who gets their heart broken. All I know is that I’m tired of being in the line of fire, and more than that, I’m sick of watching everyone go down because of this thing called love. All of this drama is messing with my health and my money, since I still can’t do anyone’s hair until I get my own issues in check. At this point I could care less about the love shit. I just need my finances straight and I’ll be as happy as any girl I’ve ever seen when a dude says he loves her.