Holidaze

by L. Divine

  “I see you, boo. No matter what you’re going through, Jayd, I got you. You know that, right?” Rah’s insincere sincerity has worked my last nerve for the last time. Who does he think he’s dealing with? In my family we take seeing someone very seriously. Rah’s just trying to win my sympathy and it’s not flying.

  “Forget seeing. You need to recognize, Rah.” I need to remind him of who he’s got in me—forget what he’s heard from any of the broads he’s dealing with. What is it with guys and pulling stupid shit on us like we’re too blind to see the blatant disrespect and disregard for our feelings? “I don’t really give a damn what they teach you fools about communication, but I’m done with trying to rationalize the shit. I told you exactly what I wanted and needed and you chose to ignore my request time and time again. So I’m done asking. I’m out,” I say, hanging up the phone and heading home. How did we get to this point in our relationship yet again?

  “I hate it when people refer to voodoo and they don’t know what the hell they’re talking about,” Mama says, banging pots and pans in the kitchen. Even though I haven’t been home for a good two minutes, I can already tell she’s in a mood. “These fools on the news compared a crooked-ass Wall Street’s lack of financial prowess to a voodoo curse. What the hell?”

  “Mama, don’t let them work your nerves. You know how it is,” I say, peeking into the steaming pots. Mama’s making a pot roast with red potatoes and carrots. I can also smell her homemade rolls baking in the oven, or rather burning. “Mama, is that smoke?” I ask before opening the oven. The white cloud escapes the hot space, choking us both.

  “Damn it,” Mama says, exasperated. She pushes me to the side and takes out the pan holding two dozen blackened circles. “I asked for one thing, and your grandfather couldn’t be bothered to get me that. Where’s the real Santa when you need him?” All Mama wanted was a new stove for Christmas, and if I recall, she asked for one last year and the year before that, but to no avail.

  I guess Daddy’s deaf when it comes to hearing Mama’s wishes, but I’m not. I’m going to get to work on getting her one for Mother’s Day. If I braid enough heads and work enough hours at Netta’s, I should be able to afford something if I ever get my mojo back. And maybe I can get my mom and Bryan to chip in. It would make it a larger family effort, but that never works out well.

  “We have to be our own Santas,” I say, hugging Mama’s shoulders. She looks like she’s at her wit’s end, and my issues with Misty aren’t helping any.

  “You know, Maman used to say that to me all of the time when I was a baby.” Mama turns around to look at me. “If you don’t keep your word you have nothing, Jayd. Remember that.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say. I feel Mama on that one, for sure. Even little things like being on time are important in my world. And big things, like buying Mama a new oven, should be in Daddy’s world. Maybe he needs a little reminder.

  “So tell me, what have you seen lately in your dreams?” Before Mama can continue, the same news story comes back on the small kitchen television and again catches Mama’s attention, reigniting her fire.

  “Mama, why do you watch this madness? It’s just there to piss people off,” I say, washing my hands in the sink before taking a big ball of dough to bake another dozen biscuits. I don’t know if there will be enough for everyone, nor do I care. As long as I get my share of the soft treats I’m good.

  “Because it’s nice to know where the world is, even if we’re not always participants in it.” Mama joins me in my kneading while continuing to watch the program.

  “The investor says that his family has been cursed with bad luck for generations and sees this recent financial disaster as further proof that the curse still exists,” the news anchor says. Mama’s jaw tightens and the dough in her manicured hands feels the brunt of her frustration.

  “If they only knew how stupid they sound, especially when there are real curses out there.” I know Mama’s talking about the one over my head. She’s still worried about me sleeping properly, but I’m more worried about Misty reigning as the most popular black girl on campus, a title that once belonged to me. Not that I care about the words so much, it’s the crown that I’m concerned with. This trick has managed to twist up my world by writing and chanting a few words Esmeralda gave her, and I’m not feeling this shit at all.

  “I feel you, Mama. But they always compare voodoo with unknown tragedy. Isn’t that sort of correct, no matter how ignorant the intent?”

  “No,” Mama says, throwing the sticky dough on the cutting board. “There’s no mystery to how we do our work, at least not for the faithful. It’s cause and effect, plain and simple. If someone did put a curse on him and his family, who did it and why? If he were concerned with the right shit, he’d be able to fix it. But no, he’d rather blame our innocent ancestors, who could care less about him and his money. Dumbass,” Mama says, making me smile. I love it when Mama gets all riled up. And honestly, this conversation, and being in the kitchen cooking dinner with Mama, and not making a potion, is just the sense of normalcy I need. Life is crazy right now, and I’m not feeling very powerful in it.

  “Could you pass me the bowl of butter, please?” Mama passes me the bowl of melted butter to dip the biscuits in before placing them on the lined cookie sheet without missing a beat of her rant.

  “It reminds me of when that politician in Georgia hired a priestess do some work for her, and then stopped payment on the check when the priestess didn’t agree to kill her opponent, which wasn’t in the initial agreement. That politician was stupid and unfaithful because first of all, she didn’t want to admit to requesting the work, even though the priestess had proof. And she dared to piss off a priestess. Had she truly had faith in the work in the first place, she would have never angered the priestess because who knows what repercussions would’ve followed? Magic, Jayd. That’s what some people subscribe to, and they get what they deserve in the end, always. Every time.”

  “That’s what Mickey wanted, and she got it from Misty, I guess.” Mama shifts her attention from the tiny television screen above the microwave and looks deep into my eyes. I want to cry, I’m so frustrated.

  “Mama, I feel like I’m living inside of a dream world where Misty’s me and I’m Misty.” Mama’s eyes begin to glow as she probes my mind. I relax and let Mama do her thing. I remember last night’s dream about Misty stealing my sight as Mama looks through my eyes.

  “What have I told you about sleeping when you don’t want to?”

  “To control it.”

  “And, to wake up. If you’d done that, Misty wouldn’t have been able to get in your head in the first place. Be purposeful in your intent to dream. Focus on what you want to dream about and watch it manifest, not the other way around.”

  Mama’s right. I need to get out of this funk, and the only way to do that is by kicking Misty’s ass the old fashioned way, damn the positive thinking. Tonight I’m going to request going all the way back to when Misty and I first became friends. As the saying goes, if I’d known then what I know now, I would’ve never gotten close to the broad in the first place. And that’s what I’m working on fixing—no magic needed.

  12

  Deck the Halls

  “Words are very unnecessary/

  They can only do harm.”

  —DEPECHE MODE

  Here we go again. I can feel myself walking around the house in the dark, but there’s nothing I can do to control it. I hear chanting outside, and my feet are moving toward the sounds even if the hair standing all over my body tells me to turn away. I can’t. I still have no control over my dream world, and this time I know there’s nothing good for me to see.

  “There she is,” I hear Esmeralda whisper. Why is she outside this late at night? “Don’t let her get away this time. We need her eyes.” And who is she talking to?

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got her,” Misty says. They are calling me outside onto the front porch. I haven’t exited through the fron
t door alone since my painful run-in with Esmeralda months ago that caused my original headache. Even in my dream state I should know better than to leave the house where Esmeralda could take another shot at me. “I’m going to cast a dream net. Make sure you get the vision as she sees it.”

  “I see it coming,” Misty says enthusiastically. I can’t help but dream, and she’s trying to steal it just like my mother warned me about in my last vision. What the hell?

  “Good. I’ll keep her grandmother occupied. Remember what I told you,” Esmeralda says. What does she mean she’ll keep Mama occupied? No wonder Mama hasn’t come looking for me. Esmeralda’s got something on her, too. Damn it. I need to get stronger, and fast, before they take us both out.

  Misty’s waiting for me next door on Esmeralda’s front porch. Her eyes have again changed from light brown to blue, just like Esmeralda’s. I can’t let them get away with this. She has a bow and arrow, like an evil cupid, and here comes her godmother with the net to catch my dream. I have to wake up—now.

  “Jayd, wake your ass up, girl. Now,” Mama shouts from behind me. Whatever Esmeralda tried to put on Mama obviously didn’t work because I’m coming to. “Control your thoughts, Jayd and wake up.”

  Mama holds onto my shoulders and leads me back inside. I look at Mama’s fearful gaze with tears in my eyes. This is the last day we’re going through this shit.

  I know Misty hates me, but damn. Does she have to hate on a sistah all of the time? Even Muhammad Ali got a break from his opponents at some point, and Britney Spears herself even got a slight reprieve from the media. But Misty just never seems to let up. Mama says it’s because she’s an infallible force of nature. I think they should have hurricanes named after the girl. Like water and wind, she can be deadly when she’s got another force behind her like Esmeralda’s wicked ass.

  Mama says Misty’s presence is needed in my life—much like Esmeralda’s is needed in hers—to let me know what I should and shouldn’t do, how I should and shouldn’t act, and who I should aim to be. And believe me, Misty gives me plenty of inspiration to be a different kind of sistah. And this morning I’m going to tell her exactly how I feel.

  I approach Misty in the main hall with the attitude of ten thousand angry women. Unfortunately we have a crowd this morning, but I’m not tripping. She’s still going to get an earful from me, and I don’t care who hears it.

  “Misty, I need to holler at you real quick,” I say as she passes my locker. She stops with her entourage behind her and smiles.

  “Damn, Jayd. It sounds like Nellie was right. You do need some love in your life,” Misty says, causing the audience to snicker. “Another lonely Valentine’s Day coming up, boo?” Misty needs to lose that smirk on her face and I’m in just the mood to be of service to my former friend.

  “I doubt it. She’s used to stealing everyone else’s man. I’m sure someone will keep her company,” Mickey says, standing next to Nellie. Okay, I know I’m tripping if they’re all on the same side against me. This is just too much to handle—almost too much.

  “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t take anyone’s man.” Why am I defending myself? I know these tricks are under Misty’s spell, but still. As long as Mickey, Nellie, and I have been each other’s allies, their better judgment should take over at some point. They know that’s not how I get down. Besides, I don’t need to take anyone’s seconds. That’s Misty’s job, not mine.

  “So you’re not after Nigel or Chance?” Nellie asks. Her jealousy is unbelievable. Even before Misty twisted Nellie’s mind all up, she was on that shit with me and Chance. I’ve had just about all I can take from the three of them.

  “Nigel was your side conquest, not mine, or did you conveniently forget that you were jocking him even while Mickey was busy becoming his baby mama?” Mickey looks from me to Nellie, confused about who she’s hating on at the moment. What difference does it make now? In Misty’s twisted reality, Mickey and Nigel are engaged. But I guess even under a spell Mickey’s still on red alert when it comes to her main man.

  I look into Mickey’s eyes and almost recognize the down-ass homegirl who used to roll tight with Nellie. I remember the first time Nellie introduced us. We could’ve easily become enemies, especially being from different sides of Compton, where colors determine our loyalty. But instead we became friends, and I want that back. I focus intently on my girl, like I did Mr. A. I can see her struggling against her anger, and I almost have her won over. But Misty steps in front of Mickey, blocking our view. She then turns around and faces Mickey, her eyes shimmering as she does so. Did anyone else just see that shit?

  “Misty, what the hell are you doing to her?” I ask. Everyone seems like they’re in a daze and I’m the only one seeing this shit for what it really is. “Mickey, don’t look at her. She’s manipulating your thoughts.”

  “Jayd, please. We all know you’re the real manipulator here. You think you’re so much better than all of us, but you’re not. And without your friends and your men, you have nothing.” Nellie says. She is on a roll today. I look at Misty, who’s gleaming, she’s so proud of her unwilling protege. She may have turned everyone else in this school into a zombie, but I’m not going out like that.

  “Don’t be so sure about that, Misty. Nellie, this isn’t over by a long shot,” I say, ready to leave this ugly scene behind.

  “She’s right,” Mickey says. “You made me think you had my back with Nigel when instead you went behind my back and had your hands all up in his head. What was that shit all about?”

  “Mickey, I braid hair. That’s what I do. You know this. And for the record, I don’t need to steal anyone else’s man if I want to get a date.”

  “You mean with the little Spanish boy?” Misty says. “Do you think anyone buys the little act you and your immigrant boy toy put on in class? So what, y’all can dance good together. His name’s not P. Diddy and you sure as hell ain’t no J.Lo, so get over it. We know you want our men and we’re not tolerating the shit no more.”

  “Misty, please. I’ve already had your man, or don’t you remember jocking my leftovers at the beginning of the school year?” The crowd we’ve attracted can’t help but laugh at that fact. Everybody remembers Misty getting her ass kicked by Trecee, KJ’s ex side-trick, who promptly got kicked out of school after that fight.

  “What about my man?” Mickey says. “Why else wouldn’t you help me get Nigel back unless you truly wanted him for yourself? If you’re so damned powerful, how is it that Misty could do what you couldn’t? She fixed me and Nigel and now we’re engaged.”

  “Mickey, do you hear yourself talking? You’re not even making any sense.” Misty fixed them all right. I’m waiting for that other shoe to drop, and with any luck, it’ll fall right on Misty’s fuzzy head.

  “Because she’s a hater,” Nellie says, adding her two cents. I know this trick is tripping, talking shit about me when it’s a well-known fact that she’s been after Nigel since he got here, damned if her best friend was the one dating him. And Mickey can’t say shit about this topic. This madness has got to stop now, and the only way to accomplish that goal is to overthrow the ringleader.

  “Misty, do you really hate me this much?” I ask, gesturing around us. She and I alone know what we’re really talking about here. I wish I could battle her in the spirit world right now, because I’d kick her ass if I could. After getting into trouble because of Mickey recruiting me to forge her mother’s signature on her absent note, the last thing I need is another visit to the office. And without Ms. Toni to back me up, the administration would happily crucify my ass.

  “No, it’s not that I hate you,” Misty says, stepping up to me like she knows I won’t slap the spit out of her mouth. “I just can’t stand you being here. Ever since you came to South Bay it’s been nothing but drama in my life.”

  “I find that hard to believe, Misty. I have a feeling you’ve always had drama around you, no matter the target of your bull,” I say, opening my locker
door. The bell for first period just rang and I can’t be late, now that Mr. Adewale is my teacher. I look around at my former friends and other haters, not believing I’m back in this situation. How can everyone turn on me at once? The vision of me being buried by stones comes back to my mind and the dreadful feeling along with it.

  “Jayd, why don’t you just give it up? You’re not going to win this one. And there’s nothing you or your crazy-ass grandmother can do about it.” Oh no, Misty didn’t just call Mama crazy. To hell with keeping a cool head. Now I’m going to have to whip her ass like I should’ve done a long time ago. I grab Misty by her weave, forcing her to look inside of my locker. I read about one way to break a spell, where you get the person to look at their reflection and yours simultaneously. The magnetic mirror on my locker door should do the trick.

  “Jayd, let go of me. Have you lost your mind? Oh wait, that’s right. You have,” Misty says, causing Laura and her newest sidekick, Kai, to laugh at my expense for the last time. KJ and his crew walk up just in time to get in on the jokes too, even if KJ’s more scared of Misty now than he’s ever been of me, and for good reason.

  “Not a chance, Misty. Not until you take those fake eyes out. Come on, Misty. I miss your pretty browns,” I say, antagonizing her to the max. She snatches her arm away from my grip and I reclaim it instantly. She’s not getting away from me so easily this time. I should’ve kicked her ass several times by now and today is her lucky day.

  “They’re not fake. I bought them fair and square. And that makes them as real as I want them to be,” she says, making the crowd laugh. If they only knew how deep that statement was, they wouldn’t think her shit was so funny. KJ, like everyone else, probably thinks she’s actually wearing contacts, unaware of the permanent physical change she’s gained from Esmeralda.