Mama's Girl

by Daybreak Jones

  I ignore his text and go to work.

  * * *

  All during work, he keeps calling and texting. From his texts, I understand that he wants to bring us dinner: Mama, Uncle Doug, and me. That way he can get to see me. I think it’s a cool idea, sort of, and Mama agrees, so I dial Samuel’s number, and he answers on the second ring.

  “Hey, how is my woman doing?”

  Him calling me his woman doesn’t excite me like it used to.

  “I’m good, but my mama said don’t get here after eight. She said if you can’t make it before then don’t come.” She didn’t say that, but I am hoping he can’t make it because I have a lot of homework.

  “That’s cool. I’m ten minutes away with the steaks.”

  “Okay, see you in a minute.”

  I drop down on the couch. Uncle Doug is walking out the front door.

  “Going to get your mama some lotto tickets and wine. You want something?” he asks zipping up his big green coat.

  “No, I am good, but dinner is on its way.”

  A smirk comes to his face. “I know.” He pulls the front door closed behind himself.

  * * *

  The steaks, salad, and soup are on the dining room table, but Mama has Samuel and me sitting on the couch in the living room waiting for Uncle Doug. She’s sitting on the window ledge telling Samuel about Uncle Doug.

  “He is a butcher. He learned how to cut meat down South, and he’s been doing it up here for years. Once he gets his license, we will get married. We’re setting the date, so one celebration will do for both. You like my ring?” My mama holds up her hand for Samuel’s appraisal.

  “Oh, yes, now that is a rock.”

  Mama laughs. “He surprised me with it. Proposed right there in the jewelry store.”

  If I didn’t know my mama, I would think she was getting a little weepy. She stands and says, “He’s here.” Mama holds the front door open for Uncle Doug.

  “Brr, it’s colder than a well digger’s prick out there, and some fool now parked in my spot. You think after I shot the windows out of that last fool’s car no other fool would park there. Go get my shotgun, Gloria. These boys around here don’t think fat meat is greasy. I ain’t playin’ wid ’em.”

  Samuel stands. “Sir, I may have mistakenly parked in your spot. I parked in front of the house.”

  “Why would you do that, boy? Take another man’s spot?”

  “I wasn’t thinking, sir, but I will move my car.”

  “You cain’t. I now already slashed yo’ tire. Damn, boy, you ain’t that bright, is you? Parking in another man’s spot. May, if this is the boy bringing our supper you better check the food fo’ freshness. Seems like I smell some bad meat in here.”

  “Oh, no, sir, those steaks are fresh.”

  “Naw, I smell old meat, and I knows old meat.” He hands Mama her lotto tickets and wine, and he unzips his coat. “Let me go over and look at that meat.”

  We all follow him into the dining room.

  “Aw naw, boy, this meat is bad. Y’all don’t smell that? We ain’t eating that rotten crap.”

  Uncle Doug picks the steaks up with his hand and walks through the kitchen door with them. We hear him step on the garbage can pedal, raising the lid, and we hear the steaks hitting the plastic bag.

  “That boy tryin’ to give us all food poisonin’.”

  Samuel’s mouth drops open, and his hand goes to his forehead. “Those streaks were fresh,” he tells Mama and me.

  We all look to the kitchen door as it swings open, and Uncle Doug comes through grinning from ear to ear with the steaks on a platter and a bottle of steak sauce in his hand.

  “Let’s eat.”

  I think Samuel might have peed his pants. “My tires?”

  “The car is fine, boy. Let’s eat.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I can’t go to sleep because things are weird in my head right now. I have fluffed the pillows, pulled the cover sheet up and down, thrown Grandma’s quilt back and pulled it back up ten times. The green letters on the clock read TUESDAY, 3:15. I have to be up for school at 6:15. Having Samuel over for dinner put weird things in my mind, and Uncle Doug living here is not helping the weirdness.

  Mama said the less Uncle Doug sees of Samuel, the better. She said he won’t stop fussing with her about me not dating boys my own age, and he went so far as suggesting that I go to church with him where he would introduce me to some nice young Christian boys. Mama said we are going to church with him on his birthday next Sunday. That’s all he wants for a birthday present: us going to his church and meeting his pastor. Weird.

  Mama closed the store for good because Uncle Doug told her he would take care of all the house bills and my allowance. He said, “It’s too dangerous nowadays to have strangers comin’ to the door all times of mornin’ on the weekends. Mooky and ’em ain’t the only desperate crackheads in the neighborhood.”

  I didn’t mind closing the store. I thought Mama would, but she didn’t. She did not say one word in protest, just, “Okay, Doug.” And she’s been saying that a lot, “Okay, Doug,” and it’s been weird.

  What else is weird is no Carlos or Walter. Carlos is always working, so I don’t see too much of him. And all of school feels weird, like I should have been finished a long time ago. I can’t wait to graduate. Nappy-headed Ms. Stockton found me a theater school in New York City, and I’m really thinking about going. The brochures look nice, and Mama promises that the money for school is there. Theater school. That won’t be weird.

  I sleep a little, and then I get up for the bathroom. I feel like I am going to be sick again, but nothing happens. I go to the kitchen and pack my book bag, cook my oatmeal, check the e-mails on my phone, and then stand in the door with my coat on waiting for the bus.

  Uncle Doug walks into the living room in his sweatpants and thermal T-shirt. “Yo’ school is closed. All the schools is closed because it is twenty below zero outside.”

  “Twenty below?”

  “Yep, they closed the schools. Your mama and me going up to the Michigan City outlet mall. You welcome to ride with us.”

  “I could have still been asleep.” I let my book bag fall from my shoulder to the floor. I didn’t get two hours’ worth of sleep last night. I want to curse, but instead, I peel off my beige wool coat and hang it back in the closet and do an about-face and head for my bed.

  “We leaving here about eight,” Uncle Doug says to my back.

  I don’t remove my clothes to get under the covers. I fluff the pillow and let my head drop.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” comes from my bedroom doorway. “Since you up, come help me load this store stock into Doug’s trunk. He’s got a cousin in Gary who is going to buy it all from us.”

  “Mama, I can’t. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “I know, I heard you tossing and turning. But you dressed, so come on and help me do this. Then I will let you go back to sleep. Get up, get up, get up!”

  She is not going to stop until I get up, so I throw the covers back and get up.

  She didn’t let me go back to sleep, not even on the ride to Michigan City. She and Uncle Doug have pulled me into their honeymoon plans like it all is going to happen next week. They came out here to the outlet to shop for honeymoon clothes.

  We are shopping for Mama’s swimsuits now, and the problem is she looks good in all of them, and she can’t pick just one. I think she wants Uncle Doug to pick one out, but I don’t think he cares. Uncle Doug has a bag of fresh shrimp in the car, and he wants to go home and make a pot of gumbo. We have been talking about it all day. He got the crab meat, the okra, and sausages from his cousin in Gary who bought the store stock.

  “Get the pink, the yellow, and the green one,” he says to the dressing room curtain. He just messed up because there is no green one. He is sitting by the curtain in a chair, and he has it rocked back on its legs.

  “What green one?” Mama asks.

  “The one that ti
ed at the chest.”

  “That’s blue, fool.”

  Dang, he is paying attention.

  “Whatever color it is, get them three and let’s go.”

  “Are you rushing me, Douglas?”

  “Yes, I am. This girl is hungry, and me and her been waitin’ all day to get to those shrimps.”

  “I ain’t heard a complaint from the girl. All I hear is your mouth.”

  “That’s ’cause she out here gnawin’ on her lips she so hungry.”

  “Oh, you need to stop lying on my child like that.”

  Mama pulls the curtain back and emerges dressed. In her arms are the three swimsuits Uncle Doug suggested. “Let’s go. I want some gumbo too.”

  * * *

  Grandma’s big stainless-steel pot is simmering and filled almost to the brim. The whole house smells like Uncle Doug’s gumbo. The scent of stewing crab legs and shrimp, sausage and chicken, rice and okra, and gumbo filé spice boiling pulled me out of my room and to the kitchen table. Uncle Doug has set the table with three bowls, and each has a tablespoon in it. A big ol’ tablespoon. What was he thinking? I don’t say anything critical because he is so happy with himself.

  “You gonna like this. Give it about ten more minutes then we gonna throw down.”

  “Throw down?” I ask.

  “Wait, what do y’all say? Um, ‘we gonna get our eat on.’”

  “I hear you, Uncle Doug.”

  Mama comes into the kitchen with her gun cleaning kit and two pistols in her arms. Uncle Doug looks up from his pot and says, “I know you ain’t gonna clean those pistols in here while I’m cookin’.”

  “Why not? I clean my guns in here all the time.” When she gets to the table, she stumbles slightly, and everything in her grasp hits the table.

  The black case that holds the kit stuff lands on one of its corners and bounces toward me. I catch it. The .22 revolver lands flat on its side and spins a little. The .45 automatic lands on the butt and releases a round.

  The shot is so loud that I hunch my shoulders and dive from the chair to the floor. I look up to Mama, and her eyes are blinking nonstop. She is shook. I look over to Uncle Doug at the stove, and his shoulders are hunched, and his head is at a strange angle, and something has gotten into his thin black hair. He must have dropped his mixing spoon in the gumbo and splashed some of it up in his hair.

  No.

  It’s not gumbo.

  Oh, God.

  It’s blood.

  Uncle Doug drops to his knees then over to his left. The mixing spoon falls from his right hand.

  Mama screams and runs over to him. I go to the stove and push Grandma’s stainless-steel pot to the back burner and cut the gas off. When I look down, I see blood coming out of two spots in Uncle Doug’s head.

  The ambulance people take him out of the kitchen on a stretcher. When Uncle Doug gets outside, they put him on a gurney and pull a sheet over his head. Mama won’t move away from the gurney. It takes three police officers to pull her away from Uncle Doug, but then she falls in the grass and balls up in a knot. No matter what I say, she won’t unwind. Ms. Carol and me try to get her up, but we can’t.

  The ambulance lady says my mama is in shock. They put her on a stretcher and load her in the ambulance with Uncle Doug. I try to climb in too, but Ms. Carol wraps her arms around me and pulls me away.

  “I’ma take you up there, baby. I’ma take you. Come on with me, May.”

  * * *

  When Carlos and I walk in to the packed emergency room, we stand by the doors. We are not sure of where to go or who to talk to. Ms. Carol comes through automatic doors and walks straight up to the guard at the desk.

  “I’m here to see about my sister, Gloria Joyce. The ambulance just brought her here.”

  The guard taps the keyboard in front of him. “She’s in ER.” He hands her two white sticky visitor passes. “Through these doors and see the nurse at the desk.” He buzzes open the half-wood and half-chrome doors behind him. Ms. Carol grabs my hand, and we walk through the doors.

  I see Mama right away. She is still in a knot on the gurney. I go to her, and Ms. Carol goes to the nurse behind a tall desk.

  “Mama. Mama, can you hear me? Can you hear me, Mama?” I reach for her fisted hand. I cover her fist with both my hands. “Mama.” I bend down to get closer to her ear. “Mama.”

  “She will be all right in about twenty minutes,” a voice from behind me says. “The sedative will start working soon.”

  I look up to see the ambulance lady who was at our house. “Can she hear me?”

  “No, darling, she can’t. Not yet. Give her about twenty more minutes.”

  “Can I sit here with her?”

  “Yes, you can. Your aunt is taking care of the paperwork. God bless, baby.” And the ambulance lady walks away.

  I need my grandmother, Papa, Mama, somebody.

  * * *

  It’s been three hours, and Mama is still in a knot. There are two doctors and a nurse over here with us. The nurse gives her a shot, and Mama’s fingers spread open, her eyes open, and she looks right at me. I move to her, but she starts jerking all over. The doctor pushes me away from her, and the nurse draws a curtain. I try to move past the curtain, but the other doctor comes out, and we bump into each other.

  To Ms. Carol, a doctor says, “We are going to ask you folks to go back outside into the waiting area. The nurse will notify you when the procedure is done.”

  “Why can’t we stay?” I ask.

  “The procedure is difficult for family to witness, trust us. The nurse will be out to you shortly.”

  I hear my mama jumping around behind that curtain. “That nurse gave her the wrong stuff,” I yell into his face.

  “No, her reaction was expected, just not so soon. Please go into the waiting area.”

  I’m not leaving, but Ms. Carol grabs my hand and pulls me away from the doctor and through the two chrome and wood doors.

  The waiting room is less crowded, and Carlos calls us over to two seats under the television. “How’s your mama? She’s okay, right?”

  “No, she’s not okay. They are doing something to her that we can’t watch. I saw her look at me, but then she . . .” I’m starting to cry. All this is too much. “She’s not okay,” I say and get up and walk out the automatic doors to go outside.

  I take the sidewalk all the way to the street. I’m glad they didn’t try to follow me. My mama better be all right. If they hurt my mama in there, me and Uncle Doug will get them.

  Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Uncle Doug, no, no, no, not Uncle Doug. They are going to take my mama to jail. It was an accident. I saw it. That nurse gave my mama the wrong stuff. Not Uncle Doug, and not my mama.

  “Dang, dang, dang.” I dial Samuel’s number.

  “Hey, baby,” he answers, and I am relieved. His voice mail would have put me over the edge. I needed to talk to him.

  “My mama, my mama, she shot Uncle Doug by mistake. He died, and she is in the hospital.”

  “What hospital, babe?”

  “At the university,” is all I can say. I drop my arm and collapse to the street curb. I sit, and I cry.

  They are going to take my mama to jail. I try to stand to go back into the ER, but I can’t. I stumble like a drunk person. My legs are too weak, so I sit some more and cry some more. I am getting cold, so I try again and, as soon as I am up, Samuel and his little red car pull up.

  “Here I am,” he says like I can’t see the car right in front of me.

  I walk to the passenger side and get in. I hope he doesn’t ask me what happened because that will start the tears again. I close the car door. He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. The heat in the car feels good.

  “I know a place where you can get something to eat, and I can get a drink. Okay?”

  “I can’t go far.”

  “The place is three blocks away. Buckle up.”

  * * *

  He orders me a cheeseburger that I can’t eat,
but he drinks his drink. We are standing at a bar, a smoke-filled bar that reeks, but I do feel better being with him. I told him about my mama and Uncle Doug on the drive over.

  “It sounds like your mother is in shock, May. She will get better. And, don’t worry, the police will deduce that it was an accident. Everything will be fine, babe.”

  I lean to him and kiss him on the cheek. “I hope so.” But I am worried. I tell him, “They are going to put my mama in jail.”

  “No, they will understand it was an accident.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know. Relax. Let’s get back to the hospital. Are you ready to leave?” He places his little glass on the bar top.

  I see her in the mirror walking up behind us before she speaks: “And where are you taking this child?”

  I have seen her in pictures on his phone and in his wallet. This is Samuel’s wife standing behind us.

  “I asked you a question, Sam. What are you doing here with this child?”

  I need to leave, right now. I can walk the three blocks to the hospital. When I look at Samuel’s reflection in the mirror, I am confused. His face is smiling, and he looks happy.

  “Hey, baby!” he says standing and turning around. He pulls her into an embrace. “I didn’t think my text went through. So, you are good with going out to eat tonight?”

  “What text? I saw your Porsche outside and couldn’t figure out why you would be in a dive like this.”

  Still hugging her, he says, “Oh, me and May stopped to go over her lines. She is an understudy in the Langston play, and she’s trying out for a role at Loyola. I was going to drop her off then meet you at Geno’s for steaks. That is, if you’re up for it.”

  He is still hugging her.

  “Of course, baby, I would love to stop for steaks.” She kisses him, breaks the embrace, and turns to me and says, “It’s nice meeting you, May. I hope you get the part.” She extends her hand for me to shake.

  I don’t know what to say, but I smile my biggest smile and shake her hand.

  “I can walk from here. You don’t need to drop me off,” I say to Samuel, but his wife is still holding my hand, so I can’t leave. She is starting to squeeze my hand. And when I look at her she is no longer smiling.