Good Woman Blues

by Emery, Lynn

  “Perfection,” Roz said, with vigor.

  After briefly pressing her cheek to her mother’s, Erikka got out of the car. She smoothed her skirt and made sure her white blouse was straight as she walked. By the time she pushed through the glass double doors Erikka was on. She beamed at the receptionist. Showtime.

  At six o’clock that evening Erikka sat across from her two best friends at Deanie’s. The popular restaurant was in Metairie, a small city that bumped up against New Orleans, thanks to urban sprawl. Karin dug into the platter of onion rings they’d ordered. Hope licked the salt around the rim of her glass then sipped. The frozen margarita looked inviting. Erikka swallowed with her as though tasting the tangy sweet drink.

  “So what the hell do people do in Leroyville?” Hope said.

  “Don’t slip and say that in front of my Aunt Darlene. She kinda got pissed about my joke.” Erikka forced herself not to watch her take another taste.

  Hope drank a third of the margarita and smiled. “I’m adjusted after a rough day in the corporate coal mines. Now why is your aunt so touchy?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because she likes living in Loreauville.” Erikka drank more strong iced tea. A poor substitute that didn’t quench her thirst. Maybe a daiquiri wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Hard to believe.” Hope picked up an onion ring and took a small bite.

  “People do actually enjoy living in places other than New Orleans, Hope.” Erikka shook her head. Her friends were typical natives. They didn’t think much of the quality of life anywhere else in the state.

  Karin shrugged. “I could go for a little country atmosphere.”

  “Please. I got fifty phone calls the first week you were at your grandmother’s house in Mississippi. ‘Girl, Granny is driving me crazy cleaning up every two minutes. There is nothing to do out here in Podunkville.’ ” Erikka did her version of Karin’s whine while pretending to hold a telephone.

  “I didn’t know when I was well-off. Dedric did a lot better in school.” Karin’s face took on the strained look she got whenever she talked about her seven-year-old son.

  “I was divorced and bored. You’re right. Running away isn’t the answer.” Karin heaved a sigh.

  Hope waved a hand. “Waitress. Another one of these and one for my friend.” She nodded to Karin’s glass.

  “I thought we were supposed to be helping lift Erikka’s spirits?” Erikka stared at them.

  “Sorry. Bring a diet cola for me,” Karin said to the waitress.

  “On a brighter note you can go back to your job.” Hope broke off when the waitress arrived and put the drinks on the table.

  “Our meeting should have been to bring me up to speed so I could go to work Monday. Instead, Nadine insisted I take my time and get more ‘rest away from the hectic pace.’ She was vague about when she expected me back. Laurie is taking most of my projects for now.” Erikka thought of her colleague and frowned. Laurie’s warm smile had given Erikka a chill.

  “That’s a good thing. She wants you in full form once you get back. Right, Hope?” Karin gave the other woman a keen look.

  “Stop kicking Hope under the table. She probably doesn’t get it anyway.” Erikka gazed at the way Hope seemed more into her second margarita and a man sitting at the bar.

  “What?” Hope blinked at them and proved Erikka’s point. “Oh, girl, like I said, you’ve got a great future with Lewis and what’s-their-names.”

  “Thanks. Don’t let me interrupt your groove. Hi, Robert.” Erikka nodded to the man. He smiled and lifted his mug of beer.

  “Introduce us,” Hope said immediately.

  “Sure, except he’s not available.” Erikka munched on an onion ring.

  “Please don’t give me a tired lecture about married men. I’ve read all those articles in Today’s Black Woman. I’m not afraid of commitment, and I don’t have low self-esteem.” Hope continued to stare at Robert

  “He’s not married.” Erikka watched Hope watch Robert.

  “Then you’re dating him. Just say so, and I’ll turn off my powerful man-eating vibe.” Hope swept a section of the long braids she wore over one shoulder.

  “No, I’m not going out with him. He’s dating my friend. Gerald,” Erikka said.

  Hope froze in the act of pressing her lips together seductively. Her mouth turned down as she lifted her glass. “Damn. Another Classic Movie Channel weekend.”

  “We are not going to talk about men.” Erikka put in the preemptive strike.

  “Or how to find them.” Hope scanned the room.

  “Or how to keep them,” Karin put in, with a wistful sigh.

  “How to keep them satisfied.” Erikka waved a hand.

  “How to get them to satisfy you.” Hope smiled at a new tall, dark, and good-looking target.

  “Or how to get rid of them.” Karin scowled as though her ex-husband had just walked in.

  “None of the above. I’m going to work on me.”

  Erikka thought about the platitudes she’d heard in group therapy at the hospital. She sounded just as phony as the other women who had mouthed them. As though three weeks could change a lifetime of bad habits. Still she wanted to believe in something, too. So, she’d grasped at the same straws. A replay of her recent past popped into Erikka’s head.

  “I’m going to be under construction for a while,” Erikka added.

  “Good for you, honey,” Hope said, dropping her cynical big-city-girl act for a minute. “I’ve got a ton of self-help books at home.”

  “Hope, fifty percent of your personal library is about how to get a man and the other half is erotica.” Karin pursed her lips.

  “By the way, don’t lose that book you borrowed, Make Me Scream, Tyrone, is a classic.” Hope smirked when Karin blushed.

  “Shut up.” Karin glanced around with a guilty look. “Girl, please. You’re twenty-eight years old with a child. You can read dirty books if you want. Your mama won’t hear it from me.”

  “I couldn’t sleep for three nights after I finished it.” Karin dabbed at her neck with a napkin. “Just thinking about it makes me feel…”

  “Hot,” Hope finished for her. “That singles ministry at church didn’t cover what to do when you’re on fire at two in the morning. Which is why I quit going.”

  “We do talk about the challenges of being a single Christian. And I was just curious when I borrowed that novel. The people treat each other like objects. It’s terrible.” “You’ve had it for six months,” Hope jabbed.

  “Well, I wanted to explore the main male character’s motivation.” Karin wore a demure expression.

  Hope exchanged a glance with Erikka, and then they burst into raucous laughter. “Motivation. Oh God, you’re priceless,” she sputtered.

  “Okay, make a scene.” Karin looked around with an embarrassed smile as people stared.

  “Girl, I gotta get me some of that motivation. Have mercy.” Erikka slapped Hope on the shoulder.

  “Stop! I can’t take much more.” Hope dabbed at the comers of her eyes to preserve her mascara.

  Karin glared at them. “I just wanted to gain insight into … Oh, never mind.”

  “All right, Hope. Cut it out now.” Erikka pressed a hand to her forehead to get control.

  Her grin disappeared when she saw Vaughn across the restaurant. He glanced around, saw no means of escape, and plastered on a fake smile as he strode over. Hope stopped laughing. Karin looked at Erikka with a worried expression.

  “Hello, Erikka. You look great.” Vaughn bent his tall frame forward and gave Erikka a peck on the forehead. He nodded to Hope and Karin. “Ladies.”

  “Hi.” Karin’s voice was chilly, but polite.

  “Whatever,” Hope muttered, and took a swig of her drink.

  Vaughn went on as though he’d been greeted warmly. “Erikka, you look well. Listen, I was going to call, but I’ve been—”

  “Busy,” Erikka cut in.

  “Exactly. Unbelievable the overtime I’ve been puttin
g in. I’ve had late meetings every night for weeks. Crazy.” Vaughn lifted both hands in the air as though that explained all.

  “Sure.” Erikka pointed to a pretty and obviously peeved young female glaring at his back. The woman wore a body-hugging low-cut dress. “Your ‘late meeting’ is trying to get your attention.”

  Without batting an eye, Vaughn turned and waved at her. “Right. So, you take care.”

  “Great seeing you, too,” Erikka said, through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah, yeah. Bye.” Vaughn hurried off. After what looked like a heated debate, the couple left the restaurant.

  When their waitress appeared Erikka pointed to the tall glass Hope continued to drink from. “Bring me one of those.”

  “Cancel that order,” Karin cut in. She gazed at Erikka. “Don’t do it.”

  Erikka drummed her fingers for ten seconds as the waitress hovered. “I meant bring me another iced tea.”

  “Whatever you want.” The waitress lifted a shoulder and left.

  “Thanks for looking out.” Erikka sighed.

  “You’re welcome.” Karin turned to Hope.

  “Don’t even try to start in on me, church lady.” Hope pointed a finger at her with the hand that still held her margarita.

  “I don’t have the time or energy to babysit your bodacious butt,” Karin quipped.

  “Good, cause you gotta love me for me.” Hope kept drinking.

  The waitress poured more tea into Erikka’s glass from a large pitcher. Erikka raised it. “Here’s to makin’ it through.”

  “And coming out better on the other side,” Karin added. They clinked their glasses together.

  “Amen, sista.” Hope wore a solemn expression as she downed the rest of her drink.

  “Forget that skeezer-chasing chump. You deserve better,” Hope spat out as though Vaughn was still there.

  The three women sat quiet for ten minutes until Erikka cleared her throat. “Hey, let’s not have a wake up in here. I’m back.”

  “Yeah. A couple of weeks out in the swamp oughta cure anything, girl. I say we celebrate at the House of Blues this weekend.” Hope launched into a memorized schedule of musicians appearing in town. Karin called her mother, who was always happy to babysit her grandson.

  They debated throwing an impromptu party at Erikka’s place. Erikka made excuses as to why her apartment was out. Her landlord had stretched the limit on late rent payments. If Erikka threw a party, she’d be evicted for sure. Her friends, God love them, didn’t question even one of them. Karin volunteered her three-bedroom suburban condo, and the plans were set. As she and Hope ticked off a guest list and party foods to buy, Erikka smiled and nodded. All the time she thought of how she’d just pulled a neat Rosalinde trick. Pretend nothing is wrong no matter how bad things look.

  ***

  Less than two weeks back in New Orleans, and she had no job, a shrinking savings account, and her landlady was out of patience. Erikka’s boss had finally admitted that “more rest” meant “don’t come back.” Mrs. Horton tiptoed in early one morning and slipped the eviction notice under the front door. So, Erikka sat on her thousand-dollar rent-to-own sofa watching two beefy men carry out her six-hundred-dollar leather chair. She looked around her two-bedroom, two-bath flat.

  “Lovely view of the park. Washer/dryer connection and cable-ready,” she said, quoting the ad listing her apartment for rent. Her now-former landlady had used the same wording as when she’d found the gem.

  Brown cardboard boxes from the local Winn-Dixie contained what was left of her worldly goods. What they couldn’t fit into her Aunt Darlene’s house was going into storage. Erikka ran her hand along the smooth acorn brown surface. Her life on the sofa flashed before her eyes.

  Vaughn had sat where she was now on their first date two years ago. Sophisticated and well-read, he had gotten her hot talking about the economy. He’d looked perfectly edible, a rangy confection of brown sugar. They’d met at a cocktail party. The backdrop was perfect, the Garden District mansion of a wealthy woman devoted to historic preservation. Vaughn had been standing on the terrace with a group of people. Erikka could almost see him as though watching a DVD in vivid color. Laurie had taken a bead on him as well. When Vaughn seemed to be taken with the lanky blonde, Erikka dismissed him. Another brother who preferred cream to coffee, she concluded. She was pleasantly surprised when he spent the rest of the evening with her. Even more surprised when he called two days later. By the third date their time spent on her sofa had not been wasted on meaningful conversation. Fond memories, Erikka sighed.

  The men came back. The young one stood with a fist on one hip. The older man managed to look regretful and impatient at the same time. “Melvin” was stitched in white thread on his slate blue work shirt.

  “Ma’am, we really gotta get movin’. We’ve got three more stops to make,” Melvin said.

  “Sure, Mel. Wouldn’t want to delay you ruining somebody else’s life.” Erikka gave the smooth acorn brown surface one last affectionate pat, and then stood. ‘Take it fast before I change my mind.”

  “I’m sure you’ll bounce back.” Melvin signaled to his partner as he spoke.

  “Yeah, right,” the young dude said in an undertone.

  Erikka wasted the nasty look she gave him. The men became preoccupied with taking the last piece of her dignity. They held a brief discussion of how best to get the sofa out. In short order they maneuvered it through the door and down the front steps. No doubt their efficiency was perfected by practice. Darlene came from the bedroom, with Malik behind her.

  “Okay, sugar. We’ll load up the rest of your stuff, swing by Ace Storage, and be on our way home.” Darlene slapped dust from the legs of her jeans and then the palms of her hands.

  “New Orleans is my home,” Erikka said dully.

  “Uh, I’m gonna take these on out.” Malik looked from his mother to Erikka before he hastily picked up two boxes and left.

  “You could stay with Roz and be within shouting distance of the city,” Darlene suggested.

  “Within hours I would be shouting, no, screaming, at the top of my lungs. She drives me nuts.” Erikka went to the window and stared out at what used to be her view of the park.

  “Get mad. Tell me how you’re pissed off at the world. Yell, call people names.”

  “Please,” Erikka retorted, without turning around.

  “Here. Throw something against the wall even.” Darlene tapped her on the arm with an object. “This is real ugly. You won’t miss it.”

  Darlene held out a small pink china vase with blue flowers. The figure of a white woman holding a fan and wearing an old-fashioned flowing gown was painted on the front.

  “You have lost your mind. Give me that.” Erikka snatched it from her. “You know how much this ugly thing is worth? Vaughn bought it at an estate sale in the Garden District.”

  “A gift from Vaughn; more reason to smash it.” Darlene crossed her arms.

  “I’m going to get a good price on eBay for this damn thing. Best revenge I can think of.” Erikka wrapped the vase in wads of newspaper. She opened a small box and carefully packed it.

  “That’s the spirit. Out with the old.” Darlene put an arm around her shoulder.

  ‘Trouble is I like the old. I loved my life.” If she excluded being lonely, unfulfilled, and insecure that is. Erikka straightened from bending over the carton.

  “Then think of this move as a breather. An experience you can use when you come back to New Orleans. Or wherever you decide to settle,” Darlene added, when Erikka glanced at her.

  “Yeah, sure. Let’s go. Mrs. Horton’s house is on our way.” Erikka held up the keys she would drop off.

  Darlene’s eyes softened with sympathy, but she said no more. She picked up two lightweight boxes. “Right. Make sure you haven’t left anything,” she called over her shoulder on her way out the door.

  Erikka followed her without looking back. “Why bother? What hasn’t already been pawned, reposses
sed, or packed, I don’t need.”

  Chapter 4

  Erikka looked up and down the main street of Loreauville. Why was she expecting traffic? She could cross the street with her eyes closed. Just as she was about to give it a try, a horn blew.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Monique leaned across the passenger seat and looked at Erikka over her designer sunglasses.

  “Moni, have you not been paying attention? I just got out of the nuthouse,” Erikka shot back. She walked over to the car.

  “Well, take your damn medicine, girl. Get in this car.” Monique hit the master control button that unlocked the doors.

  “Sure, since you asked so nicely.” Erikka climbed into the Mustang. Seconds later, Monique hit the gas, and they headed down Main Street.

  Monique glanced at her. “Thought I’d take a few hours off and connect with my favorite cousin.”

  “You have a job. I specialize in getting me fired. I don’t freelance, okay? You lose that cushy position with the state, it won’t be my fault. Just wanna get that out on the table.”

  “I’ve got a proposition for you. The judge says you have to have a job as part of your probation, right?” Monique turned into Darlene’s driveway.

  “Him and about eight of my less-than-understanding creditors. Not to mention I have to do two hundred hours of community service. Darlene got me a gig volunteering where she works at the local senior citizens’ center. I should have begged for mercy and asked for a jail sentence.” Darlene was the director of the center with a small staff and even smaller budget.

  “Can’t rescue you from little old ladies, but I do have a job for you. Remember I went to the Chamber of Commerce convention in New Orleans three months ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I met a guy who owns a public access TV station in Lafayette. I saw Ryan at the local Black Business Association cocktail mixer Friday night. He told me he’d just fired his bookkeeper.”

  “I don’t know, Monique.” Erikka shook her head and walked to the front porch.

  Monique followed close on her heels. She stood in the yard while Erikka climbed the steps. “What don’t you know? You need a job, and he needs an accountant. I’d call that a perfect fit.”