It's Not All Downhill From Here

by Terry McMillan

  “What? How do I make you nervous, Ma?”

  “You don’t listen. You think you’ve got all the answers. You worry about the wrong things. I still have wisdom to give you before I kick the bucket.”

  Then she started laughing.

  “What’s so funny about dying, Ma?”

  “It’s not funny, but it happens to everybody and sometimes when we least expect it. I’m getting a little bored being alive to be honest. I’ve done enough, and had enough fun to last. But you, baby girl, you still have miles to go.”

  “Ma, I don’t need to be preached to. Odessa does a good enough job of that.”

  “See, there you go. Judging her simply for who she is.”

  “Maybe I can be a little harsh, but I feel like I’ve been on E since Carl has been gone.”

  “I know, baby. But you’ve gotta decide if you want to keep the engine in Neutral or shift gears and put it in Drive.”

  I just squeezed her hand.

  “Anyway, look, baby. I’m not trying to be Ann Landers but I know you’re suffering from loneliness and I still remember what that feels like. This is why I read things that lift me up. I read my horoscope every day. Actually I read all twelve of them and write down any encouraging things I can use. But I also read O and AARP and that Real Simple because they always have some feel-good stuff in them. I just thought it would be nice to send you a line or two when I find something worth sharing. Would you mind?”

  “No. But do I have to write you back?” I laughed.

  “No. But I hope you do that more often.”

  “What?”

  “Laugh.”

  “Are you sending notes to Odessa, too?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she already thinks she’s got all the answers. She took getting the Holy Ghost way too far. God can’t solve all of our problems. He gives us the tools but some of us are too lazy to use them. Anyway, here’s a picture of both of your fathers,” she said, and handed me two black-and-white Polaroids that made both men look gray and dull. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Well, two things.”

  “Is this going to be depressing?” I asked, handing the pictures back to her.

  “No.”

  “What’s the first thing?”

  “I want you to understand what made me have sex with two different men in two days.”

  “Ma, I don’t want to hear this.”

  “I need you to.”

  “I haven’t even spent much time thinking about it, Ma.”

  She just looked at both pictures and shook her head.

  “I was not a whore. It was about power. My power. I was the one who decided I wanted to be with both of them. I even told each one about the other, just to piss them off.” She laughed like she had just heard a good joke.

  “Really?”

  She nodded. Then her eyes became glazed like she was looking out a window. I couldn’t believe she was telling me this and I didn’t know if I wanted to hear it. It just felt wrong. I didn’t want to know her secrets.

  “Men have always slept with as many women as they wanted to and nobody ever thought anything of it. Like they had a right to as much as they could get. I wanted that same power. And I got it. But I also got you and Odessa out of the deal. Who knew twins could have different fathers?”

  I couldn’t say a word.

  “Anyway, I’ve been wanting to get that off my chest for years.”

  “Okay. What’s the second thing you wanted to talk about?”

  “Odessa has always been selfish and I’ll just say it: she can be a bitch, but I want her to have my house. She’s got no other options.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was about to lose that ridiculous house of hers because she just kept borrowing against it. And she’s been renting the little guesthouse from the people who bought it, but now they want to move into the guesthouse while they do some renovating. She didn’t tell you? I guess she didn’t want you to know.”

  Why do people keep secrets like this?

  “Anyway, let her play house so she can stop worrying. Can you do that for me?”

  “I did tell her I’d give it some thought, but why does she need a three-bedroom house with a yard just for herself? I own an apartment building. A two-bedroom should be enough for her, maybe I can arrange that.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Ma?”

  And then they opened.

  “Can’t you see me sitting right here in my candy-striped chair? I’m not deaf, Loretha.”

  “What would you like to do for your birthday?”

  “I’m having another one? I just had one a few months ago!”

  I nodded and smiled. “The big eighty-seven.”

  “You have got to be kidding! I thought I was turning ninety on the next one, if you want to know the truth. I do not want a gift and I do not want to celebrate. Unless you want to sneak me in a pint of Hennessy!”

  “No, I do not. It’s next month. Odessa and I will take you to P.F. Chang’s.”

  “I’ll check my calendar. But tell me this: Did you bring the stamps?”

  I looked at her and could tell she didn’t remember. “Of course I did. They’re on your dresser.”

  Just then, Marvin Gaye singing “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” rang out from my purse and I reached inside to get my cellphone.

  “I used to love that song, Loretha. Can you put Otis Redding’s ‘Sitting on the Dock of the Bay’ on mine one day?”

  I nodded and pressed my finger in the air to shush her when I saw it was Jalecia.

  “Hello.”

  “Ma?”

  “Jalecia? Is something wrong?”

  “Why does something have to be wrong?”

  “Well, it’s usually the only time you call.”

  “I need to know if you can pick me up in the morning.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Jail.”

  “For what?”

  “A DUI.”

  “Is she in jail again?” Ma asked loud enough for Jalecia to hear.

  “Is that Grandma? Please don’t tell her where I am.”

  “What is it you need me to do?”

  “First let me say this: I was not drunk, Ma. I passed a car too fast without putting on my blinker so a cop pulled me over and made me take a Breathalyzer and it was only .10. Okay, the legal limit is .08, but I am here because of my priors. Plus, they towed my car so it’s impounded.”

  “I haven’t heard from you since Carl died. Should I take a wild guess why you’re calling?”

  “It’s five thousand dollars bail. I got very lucky. This is only my third DUI so it’s still just a misdemeanor. The bail bondsman told me all you need to put up is five hundred.”

  If I hadn’t been in the room with my mother staring me down, I’d have screamed, “I’m not fucking doing this again, Jalecia.” But I was, so I tried to remain calm.

  “Where are you?”

  “In Palmdale.”

  “Palmdale? What the hell were you doing way out there? Never mind. What time tomorrow?”

  “Noon. If possible. I have to stay here overnight. Until I’m sober.”

  “Anything else?” I asked, not wanting an answer.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Give Grandma a hug and tell her I’ll be up to visit her soon.”

  She hung up.

  “I’d leave her ass in there if I were you, Loretha. What’d she do this time?”

  “An outstanding warrant for a moving violation.”

  “I’m old but I’m not stupid. That chile has got a drinking problem. Even Helen Keller could see that. And Lord only knows what else. Did you bring the stamps?”

  This caugh
t me completely off guard, but when I looked in her eyes, I could tell that Ma had forgotten. The caregiver had warned me that this was how dementia worked, but I had not seen it come on this clearly.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I took the book of stamps out of the plastic bag and handed them to her.

  “What about envelopes?”

  I was already pulling them out.

  “Wait a minute! What day is it again?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Oh heck! I’m saved from arts and crafts because tonight is Wheel of Fortune night!”

  “You told me. I didn’t think you liked group activities.”

  “I don’t know. I like being entertained. And the popcorn is good.” I bent down and gave her a kiss on both cheeks. She patted them both and tried to smile.

  “Know when to say no,” she said. “And check your mail next week, but don’t expect something from me every week. I’ve got a busy life, you know.”

  * * *

  —

  As soon as I got home, I saw Kwame’s car in the driveway. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him this evening, so when I heard B. B. King bark, I was surprised. He hardly ever barks when Kwame’s home.

  B.B. licked my hand when I walked in.

  “Hey, handsome,” I said, and rubbed his head.

  “Kwame?”

  There was no answer. And then I saw a text on my phone. Mama-Lo, I went to Las Vegas with a friend. Be back on Sunday. I fed B. B. King and took him for a walk. He wanted to go to Vegas, too, but he’s broke! Love, Kwame

  * * *

  —

  The next morning I spent over an hour on the phone with the bail bondsman to figure out how best to pay Jalecia’s bond. I went ahead and put the entire five thousand on my credit card. She was right, it would’ve only been five hundred if I had been willing to use my house as collateral, but if she failed to show up in court in thirty days they could’ve put a lien on my house. I did not trust her.

  It took an hour to drive all the way out to Palmdale, and the mountains kept me company. The yucca trees on the side of the freeway reminded me that I was in the desert. I was trying not to grind my teeth or grip the steering wheel too tight and I tried to think of what Ma had said about accepting people for who they are. My daughter is not a criminal. She’s an alcoholic and this is the result. But I can’t make her stop drinking. I can’t make her see where she’s headed. It’s this feeling of helplessness that’s making me lose faith. Even though I have never stopped praying for her.

  When I saw Avenue Q, I wanted to just keep driving, but I exited and immediately saw the sheriff’s department, a beige stucco building that looked just like a lot of the tract houses I passed on the way here. But this was a jail. I turned in to the entrance and there was my daughter, sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette. She didn’t look like she had just gotten out of jail. She looked like she was waiting for a bus. I was her bus.

  I got as close as I could, but had to turn in to the parking lot. She walked over before I had a chance to park.

  She had on the same dress she’d worn to Carl’s Repasse. I was trying to process the reality that I had driven more than sixty miles to get my daughter out of jail for drunk driving, that this is what her life had come to at forty years old. I wondered if it was my fault that she was lost. I thought about asking her. But when I unlocked the passenger door and she dropped down hard on the seat, she said, “Thank you for picking me up, but please don’t ask me any questions, Ma. It was all a big mix-up.”

  “What exactly were you doing all the way out here?”

  She sighed and took a red scrunchie out of her purse. She grabbed a handful of dreadlocks and pulled and twisted as many of them as she could on top of her head, forming a spray that looked just like those yucca trees.

  “I have friends out here. They were having a birthday party. I got pulled over. End of story, Ma.”

  “No, it’s not the end of the story, Jalecia.”

  “I’m grateful, but don’t worry, I won’t miss my court date so you’ll get most of your money back.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “In impound.”

  “And how much is that?”

  “Well, that’s kind of another problem.”

  I pressed the brakes a little too hard and gripped the steering wheel too tight. The car screeched to a halt.

  “Take it easy, Ma. Okay. So, the towing company is charging me a hundred-eighty dollars and impound fees, but I have to have proof of insurance before they’ll release the car.”

  “Which means you don’t have proof of insurance.”

  “It lapsed because I didn’t have the money.”

  “You have to stop this shit, Jalecia.”

  “Ma, I’m not in any mood for a lecture right now. Please.”

  “I don’t care what you’re not in the mood for, Jalecia. I wasn’t in the mood to drive all the way the hell out here to get you out of jail, but I did because you’re my daughter. But pay attention. You have a drinking problem. And Lord only knows what else. But this is just one reason why your father left this world too soon: doing too much of the wrong things with the wrong people. Look at yourself, Jalecia. You’re forty. There’s still time to turn your life around, you just have to make smarter choices.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk. Look, I know I messed up and I’m sorry I had to call you, but my boyfriend…”

  “What boyfriend?”

  “Forget it, Ma. I’ll pay you back, every dime.”

  “I suppose you already know the closest place to get instant car insurance, then?”

  “Yes, it’s less than five minutes from here.”

  “Let me ask you a really personal question.”

  “I’ve already been interrogated enough in there, Ma. Could you cut me just a little slack? I f’d up. I’m working on getting my life together.”

  “Really? And tell me, just how are you doing that?”

  “Is that your personal question?”

  “Where are you living these days?”

  “In Compton.”

  “And just who’s in Compton?”

  “I’ve got family there.”

  “Peggy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t you call her to bail you out?”

  “Because she’s not in a position to help me.”

  “Tell me something, Jalecia. What would you have done if I had refused to pay your bail?”

  “I’d be in that cell for thirty days, until my hearing.”

  “Remember that the next time this happens.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” she said.

  It took two hours and $336 more to get the insurance and the 2008 Hyundai out of impound. Jalecia gave me an impatient hug and followed me out of the lot. But I got on the freeway heading home. She took the streets. Maybe the party she missed was still going on.

  I walked into the grocery store and stared. I looked to the left at the apples and pears and oranges stacked like pyramids and then straight down the aisle at the detergent and paper towels and all the other household items, which was when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

  “Hello there, Mrs. Curry. You look lost. May I help you find something?”

  I just started laughing because it was Joe, Lucky’s giant husband, whose once-blond hair was now silver. He was still a good-looking man. He always reminded me of a country singer whose name I couldn’t remember.

  “Yes, Joe. Could you please tell me what the hell I came in here for?”

  He gave me a bear hug. His stomach was now a soft globe and the lower buttons on his gray plaid shirt looked ready to pop off.

  “Welcome to the club. Apparently, I came in here for these, which it took me a minute to recall.” He held up two small boxes o
f figs, one purple and one green, then lowered them for me to try, but as soon as I reached for a purple one I remembered reading somewhere that figs were full of sugar. And for once, my conscience won.

  I waved my hand back and forth.

  “So how are the floors coming along?”

  “What’s wrong with the floors?” Joe asked. I knew it! Redoing her floors, my ass. Lucky likes to lie about things that aren’t worth lying about. She’s always been like that, and I don’t know why.

  “Oh, my mistake,” I said, and gave him another hug. I have always liked Joe, and actually feel sorry for him, because he has worshipped Lucky for almost half a century, and back then white men didn’t marry black women. Lucky was half her size then, sexy as hell and quite the flirt. And him being her boss at the studio where they worked didn’t hurt him any. None of us ever understood what else he saw in her besides her body because Lucky is so unforgiving and always complains about everything and everybody. When she told him she did not want children, he agreed. Like I said, he’d do anything for her.

  * * *

  —

  I decided not to call Lucky out on her lie about the floors, which was why we all reported to Korynthia’s house for our first group dinner since Carl’s passing. Lucky, Korynthia, and I were sitting at Korynthia’s dining room table, wondering where Sadie was.

  Out of all of us, Korynthia has the best taste. Her home and everything in it is modern, and looks like something you used to see in House Beautiful.

  “Sadie just texted. She said she might not be able to make it,” Lucky said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I’ll bet I know why,” Korynthia said. She leaned forward in her chair and put one elbow on the table next to the straw basket of sliced French bread. She had just gotten her hair braided neon silver. Against her root-beer skin tone and fit body, she looked like a sixty-eight-year-old fashion model.

  “Tell us!” Lucky yelled.

  “I saw her in the church parking lot an hour ago, but she didn’t see me. The parking lot was full, must have been a big funeral.”

  Skipping out on the first meeting of our posse since Carl passed to go to yet another funeral for somebody she probably didn’t know? As Ma used to say, Sadie is “as full of shit as a Christmas turkey.”