In My Sister's House

by Donald Welch

  By day, Lovely was a nurse at Thomas Jefferson Hospital in downtown Philadelphia. Her nurse’s salary provided her with more than enough to live comfortably. Dancing was just something she had always enjoyed. To her it was a way not only to relieve the day-to-day stress of being an active nurse, but also to help her deal with the unexpected death of her college sweetheart, Anthony Davis. Although somewhat secretive about her life, she had shared a little about Anthony’s death with Skylar. He had collapsed while playing an outdoor basketball game with a few of his buddies one very hot Saturday afternoon. Lovely and their two-year-old son, Tony Jr., witnessed the entire event.

  Because Tony was a known prankster, no one rushed to his aid while he lay motionless on the ground. His buddies thought he was merely being dramatic after missing a shot that had cost his team the game. However, even from the stands, Lovely knew something was wrong. Taking Tony Jr. by the hand, she made her way down to the court. By the time she reached him, other teammates and a few people from the sidelines were crowded all around him. Handing their son to a friend of Tony’s, she knelt down over him and began talking to him in a frantic tone. “Baby, wake up! Tony, Tony!” she cried. Lightly slapping his face in an effort to revive him, she continued talking to him. “Baby, it’s Lovely and Junior. Hold on, baby!” Tears formed in her eyes—she felt helpless. She remembered hearing a siren in the distance, and the baby crying nonstop, but not hearing anyone shouting to call 911. Just before the paramedics reached Tony, he half-opened his eyes enough to see Lovely peering down at him, her salty tears falling directly onto his face. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said softly and slipped away. Her deafening screams matched their baby’s, as friends pulled her away so that the paramedics could prep him for departure.

  Anthony “Tony” Davis had died of a heart attack. It was discovered that the physically fit, strong, gym-conscious twenty-seven-year-old had had an undetected heart problem, and obviously the rigorous ball game in the hundred-degree Philadelphia heat triggered a fatal reaction.

  It was now three years after that dreadful life-changing day, and Tony Jr, the spitting image of his father, was a daily reminder of her lost love. In fact, looking at their son at age five, Lovely’s family often joked with her that she’d had nothing to do with his birth but to push him out, because the boy not only bore a direct likeness to his father but inherited almost every one of his traits. Not one week would go by that the handsome little boy did not point up to the eight-by-ten portrait of the three of them taken shortly before his father’s death, and declare, “That’s my daddy.”

  At times, out of nowhere he’d ask his mom, “Where is Daddy at?” Lovely’s unchanging response—that Daddy was in heaven—only satisfied him for a moment. Other times he would ask her, “How come we can’t go see him?” or “Could we visit him in heaven?” The exchange was so painful some days that Lovely had considered taking Tony Sr.’s picture down and putting it away. Of course she always decided against this, deeming it selfish. She never wanted to erase memories of the man who loved her and his son more than life itself.

  Lovely and Tony Sr. were not legally married, though toward the end of his life she had finally decided to agree to the idea; after all, he’d been asking her about it almost from the very beginning of their relationship. She never really knew why she hadn’t said yes sooner. She planned to. It was inevitable that the two of them would spend the rest of their lives together, but Lovely just didn’t feel like they needed a piece of paper from City Hall saying they had a commitment. Many a night she beat herself up for not doing it sooner. Tony had always been supportive of anything she wanted to do in her life. If going through the formality of obtaining a license and making things legal meant so much to him, why did she have to be so selfish and deny him that?

  Some of her girls thought she was crazy. “Girl, you’re gonna lose that man, keep it up,” they warned. “Tony is gonna leave you one day.” Tossing back her head in laughter and with a wave of her hand, she dismissed their innocent warnings as girlfriend gossip with no merit.

  “Tony ain’t going nowhere, chile! He loves me too much.” If she’d only known that these words would come back to haunt her.

  Anthony Davis was a rare man. Most brothas had to be coaxed into matrimony. She remembered telling him that her secret passion was to become a dancer. He never laughed or thought she was crazy. He would simply say, “Well, baby, do it if it’s what you want. Take classes on your evening off. Me and the little man can hold down the fort until you come home.” Holding her close to him one evening while lying in their bed, watching the burning flames of the fireplace, he said, “You know, babe, you don’t want to wake up one day and feel sorry for not going after something you want. So I say, go for it!” And with that he pulled her to his chest tighter, gently rubbing her arm up and down, as she inhaled the sensual blend of amber and tropical fruits in his cologne, before melting in heavenly bliss.

  Some nights after putting little Tony to bed, she would spray one or two spritzes of that scent on her pillow and lie awake in their bed quietly crying herself to sleep. Longing for the closeness of his body and his comforting touch, she’d often prop two or three pillows directly behind her like security barriers and lean back against them, pretending that he was still there holding onto her, protecting her, loving her. Dreaming of yesterday lost.

  Not long after his passing, Lovely vowed that she would never put off anything that she wanted to do or say ever again. She decided that she would dance. But where? How? When? It was while she was out on a rare evening after work that she decided to join a few of the nurses for happy hour at Legends. Although she had only been there twice, both times with Anthony, she remembered it being a very nice spot. Her sister agreed to watch Lil Tony and told her to go and have a good time. She read a flyer that was placed on each table announcing upcoming auditions for dancers. Examining it more closely, she thought, Why not?

  Assuming the girls coming through would most likely all be professional, Lovely shrugged her shoulders and dared herself to do it. Imagine her surprise when she got a call from Nettie, informing her that Skylar would like to see her again. She couldn’t believe it. She imagined Tony smiling down on her and saying, “Do your thing, baby!” That was a year ago. Lovely was now one of the top dancers at Legends. And she loved it!

  Unlike a few of the other girls, she didn’t complain about the salary. Each dancer received two hundred a night, for no more than two hours each night. And tips weren’t allowed. Little did anyone know, but Lovely would have done it for free. Once she took to the stage and heard the music, she’d let her body’s inner rhythms take over.

  Legends dancers were no strippers or go-go dancers. There weren’t any lewd or overtly suggestive dance moves either. These ladies were more like Vegas showgirls. Theme nights would find them bejeweled in extravagant costume jewelry, with boas and feathers, moving to the sounds of salsa, reggae, hip-hop, and Broadway tunes. This eclectic mix, coupled with the large percentage of female clientele, dashed the illusions of any man expecting Legends to be a gentlemen’s club. Such notions dissolved almost as soon as they walked in the club. In fact, Skylar had mentioned on more than one occasion to Sidney and Nettie that maybe they should hire a couple of male dancers as eye candy for the women—a suggestion that brought frowns to both of their faces, for almost the same reason. Neither Sidney nor Nettie looked forward to seeing men dance at the club. After a little coaxing, Skylar got them to at least agree to the possibility, and today she hoped that a few brothas might respond to their open call.

  Princess and Lovely were overseeing the audition process today. Skylar had a hair appointment at Zenora’s salon at eleven that morning and probably would not be back in time to see all of the would-be dancers that were coming through. But she trusted these two would make the right choices. Rainey and Vanessa, the other two dancers, were not required to be in attendance until their regular shift this evening. Nettie assured Skylar that she would also come in a little ear
lier to make sure things were cool. This made Skylar laugh because she knew the real reason—Nettie would never pass up a chance to see beautiful girls dance.

  Auditions went rather smoothly most of the morning; a few potentials came with impressive routines, but no one bowled Princess and Lovely over. Either girls came in off the street doing the nastiest, most sexually charged moves—what they thought Legends was looking for—or they came in full starlet gear, looking for an opportunity to be spotted by some local Philly rapper or national hip-hop star scouting for video hos. Young, old, fat, skinny, Asian, Black, Hispanic, and white: They’d filed in one by one. Handing over their song of choice to Quince, they launched into a two-minute routine.

  But then came Treasure, a six-foot-two, pencil-thin pre-op transsexual, demanding an opportunity to audition. Princess started to say no, but when Lovely noticed that Head, the club bouncer, was not in the room, she nudged Princess and whispered under her breath, “Let him/her audition.”

  With that, Treasure broke out into some wild 1990s voguing moves, complete with flat-on-her-back twists and turns. It took all of Princess’s might not to laugh, and Nettie—from her seat behind the bar—had stopped trying to hide her amusement. Princess thanked Treasure for coming, “But I’m sorry to say you’re not the type of dancer we’re looking for.” This did not go over too well with Treasure, who lashed out at both girls.

  “You dirty bitches don’t know real talent when you see it. I’ve been dancing for fifteen years and am recognized as one of the best in Atlantic City. You bitches come by Studio’s, where I work, and see some girls that will put all you tricks to shame,” she hissed. As her rant got louder and louder, Princess gave Nettie the eye that she might need her to call the police. Knowing that girls handle rejection differently, Princess and Lovely at first thought the best way to handle this situation was to not say anything in reply at all. Nettie felt quite differently however, and when Treasure breezed by her, she leaned in.

  “Baby, let me give you some womanly advice. The next time you answer an open call for dancers, make sure, if you want to be believable as a female, that you don’t wear Spandex,” she whispered.

  “Why?” Treasure sarcastically asked.

  “Because it looked like you got a lopsided sack of nickels in your private area. It’s a dead giveaway, baby!” Nettie remarked. “But even that isn’t why they won’t hire you,” she went on. “Bitch, you couldn’t dance!” Everyone howled at this, and Treasure was clearly embarrassed.

  These were fighting words for Treasure, who swiftly pulled a straight razor from her bra, just as Nettie pulled one from her wig. Holding it in a striking motion, she peered up at Treasure and said, “What’s up?” A surprised Treasure backed down and warned Nettie that she better not ever see her on the streets of A.C.

  “I’ll be there next Tuesday night as a matter of fact, at Bally’s doing a little gambling. So you bring your man ass to the nonsmoking section and you’ll see me on the blackjack table. We can settle this shit right then and there out on the boardwalk!” Nettie bellowed. “I don’t fight on my job. But I’ll beat yo ass till times gets better on the street. Now git out of here.”

  With one last glaring look, Treasure pointed her finger at Nettie, turned, and assured her that they would meet again. At least four more girls were waiting to be seen, so, burying her razor securely back in her wig like a bird’s egg in a nest, Nettie turned to Princess and Lovely and instructed them to proceed with the auditions. Without saying a word, they motioned for the next girl to come in while Nettie wiped down her bar, calm as ever.

  “That could have been so much worse. Where was Head?” a nervous Princess whispered. Looking over at Nettie, Lovely remarked, “Who needs Head? Next!”

  A few more girls came through and they still had not found what they were looking for. A stunning white five-foot-seven brunette with what appeared to be fake boobs, and sporting an ass like a sista, marched in, extended her hand, and in a Southern twang declared, “Hi, I’m Gidget! Is this where the auditions are poppin’ off?” Princess tried not to laugh, but Lovely didn’t seem to care and let out a howl. “Yes, Gidget—is that what you call yourself? This is indeed the right place, and we’re ready to see your routine if you are.” Princess figured that this would most likely be a quick audition, assuming that the cheerleader wannabe would probably be more suited for an Eagles tryout.

  As Gidget handed her CD over to Quince, Princess leaned into Lovely, saying, “Okay, bets on she’ll do some Hannah Montana number.”

  Staring Gidget down, Lovely disagreed. “Naw, I’m thinking Hilary Duff or a Spice Girl routine.” They both laughed. But the joke appeared to be on them. Girlfriend took center stage against the beats of a Mary J. Blige jam and rocked one of the hypist solo routines either of them had ever seen. Smiles left their faces and looks of disbelief took over. Princess and Lovely tilted their heads at an angle as if they were watching dance magic happen before their very eyes. Even Quince was shaken. “Oh, shit!” he shouted as he covered his mouth with a closed fist. He spun around sharply in a quick circle before returning his fixated stare to Gidget. Nettie looked up and mouthed “Work, bitch!” just loud enough for her own ears. After about a minute and a half, Princess gestured with her hand in a horizontal motion under her throat for Quince to cut the music. Cheers and exuberant clapping erupted in the room. Even Lovely stood up to give the white girl props. “Girl, that was off the chain! Where the hell you from? And why ain’t you already dancing?”

  “Why, thanks, I appreciate that. I’m from Pennsauken, New Jersey, by way of Nashville, Tennessee.” Gidget displayed a wide toothy grin like she was doing a Colgate commercial. All that was missing was the tube of paste, a camera, and someone shouting “Action!” Princess acted less enthused than she was, calmly telling Gidget they would like to see her at callbacks on Monday. She also told her it might be a good idea for her to come by the club that night to see the type of show they put on.

  “I can assure you I’ll be there,” Gidget said, and thanked them both again for the opportunity.

  After Gidget disappeared into the outside world, Lovely turned to Princess. “Can you believe that shit?”

  “Believe what?” Princess said.

  “C’mon, Princess, you got to give it to her. That girl was bad!” an excited Lovely stated.

  “She did all right. But let’s see how she handles our routines. What she did in here was a routine she’s probably been doing for years and had a whole lot of time to rehearse before coming. She’ll be expected to do much more here and learn it in a shorter time. I’ll just wait a while before I get too excited over Miss Girl from Pennsauken!” And with that, Princess gathered up her things, told Lovely she’d see her later, and thanked Quince and Nettie for their assistance. Not uttering anything else she exited the club, leaving behind a quiet atmosphere. Her behavior didn’t affect Lovely or anyone else; they were well aware of how Darlene Withers, aka Princess, could be sometimes.

  Shaking her head, Lovely went over to Nettie, who witnessed the whole exchange. “Dag, I don’t know why she acts that way. She knew that girl came in here and rocked it!” Lovely said to Nettie. “I mean, I have to admit that I am shocked, too, but it is what it is. You take can’t that away from her.”

  “Chile, that’s just the way that girl is. People act like that when they don’t like themselves,” Nettie offered. “All that beauty, talent, youth don’t mean shit, if you can’t wake up in the morning, look at yourself in the mirror, and like what you see. And I’m talking from experience.” With no intention of elaborating, Nettie quickly changed the subject. “Look, baby, I got to finish up here and prepare for tonight. You go on home for a few hours, because before you know it, you’ll need to be right back here reporting for work. And bring my little man by to see Auntie Nettie sometime. It’s been way too long.”

  “I will, Nettie, I will. He always asks about you. Especially when he gets mad at me after I’ve scolded him for something. He’ll
warn me he is going to tell Auntie Nettie on me,” Lovely laughed.

  “That’s right. He knows his auntie will take care of everything. You better leave my baby alone,” Nettie playfully said.

  “You ever think about having any children, Nettie? The way you love kids, I know you’d make a great mom,” Lovely said.

  “Girl, I’m forty-seven years old! My day care center has been closed for many years,” Nettie laughed as she pointed to her private area. “Naw, baby, mother loves kids, as long as they are not hers,” she added.

  “What about June? Has she ever talked about it with you?”

  “Yeah, she did, and I talked her ass right out of it, too!” Nettie barked. “We already fight every other day over some type of shit. Imagine if there was a child involved. Hell, at times I feel like I already got a child—her!” Nettie said sarcastically.

  “I don’t know, Nettie, a lot of same-sex couples are having children and raising them in a family environment. Statistics show they’re usually well adjusted.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know all about that,” Nettie said, waving her hand to dismiss the idea. “But that will never happen over here, baby. For one, I’m too old to get up on anybody’s table and start pushing. Second, June is too butch and thinks she is too much of a man to allow her body to carry a baby. That would make her have to deal with the reality that although she’s a lesbian, biologically she is still a woman. Chile, that would just put her under!” Nettie laughed. “Naw, we got some friends who have gone that route and they seem real happy about it. So I say hooray for them. But like I said, it ain’t happening over here. And I thought I told you to get outta here anyway! How did we get to jaw jerking ’bout me, huh?”

  With that they bid each other good-bye. Nettie stayed behind tending to what she needed to as Lovely stepped out into the bright sunny morning.