by L. Divine
10
Solo
“I can feel this for sure/ I’ve been here before.”
—TEENA MARIE
When Nigel picks me up, it’s already past ten. Jeremy and I took our time getting out of the car this evening making up, which didn’t give me but an hour to get ready. So, instead of my usual cornrows, I washed my hair and left the conditioner in, pulling my soft waves back into a tight bun at the base of my neck. Wearing my mom’s big, gold bamboo hoops, I hope to draw attention away from my large forehead.
“What’s up, baby girl?” Nigel says, pulling into the long driveway, alongside my mother’s apartment building.
“What’s up, Nigel?” I say, squeezing in between the car door and brick wall, not wanting to scratch up the classic Impala.
“Damn, baby, be careful,” he says, more concerned about the door than me.
“Shut up Nigel,” I say, narrowly making it into my seat. We back out of the driveway and head toward Raheem’s’ house with the music up loud enough for everyone to hear. It feels good being out. I miss the exhilaration of going to the studio late at night. It’s just something about being around good music and peaceful vibes that makes it worth all the drama.
“So, what’s up with your White boy? Did you tell him I’m your baby daddy yet?” he says, making light of my looming dilemma.
“Yes, I told him about us knowing each other from back in the day. But, that’s all he knows.” I still didn’t have the heart to tell Jeremy about tonight’s session or the fact my now friend is my former first love. Why is shit so difficult sometimes? Well, I’m just glad I’m not in my mom’s position with Ras Joe. Their breakup isn’t going well at all. He’s damn near stalking her and I think his woman knows about my mom too. She’s been real secretive about the whole thing. But, I get little insights from overheard cell conversations here and there.
“Damn, Jayd. What’s the big deal? So, he finds out you and Raheem used to date. What’s he going to do? Forbid you from hanging out with us?” he asks, not feeling the least bit threatened.
“No one can forbid me from doing anything, except Mama,” I say. But, I don’t think Jeremy would like me spending so much time with my ex. I would be hella pissed if I found out he was kicking it with Tania, no matter the circumstances. So, I can’t front. If he asks me not to hang with Nigel and Raheem, I’d have to give it some serious thought.
“Now that’s my Jayd,” Nigel says. “I started to think you were becoming a little punk for this fool,” he says, cruising down the crowded avenue.
“I’m not anyone’s punk. At least not anymore,” I say remembering the stupid shit I did in the name of love for Raheem. “But, I will respect my man’s wishes,” I say, making Nigel take his eyes off the road and look at me, not believing what he’s hearing, I guess.
“Are you on crack or something?” Nigel says, heading up the hill only moments away from Raheem’s house. “You better not ever sell us out for no White dude, Jayd. We go way, way back and that supersedes any dudes or females, for that matter.” Nigel was always the most ride or die out of us all. Our crew was tight, though. If one of us had a fight with someone on the outside, we all did.
“Ain’t nobody selling nobody out. Damn, you sound like them fools at school,” I say. Even though I know he means well, unlike the folks at school, he does remind me of Shae, and that ain’t cool at all. Sensing my disappointment, Nigel takes one hand of the steering wheel and places it on top of mine. When we reach Raheem’s, he parks in the driveway, turns off the engine, and talks to me.
“All I’m saying is that he ain’t the one, Jayd. Now, you can go and have your little fun with him or whatever. And, if he’s that serious to you, then bring him to a session one night. That’s how much we love you, girl. But, we all know he’s temporary. Your real man is inside,” Nigel says. Before I can protest, Kamal runs up to the car, opening my door.
“Jayd!” he screams, practically pulling me to my feet. At eight years old, the boy’s almost as tall as I am, making me remember how I got the nickname Lyttle in the first place.
“Kamal, be careful, boy. She’s precious cargo,” Raheem says, following him to the driveway.
“Hey, Rah,” I say, looking at him over Kamal’s shoulder. After letting me out of the tight embrace, Kamal runs back up the driveway toward the house.
“Rah took me to Shakey’s,” Kamal says. “Want some chicken and Mojo potatoes?” he asks from the porch.
“No, thank you, lil man. I just ate,” I say, laughing at his enthusiasm. It must be nice to be so young and innocent. I wish I could just be happy with some food.
“Well, I didn’t,” Nigel says, following Kamal into the house. “I’ll catch up with y’all in a minute,” he says, leaving me alone with Raheem.
“So, do I get a hug?” Rah says, pulling me into his arms without waiting for a reply. His hugs are entrancing, reminding me of long afternoons spent behind the bleachers, hiding from the rest of the world. I’ve always felt so safe in his arms.
“How was your week?” I ask as we head into the house, ready to start the session.
“It was cool,” he says, passing up Kamal and Nigel and leading me through the kitchen to the studio. I still can’t get over how much work he’s done in here. When Rah sets his mind to something he wants, there’s no stopping him. “I got an A on my history paper. That was the toughest shit I’ve ever been through. But, it was worth it. And, you?”
“My week was OK,” I say as Nigel comes in, interrupting our twosome.
“Hey, Rah. Did Jayd tell you she’s keeping you a secret from her man?”
“Nigel,” I say, smacking him in the head. Why is he such a hater? “That’s not any of his business.”
“Oh, so now you’re keeping secrets from me too,” Rah says, teasing me. “You’re not the honest and upright Jayd Jackson I once knew and loved,” he says revealing his perfectly straight teeth. When did he get his braces removed?
“I’m not keeping secrets,” I say, defending my logic. “I’m just waiting for the right time to ask him to a session,” I say, calling Nigel’s earlier bluff.
“We don’t allow just anyone to the sessions, Jayd. You know that,” Raheem says, becoming territorial over his precious studio. Unlike other artists, Nigel and Raheem keep the energy in their space completely professional.
“Nigel said I could invite him one night. Besides, I think it’s time y’all go to know each other, since we’re friends and he’s my man, right?” I say. Nigel’s sitting back, enjoying the show, or so I think.
“Jayd, you’re full of shit, you know that?” Nigel says, stuffing the last of his Mojo potatoes from a napkin into his mouth.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, defensively. “You just told me if Jeremy means that much to me then I should invite him over,” I say, repeating his words for Rah to hear, who doesn’t look amused.
“Yeah, if he’s the one for you,” he says, giving Raheem a nod and walking over to the booth, ready for work. “Which he ain’t and you’re the only one still in denial about that.” With that, Nigel goes into the soundproof booth, closing the door shut behind him. Rah looks at me, reading my thoughts without saying a word. We both know this road all too well. I plop down onto the couch, watching Raheem set up the beat for Nigel’s flow.
Raheem and I will always be more than friends. It’s a fact that no matter who he’s dating or who I’m dating, there’s always room for us. We don’t have to touch to feel our connection. And, after seeing Jeremy’s true jealous personality, I know he’s not going to understand our relationship. Maybe this is what Mama meant by telling me to talk to my mother about making half assed decisions. I really just want the answer to one question: Will I ever be happy with a man?
I have always secretly envied my mom’s skin. Her perfectly smooth ebony complexion matches Nellie’s perfectly. Sometimes I think they should be mother and daughter. I’ve always admired the fact that their complexion hides blemishes fla
wlessly, looks better in bright colors, and seems to have a timeless royalty about it.
“Hey, baby. How was work?” she says, stretching like a Siamese cat across her sofa, reminding me of how nice a nap would be in the middle of the afternoon. I only have a few hours before I have to get ready for my date with Jeremy tonight and I’m exhausted from last night’s session. I also need to get started on Mama’s assignment.
“It was cool. How was home?” I say, laughing at her. She works hard all week in an office, so she deserves to chill on the weekend.
“Actually, your aunt Vivica and I went to Robinson’s May. You know they’ve closed just about all of them now,” she says, sounding really sad about it.
“Yeah, so I heard. Did you buy anything nice fore me?” I ask, already knowing the answer to that question.
“No, but I bought plenty of stuff for you to borrow,” she says, getting up from her spot and walking toward the kitchen. “And I talked to Mama this morning,” she says. “What’s this I hear about you choosing my path?” Her path? I don’t remember Mama mentioning my mother writing down her story in the book. According to Mama, a path is only valid if it’s been recorded.
“What are you talking about?” I say, following her into the kitchen and taking a sip out of her cup. Bailey’s and Cream. I lucked out.
“Jayd,” she says, snatching the cup from my hand and giving me an evil look. “I’m serious. Mama’s pissed at you for not studying your lessons. She wants you to take your legacy seriously, unlike me and your auntie,” she says, putting the cup down and leaning up against the counter, watching me leave the crowded kitchen and head into the bathroom.
“But, why me? Why now?” I say, feeling a little overwhelmed. I come here to get away from Mama’s house. I know she reigns supreme no matter where I go. But still, with my mom breathing down my neck about my spirit work, I feel like Mama’s here. I can’t get any time off.
“I don’t know why, Jayd. But, Mama’s always felt you were special. She says that’s why I hooked up with your crazy ass Daddy in the first place, to get your exceptional behind here. So, study your lessons and keep Mama off both our backs,” she says, slamming the refrigerator door shut after taking out half its contents and placing the food on the kitchen counter. I hope she cooks. That would be a nice treat.
“But, how did you get a choice?” I yell as I change out of my work clothes and into some basketball shorts, a sports bra, and a clean head rag, ready for a good nap.
“Mama was too busy having babies to really worry about me. And, at that time, she was very busy in the church with Daddy. So, I never saw any of Mama’s spiritual side until I was in high school. By then, she and Daddy were at war.”
“Well, that battle’s still going on,” I say, walking back into the kitchen and retrieving a skillet from the top cabinet to fry the ground turkey. My mom can cook three things very well: lasagna, lemon meringue pie, and tacos, which is my favorite and tonight’s choice. Even though she’s going through some BS with Ras Joe, I’m still glad she’s home for a change. It’s nice when we have time to cook together.
“Girl, you had better catch up in your reading. This is about the age Mama will give up on you. She’s not known for her patience, ya know,” my mom says, shaking the package of Lawry’s Taco seasoning before adding it to the water, pouring it in my skillet full of browning meat.
“I know, I know,” I say, feeling guilty enough already. If Mama talked to my mom about it, I know she’s really hurt. They usually only talk about the mundane stuff that keeps a relationship going. So, this must be serious.
“And, what were you thinking not finishing Maman Marie’s story?” she asks, taking the corn tortillas out of the package and putting them in the hot cast-iron skillet full of olive oil. She puts just a pinch of salt in the skillet before individually placing each tortilla in, submerging them completely. It smells like a Mexican restaurant in here. My mom takes a sip of her drink and continues to gently grind me. “How could you put it down?” she says, now chopping up the lettuce and tomatoes. She passes the cheese grater and a big block of sharp cheddar cheese to me.
“I actually was very interested, but I just haven’t had time to become completely engrossed in it. But so far, I see a lot of the similarities between her love life and ours. Why don’t you spring for pregrated cheese?” I ask. This is always my job and I hate doing it. It reminds me of Mama making me grate cocoa butter, shea butter, black soap, and any other thing that needs grating in her spirit room.
“Grating that cheese is the least of your problems, Jayd,” she says, stirring the simmering taco meat and turning the heat off. She carefully takes the golden tortillas out of the skillet and lays them on the flattened paper bag to absorb the grease. “Mama thinks you’ve got it,” she says, transferring the tortillas to a paper plate and passing them to me. I put the plate on the dining room table and walk back into the crammed kitchen to get the taco sauce, Red Rooster, and two cans of Coke out of the refrigerator.
“Got what?” I say, already knowing the answer to my question. I’ve had to hear the story of my unusual birth all of my life. And, I’ve also had to hear about how my caul, or my veil of sight, wasn’t properly cared-for according to Mama, which set my destiny off on a difficult path. And, how my eyes aren’t green like Mama’s, my Mom’s and Maman Marie’s, leading Mama to doubt if I actually inherited the Williams women sight.
“Girl, don’t play silly with me. Mama told me about your dreams, Jayd. And, interpreting dreams is a big part of having the sight,” she says. “I didn’t take any of my visions or my spirit work seriously. And now, the sight doesn’t come to me anymore,” she says, sounding sad again.
“I know it’s a lot of work, Jayd,” my mom says, taking a seat at the dining table. I love her tacos and I sit ready to throw down too. “But I honestly think you’re up to the task,” she says, digging into the taco meat and condiments. Instead of folding our tacos, we break the shells into small pieces and scoop up the filling, Ethiopian style. I don’t know why we eat our tacos like this, but we always have.
“I tried to explain to her I’m going through a lot at school right now and it’s taking up most of my time,” I say. I didn’t realize how tired and sore I was, but now that I’ve worked a full day today after being out all night, I feel it. After rehearsing Thursday and Friday and running around like a mad woman publicizing Nellie, I’m really whipped.
“That’s what I meant by following my path. I never wanted to be different. I just wanted to chill with my girls, live a good life and have some peace. Living with Mama was never peaceful,” my mom says, picking up her Coke and taking a sip while looking like she’s about to drop some knowledge. “I just never wanted to know like you do, Jayd.”
“But, that’s just it, Mom. I don’t know if I want to know right now,” I say, scooping up the last of the taco mix on my plate, ready for more. “It’s a lot to deal with and try to have a normal teenage life.”
“Look, Jayd, if it’s one thing I learned from being one of Mama’s daughters it’s that your life will never settle down,” she says, also going for seconds. “And, had I taken advantage of Mama’s spiritual legacy, I would know how to deal with this bull out here in the real world.”
“So, what you’re saying is I should choose to study my spirit work so I can better handle high school, but at the same time sacrifice my social life? That doesn’t seem fair,” I say, not meaning to sound like a baby. But, damn, I want the best of both worlds.
“It’s time to grow up, Jayd. You’re going to have to make a decision about which path you want to walk, and soon. This is all leading up to the first leg of your initiation into womanhood, Jayd. And, Mama ain’t gone wait for long to test you. You think all your little quizzes and assignments are something. Wait until Mama really tests you. Then you’ll know for sure whether or not you’re the one.”
“Which one?” I say. I feel like I’m in the ghetto version of The Matrix or something.
> “The one to break the cycle of screwed up relationships that divert us from our true legacy of fierce warrior womanhood,” she says, clearing the table. “One of Mama’s favorite heroes is Queen Califia, Queen of California, a.k.a. ‘the land where Black women live,’” my mom says, without as much as a blink. Is she serious? “Queen Califia is the namesake for our Golden State. Have you gotten that far in your history lessons yet?” she asks, referring to Mama’s secret recipe book.
“No, I haven’t and I’ve never heard of California having a queen,” I say.
“Yeah, there’s a picture of her in the book. The point is she has a legacy just like we all do. Read about your ancestors and other heroes and consciously choose who you want to emulate,” my mom says, returning to her spot on the couch, ready for another nap. I now have less than two hours before my date and I feel heavier than ever, another trait in my blood. Well, I wonder if Jeremy can handle all the woman I apparently am going to be.
11
Visible Evidence
“If you must dance, Dance for me.”
—ME’SHELL NDEGEOCELLO
When Jeremy gets here, he finally comes in to meet my mom. Wearing some simple blue Levis, a Cal Berkeley T-shirt and his usual sandals, he looks adorable. His Irish Spring fresh scent precedes him into the apartment. I’ve also chosen a comfy pair of Levis and an orange V-neck T-shirt to wear with my gold sandals from our first shopping trip for tonight’s date. My hair is still in a bun with the big earrings and gold bangle to match. I have to admit, we look pretty good from the outside. But, it’s the core of our relationship I’m concerned with.
“This must be Jeremy,” my mom says, greeting him at the door. “I was starting to think you didn’t exist,” she says, ushering him inside and winking at me over her shoulder.