by L. Divine
“Some friends know when to shut up,” Nellie says, rolling her eyes at me and following her queen bee back to the hive. Shell-shocked, I allow Jeremy to pull me away toward drama class. I don’t know how we got to this point. Where does Nellie come off turning on us like this and telling me I don’t know when to shut up? She and Jeremy sound like best friends more than we do. I wish I could get Tania alone for just five minutes. That’s all I need to weed this poisonous vine out of our yard.
“You all right, babe?” Jeremy says, opening the front door to my classroom well after the bell has rung. Luckily Mrs. Sinclair rarely takes roll on time, if she’s even here. “You didn’t have a word to say during the entire seven minutes it took to walk down here. That’s a record for you,” Jeremy says, trying to make me smile. But that stung a little, too.
“Am I really that bad?” I ask, seeking some sort of validation.
“Yes, but it’s cute most of the time. Just lately it seems like I see so much of the fiery Jayd and less of the cool Lady J,” he says, following me into the buzzing room, our teacher missing in action. “I miss her very much. See you after school.” Jeremy bends down and gives me a kiss before handing me my backpack and heading out the door to his own class. It must be nice to be privileged around here.
“Are you okay?” I say, walking over to Chance, who beat us here by a few minutes. Alia has promptly taken out the first-aid kit, coming to the aid of her man—in her eyes. She’s much better fit for someone as nice as he is. Nellie would wear his ass out in a week. I hope he sees that now, even with his bloodied vision.
“I’m cool. But you need to check your girl, though. She gives people like Mr. Weiner fuel for their fire,” Chance says, alluding to what I don’t know. But I agree, Nellie does need to check herself.
“Well, I’ve been trying to get through to her. You still being in her fan club hasn’t helped much either. I hope you’ve come around to seeing things my way,” I say, taking a seat next to him as Mrs. Sinclair walks in, heading straight for her office in the back, her unfinished lunch in hand. She’s such a trip.
“Not Nellie,” Chance says, sitting up straight in his chair, ruining Alia’s fantasy of playing his nursemaid. “I’m talking about your girl Mickey. I mean, your little temper is kinda feisty and cute,” he says, sounding a lot like Jeremy, “but all that anger and punching people and shit has got to go.”
What the hell? “You must’ve gotten hit harder than I thought. You sure you don’t want to go to the nurse’s office?” I ask. This fool’s lost his mind if he thinks Mickey was in the wrong.
“No, but maybe you do if you think Mickey punching Nellie was cool. That’s just some uncalled-for bullshit, Jayd. And you know I’m right. You’d never do that to your girl, and there’s a reason: because you’ve got class,” he says. Now, see, White folks say some stupid shit sometimes that you’ve got to let slide every once in a while. But not completely.
“So are you saying that Mickey’s lower class because she tried to slap the Black back into our friend turned Oreo?” I say, making everyone in the room shut up and listen. What did I say?
“You can’t slap the Black back into someone, Jayd. And Nellie’s just fine the way she is.” How in the hell would he know how to get her back to her senses? As I watch Chance march off into the dressing room with Alia right behind him, I wonder what he meant by his comment about Mr. Weiner. What don’t I know about the way these supposedly cool White men feel about us feisty Black girls? I intend to find out after school. It’s time to get all our feelings out in the open.
9
Cleaning House
“Friends, how many of us have them?”
—BONE THUGS-N-HARMONY
I couldn’t think about anything else for the last two periods of school except for Chance’s comment about Jeremy’s dad. I know his mom’s a trip. But I never got that feeling from Mr. Weiner. Maybe it’s because he’s always drunk when I see him. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t really care for Black women. Most folks around here have negative images in their heads when you say anything about a sistah’s attitude. My mom says some of our own men don’t like our fire either. But she also thinks they’re the only ones who can handle us and appreciate our inner strength, something both Rah and KJ liked about me.
This whole thing’s really got me thinking about my relationship with Jeremy. My mom warned me in my dream about friends versus frenemies. And, she wasn’t just talking about my girls, I don’t think. I feel like Jeremy’s good to me and loves me, sort of. I think he likes the fire that makes me Jayd only when it complements him, and that ain’t cool. If we’re going to survive, that’ll have to change. We need to get some things out in the open, and there’s no time like the present to do that.
“Jeremy, does your dad have a problem with Black girls?” I ask as Jeremy and I walk hand in hand through the busy mall. We haven’t been back since our embarrassing scene with KJ a few weeks ago. My gold J bangle sparkles as the sunlight beams through the glass ceiling, making me smile. I wish Mama would let me wear my jade bracelets every day. But she says they’re precious and can be worn only on special occasions. I hope the Masquerade Ball is one of them. Besides being pretty, they’re very powerful tools that help me focus my thoughts. And that’ll be helpful if something does go down at the ball.
“What are you talking about?” Jeremy says, sipping on his extra-large cherry Icee as we wait for our Chinese food. South Bay Galleria has the best choice of restaurants in a mall I’ve ever seen.
“Chance said something about fueling Mr. Weiner’s fire and others like him. What did he mean?” Jeremy, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden, has to take a bathroom break.
“I gotta take a leak before our food comes. Hold this for me,” he says, leaving me standing in line and holding his frozen drink. As Jeremy enters the men’s restroom to the right of the food court, I see Tania walk out of a maternity store across the way with her Yorkshire terrier—just like China’s—peeking out of her Louis Vuitton bag. I would say it’s the perfect time to question her about Jeremy, but this whole scene feels eerily familiar, and he’ll be back any minute to finish our conversation. Noticing me, Tania heads my way. She’s going to force me to confront her now anyway.
“Number three forty-six!” the lady behind the counter yells. The other customers look at their receipts, hoping it’s their food. I know it’s our order, but my hands are full and Jeremy’s nowhere to be found. And I know Tania’s not coming over here to help me.
“Jayd, so nice to see you outside of school. I hope Chance is okay after today’s unfortunate episode,” Tania says with the fakest smile ever. She can teach Nellie all the ins and outs of being a perfect Oreo, even if she is Persian and not black. It may be a different mix, but the results are the same.
“Whatever, trick. What are you even doing here? Don’t you have to finish planning Nellie’s sabotage?” I say, tired of pretending with this girl. I have no patience for her worrisome ass right now. And where’s her entourage? I’d think she’d have too many enemies to ever want to be seen alone in public. But maybe she’s not comfortable sharing her pregnancy with everyone quite yet.
“Oh, Jayd, stop trying to be everyone’s savior all the time and have some fun. Like me—I’m just getting some shopping done. Helps to alleviate stress,” Tania says, fanning her hand like she’s just had one of Mama’s hot flashes. Nellie and this girl also have the diva aspect in common. “Um, I don’t know if you know it or not,” she says, rubbing her nonexistent belly with her left hand, also displaying her engagement ring and small shopping bag from Motherhood, “but I’m expecting.” She’s gleaming like she just hit the lotto.
“Congratulations,” I say as sarcastically as possible. This girl’s really a trip. My hands are turning numb from the cold drinks melting in my hand, just like they did in my dream.
“You sound as if you already knew,” Tania says, a little disappointed, realizing it’s not as devastating a blow as
she’d planned, I guess. “Did Jeremy tell you? Did he also reveal that he’s the father?” she adds, curious about how much I know. She seems apprehensive about something, but what exactly I can’t put my finger on.
“Let’s just say I had a little divine intuition,” I respond, tired of her games.
“Oh. Well, since you know everything,” she says, looking like she’s going for the kill; she has the exact same look as she did in my dream, “tell him he and his family need to hurry up with the parental-rights paperwork. I know they don’t want any little brown babies any more than my family wants any illegitimate ones running around. Smooches,” she says, she and her little bitch in tow. What the hell just happened here?
“Hey, babe,” Jeremy says, finally returning from the restroom. That must’ve been some piss. “Is the food up?” I forgot all about the damned food with Tania’s little visit. I have a feeling she doesn’t really want to give up the possibility of a family life with Jeremy. This is what some of these girls attend school for: to meet their husbands in the same circle as themselves. And she doesn’t seem at all concerned about being pregnant and getting married her senior year. So it must be something with Jeremy and his family that’s preventing her legitimate fairy tale from coming true.
“Yeah, it is. What’s up with your family and brown babies?” I ask, getting straight to the heart of the matter as he slides our full tray from the cashier and looks around for an empty spot.
“Jayd, can we just eat without any questions?” he says, choosing a table on the other side of the large eating area next to the atrium. “Where’s this coming from, anyway?” I follow him to our seats and get comfortable, ready for the showdown. I have to play him like chess, which is a lot like what Mama said to do—visualize my end result. And I want the truth as my checkmate.
“Well, I just got hit in a drive-by from your baby’s mama,” I say, taking the majority of soy-sauce packets from the tray and opening them. I love orange chicken and vegetable fried rice. It’s one of my favorite meals, and I’m starving. I didn’t get to eat at all today, and with all the excitement, I’ve worked up a ferocious appetite. “She said something about parental paperwork and no brown Weiner heirs,” I say, stuffing a forkful of the steaming food into my mouth. This might explain why after years of marriage Jeremy’s older brother and half-Black wife have no children. What’s really going on here? Jeremy’s slamming down his broccoli, chicken and steamed rice like it’s his last meal. He missed lunch, too, and his appetite is at least twice the size of mine, I’m sure.
“Jayd, I really don’t want to talk about this right now,” he says without looking up. But I must persist. He can’t keep me out in the dark on this one.
“Jeremy, look. This came to me, I didn’t seek it out. So let me help if I can,” I say, touching his hand from across the small table. He looks into my eyes, and without saying a word, I see all the pain he’s trying to protect me from. He’s hurting over this, and I can’t help him because, for some reason, he thinks it’s out of his hands.
“Look, Jayd, I don’t want to fight. I just want to have dinner with my girl, catch a movie and chill,” he says, sitting back in his chair, exhausted. In about five minutes Jeremy has managed to clean his plate and is now working on the package of egg rolls we’re sharing, with the fortune cookies last on his list. Damn, he can throw down. Jeremy and Mickey should have an eating contest one day. But I somehow don’t think that’s ever going to happen.
“We can do all that and take care of business,” I say while offering him a bite of my food. He accepts my fork and gives me a slight smile. “Let me in,” I plead. “If you keep shutting me out, you’re going to close the door for good, and I don’t want that.”
“Me neither. But some things, Jayd, you got to learn to let go. Tania and all her issues is one of those things,” he says, rising to put his tray on the trash can next to our table while I quickly finish my plate. Our movie starts in twenty minutes, and I want to check out this Lucky Brand Jeans bag in Macy’s before we go in. All the stores will be closed by the time the movie’s over, and I need to price it so I can budget it into my next few checks, braiding money included. Sometimes a girl just needs to treat herself, and I’ve wanted an authentic bag for a while now. I’m tired of carrying this fake Coach around. Even if I can afford only the small satchel, I’m still getting my purse.
“Jeremy, both Chance and Tania alluded to some racial issues with your dad in the same day; that’s no coincidence,” I say, getting up to put my plate on top of the tray, which Jeremy takes and places into the automatic trash can. Those things still freak me out. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Look, Jayd, my parents have issues, okay?” Jeremy says, following me down the escalator toward Macy’s. “I’m sure your family has things you don’t necessarily want the world to know about.” Well, he’s got me there. But the difference is that if he asks me about my family drama, I’ll tell him. So he should show me the same respect and trust.
“Okay, what kinds of issues?” Here we go, the truth-and-tell segment of the relationship. I hope he rises to the occasion. “And what does your dad have against Black girls?”
“Jayd, he doesn’t have anything against Black girls. All his sons have Black women in their lives.” Now that ain’t really true. Christi and Tammy may be Black by blood but not in culture. I’m actually the first sistah any of them has ever brought home, and there’s some obvious discomfort in that.
“That doesn’t mean shit, Jeremy. That’s like all the other bigots who say they can’t be racist because they have Black friends. That line of reasoning doesn’t fly.” Momentarily distracted from our conversation, I see my purse sitting behind the glass case, just waiting for me. Too bad they don’t have layaway here. I remember I asked this White saleslady about it when I first came to this mall last year. She looked at me like I was speaking Mandarin.
“May I help you, miss?” a saleslady, who reminds me of Mama, says from behind the counter. Jeremy’s standing behind me, watching me envy the expensive bag.
“Yes, how much for this leather satchel?” I ask. I wonder what it’s like to never have to ask about price and just pick out what you want. I wouldn’t know about that lifestyle, but I assume that’s the way Tania and Jeremy have lived all their lives.
“Two hundred and twenty-eight dollars,” she says, like she just told me the price for a piece of gum. Well, I guess I won’t be getting that bag until my birthday because that’s how long it’s going to take me to save up that kind of money.
“Thank you,” I say, turning around to walk out of the store toward the theater. We have about ten more minutes before the movie starts, and even after that slamming meal, we’re still going to need candy, popcorn and drinks.
“Wait a minute. You’re not going to try it on?” Jeremy says. I think he likes to watch me model things for him. He rarely lets me eye anything without actually touching it.
“Jeremy, it’s on my wish list. Besides, we have a movie to catch and a conversation to finish,” I say, pulling him out of the quiet department store and back into the buzzing mall. It’s Friday night, and it’s packed in here. The nail shop has a line out the door, the stores are overcrowded and the movie theater is no different.
“What conversation? I thought we were finished,” he says, wishing that were true. He has to know me better than that by now.
“Not until you answer my questions,” I persist as we stand in line for our tickets. I love going out with Jeremy not only because he always pays for everything but because he’s such a gentleman about it. He never even mentions money on a date, when we’re at lunch or if we’re just kicking it after school. He always has my back when it comes to that.
“Jayd, my dad has issues with loud, rude people in general. It’s not just Black girls,” he says, cutting to the chase. “Chance said that because Mickey’s a prime example of what it means to lose control, and she just happens to be black.” Now we’re getting somewhere.
“So are you saying if it was a White girl who went off like Mickey did today, your dad would have a problem with her, too?” Before answering, Jeremy looks confused, like the thought never occurred to him before.
“Yeah, I guess so. But I’ve never seen a White girl do what Mickey did today,” he says. And I guess in his reality that’s true. But that’s a problem with me. He has a definite idea in his mind of what Black women are like compared to White women, and that has to change.
“So your dad doesn’t want any brown babies because he thinks they’ll be loud?” I ask, trying to get the rest of the truth out of him. I know there’s more to this story than what he’s telling me.
“No, Tania’s a completely separate issue,” Jeremy says, purchasing the tickets from the automatic machine and opening the double doors. “She wants to get married, and I sure as hell don’t. That’s the end of that.” But, that ain’t what Tania said, and I don’t think she just threw in the little brown bay-bay kid for the hell of it.
“Jeremy, why don’t your older brother and his wife have any babies?” I ask. Jeremy gets a sullen look across his face, like I’ve just sparked up a very painful topic.
“She lost a baby in high school and couldn’t have any children after that,” he says, not going any further. I wonder if it had anything to do with the car accident Reid’s family caused?
“I’m sorry,” I say. I’m not going to push the subject any more right now. But I still feel like he’s hiding something.