Mercedes still had the phone in her hand. “Hello?” she said, sounding scared to death.
“Okay, ma’am. You did great.”
Mercedes said, “Bye,” as though in a daze and simply hung up, standing before the door to Mattie’s room.
She stood there trembling, and actually pinched her arm, hard, without looking down. And again she pinched herself. She felt the pain and took a deep breath, realizing this was not a dream. She instantly used the landline to call Mason. It went directly to voicemail. Her voice was piercing. “Mason. Mason, call me right back. It’s an emergency!”
Struggling to remember her brother-in-law’s number, she called Torino and he answered. She hollered with all of her might, watching the paramedics work on Mattie. “Torino, Mamma stopped breathing. I can’t reach Mason. The ambulance is here at the house. Come quick, please!” she begged in terror. “Hurry!”
It was then that Mercedes began to sob, crying a river in the name of her mother-in-law.
Nadia joined her, howling as though tormented by an unimaginable, gut-wrenching pain.
But, it was no one’s imagination.
It was real.
17
The Wilsons
“. . . beyond the rainbow why, oh why, can’t I?”
A dark Saturday. Fall had fallen. Hearts had broken.
The sky was gray and the autumn leaves were brown. A tribute to a matriarch’s life had been planned.
Front row, the Wilson family.
All dressed in black.
Edwardian dresses with large satin bows.
Organza suits with white Peter Pan collars.
Velvet tiered skirts with ebony blazers.
Six button double-breasted suits with solid silk ties.
Three piece pinstripe with French-cuff dress shirts.
The fashions were classic and rich.
Their faces were dark and sorrowful.
Yet Star smiled.
Her lace pinafore pleated dress had a wide silk sash.
The smile, and the outfit were for her Grammy.
Her Grammy whose body lay before them in the silver metal casket.
The viewings had already taken place.
The enormous stained glass windowed sanctuary in Playa Del Rey called the Angel City Worship Center was packed, almost as packed as it would have been for a regular Sunday morning service. The rows of red velvet seats were full. The cathedral ceiling was adorned by soft water color paintings of blue skies and white cottony clouds with soaring angels. It was a day to celebrate a queen angel gone home to her king. A day the Wilson family had long dreaded.
The salt-and-pepper haired, well dressed reverend who the Wilsons had known for decades and who they called the Rev, had already spoken with vigor and passion for about thirty minutes about the meaning of life and the amazing life of Mattie Wilson, his church member and friend who died of complications from Alzheimer’s.
He spoke from the altar. “I met the classy couple, Jesse and Mattie Wilson, when their youngest son, Torino, was a teenager.” He looked toward Torino and then back at the audience. “In the beginning after they moved from Houston the Wilsons would always bring all three boys to early service, all well dressed in suits and ties, very well-mannered. And of course Mattie, who was truly the original diva, wore a fancy hat and tailored suit, looking like Michelle Obama, and they’d sit in the front row. I wasn’t the pastor back then. My dad was. But I’d notice that at the end of every service when some people would wait around to meet and greet my dad, the Wilsons would always wait patiently in line, standing with their sons. They would step up and shake his hand, each paying their individual respects. Not once did they look impatient or did they rush.
“They came to church together and worshiped together. Their father Jesse would even usher the Thursday evening services. And then one day their oldest son who you all know, Mason Wilson,” he said while looking directly at Mason and nodding, “headed off on tour to embark upon his record-breaking pro-golf career, and whose own son Rashaad, by the way, is now following in his footsteps. So though at one time it would be the five Wilsons each week, then there were four, three, and eventually two as the young men attended less and less frequently, each having their own lives but nonetheless they came, even eventually bringing their new family members.”
He stepped from behind the podium. “The family that prays together stays together, and Jesse and Mattie Wilson were married for forty-two years before Jesse went home to be with the Lord. A lifetime of loving each other, two souls have now been reunited eternally. What a blessing. No longer suffering. No longer in pain. Let us not be selfish and mourn for ourselves as though we feel we’ll never see them again, only focusing on our own sense of loss. You will meet again.
“Let us rejoice and be thankful. John 14, verses one through four, Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And when I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going. And John 14:28, If you loved me you would be glad that I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I.
“Psalm 51, verse seven, Cleanse me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me and I will be whiter than snow. If anyone had a clean heart and a steadfast spirit of joy of His salvation, Mattie Belafonte Wilson had it. She was loving and she endured. Born in 1931, she had a life some wouldn’t call easy, growing up an only-child in Mississippi. Raised by a single mother who would work three jobs just to keep on the lights while Mattie would often stay home alone making her own way, barely a teen.
“She married her childhood sweetheart named Jesse Wilson. When they earned their college degrees they married and had their three boys who later took care of their mother after their father passed away. They kept her home, even when the signs of her failing health were obvious. When the Lord called her home she was just shy of turning eighty. But when it was time you can trust and believe that Mattie Wilson closed her eyes and held out her hands, saying, ‘Thank you, Lord, for this amazing life. I’m ready. I’m coming home.’ Here’s a video portrait of the many phases and stages of the life of, Mattie Belafonte Wilson.”
The instrumental version of the song, “Home,” by Stephanie Mills played through the speakers and a large projector screen appeared. The pictures began to scroll along, one by one.
There were shots of Mattie pregnant with Mason - one of her with Torino as a baby - one with Claude hugging her - a shot of Jesse Wilson holding Rashaad in the hospital the day he was born - a family portrait of all three sons, along with Rashaad, Star, and Mercedes just before Jesse passed away - and a photo of Mattie with Nadia when they first brought her home. Also, there was a picture of a three year-old Star, sitting in her grandmother’s lap at the piano, playing away with just one finger. The presentation ended.
“A beautiful life. A job well done, Mattie Wilson. You lived the time between your birth and your passing with purpose and left much to show for it. The people here today honor you, cherish you, acknowledge you, and love you, for the lives you have touched are many. We celebrate that beautiful life you lived, and your talented granddaughter, Star Elizabeth Wilson, has selected a song she’d like to play on the piano, just for you.” He looked at Star and offered a large smile. “Star.” He motioned with his hand for her to approach, and he stepped aside, taking a seat next to his wife near the pulpit.
Sitting next to her brother Rashaad, Star stood as those in attendance applauded. Wearing black ballet slippers, she walked over to the white baby-grand piano while the musicians put down their instruments and allowed her full reign. She held her head high and positioned herself smack dab in the middle of the shiny bench. She cracked her long, slender fingers and positioned her feet over the pedals, then placed her hands into position, took a deep breath and began to play. With bl
ue-gray painted nails, her trained fingers worked with precision.
With every keystroke she gave a subtle shoulder sway, moving along to the melody. The notes signaled a familiar song. She stared straight ahead at the casket before her, then down at the keyboard, and then toward the audience, and said with volume, “This is the song my Grammy liked. We’d watch “The Wizard of Oz” all the time together. No matter how she felt, she’d focus on nothing but the television screen when we’d watch it. I’d crawl into bed with her and we’d just watch. Her favorite song of the entire movie, the one she’d sing along with and eventually hum along to was “Over the Rainbow.”
Star continued to play, sharing her gift from God - the gift that had landed her scholarships and recognition and led her toward her bright future, all inspired by her grandmother who had taught Star to play when she was only three.
But this time at the age of twenty-two, words accompanied the notes and Star began to sing – sing from a place deep down in her soul, a place that only her grandmother knew about before now. “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there’s a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby.” She belted out the words, continuing to sing about troubles melting like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops, and then sang, “That’s where I’ll find you,” changing the words a bit with a twinkle in her eyes. It was a soulful and powerful rendition.
Mason, who had been holding it all together on the outside allowed his insides to show and a tear rolled down his cheek and into his mouth. He swallowed and coughed. Then another tear followed, this time making it to his chin, which he dabbed away.
Mercedes was way ahead of him. She wiped her mascara-laced eyes with a white handkerchief, sniffled and then squinted her eyes shut only to reopen them releasing more tears. She was moved by the sight and the sound of her daughter paying tribute to a grandmother she had grown to love in a way she would never love anyone else. She was also in shock that her baby girl could even carry a tune, let alone do it very well. She looked at Mason who only looked straight forward, so she did as well.
Torino held Sequoia just a little bit tighter, and Sequoia squeezed little TJ’s hand.
As the song went on, Claude, who was seated in-between his wife and daughter, placed his hand on Venus’s thigh just as Skyy snuggled in closer to him, tucking her legs underneath her. He kissed the top of her head and wept.
Cameron and Rashaad sat next to each other, both with their mouths wide open. Rashaad wiped his eye and played it off as if something was in it. Cameron looked over at him and nodded to say, it’s okay. Rashaad nodded back.
Mattie’s caregiver, Lucinda Ramirez, was next to Rashaad along with her family. She cried like a baby having told Mercedes she was mad at herself for not staying over the night Mattie died.
Extended family members filled the remaining reserved rows.
Meanwhile, Star continued to show that she was given the perfect name. She shined so bright that it was blinding. A beam of light shone through the stained-glass windowpanes that aimed itself directly upon the piano and its pianist. The rays had met their intended target who ended her song, singing, “If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow why, oh why, can’t I?” Then Star held the last note, pressing the keys even harder, giving strong pitch and tone. Her efforts were all for her grandmother, every ounce of breath and every intense facial expression she could muster. She pounded the last set of keys to signal the final note and sat straight up, tearless, and said before anyone could applaud, “Grammy always had a lot of sayings, like ‘do it right the first time,’ and ‘it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it,’ and ‘God don’t like ugly,’ and ‘the early bird gets the worm.’”
Mercedes looked at Mason. He looked at her and winked.
Some people smiled and some laughed.
Star smiled. “One special thing my Grammy always said when preparing me for life out in the world, that I could have sworn I heard her whisper to me this morning when I looked out of her bedroom window was, ‘A lady always knows when to leave.’”
With that, Star got up. It was then that everyone stood and clapped while she headed for her grandmother’s open casket again. She stood over Mattie’s body. Mattie was dressed in green with her silver gray hair in cornrows by Mercedes. Star leaned down, hair in cornrows as well, and planted a kiss on the coolness of Mattie’s cheek. She removed a note from her pocket and placed it on Mattie’s stiff hands, leaving it there. The front of it read, Pretty Girl.
Star stood tall, turning back around toward the still standing crowd and walked over to take her seat. Her brother sat as well, hugging her tightly. Mercedes hurried over and sat next to Star. She put her arm around Star and checked for tears, rocking her back and forth. Mercedes wept for the both of them.
As they left the service a little while later, all family members proceeded to the awaiting cars that would proceed to Holy Cross Cemetery. The lead car was the one that carried Mattie’s body.
Star looked up in the sky before she ducked her head to get inside of the limousine. The day’s grayness had managed to morph into blueness. And Star saw . . . a rainbow.
She smiled a colorful smile.
A smile that was stronger than her anxious, frowning tears.
18
Venus
“Don’t let pride do that to you.”
Later that day, Venus and Claude had everyone out to their new home in Laguna Hills for the repast. The kitchen had an octagon-shaped island. It was roomy yet cozy.
Mason stood in the kitchen leaning back against the island. Claude and Venus stood before him.
“Man, you okay?” Claude asked.
Mason’s eyes were reddened from tears. “I should’ve brought her with me.”
“Don’t do that to yourself. None of us should. We didn’t know when she’d pass away. It would’ve happened no matter who she lived with. It was her time.”
Mason only looked at the floor. “I’d just told Torino I was going to bring her with me.” He looked at his brother. “Man, Mom’s gone.” Mason’s face was pained.
“I know. But Mom lived a long, good life.” Claude sounded positive.
Venus spoke up. “Mattie wasn’t living the quality of life she would’ve wanted. Before, she was so independent, and yet over the last years she was bed ridden and couldn’t speak. Her non-ambulatory state was tough on her. And on us. Like Claude said, it was just her time.”
Claude said, “It is hard to face the fact that she’s really gone. She’s no longer in pain, though. Bottom line.”
“I just wanted to be home more so I could spend time with her.”
“And you did. You did fine. We did fine,” Venus said.
Claude told his brother, “Mason. One thing I know is you need to go home. After today you need to remind yourself not to let more time go by without being with your family, man. Come on. Don’t let your pride do that to you.”
“Pride?” Mason looked like he fought not to react. “You’re actually right. I should’ve been home. Home with my family when this happened. I shouldn’t have had to leave my own house to deal with what my wife did.”
Venus said to him, “I know you and Mercedes have some things to work out. But remember no one came closer to loving Mattie like she was their own flesh and blood than Mercedes. Mattie had taken the place of Mercedes’s own mom. No matter what, she was there for her. I’ll give her that. No one blames her.”
Claude added, “I can’t imagine what that’s done to her. Mason, go home.”
“Hi, everybody.” Mercedes came into the kitchen and stood by the other end of the island.
“Hi,” Venus and Claude said together.
She asked, “Mason, you still haven’t eaten?”
“No.”
Mercedes headed toward the dining room. “Let me go and get you a plate. You’ve got to eat something. The food is excellent. Sequoia did a great job.”
Venus said, “She sure did.”
“I’m good,” Mason s
aid.
Mercedes stopped and walked back to them. She looked reserved.
“Mercedes, how are you? Are you okay?” Venus asked.
She sort of replied, saying, “I’m about to go home, actually. I’m tired. I need to take Rashaad back so he can catch a flight later on tonight.” She asked Mason, “Honey, are you coming?”
“No.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure.” He took a step away from the island. “Where’s Rashaad?”
Mercedes said, “Oh, he’s in the living room with Cameron.”
“I’ll be right back.” Mason stepped up to Mercedes and leaned in, kissing her on the cheek.
“Okay,” she said, blinking fast, looking flushed.
Mason walked out.
Claude followed.
Venus told Mercedes, “He loves you. You know that.”
“I do. He’s just so damn stubborn.” Her eyes looked misty.
Venus told Mercedes, “I don’t know the details but I do know you two have been together too long. Something like this just goes to show, you never know when in an instant, life can be taken away. It’s just way too short.”
“I agree.”
“And I’m sorry you went through what you did that night. Thanks for doing all you could to revive Mattie.”
Mercedes remained solemn.
Venus said, “I can imagine it was hell. It was just her time.”
Mercedes said, “Thanks for having the repast here. The house is beautiful. I’ll talk to you later.” Just as she finished her sentence, Star walked in. Mercedes said, “Hey, honey.”
“Hey.” Star looked at Venus. “Hi, Auntie.” She walked over to the kitchen sink, looking out the window.
“Hi there.”
Mercedes said, “Rashaad and I are going.”
Star kept her back to them. “He told me. I just took Skyy and TJ in there with him and the guys.”
Hot Girlz: Hot Boyz Sequel Page 12