“Mama, that does not mean anything.”
“Well, you don’t do any of that, Journee. All you do is shop, shop, shop!”
“Just like you,” I reminded her. “I learned it from you.”
“Yeah, but Jordyn was there too, and doesn’t like to shop hardly as much. I didn’t see this coming. She told us she was dating a guy named Chris. I guess she’s lying to us now.”
Chris?
The name just popped in my head.
“Wait Mama, hold on,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
“That name Chris is ringing a bell. There is a guy named C. Fuller on her page that commented to me before and let me pull this up on Facebook.”
“Ok,” Mama said.
I went on Jordyn’s Facebook page. I was looking for her status when she mentioned going to boot camp. That’s where I replied about it making your hair sweat and a C. Fuller commented, telling me to cut my hair.
Found it!
I clicked on his page and the picture popped up of him and another guy. I went to C. Fuller’s photo album and went through his pictures.
“Well, what do you see?” Mama asked moments later.
I began feeling uncomfortable. I felt like throwing up at the shock revealed to me right before my eyes. I didn’t have time to properly process this mess.
“Mama,” I began, sounding as disappointed as I could,
“this guy Chris is a bitch… I mean a chick!”
Mama and I were both speechless, but my fingers didn’t have a problem betraying me. More clicks later I went through more pictures and learned that this was the same person that works at Chevy’s. This explains a lot.
“What?” Mama asked.
“This C. Fuller girl is Chris, and she’s the chick that works at Chevy’s at Bayfair. Kalena and I were just there Monday and Chris was supposed to be our waiter or waitress or whatever.”
Mama chuckled a little.
“And for whatever reason, she didn’t want to wait on us, so someone else did. Then when we were leaving, she came to the door and watched us drive off. She just stood there staring at me.”
“She thought you were your sister, I bet.”
“That makes sense. But you don’t think Jordyn would’ve told her she had a twin?” I asked.
“I don’t know what that tomboy is thinking, but I wonder what’s the deal with her and Jordyn. Do you wanna go to her job and find out?”
“What? Mama? Are you sure?”
“Jordyn isn’t gonna tell us what’s goin’ on. You know your sister. She can be so vague at times and I could use some good ole quesadillas.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to get involved in that mess.” I said.
But the curiosity was rising inside me and I just wouldn’t admit I wanted to go, too. Mama was seriously concerned about her daughter. Was this what parenting is all about? I wondered. I heard people always say they got until their kid is 18 years old. Not.
You are a mama for life. You’ll always worry and care about your kids, always try to protect them, pray for them, and support them. My sister and I had been eighteen twice in our lifetime and our mama was still parenting us. I wanted kids, but I wanted to get married first. I had been dating for a long time and had fun. But forty was quickly approaching and I just needed one potential man.
Wow, I thought. I would never be an aunt. My sister had taken that option away without even consulting with me first.
Why was she trying out the gay lifestyle? She had a few guys she was seeing, but she was always private and kinda kept the guys to herself. When the romance was over, she never had details but would be with the next dude in no time. She always brought them by the house to meet our parents and hang with Pop.
Our pop was the cool dad all dudes wanted to hang with. Pop plays golf, fishes, watches all sports and frequents the race tracks. He was any man’s dream father—in—law, and the fact was that Jordyn and he were tight ’cause she likes all that stuff. He never missed out on having a boy because Jordyn was his fill in. But Pop had Derrick as his son. I met Derrick in high school and we’d been best friends since.
Pop didn’t get it.
“A teenaged boy just wants friendship?” he used to ask. “That boy with that drippy curl don’t want no leg? Tell him to come over so I can set him straight.”
Derrick and his drippy curl came over to our house nervous as heck. Derrick proved that his intentions were true and he had been part of this family ever since.
Mama just wanted him to get saved.
We all did. He started watching Joyce Meyer on the regular now, so he was growing in that direction. We just kept praying, and trying to make great examples for him.
“Journee Faith Bell!” Mama shouted at me.
“Huh? I asked coming back to my reality.
“Come over. I’ll drive us down there and I can get to the bottom of this. You’ll be on time for your hair appointment,” she promised.
“Ok, Mama,” I said. I looked at the clock to calculate my timing, ’cause my sister is on time. She don’t believe in booking her clients every thirty minutes or having everyone there at the same time, like it’s some hair party going on. I like that in-and-out service, ’cause all I want is my hair done.
“Let me get dressed and I’ll be over there.”
“Ok honey, come on,” she demanded.
I hung up the phone. Next thing I knew, I started crying aloud, like a kid. I was scared for her and confused and wondered why didn’t she tell me? I wasn’t quite sure how I would have taken it, but still.
Who was her support system? Them folks at Bench and Bar?
I knew this was a hard lifestyle to be apart of, but I had all these questions in my head.
Well, I guessed it was time to go find out ’cause when I got to the salon later on, I was gonna say something about this to her, or maybe not. I wiped my tears as I put my phone on my sofa table in my bedroom and turned the radio on.
Since it was Friday, I liked to bump Funky Flashback Friday on KMEL. DJ Mind Motion was in the mix and you are guaranteed to have a party in the middle of the floor while you’re trying to get dressed. I Get Around by Tupac was on, and all I could think about was the video with Tupac enjoying a backyard pool party with waterguns and plenty of ladies.
Then came my favorite part, “step up, step step up, step up”. I sang along, waving my hand in the air and going dumb or hyphy, whatever them E-40 dancers called it. I was from the Town, so I had to represent. After that, the reggae followed with Take It Easy by Mad Lion. That was my jam when we used to go to Island Paradise in Alameda or The Caribee on Webster in Downtown Oakland back in the ‘90s.
I went into my bathroom to get showered and ready for this mission Mama got us on. Since we were going to eat, I decided to wear a green maxi dress so I could eat all the chips and salsa that I wanted. This was gonna be some adventure. At least Mama would be the one to blame when the blank hit the fan. But if Jordyn would just be up front, she could keep her business to herself. Now, it was on.
Chapter 18
BUTTERFLIES
When we walked into Chevy’s, the same cute white girl hostess told us it would be a ten minute wait. She had one of those high pitched voices that would get on my nerves in a matter of ten minutes. This time, I looked at her name tag.
Her name was Sarah. How fitting, I thought.
Mama thanked her and we sat down. To avoid the anxiety that was trying to build up, I noticed Mama and I had on the same maxi dress, except mine was green and hers was purple.
She looked good for her age. Mama was almost sixty, but could pass for one of my friends. She made me not have worries about aging, because Mama was looking too good.
“How we know that Chris is working today?” I asked
.
“You’re right Nee, let me go ask.”
She jumped her light brown self up from her seat and headed towards the dining room. I was going to stop her, but this matter was about her daughter and I was here to support her on this. I did think coming up here was awkward, but it was worth a shot.
I laid my head back on the pillow on the bench we were sitting on in the lobby. I closed my eyes and then opened them. I was feeling some kind of way about this. I was praying and hoping for the best outcome. I wondered if we were in the wrong for approaching this stranger about my sister’s sexuality?
I tried to remember what Mama said exactly that made me roll with this idea.
I turned to the left, and looked out of the window at people walking by, wishing I could be with them instead of in here. This had to turn out for the good. I didn’t wanna have to tell this to no one. I could classify it right along with peeing on myself. I kept myself entertained watching the other people coming in for lunch. I sat up and moved over to allow them to share the bench with me and Mama.
Just then, she came back with the hostess who was ready to seat us. I got up and grabbed both of our Coach purses. Mine was a satin fabric hobo with bright colored patch work, and hers was a magenta patent leather with big metal rings on the handle. I asked if I could have it and she refused because I gave it to her for Mother’s Day three years ago. I felt bad ’cause I forgot.
Then I remembered that shopping trip.
It was when Jason and I went to Napa for the weekend.
We stayed the weekend at The Silverado Spa and had a picnic at V. Statui’s Winery. I loved it. We both had massages outside under the cabana and also tried the mud bath. It was interestingly gross to me, only because I found mud in the strangest places on my body the next day.
We ate dinner at a restaurant called Mustard’s. We ordered the roasted chicken and had lemon drops. The bartender, Will, made a mean martini. Before we came back home, we hit the Coach Outlet in St. Helena and the Napa Outlets. Yeah, it all came back to me.
I walked behind Mama and whispered, “Is she here?”
“Wait, chile!” she said, turning her head halfway.
“Okay,” I said. I wanted to add, ‘that’s easy for you to say, you don’t look just like Jordyn, I do!’ But I took a deep breath instead and tried to mellow out, ’cause I was tired of that uneasy feeling.
Everything will be fine, I thought.
We sat down in a booth. Mama loves sitting in a booth. She likes to press the cushion. She says if she wanted to sit in a chair, she would just eat at home.
The hostess handed us menus and informed us our waiter would be coming shortly.
I wondered if Chris liked to be called a waiter or a waitress. Now, I really wanted to know. Chris looked more like a waiter than a waitress. I chuckled to myself.
“Mama, is she here today?”
“She’s not here yet but she will be.”
“Well when? I asked. ’Cause I got to get to the salon.”
“Wait, hold on now, let’s just order our food and see where this goes. Now, I trust God that He is here with us and He will guide us through this.”
“This is what you call an ‘act of God’? Aren’t we being messy?” I asked, voicing my thoughts.
“No, we are not!”
She was almost hollering, which shut me up quick. I ain’t never old enough to talk to Mama any kind of way, and she would remind us whenever we seemed to have forgotten.
Our waiter came to greet us with two glasses of water, chips and salsa. I asked for a side of sour cream and Mama requested a slice of lime for her water. He excused himself and went to get the sour cream and lime.
When he returned he took our orders, and we tore a hole in the chips and salsa.
Mama ordered chicken quesadillas with black beans. I ordered chicken flautas with refried beans. Just being here made me want a margarita, but I opted not to, not with Mama here with me anyway. No matter how old I get, I’ll never be old enough to drink in front of her. But I knew that a nice cantaloupe margarita would hit the spot and take the edge off.
I kept looking at the table drink menu. I licked my lips just imagining those cold beverages slithering down my throat, one after the other.
Maybe I could tell Mama I was going to the restroom, and go by the bar instead and order the cantaloupe margarita in a non alcoholic glass. Or maybe not. Knowing Mama, she would be able to smell the liquor.
Then, The Speech would follow.
Never mind. I was so tense about being here, because I looked just like the woman of interest. This being gay thing is becoming an epidemic. Is Gay the new Straight? Are people really born that way or are they making a choice? What was the difference, and was one way more honorable than the other?
The butterflies just showed up and now I really needed something.
A shot of Patron sounded like a winner to me. It would be quick and to the point.
Straight lace, no chase.
I excused myself and told Mama I was going to the restroom.
Three shots later, I returned to my seat with a light buzz. We had a good time eating our Mexican food. We enjoyed our time together. It was another priceless moment. That Patron had me at ease and I had this “I wish a nicca would” attitude.
We laughed so much about other stuff, we didn’t even worry about why we came in the first place. That’s when we were approached by none other than Chris Fuller in the damned flesh, live and direct.
“Is this some kind of joke Jordyn? You bring some other bitch to my job like you ain’t got no damn sense? Fuck you, fake ass gay bitch!” Chris shouted and punched me in the eye. My lights had been knocked out.
I laughed no more. I lost control of my body and my vision went coal black when I landed on the table.
Then stars appeared in my coal black vision. I immediately felt blood flowing from my mouth. I frowned from landing when my face hit the table.
It was on and poppin’!
I opened my eyes and my reflexes took over. I heard silverware dancing and plates landing on the floor. Mama was screaming and trying to cuss Chris out.
Our waiter and other servers looked on from a distance in shock.
They stood like mannequins.
Other customers were still seated as their eyes grew big and chattered but no one moved, not even Chris.
Mama was shouting for help, screaming at the top of her lungs trying to explain that she was our mother and I wasn’t Jordyn. I heard Chris react and question Mama, but before Mama could confirm any details…
“POP!” went my right fist.
I had collected my bearings and got with that butch broad. She wasn’t no punk, so I snatched her by the collar and pulled her down to the floor.
I had one foot stretched across the floor and my knee in her chest. I made it easy on myself and held her by her neck, so I was able to get all my punches straight to her face. The blood rushing from my mouth was creating a murder scene on Chris and the floor. Since I’m a ‘70s model—like a car—I cussed her out along with the punches.
“Bitch, don’t you eva call Mama outta her name eva, you hear me, you butch ass bitch nicca? Ya betta check your emotions and get yourself together, the one you lovin’ on is my twin sister, you twisted bitch!”
More punches.
Her responses were “ahhs” and other noises.
One of her co-workers ran over and tried pulling me off her.
I pulled my arm away and told her to get off me. The manager ran over to announce that the police had been called. I was tired anyway. I stopped to see if she calmed down, but still had my fists up. She wasn’t unconscious, but her body language and face let me know I won this and she had had enough. I stumbled getting up.
The same chick that grabbed me h
elped me up.
I told her thanks. I reached for a napkin for my lip.
Mama was a wreck, but commanded us to head out quickly before the police came. No time to think ahead, we were out of there and made it to her car in enough time to get away.
Next stop: Naturally Yours.
Chapter 19
GREEN LIGHT
Right Before My Eyes Page 12