“Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Gloria. You have a beautiful home,” she said.
“Oh thank you, honey! Decorating is one of my joys.” She returned with two heaping plates of jambalaya and placed them on the lacquer table in front of Alena. Gloria then clapped her hands together joyfully. “Now this, my dear, is some good ole southern home cooking. Let’s eat!”
“This looks amazing!” Alena draped a napkin over her lap and pulled her plate toward her.
Gloria said a prayer and then the women dug into the savory flavors of the shrimp, sausage and rice. The pie was even more delicious. But all through the meal Alena caught herself staring back at the painting, mesmerized by it. Trying not to be a rude guest, she pulled her eyes away from it and said, “Do you have any children, Miss Gloria?”
“Oh yes, I have three daughters: Nneka, Olivia, and Abiola. Olivia, my oldest, was named after my grandmother. Nneka’s my middle and Abiola is the baby. She’s the only one here in New York. She lives in Tribeca, into all of that Hollywood television stuff.” Gloria sighed nostalgically. “My sweet babies. Of course, they’re all grown, two of them with children of their own now.”
“Are you originally from New York?” Alena asked.
“Oh no, dear. New Orleans, born and raised. I moved here with my husband about forty years ago. He passed away going on four years now. What a great man, my Adeyini. He was Nigerian, worked as a professor at NYU for twenty-six years in Africana Studies. When I met him I was teaching Sociology at Sara Lawrence.”
Alena could see both the joy and the sorrow in Gloria’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. It certainly seems like you’ve lived a charmed life.”
“Thank you, honey. Well, life is only as charmed as you make it.”
“Forgive me for asking, but how did you end up living… here? You don’t seem like you belong in a place like this. I mean, you have very elegant tastes. Your apartment looks like it came out of the pages of Architectural Digest,” Alena said.
“Not everything is as it seems, my love. The people in these buildings have just as much beauty and genius as anyone else. Not too long after Ade passed I started a little school a few blocks from here. It was a small etiquette and empowerment school for girls. The school closed almost as quickly as it opened. Not too many bureaucrats in City Hall shared my vision of poor inner-city girls investing in themselves, so they cut off all the funding. The parents and the girls did though. They loved it. After we closed our doors, I stayed put. God wanted me here for a good reason. So what about you? How are you two settling in over there?”
“It’s… ah…. different. A lot to get used to, I mean. The great news is that I’ve finally unpacked all of our box—”
Alena stopped mid-sentence, transfixed by the gorgeous purple stone around Gloria’s neck. It had caught the light overhead and held a glorious twinkle that captivated her.
“Your necklace is stunning,” she said.
“Well, aren’t you just full of compliments? Thank you. It was a gift from my Ade.”
“What kind of stone is that?” Alena asked.
Gloria unclasped the necklace and held it in her palm for Alena to examine. Cut into several facets, the massive stone glinted wildly. The jewel’s setting was unusual, secured by five ornate gold prongs, each shaped like the wings of a vulture.
“It’s an amethyst, a spirit crystal. The necklace is really an amulet of sorts. Ulinzi. That’s the Kiswahili word for protection. He gave it to me when we went to Tanzania for his study on postcolonial cultural relations. He said it was for my protection.”
Alena marveled at the gem. Like the painting, it had a strange effect on her, almost hypnotizing. Looking at it exhausted her.
“I should probably get going. Maya’s dad will be calling soon. Thank you so much for inviting me over. Everything was delicious.”
“Why don’t you both come over tomorrow? I have all sorts of movies my grandkids left behind that Maya can watch. You can help me bake a hummingbird cake, and I’ll even do her hair,” Gloria offered.
“You’ll braid her hair?” Alena teased.
“Oh yes I will, honey.” Gloria said with her hands on her hips. “I have three girls remember, I’ve still got it! And I still remember what a chore it can be having to do it all up all of the time. Your Maya has that fine, thick hair just like I had when I was her age.”
She picked up a black and white photograph from the mahogany credenza. “See? My daddy was that pretty shade of coffee brown like you; my mama was Creole. She looked something like Lena Horne. That’s me there.” She pointed to a young fair-skinned girl with long raven black hair nestled between the man and woman.
“Very nice, Gloria.” Alena hesitated. “Okay, we’ll be back tomorrow then, if we can.” She managed a weak smile.
“Oh good, we are going to have a ball!”
When Gloria hugged Alena she stiffened. Gloria’s tenderness alarmed her. It was unfamiliar. Only Maya had ever hugged her this way. The thought of her precious little girl, arms clasped around her neck brought a tear to Alena’s eyes.
“Let her heal you,” Gloria whispered in her ear.
“Pardon?” Alena asked, knitting her brows quizzically.
“Mother Mary,” Gloria whispered again.
Alena smiled politely to hide her confusion. She didn’t know what to say so she brushed the strange comments off as Gloria’s brand of eccentricity.
Alena hadn’t been in her apartment more than ten minutes when the door creaked open, stopped short by the chain lock. A loud banging on the door soon followed.
“Mom, open the door! Dad is here, too!” Maya yelled, her face pushed into the opening of the door.
Alena gasped. What the hell? What’s Gabe doing here? she thought. “Okay baby!” She said, her hands nervously fumbling with the chain on the door. A moment later Maya burst in like a whirlwind.
“Mom! The Lion King was so awesome!” Maya exclaimed happily, her arms full of sweets and toys.
Alena saw Gabriel in the dimly lit hallway. “That’s wonderful,” she managed.
When Maya bolted for her bedroom to sort through her gifts, she held her breath, bracing for another barrage of insults and demands. But he was silent, mocking her.
“Thanks for bringing her back,” Alena said softly.
“Sorry to hear about your job, Alena,” he said. Without another word she closed the door in his face and put the chain back in place.
With Gabriel gone her fear and shame quickly turned into anger. “Maya!” she called.
Maya came running in, still teeming with the excitement of her day. Alena breathed deeply, careful not to let her anger seep into her tone.
“Maya, honey, we talked about this! I asked you to please not tell your dad where we’re living.”
“But, Mom, I didn’t tell Daddy anything. He already knew. He said he knows about everything.”
FIVE
Alena and Maya left the apartment early before the heat of the July morning became insufferable. Alena had decided that today would mark her new beginning. Michael was right. It was time to wake up. She had no choice in the matter. The night before she looked in her purse to count the last of her savings. Five hundred and forty-three dollars. Not even enough to cover next month’s rent let alone hire a half decent family law attorney.
She looked at the shoes on her feet and the jewelry on her wrists and fingers. It was time to let go of that dream life and all of its golden trappings. Survival is all that matters now, she thought as she purged her closet for items to sell.
It would be a full day. After dropping Maya off at camp--a final luxury that Gabriel had prepaid earlier that year--Alena would go first to the consignment shop, then the pawn shop, and then the unemployment office. She walked into the shop past the black awning with “Bridgette’s Consignment” written in gold letters. The brunette at the counter wore heavy makeup and gave her a strained half smile, pinching the crow’s feet around he
r eyes.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, hello. I have some items I’d like to sell,” Alena answered.
“All right, let’s have a look.” She examined Alena from head to toe with a haughty scowl on her face.
Alena unloaded the suitcase she’d filled and lined up a dozen pairs of her shoes for the woman to appraise.
“These are all yours, correct? We do not purchase stolen goods.”
“Stolen? Why would you assume I’m trying to sell stolen shoes? No, I haven’t stolen anything, of course these are all mine.”
“It’s policy ma’am. I have to ask.”
“Right,” Alena huffed. She tried her best to stay calm, reminding herself how badly she needed the money.
“So here’s how this works,” the clerk explained. “You’ll receive 50 percent of the sale price, which will be reduced approximately 20 percent every 30 days. After ninety days, the item gets discounted 50 percent off the original selling price.”
The woman then examined the soles, then the heels. “Hmm. I would list these for about six hundred dollars apiece.”
“Six hundred!” Alena exclaimed. “These are mint condition Louboutins, worn maybe once, if that.”
“These are all out of season. I’ll be lucky to get that much for them.”
Alena took a deep breath. “Ma’am, please. I’m in a tough spot, can’t you do any better? What about these?” She held up a pair of red sequined stilettos. “These are limited edition. They were at least seventeen hundred dollars.”
The woman’s stony look softened a bit. “Well, they are unique. I don’t get too many of these in. I can give you about eight hundred seventy-five dollars for them.”
Alena was convinced that she was being cheated but desperation left her at the woman’s mercy. She tallied up the bounty. Thirty-seven hundred dollars. It was far from the ten thousand dollar retainer she needed for a lawyer, but it would keep a roof over Maya’s head and food in the fridge. It was a deal. On her way out the woman assured her she would call as soon as the merchandise sold.
She didn’t fare much better at Louie’s Gold and Pawn. The man bent over her emerald ring, a gift from Gabriel for their fourth wedding anniversary. After examining the ring for a few minutes he pronounced it to be worth three hundred dollars.
Alena went next to the unemployment office to see about the check she was expecting. She smoothed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and clasped her hands in front of her as she waited her turn. A few moments later the woman behind the counter motioned her over.
“Hello, I’m here to find out when I should be expecting my unemployment benefits.”
“When did you apply?”
“At least a month now.”
“Name?”
“Alena Jae Ford. A-L-E-N-A.”
She clicked around on her keyboard and studied the screen then she looked up at Alena.
“You won’t be receiving any benefits, Mrs. Ford,” she said.
“What?” Feeling faint Alena grabbed the counter to steady herself.
“Your previous employer listed insubordination as the reason for your dismissal. Unemployment insurance can only be collected if you become unemployed through no fault of your own. In accordance with New York State laws you are ineligible for unemployment benefits, Mrs. Ford. I’m very sorry.”
The woman’s face was blurred through Alena’s tears. “This can’t be happening. I give up. I just... give the hell up.” Alena stepped back from the counter and slowly turned away. “Thank you…” she whispered and walked out of the building in a daze.
Alena felt heavy, like she was wading through water as she dragged the heavy suitcase in the midday heat. Exhausted and stunned, she ducked into the subway station and got on a train headed back to Brooklyn. Thirty minutes later, Alena trudged up the steps to her apartment where she flung the suitcase in the corner and, sat on her bed, and buried her face in her hands. The walls of the little room felt like they were closing in on her. She felt trapped like she was suffocating.
She’d started the day with so much hope but now it had all but vanished. On impulse she thought to go see Gloria. She could at least lend a sympathetic ear. They had forged a fast friendship with every visit she and Maya made. Alena went to the bathroom and washed her face. A few minutes later she stood outside of apartment 3A and was about to knock when Gloria’s door swung open.
“Come in, honey,” Gloria said kindly, seeing Alena’s red eyes and sad expression.
“I’m sorry for just coming by like this…Wait, I didn’t even knock… how did you…?”
Gloria waved her off. “Nonsense. Come on in here. Sit and rest your tired bones a spell. Looks like you could use some of my pralines and an iced chamomile tea.”
“Oh no thank you. I don’t have much of an appetite right now.” Alena sat on the sofa next to Gloria. “Really, I didn’t even knock,” she repeated.
“Oh…” Gloria smiled. “Mother instincts. I’ve learned to listen to it over the years. Having a day aren’t you?”
Alena exhaled in a slow whistle. “The worst actually. I don’t understand what’s happening with my life. This time last year I was living a picture perfect life on the Upper East side with the husband of my dreams… well… with my husband. My daughter had everything she wanted, two great parents, and enrolled to the most prestigious school in New York City.”
She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. As she cried Gloria patted her hand.
“Now I have five hundred dollars to my name, my husband left me for another woman and won’t give me a penny, and if that wasn’t enough he’s trying to take my baby away,” she sobbed.
“That’s good.” Gloria smiled, her face taking on a bit of light.
“That’s good?” Alena sputtered, looking sharply at Gloria. Why the hell did I come over here? This old woman is batshit crazy, she thought.
“Good? Is it good that my entire world has fallen to pieces and I’m going through hell? Is it good that I’m going to lose my daughter?” Alena felt righteous anger overtake her.
“Good is relative, my dear. Sometimes pain can shock you awake when nothing else can.” Gloria said, her eyes focused on Alena, as if remembering her own journey.
Alena shook her head in disbelief. “I have nothing left, Gloria. Nothing. He took everything. He has everything. Don’t you understand?”
“Yes, believe me, I do. But anything outside of yourself that you believe you need in order to prove yourself worthy, you should be rid of! You are worthy now. Just as you are, Alena, you are worthy.”
“He has what Maya deserves,” Alena said. “A good life. Buckets of money. A nice home.”
“Give her to him then,” Gloria said sternly.
“What?” Alena whimpered, her eyes wide with shock.
“If that’s what you really believe, give Maya to her father,” Gloria repeated.
The weight of mounting anguish descended on Alena like a boulder and she couldn’t take it any longer. Alena collapsed on the floor and wept from the depths of her broken heart, her body wracked with loss and defeat.
“Get up! Come on baby, get up now!” Gloria yelled, pulling Alena up off of her knees. She took Alena’s hands and dug her thumbs so deeply into them it hurt. “You are her mother! You’re the only one she is ever going to have. You can never lose her! Now do you understand me? If God didn’t want it that way, then you would not have been chosen.”
Alena could only stare at Gloria.
“Honey, there is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re doing the very best you can and your baby knows that. Best believe she can see that, she can sense that. She loves you.” Gloria pressed her finger into Alena’s chest. “She doesn’t need a big fancy house, or big fancy school, or whatever else it is you’ve been hiding behind. She needs her mama’s heart. She needs her mama’s love. She needs her mama to love herself. She needs you to see yourself clearly, through your own eyes. Through God’s eyes.”
“You’ve got to find your heart, baby. You’ve got to wade through all this misery and find the purpose for it. Let all of this guilt you have go. Guilt requires punishment and as long as you got it you’re going to keep on punishing yourself. As long as you believe that you’re a victim and you don’t have a choice in the matter, well then, you never will. I’ve had my troubles too, a lifetime of them. I’ve been lonely as sin since my husband passed, and my girls have gone off to their own lives. But I know I have to choose to keep moving past the trouble. We both have life to live and work to do,” Gloria declared, her hands now on her hips.
Mama, Alena thought. Oh how she missed her mother, or at least the idea of a mother. Even more, how she wished she had been truly mothered.
“Let it all go! Give it up baby! Let it go or you will go down with it!” Gloria said, taking Alena into her arms.
Alena had so badly needed the permission to cry. More than that, she needed to be held, and to be heard. She allowed her body to soften against Gloria’s and started weeping like she never had before. She was comforted by the light fragrance of rosewater soap on Gloria’s skin, and the strength of her hands as she rubbed Alena’s back and spoke gently into her ears, her voice filled with love.
The sensation of breaking loose overcame her and for an instant her lungs felt closed. Time stilled and Alena stopped breathing.
“Breathe, baby, breathe!” Gloria yelled.
Alena was choking.
“Breathe life!” Gloria screamed, invoking and urging.
Alena breathed deeply, filling her lungs with urgent gulps of air. She cried from the depths of her heart and soul, deeper than she ever remembered in her life. Warm, salty, purifying tears. She cried for every wound, every hurt. She cried for her Daddy and his lost dreams. She cried for the little girl inside of her who he’d hurt so badly.
A Fistful of Honey Page 4