A Fistful of Honey

by Malena Crawford

  She cried for the woman within her who had to accept that she would never get what she wanted from her father. Or her mother for that matter. She cried for Maya, for all the ways she felt she had failed her daughter. She even cried for her mother. She cried for her marriage and all the ways it left her broken when she had hoped it would have made her whole.

  Gloria cupped the smooth brown oval of Alena’s face in her hands. With her brow furrowed and eyes blazing she looked into the younger woman’s soul, and spoke to the hurt that she knew all too well.

  “This is your road. God gave it to you and you agreed to walk it. Remember this. It may be a long road, it may be a rough road, but it’s the only one that leads to the glory.”

  Alena’s cries made a sudden stop at Gloria’s words. She looked deeply into her eyes. Gloria touched two fingers to the spot between Alena’s eyebrows.

  “Know the truth.”

  She touched those same fingers to Alena’s tear soaked lips.

  “Speak the truth.”

  She pressed those fingers into Alena’s chest, at her heart.

  “Be the truth.”

  Those were the last words Alena heard as an overwhelming weariness drooped her eyelids, and she drifted to sleep below the curious painting of Mary and Jesus. As Alena’s breaths lengthened, a voice reached her mind as if it had come from a very long distance. It was beckoning her and comforting her all at once. She strained to hear what was being said, but exhaustion rocked her to sleep with one word on her lips. “Peace.”

  The ground rumbled and distant sounds drew closer. The vibrations tickled the bare soles of her feet. Alena looked down at them to discover that she was standing on the icy cracking surface of a great frozen lake. Within seconds the crack beneath her gave way to a widening fault that swallowed her, and she was suddenly falling into nothingness. In the next moment she was surrounded by a brilliant, warm yellow light, hearing a woman’s slow, honeyed voice.

  “I am that I am. I am Migdal Madga. Magdalene. Alena, we are here. Hold on Dear One, hold on. We are here.”

  With her eyes closed, Alena sat in stillness trying to weave the pieces of her strange dream together, but the harder she tried the more the images flittered away from her memory. Only that sweetly reassuring voice remained. “Alena, we are here.”

  She smelled the rosewater scent as Gloria gently nudged her awake.

  “You’d better wake up and go get your girl, honey.”

  SIX

  Below her window Alena heard angry voices raging in the stillness of dawn. They grew louder and louder until they filled up the courtyard. She pushed open a sliver in the blinds to see Takeah arguing with a man. It was one of those rude men that had cat-called her when she first moved in, the one called Bengy. A young boy, about the same age as Maya, stood with her as she bickered with him.

  “You ain’t shit, Bengy. You leavin’ again? You ain’t seen your son in five—”

  A swift blow across her face sent Takeah and the child tumbling onto the patch of grass. Alena watched Takeah push herself to her feet as the boy darted toward Bengy in defense of his mother. Takeah grabbed the child by the wrist and ran inside the apartment as Bengy shouted curses after her. Alena could tell this was a familiar scene for her.

  The thought of going to Takeah’s apartment to check on her came to her mind, but she was hesitant. A few hours later, after she had gotten Maya off to day camp, she made up her mind and knocked on the door of apartment 2C.

  Takeah threw open the door, a defiant look on her face.

  “Hi. I just… uh… wanted to say hello,” Alena sputtered.

  Takeah gave Alena a curious look. “Okay, yeah. Hi Rich Girl,” she said coolly, frowning. The patch of skin under her left eye was bruised eggplant purple and her bottom lip was split.

  “I know this is a little weird, me stopping by like this,” Alena said.

  “Whatchu need?” Takeah tapped her foot impatiently. The swelling in her lip gave her a lisp. A sheen of sweat covered her face and beaded along her hairline, plastering stray hairs against it.

  “Do you mind if I come in?”

  She stared at Alena without speaking. After a few moments she shrugged and stepped aside, motioning with her head for Alena to enter. Takeah sat on a lumpy orange sofa. She twirled her fingers around her long burgundy dyed braids. The boy sat at her feet playing a video game. The apartment was sweltering. The fan whirling in the background was no match for the heat.

  “AC busted,” Takeah grunted.

  “So this is your son. Isn’t he handsome?” Alena gushed at the child.

  “Yeah this is my boy, Benjamin Jr. We call him BJ.”

  BJ smiled brightly at Alena.

  “My name is, Miss Alena. You are one brave boy, Benjamin. How old are you?

  “Nine and two quarters,” he said.

  “He smart, too. He gonna get out this ‘hood and change the game for all of us,” Takeah chimed in.

  “I have a daughter about your age. What are you playing?”

  “MineCraft.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard about that game. Cool. So what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “I’m going to be an aerospace engineer, making aircrafts,” he answered, his eyes back on the game.

  “That’s great, BJ!” Alena gushed.

  “So, what you here for?” Takeah interrupted.

  Alena took a seat next to her and cleared her throat.

  “I know this is none of my business and believe me, I’m not trying to be nosey… but, for what it’s worth, I just wanted to say that I saw what he did to you. And I’m sorry.”

  “Oh. You came to tell me that you sorry for me. Ain’t that nice of you? Well thanks, Miss Alena, but I don’t need no pity, ‘specially not yours. And the next time you go spyin’ on me you’d do good to just keep that shit to yourself. Now is there anything else you needed?”

  “Takeah, I wasn’t trying to spy. I swear. I just wanted to reach out and make sure you were okay. It isn’t right. He has no right putting his hands on you like that.”

  Takeah shook her head and snorted, an irritated look on her face. “Bitch ass nigga, my son’s father. He always doin’ this shit.”

  She shot Alena a hard, exasperated look.

  “You social services or something Rich Girl? You Oprah?” What you know about my life? No, that shit ain’t right but what the hell else am I gonna do? Put that nigga in jail so my baby don’t never see him and I don’t never see no money? Who gonna take care of us then? Who gonna be a daddy to my boy? Shit, he barely around as it is. His ass is crazy anyway. He’ll just get out and beat me up all over again.”

  Alena sensed the fear in her tough demeanor. Each time movement rustled in the hallway Takeah cut her eyes anxiously toward the door.

  “You’re right, I don’t know you and I don’t know your life. But I do know what it feels like to be afraid, to be treated like shit by the person you wish would love you. I can tell you this much, you don’t have to put up with being hit,” Alena said.

  “Well, maybe one day I won’t. It don’t matter much now. I probably won’t be seeing him for a while anyway. That’s how it goes with Bengy. He put a few dollars in my pocket, find a reason to beat on me and BJ, then he’s gone for months.”

  “I hope you won’t see him, Tacky. He’s no good for you. You don’t know me, I don’t know you, but for some reason I was led to tell you that. Oh, and I have something for you.”

  Alena slid the thick gold bracelet off of her wrist and handed it to Takeah. It had a clamp made of two crystal lion heads.

  “What this for?”

  “It’s swag. Rich girl swag. For you.”

  Takeah furrowed her brows suspiciously, but seeing Alena’s sincere look she smiled and took the bracelet.

  “I’ll go now. Again, sorry for barging in.” Alena patted Takeah on her shoulder, waved to Benjamin, and then headed back up to her own apartment.

  Inside, she went to her bathroom to douse her
face with cold water and rinse the sweat away. As she turned the corner into her living room she felt a gust of air and saw something black scuttle past her.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded.

  She knew she saw it this time. The old sense of dread filled her again as she tried to fight the nausea rising in her throat. Alena ran to the kitchenette and grabbed a knife, wielding it in her quivering hand as she searched the apartment. Nothing. The front door was still bolted shut, and no sign of an intruder. She tried to reassure herself, pushing away the old fears. Maybe it was a mouse darting for cover. No, it was too big to deny. She saw something and there was no mistaking its scent this time. There was no doubt about it.

  Alena rushed to Gloria’s apartment, pausing at the door to steady her breathing. She decided that she wouldn’t mention it to Gloria. Once inside Alena saw that Gloria had set out plump biscuits, tea cakes, chai tea and lemonade, seemingly in expectation of her.

  “So how are you making out, Alena? I hope you aren’t still shutting yourself in when you’ re not visiting with me,” Gloria said.

  “Funny you should ask. I just went to visit one of the neighbors today. Takeah.”

  “Ah yes, Miss Tacky. Sweet girl.”

  “Are we talking about the same person here?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, she can be a little sassy. But she really is a sweet young woman. Good heart, that one.”

  “Well her boyfriend just about knocked her teeth in this morning. I saw it with my own eyes. I don’t know what came over me but I went to her apartment and gave her some encouraging words. It’s sad. I just wish these people would get it together, you know? Do better. Her son is so bright! I mean this kid is really smart, Gloria. She needs to get him out of here and give him half a chance not to be a statistic.”

  “These people?” Gloria asked, her eyes narrowing. She sat her glass down on the table and leaned forward. “Alena, be very clear that division is a dark creation that has no place in this community or in this world. Division of the races and divisiveness among blacks particularly is a key part of a very dark master plan. The haves versus the have-nots, the talented tenth versus all of the ‘others.’ It’s an illusion that keeps us bound no matter where one believes they are on the totem pole. Judgment projected onto anyone is judgment heaped onto ourselves. None of us are any better than the other, not one race in all of humanity, not one people. We all have different seasons and parts to play in the grand design but we’re most absolutely all part of the same family.”

  “I see,” Alena looked away, embarrassed. She felt suddenly foolish and ashamed of her arrogance. She let her eyes wander over the apartment until they rested again onto the Black Madonna painting.

  She tried to change the subject. “I absolutely adore your painting Gloria,” she mused as she stared longingly at it. “I don’t know what it is; it seems to draw me in every time I see it.”

  “And for good reason,” Gloria grinned and motioned for Alena to relax. “Get comfortable honey, I want to tell you what this piece means.” She eased back into her chair. “Do you know why Jesus and Mother Mary’s skin is painted brown?”

  Alena shrugged and smiled. “Diversity?”

  Gloria smiled, then in a calm and measured voice she spoke.

  “This image reflects how Mother Mary and Jesus truly appeared in their earthly bodies.” She paused and stared at their faces lovingly. “They were of African descent. It’s a well-known yet much hidden fact, but it goes far deeper than that. If you looked in almost every corner of Europe and in the Catholic Church you would see either the painting or the statue of the Black Madonna. Some say that it’s soot or dust darkening her skin, but that’s all nonsense they use to try and cover up a very inconvenient truth. The mother of us all is a black woman, the black divine feminine principle of the universe.”

  Alena was transfixed by Gloria’s voice as she spoke even forgetting her quickly cooling tea on the table.

  “The human race was born from the continent of Africa and thus every human is a descendant of Africa, and of the Great Dark Mother. Within the black woman is the mitochondrial DNA of every race in the human family. It is the bliss of your awakening to this truth that draws you in when you see this painting. The truest most ancient part of you remembers. You are remembering yourself, Alena. All parts of you that have been lost or forgotten are being pulled back into being.”

  Alena nodded and then remembered her dream and the strange, sweet voice.

  “Well I certainly feel…different when I’m around it.” She decided to probe deeper.”When will I remember it all?”

  Gloria smiled her usual patient smile. “In due time. You see this spot here at your forehead, between your eyebrows? That’s called your third eye. It’s where your soul’s vision is. It’s your third eye that’s making you ask new questions, questions you might not have considered before. Unlike your two physical eyes, you can believe what you see here. It is true sight. You can start by practicing stillness, Alena. Close your eyes and concentrate on seeing through your third eye, that’s a good start for finding what you’re looking for.”

  ***

  A few days after her visit to Takeah’s, Alena ventured outside the apartment, this time without the intention of rushing by her neighbors as she usually did.

  The courtyard was full of tenants noisily reveling in the last of the fleeting summer. She spotted Takeah and made her way to her in a few quick steps, still a bit surprised at her urge to reach out. Takeah was sitting on the stoop, drinking a grape soda, and eating corn chips with a packet of cigarettes on her lap. Alena sat down beside her.

  “Ain’t expect you to come out with us common folk. Why you out here with us, Rich Girl? Thought you was scared of niggas,” Takeah said.

  “Very funny,” Alena answered with a smirk. “I could use the sun and fresh air. Clear my mind a little.”

  “Hmmph.” Takeah grunted, lighting a cigarette. She took a drag then released it through her pursed pink lips.

  “Who watchin’ your baby girl? Surprised she ain’t out here with you. Even though it ain’t like you let her play with these neighborhood kids, no way.”

  Alena tensed and didn’t answer.

  “Chill, you know I’m just playin’ withchu,” she said, giving Alena a warm smile.

  “She’s with my neighbor, Miss Gloria. They’re baking a cake so I’ve got a little mommy time off.”

  “That’s cool, she in good hands then. We call Gloria ‘The Teacher’ ‘round here. She’s always looking out for the kids, letting these girls know how to be little ladies.”

  “Yeah. She told me she had a school at one point.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. Hey, you wanna know somethin’?” Takeah asked.

  “What?”

  “So I told Bengy what you said the other day and that I think you was right.”

  “You told him what exactly?”

  “That he ain’t got no right to be hitting me and if that’s all he offerin’ he can walk. I told him I ain’t stuck like he think I am, I got friends in high places now,” Takeah said, grinning.

  Alena blew out a breath and shook her head.

  “Hey, it wasn’t all you,” Takeah continued. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout my situation for a while now. Bengy ain’t a good influence on BJ and my baby BJ is special. You seen him. He smart as hell in school and he love to learn. This country ain’t like Guyana. You got the world at your feet if you work like a mule and use your brain. I ain’t got much to give him but I’m gonna make sure he get his fair chance. My mama left me with nothin’ to hold onto but her tears. My step daddy ended up killin’ her ‘cause she ain’t had no choice but to stay with him and take his shit. She ain’t had no green card, no money, no school, no nothin’ but him. Well I ain’t her. You reminded me that I ain’t my mama. I ain’t gotta stay with no no-good man. I ain’t leaving my boy to these streets or to his daddy when he come around with all that nonsense.”

  A proud smile broke acros
s Alena’s face.

  “No, you don’t. You’re a beautiful girl with a good head on her shoulders, Tacky.”

  “Hey BJ, come over here,” Takeah yelled to her son. He was perched on an old railing across the street with his friends.

  “My baby won a award in that special program of his today,” Takeah announced as BJ approached, beaming his gap-toothed grin.

  “Best science project in his grade. You see what I told you? This boy right here is gonna make it on his brain alone.”

  Takeah folded a clump of wrinkled bills into BJ’s hand. “Go to the corner and get some ice cream from the bodega, for you and your friend.” He grinned and the boys took off running for their treats.

  “Oh look, here come Big Rome. Good, I need some more oils,” Takeah said nudging Alena.

  “Who?” Alena craned her head to see a large black man approaching them. He seemed to be as wide as he was tall and wore all black with strands of braided leather necklaces around his neck. Each necklace had a large green, red and black pendant in the shape of the African continent hanging from it.

  “Big Rome, but he like to be called Brotha Rome,” Takeah answered under her breath as he came closer. “He a Muslim, one of them New Black Panthers.”

  Alena glanced at him before he reached them.

  “Hotep. Peace, beautiful sistahs. Y’all need some oils? I got that Black Woman, Jamaican Rum Punch, Juicy Couture, the new Coco Chanel. I got everything for y’all, new shipment. I got incense and burners, too. Oh and Sistah Tacky, I got that Money incense you like back in rotation,” he said.

  “You know it! Let me get that, Brotha Rome. Matter fact, gimme two packs. God knows I could use some cash quick, fast, and in a hurry. I’ll take a five dollar vial of that Black Woman, too,” Takeah said, handing him a crumpled ten dollar bill.

  “And what about you, Sistah Queen?” he said turning to Alena. “Anything for today? You look like a Nile Jewel type classy lady. I got the oil and the incense today, two for five just for you.”

  “No thanks,” Alena gave him and his inventory a look of disdain.