The Gilda Stories

by Jewelle Gomez

  “Wake her,” she said.

  Gilda knelt beside the couch, stroking the girl’s forehead and whispering into her ear until the girl opened her eyes. She smiled at Gilda as if none of the events of the past few days had happened. Then her eyes clouded over with anxiety. She looked around, confused by the change.

  “We brought you here—there was a fire at the shop.”

  “A fire! I was dreaming about fire but I couldn’t wake up. I wasn’t afraid but I couldn’t wake up.”

  “Don’t worry, no one knows where you are.”

  “You mean he thinks I’m in that fire, don’t you?”

  “Would he do that?”

  “That ain’t nothin’ to what Fox would do.”

  Gilda was silent as she looked at Bird. She turned away, the ripple in the muscles across her back moving from liquid into stone. Bird turned to Toya and smiled with the sweetness of a maiden aunt.

  “You mustn’t worry about this for another minute. Gilda and I will take care of Fox.”

  “No, please don’t try to face him. You don’t know him. He’ll kill you both and laugh. Just let me get out now. Maybe if he thinks I was in the fire—”

  “No, Toya. Remain here and don’t open the door for any reason.”

  The girl looked uncertain. After the last three days nothing seemed real to her, and she laughed nervously.

  She pulled her legs up beneath her on Gilda’s sofa, her eyes staring blankly into the darkness. They had said wait, so she would wait. There was nowhere else to go.

  Gilda and Bird went back up to Mass. Ave. to see the small crowd gathered in front of the smoking ruin that had been Gilda’s shop. They stood at a distance from the cluster of black faces whose eyes watched the white firemen with a wild array of emotions. Their anger at the white men who always seemed to arrive too late in their neighborhood was as pungent as the smoke. Still, they stood as supplicants in their nightclothes, desperate for something to survive the blaze, knowing that their appointed saviors had little personal concern one way or the other.

  The flames cast an orange light onto the faces that watched with horror and fascination. Gilda caught the gaze of a man who was smiling. The flame made his light eyes look amber and red like some shining jewel. He stared straight into Gilda’s eyes, unflinching. She knew it was Fox. His smile was without humor, his eyes flat and compelling. As he peered at her, Gilda saw his hatred and the joy the hatred brought him. Her body stiffened with recognition. Bird felt it too and held onto Gilda’s arm as Fox pulled away from the crowd and walked swiftly up Massachusetts Avenue. Gilda recognized the fluid movement, the opaque eyes. He was one too—one of them.

  In the time she had lived here she’d searched the air looking for others, and there had been none. Or so she thought. He had kept his thoughts shielded deliberately and perhaps felt safe enough simply ignoring Gilda’s presence. That would no longer be possible.

  Once separated from the crowd Fox turned hard on his heel and disappeared as if he had never been there. The heat of the fire filled the cool, empty space he left behind. Gilda strained against Bird’s grip, anxious to follow, to find him. Bird said, “We can wait until tomorrow. He will be somewhat difficult to kill.”

  Gilda and Bird walked away from the blaze and the crowded sidewalk. They didn’t speak until they had almost reached the door leading down to Gilda’s basement flat. Bird spoke first. “I feel a bit foolish—waiting so long to come to you. No moment seemed right. I knew you were waiting for me but I was still unable to believe we could feel comfortable in each other’s company. Now here we are. It’s not exactly what I’d planned.”

  “My time with Sorel helped me to understand,” Gilda responded. “After that, waiting for you to return was not such a bad thing. I’ve lived a good life. I’ve brought no one into the family, but perhaps that time is near. I couldn’t take that chance until we repaired the breach between us.”

  At the doorstep Bird said, “I’ve seen much of the precious blood of my people spilled into the earth over the years. I had hoped this would be a time of renewal before I returned to them, but I can see the battle is joined on more fronts than I had realized. This Fox is like others I’ve observed; he will be unrelenting.”

  When Gilda said nothing Bird added, “We will have to destroy him to free her. You understand?”

  “Yes,” Gilda said, not truly understanding how this would be done.

  “There may be little time for discussion in the coming hours. But I would say we need only go forward from here.” The sheen of her brown face in the evening light delighted Gilda and almost dispelled her anxieties.

  Toya was sitting in the same position on the sofa, staring at the door when they went inside. Her eyes showed terror as Gilda appeared in the doorway, then relief.

  “The shop is probably a complete loss but I don’t think anyone upstairs was hurt.” Gilda put her arms around Toya who remained impassive.

  “Don’t think about what you’re going to do,” Gilda continued, “we’ll take care of it. Believe me, please.” As Toya began her protest Gilda just went on talking as if she had already solved the problem, as if she had no indication of the horror that awaited them.

  “I’ve forgotten my manners. This is Bird, my oldest friend in the world.” Bird laughed at the simple statement and reached down to hold Toya’s hand.

  “Gilda’s right, let us take care of this. By tomorrow night you’ll be back home with little to worry about but your mother fussing at you for being gone so long.”

  Toya didn’t have the energy to respond. She raced through all of the questions she had and the one answer that told her that by this time tomorrow they would all be dead.

  “All you have to do is remember when you face your mother and the rest of the people at home is that you managed to make it back to them. There’s no shame in what you’ve done up here, in this life. I’ve done it. It was long ago, but you see no mark on me. Please just leave this time behind you, think only of home and the future,” Bird said in a soft and rhythmic voice.

  She massaged Toya’s hand, looking into her eyes. Soon Toya was asleep, held by Bird’s will. They lay her down on the couch, covered her with a blanket, then went into the bedroom.

  After Gilda bolted the bedroom door they lay together in their clothes on the rumpled comforter, ill at ease with another—not one of them—sleeping so nearby. Their breathing was even and shallow, their pulses almost imperceptible. If this were really sleep it might be said that they rested well.

  On Sunday evening the door of the 411 Lounge opened into another world—not separate from the rest of the neighborhood, but more of a fantasy. At seven o’clock there were few people at the bar: two black men sat perched on stools watching television. The bartender stared out the window through the venetian blinds, only glancing up briefly when the three women walked in. Bird’s long cloak fluttered, filling the doorframe. He looked more closely when he recognized Toya. The avenue was buzzing with gossip.

  They walked past the bar to the back and sat at one of the dining tables. Here the women and men of the street could retreat and be themselves. Pimps and business girls flirted with each other outrageously, playing out dramas constructed to make life interesting. While sometimes the games were dangerous on the street, the 411 Lounge was like the family living room. People rarely raised their voices here. Hank, the owner, wouldn’t allow it. But they did, as Gilda had assured Bird, observe and gossip. If they separated from Savannah at the 411, Fox would know about it.

  The chef saw the three come in and took a few last puffs on her Tareyton before going out to take their order. When she recognized Toya she regretted not having a waitress on Sundays so she could stay in the kitchen and avoid what was sure to be an explosion.

  She was relieved her children had made other plans tonight and would not be slipping in through the back door to have dinner.

  When Henrietta reached Gilda’s table no one was ready to order. Toya kept shaking her head, saying
, “I’ll wait…”

  “I got no waitress today so if you want something from the bar, you mind getting it yourself?”

  Gilda remembered why this place remained calm. Henrietta was a towering column of authority. It was clear that everyone here knew what was going on, yet Henrietta’s cocoa-brown face was impassive. Her large, dark eyes betrayed her anxiety for only a second. The curls that sat tightly on her forehead were flecked with grey, an impressive crowning of her six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound body. The line from the slightly padded shoulders of her dress fell softly around her full breasts, inward at her waist, and out again around her firm hips. The large white apron she had doubled over and tied tightly at her waist gave her a no-nonsense look, a titillating contrast to the bright red slash of her lipstick.

  She took in the situation and proceeded in the only way she knew how—as if these were her children, too. “You gonna be able to save anything outta that mess?” she asked Gilda. Everyone knew everything on the avenue.

  “I haven’t looked closely but I don’t think so.”

  “You got insurance, ain’t ya?”

  “Yes, I guess that’ll cover most of it. I’m just glad no one was hurt. Has Savannah been here tonight?” Gilda asked, eager to avoid the connection between the fire and Toya.

  “Naw, she hardly comes out on Sundays, you know. She don’t even want to talk to nobody on Sunday ’cept her kids. She calls ’em two, three times on Sunday like long distance ain’t nothing.” As Henrietta talked she glanced quickly at Bird, whom she’d never seen before. She seemed puzzled by the plain face and nervous energy.

  “You know that boy probably comin’ in here after nine o’clock,” she said, turning to Toya.

  Toya nodded and looked at Gilda who said, “We’re waiting for Savannah, then we’ll be gone. But Toya needs a good meal.”

  Before Toya could speak, Henrietta had settled the question. “I know what the girl likes. Let me bring you a little plate of something. I got some of those yams left over from last night. I’m gonna heat ’em up for ya. She likes that sweet stuff, you know. You girls want something? My chicken’s real good tonight.”

  Both Gilda and Bird shook their heads no. Henrietta did not push it, although it usually made her angry when three of the girls would order one plate for all of them.

  When she left the table, Bird rose to go to the bar. “I know Sorel has tried to make champagne your drink of choice,” Bird said with a smile, “but I think today we should make it neat.” When she returned, she and Gilda sipped from the weighty rock glasses, letting the heat of the liquor burn through them. Their blood raced like jet streams once the alcohol entered the flow. Both felt flushed, enjoying the rare taste. Toya ate in silence. Henrietta returned with an extra spoonful of yams which she plopped unceremoniously on Toya’s plate before walking away.

  Gilda and Bird waited. Sarah Vaughn’s voice from the jukebox competed with a ball game on television. Several people at the bar turned in surprise when Savannah walked through the door and headed directly to the back booth where the three women sat.

  She dropped a short rabbit jacket over the back of the seat and squeezed in beside Toya. She was wearing a silk man-tailored striped shirt which hung loosely, almost to her knees, over wool slacks. Her white hair shone brilliantly, while her face was a mask of tight lines drawn into a smile.

  “So what you broads doing out in the street on Sunday? Ain’t you never heard of a day of rest?” She looked at Gilda as she spoke and held onto the thin flesh of Toya’s leg with her hand. Small diamonds twinkled on two of her fingers, a sapphire on a third. It matched the star sapphire in a thin silver chain around her neck. She always wore her real jewelry on her day off.

  Gilda introduced Bird casually, as if they regularly met at the 411 on Sunday evenings, then asked, “How’re the kids?”

  “Girl, how the hell can they be? Darlene got all A’s in school, so she don’t want to do no homework. Daryl got all D’s in school, so he don’ wanna do none either!” With that she laughed loudly and several people at the bar turned. Gilda excused herself from the table and had Savannah follow her to the tiny bathroom at the back of the bar. Toya stopped eating and finally began to drink her glass of gin.

  Inside the bathroom Savannah was tense. “I knew you be here today, but don’ ask me how. Matter of fact, don’ ask me nothin’, beginnin’ with who that dry one is you got with you or what the hell the fire was about. All I know is we got to get that child out of here and right now!”

  “Listen, Savannah, you’re out of it. Fox is more than you or I can deal with alone, so I want you to forget everything. Stay here and meet some friends for a drink or dinner.”

  “Are you crazy? That nigger ain’t shit. He’s been waiting to get his for the past five years, and if it’s us that got to give it to him, then that’s it, ya dig?”

  “Savannah, let it go. We saw him last night. He’s a real killer—”

  “Girl, I coulda told you that before the shit hit. He’s more’n that. The girls that leave him can be counted on one finger, so I know what the word is, O.K.? Let’s just get the hell out of this joint. I ain’t even sure the .45 I got in my jacket will take care of him!”

  “You’re right, Savannah, it won’t. That’s why you’ve got to stay out of it.”

  “You ever kill anybody?” Savannah asked it with a coolness that did not match the agitated movement of her hands. She didn’t wait for Gilda to respond. “It ain’t an easy thing, but I think that’s the only way Toya gonna leave this town. And I’ma tell you at this point, after that fire, that motherfucker is tryin’ to kill her and droppin’ him is the only way to get her free.”

  “I know,” Gilda said.

  “Well, have you?”

  “Yes,” she answered impatiently. The cloying smell of the air freshener and the closeness of the walls made Gilda even more anxious. The faces floated up in her mind again, and the bitterness of those moments singed the back of her throat. Savannah was surprised by the response and by its tone.

  The bathroom door swung open abruptly. Henrietta burst in, closing it tightly behind her.

  “That other one says y’all get out now. She say he’s coming!”

  “We’ll take the alley!” said Savannah.

  “She done paid me,” Henrietta said as Gilda pressed some bills into her hand. But Gilda did not hear. She had Savannah by the hand as they tumbled out the fire exit.

  The narrow stairs went down one dark flight into the alley. A row of full trash cans stood against one wall. Bird picked her way around debris, holding Toya by the wrist with one hand and Savannah’s fur in the other. Gilda and Savannah came up close behind.

  “Turn right up the alley, hurry,” Savannah whispered loudly. Bird peered into the darkness at her right, trusting Savannah’s words and her own instinct. Their footsteps were almost silent as they ran. Both Gilda and Bird concentrated not on the running, but on the next step after the alley; there would be few safe places now.

  The street light at the end of the alley was out. It was dark, and the opening onto the street was blocked by a large car. Bird stopped short. The three women almost piled into her like cartoon figures. The door of the car sprung open wide, but the interior remained murky. Gilda was angry she had no weapon. She might have taken a knife from the table or a glass. How would she cut into the man’s heart, stop it from beating, with her bare hands? Bird stood motionless, searching her memory of the surrounding territory. She had not been prepared to face this one yet. More time was needed, but there was no more time.

  “Back to the bar,” she whispered and let go of Toya.

  “No,” Savannah said, “it’s Skip.” She ran toward the car. Gilda followed her and recognized the thin, brown-skinned young man sliding over from the driver’s to the passenger’s seat. His boyish face was split by a genuine smile.

  “Get in, hurry up. Damn!” Savannah said as she got behind the wheel. Gilda climbed into the backseat, Toya and Bird followed. Sa
vannah pulled the car away from the curb silently, slowly, without turning on the lights, driving as if she’d trained all her life for the getaway. “We got a house on the Cape we share with Maurice. It’s closed down now, so we can hide out there for a while.”

  Gilda and Bird looked at each other, knowing there would be little hiding time. Fox would find them easily and follow. He only had to listen to the thoughts, sniff out the fear of the others in the car. But he had to be faced somewhere, and away from the eyes of the city was better. Neither wanted to risk a confrontation with him among the crowds of the train station. Gilda was sorry that Savannah, and now Skip, were involved, yet their choice felt natural. Bird picked up these thoughts as she sifted through her own. She held the girl close, trying to calm her with her touch. She was silent, staring ahead as if her will, not Savannah, drove the car through the evening streets.

  Then Toya spoke. “I don’t know what he want with me. Shit, I ain’t even the big money-maker.”

  “Girl, you know it ain’t about money with most of ’em,” Savannah said over her shoulder.

  “Maybe you all better just drop me off at the bus, I mean I could get on and be away before he knows. You all could just hold him back, or something. I don’t even have to take it home directly. I mean, I could go a roundabout way, you know, so he won’t be able to follow me.

  Gilda answered. “He’d know, Toya. There’s no way we can hold him or keep him from knowing. He’d be there when you got there, wherever it was. Savannah’s right, we’ll just stay put, stay out of town, until he comes to us.”

  As the car sped through the night Gilda and Bird watched the fog gathering around the road and the dim lights from the houses growing further apart. Skip was quiet during most of the ride, only speaking to answer the few questions that Savannah threw at him.

  “Yes,” he’d remembered the milk for the tea and the brandy and the extra clothes. He’d mailed her letters. Each response came officiously with an edge of pride. Savannah just nodded or said “uh-huh,” like she was grading him.