2. Keep the drugs out of Momma’s pretty body.
3. Write letters to Poppa and Winter.
4. Find Mercedes and Lexus.
5. Get a new apartment with windows, a telephone, and computer.
6. Bring home Mercedes and Lexus.
7. Get Momma a new driver’s license.
8. Buy Momma a new car.
9. Go see Poppa and Winter.
After I made the list, I felt panic reading it. I worried that the list was in the wrong order. Mercedes and Lexus should be at the top. No, writing Winter and Poppa was easiest. No, nothing could be done without healing Momma first. I knew that. I had erased and rearranged the list, until I decided that the order didn’t matter. We would do it all as swiftly as possible, with healing Momma at the top.
Momma was sweating and shaking. I stayed calm. It didn’t matter how bad it got, as long as she was here with me and unable to trick or abandon me again. Filling a large bowl with cool to warm water, I got a washcloth and began cleaning Momma’s face first. Slowly, I wiped and sometimes scrubbed every inch of her skin, even the soles of her feet. Removing her filthy clothes with a scissor was easy. They were not clothes designed for Momma. They were not nearly good enough. I put ’em in the trash. I rubbed shea butter on Momma’s cleaned, ashy, and bruised skin, everywhere. I cleaned my hands, and then put shea butter on Momma’s chapped lips, same as lipstick. When I gave Momma some spring water to drink, she spit it back at me. I wrapped Momma in a blanket and put a new pair of socks in her mouth. “It’s 3:00 a.m. I have to run up to Big Johnnie’s to work,” I said to her.
At Big Johnnie’s you would expect that since I cleaned up each day, there might be nothing much to do besides make the sandwiches. Not true. It never failed that a full day of customers moving up and down each aisle led to many things being out of place. I imagined that he had three or four customers who came every day, didn’t buy nothing, but went about touching every item purposely pushing it out of place. In my mind, one of ’em was a thief who sometimes would almost get away, but then lost confidence when he caught himself in a deadlock stare with Big Johnnie and his big and small guns.
Big Johnnie was licensed to carry weapons because he was a business owner. Or at least, that’s what he once told me. In that same conversation, which was rare cause I hardly ever saw him, I told him he should get a lottery machine in his store. Then it would stay packed morning, noon, and night. He said that to get one of those machines, “the government wants to stick a microscope up my ass then shove a microphone down my throat. All of that and you only get a few cents on every ticket sold.”
I said, “Not if you sell the winning ticket. Then, I bet you get a percentage!”
He smiled and said, “You’re smarter than any of these knucklehead kids in this neighborhood.” I ignored that comment and told him that I already had a winning number. “Oh really?” he said. “What is it, your birthdate?”
“No, it’s just my lucky number but I’m not old enough to play it yet.”
“There’s all kinds of ways to play numbers, not only Lotto.”
“Okay, you want to play it for me?” I asked him.
“Sure, why not. I’ll play it and just subtract it from your pay.”
“I know that, but will you pay me when I win?” I asked him.
“What kind of fella would I be to cheat a young girl who works so hard and cooks better than my ex-wife?” he asked. I told him my number: 1111. He promised to play it for me, put it in, and leave it in.
“Okay straight, box, and combinate it,” I said. I didn’t know what all that meant either, but I heard it enough before, so I said it to increase my luck.
When I returned downstairs, Momma had peed on the floor. I wasn’t bothered by it. I had peed in many forbidden places when I was a captive. I cleaned it, changed her blanket, and gave her some water, still worried about her getting too dehydrated. She spitted it at me again and said she had to shit. I sat thinking for some seconds. Next I pulled out the heavy chain and lock I got from Riot and added it on so Momma could move around into the bathroom. The whites of Momma’s eyes turned blood red with anger as she sat staring at the chain. “Sorry, Momma, I can’t release you. I want to, but I can’t.”
Since she wouldn’t drink water, I soaked a washcloth with spring water and put it in her mouth hoping that the moisture would ease down her throat. It was 6:06 a.m. now. So, Big Johnnie would be opening up his store. Momma’s mouth had to be stuffed so she couldn’t use her voice to alert anyone upstairs.
“Let’s sleep now, Momma, for a little while.” I sat down beside her in a way I wasn’t able to since we had arrived here. Already I was enjoying her body warmth and leaning on her. Already I felt relaxed in ways that I never did when I was alone, or even when I was down here with Siri. Without dancing in Momma’s empty closet until my body collapsed, without playing music that I loved, without R. Kelly singing me into sweet slumber, or Siri massaging and humming me into a reluctant rest, I slept in seconds, leaning comfortably on Momma. It was morning. Everyone else in the world may be awakening. However, in the space below the floor there were no windows. The sun never rose or set down here.
A foul smell snatched me from my dreams and nightmares. I awoke covered in chunks of mush. Momma had vomited on me. It was still slimy, leading me to believe that it had just happened.
“You crazy bitch. Whose daughter are you? Take these cuffs off me right now, or I’ll start screaming. As much as I hate police, somebody better come pull your ass up out of here before I kill you,” Momma said.
I didn’t want to, but it was time for the duct tape. I taped Momma’s mouth shut. I was teary-eyed. At least now she was sort of recognizing me as her daughter. At the same time she was threatening to kill me. I acted like I was searching for the keys to the cuffs, “Hold on, Momma, wait a minute, Momma,” I said. Then, “Where did I put those cuff keys!” I came up behind her where she could not turn, move, or see, and it was done. Her mouth was sealed shut.
After cleaning Momma and cleaning the floor and packing up the dirty blankets and clothes and showering myself and dressing for the day, I realized I shouldn’t leave Momma, but it was Friday. Time to meet up with Elisha, the only real joy in my young life.
Chapter 36
Siri said, “I’ll go and meet Elisha for you.” I stood thinking for some seconds. I started feeling maybe it was okay for her to go, maybe not. I love Siri. She has never left my side through prison, the reservation, my return to Brooklyn, and up until this moment.
“What will you wear?” I asked her.
“Give me something super pretty,” she said.
“Why?” I asked her.
“I like to feel good sometimes, too,” she said.
I listened to her and considered her words. Usually she is doing my hair and choosing my clothes and rubbing moisturizers on my skin and singing to me. I looked at the dresses I had not worn yet. They were dresses Mr. Sharp said “make ladies look like ladies, beautiful flowers.” I chose one for Siri to wear.
“Okay, you can go. Please tell Elisha I’m really busy today. So, I can’t make it.”
“I’ll tell him,” she said softly.
“But Siri, take the shopping cart and this laundry bag with you pretty please, and wash these things for Momma. I really need them. And don’t come home late!” I insisted.
“I’ll do the laundry, but Momma doesn’t like me. I know because you never even introduced us after all of this time,” Siri said.
“She’s not the real Momma, Siri, not until we get the drugs out of her. Then I’ll introduce you to a lady you will love, who will also love you back.”
“Okay.” She giggled. “I won’t be late or do anything wrong. Remember you like him. But I like you best of all, more than anyone.”
Soon as Siri left, I thought about how I had given her the bag of laundry to mess up her meeting with Elisha a little bit. Maybe he would spend time wondering about the stinky smell in her bag in
stead of seeing how really pretty Siri is. Then, if he asked her out to any place new, she would have to say no, she couldn’t go out with him, because she had to go to the Laundromat with her shopping cart and dirty things. This way, I would have let him know that Ivory didn’t mean to leave him standing there waiting for me, which I had never done to him. I would have accomplished keeping him and Siri from going out on a real date. Third, I would have Momma’s laundry all clean and folded, in case it got cold on this late October night.
Momma was looking at me strangely, like she was crazy or like she thought I was crazy. I Love You Momma, I gestured with my arms wide open. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m gonna cook for you.”
• • •
“What happened?” I asked Siri seven hours later. She came down the cement stairs, the cart wheels clanking at 10:00 p.m. She was hiding her smile, bursting with energy.
“I cleaned everything,” she said. “I put detergent, this much . . .” She gestured with her fingers. “And I put fabric softener this much . . .” She gestured again. It seemed as though she had used more fabric softener than detergent. I walked to the cement stairs to meet her and pulled the cart the rest of the way. I opened the laundry bag, bent over it, smelled inside. It smelled pretty like lavender, and like the inside of the flower shop three doors down.
“Good job, Siri. How much did they charge for the machines and which Laundromat did you go to?” I asked her.
“I didn’t go to the Laundromat. I didn’t have to,” Siri said.
“What do you mean?” I asked her sharply.
“I went to Elisha’s apartment. He offered. He said, don’t waste your money. We can wash it down the block at my house. He even pulled the cart for me.”
“Oh no!” I said, throwing my hands up in the air.
“What’s wrong?” Siri asked.
“I never go to Elisha’s house,” I told her.
“Why not? It’s really close to the organic market. It’s a really nice apartment, too. I met his mother.”
“What did she say?” I asked Siri. I was at the beginning stages of getting red.
“She said that I was even prettier than I was the day she first met me in the market. She admired my dress and asked me to spin around so she could get a good look at it. She even liked my Joan and David heels. She asked me why I never came by for dinner when Elisha offered so many times. Then she turned to Elisha and said, ‘You did invite her. Didn’t you?’ Elisha said, ‘Many times . . . ’ She asked me about Momma and if I was going to keep her all to myself or bring her over to dinner to meet Elisha’s family.”
“What did you say?!” I asked, my voice growing a bit louder and losing patience.
“I said that we could set a dinner date and Momma would come, but it had to be a couple of weeks from now because Momma had the flu. I did good, right?” Siri asked me. I thought about it. I didn’t want to be red at Siri. That was unfamiliar to me.
“You did good,” I said, my voice softening some. “Momma will be okay in a couple of weeks. Right, Momma?” I turned and asked Momma. She rolled her eyes at me.
“Help me brew some tea for Momma,” I told Siri.
“Okay I’ll help, but why is Momma shaking like that?” Siri asked, looking frightened.
“She’s okay. Big Johnnie is about to close for the night. We’ll remove the tape, wash Momma’s face, and give her this tea. This tea will make Momma’s muscles relax. After she gets used to having the tea, we will feed her the chicken broth with the chopped garlic,” I explained to Siri.
The truth was that I was using a “detoxification recipe” that I pieced together from my lessons with NannaAnna and from the small book section at the organic market. I had all kinds of ingredients, many of which were very difficult to locate. With Elisha’s help, I found passion flower, kavakava root, skullcap, valerian root, licorice root, Siberian ginseng, and so much more. I also was using what NannaAnna had given me in her magical sack gift when we first met: shea butter, aloe vera leaf, lavender, and a special mix of sleeping tea that could put a person to sleep for a short or long period of time. Wrongly used, it could put a person to sleep permanently.
“Okay, I hope it works,” Siri said.
“Me too. It will work, Siri,” I said confidently. When I removed the duct tape, I ripped it off real fast so it wouldn’t hurt Momma like it would if I peeled it off slowly. Momma gasped for air.
“Water,” she said. I ran and got it, thrilled that now Momma was asking for water herself, instead of spitting it on me. I held the bottle to Momma’s dry lips and helped her drink without choking. She drank it all. She cleared her throat.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Momma asked me.
“Huh?” I said, really not understanding.
“Who the fuck have you been talking to for the past hour?” Momma asked.
“Oh, sorry, Momma,” I said. “She is Siri, my closest friend ever.” I introduced Momma. Silly Siri curtsied. I laughed.
“Hello, Mrs. Momma,” Siri said.
“Oh, my fucking god,” Momma said angrily.
“Momma, Big Johnnie’s is closed now. No matter how much noise you make, no one can hear you. All the shops are closed. Let’s be friends at least at night. Talk nice to me, please. And be nice to my friend Siri.”
I begged, sort of.
“Let’s be friends at night!” Momma said. “Just how long does your crazy ass plan on keeping me locked up down here?”
I walked over to the blackboard and I pointed. “Momma, step one is for you to get clean. I will know when you are clean. You’ll be nice to me like you always was before. You’ll talk right and look right. You’ll be eating right and drinking right. Then I can trust you,” I said. Momma made a horrible face, stuck her tongue all the way out down below her chin. She began to scream and holler. It didn’t matter. No one could hear her.
“Siri and I made this tea for you. It’s important for you to drink it,” I said.
“I don’t want it. I’m not drinking that. I know what I wanna drink!” Momma said.
“Pinch her nose,” Siri whispered, her lips pressed against my ear in secret-telling mode. I squeezed Momma’s nose and held it. Her mouth dropped open automatically. I poured warm tea down her throat with one hand and held her head tilted back some with the other hand so she couldn’t do anything but swallow. It went in. It went down. I was relieved. The valerian root tea did what nothing else could. It had Momma sleeping like an infant. I washed her with a damp washcloth sprinkled with Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Soap. I cleaned a deep-sleeping Momma from head to toe. Then I opened a tub of shea butter. It looked thick as wax, but in my hands it melted the same way butter does. I began spreading the shea butter on the soles of Momma’s feet. Her feet had been swollen, bruised, ashy, and hard. I massaged her feet nicely to keep her heart from racing too fast. These are the gifts and lessons that NanaAnna gave to me. How could she know what a bitter fight I would have ahead of me?
After massaging Momma’s feet, which changed her face from its irritable scowl to a look of deep peace, I washed my hands. Next, I massaged the shea butter everywhere on her body. I shaved her armpits and combed her hair. I chopped up raw garlic and dropped it inside two socks. I placed the socks on each of Momma’s feet as she slept. I sprinkled small pieces of garlic all over her body, even her neck so she could inhale it. I placed a sheet over Momma first, then a blanket.
I flipped through the old songs I had collected for Momma. For me, part of getting Momma back, was getting Momma’s stuff back. She had an incredible record collection. I remembered the colorful and unique album designs from back in Brooklyn. I even memorized some of the lyrics to songs she played over and over again. I collected the songs by memory, spending some evenings in the record shop singing a few lines of each record I recalled Momma playing and loving. The older shop owner would “name the tune” and then tell me who performed it. Then he would sell it to me. It seemed like the record shop owner took a liking to me pl
aying this game with him. Slowly, I had already gathered more than fifty-two of her favorite songs.
I turned the music on soft and low. I was playing a song titled “Sukiyaki,” performed by a group named A Taste of Honey. Momma would like this song if she only could remember herself.
• • •
Siri and I sat on the bed together.
“So, what was his apartment like?” I asked her.
“Very nice and really big. It takes up two floors,” Siri said. “He’s not rich like you thought he was, though.”
“How do you know?” I asked. But I didn’t really care that Elisha was not rich, not anymore. I had made a good amount of money on my own, and Elisha meant more to me than money, which meant he means a lot.
“Well, you thought he owned that brownstone. But there are four floors and two families living in the two apartments above his,” Siri said.
“Maybe his family are owners and they make a pile of money from the renters upstairs,” I guessed.
“Nope, his family is renting, too, and he goes to that rich private school on a scholarship because he’s really freaking smart. He has an older brother named Azaziah and an older sister named Sheba and, of course, his mom and dad. Strange names, right?” Siri asked me.
“You met his dad?” I asked, surprised. Elisha never mentions him.
“Yep, but his dad didn’t say nothing, just kept reading the newspaper like the house was empty, when we were all in there!” Siri said.
“And what did you two do while the laundry was washing and drying?” I asked. Siri giggled.
“Well, he kept saying my name, Siri, Siri, Siri!” she said, smiling.
“Why?” I asked.
“He seemed to think it was really funny that I insisted he call me Siri. Then he suddenly agreed.”
“He asked me if I wanted to do a little play acting. I told him no, but we can sing,” Siri explained.
“He got really excited and asked me if I needed music or if he should play his guitar. I told him I did not need music. He said let’s go to my room. We were walking down the hall to his room. His mother said, ‘Make sure you two keep that bedroom door open!’ He agreed, but when we got inside his bedroom, he closed it at first.”
A Deeper Love Inside Page 31