“They do have phones in Harlem,” I reminded her. “I’ll call you every night and the time will fly by. And I’ll e-mail you. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She waved her hand like she wasn’t trying to hear anything I had to say.
“You’re going to forget all about me, I just know it,” she said. “When you get back, you’re going to be a completely different person. I bet I won’t even be able to recognize you.”
“Oh, please, give me a break,” I replied.
“I guess we’ll just have to see,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “I really don’t understand why you have to go for so long.”
When I was younger, my visits with Tilly didn’t extend beyond a weekend. The past few years, I started staying a little longer, though the first extended weekend, I was so homesick my parents drove up to get me before my planned stay had ended. It was different now. I was sure I was ready to stay a few weeks and leave the drama behind and start fresh.
I pulled out whatever clothes were clean and started throwing them in my luggage. I threw a T-shirt to Heather and nodded toward my suitcase. Since I would probably be helping Tilly at her volunteer job, I needed something a little dressier than jeans and T-shirts. I grabbed a new white tank top and a red skirt Heather and I had bought at the mall a few weeks ago.
“This is such a bad idea,” Heather said, throwing in more shirts. “And why do you need so many clothes for one week anyway?”
Of course it was a bad idea to Heather; her best friend was deserting her for what she thought was one week. I felt bad for not telling her the truth about what I was considering. No way would she take the news well. That I knew for sure.
With Tilly acting so disappointed and determined to show me my roots, my extended stay might even be a bad idea for me, too. But staying to face my problem with the two ballet Nazis was out of the question.
Tilly’s life in Harlem wasn’t glamorous—too many people in too small of a space where everyone knew everyone’s business. But even overcrowded Harlem was sounding better than home.
“It’s just another visit with Tilly, Heather,” I said.
I had a hard time believing this myself, though. I knew Tilly wouldn’t take the incident last night lightly. But, seriously, I wore scarves in my hair. I hadn’t tried to skip school or kill anyone. I wore a silly hairstyle. If Stephanie hadn’t slipped on my scarves, I bet no one would have even noticed they were in my hair at all. Surely, the time away would fly by and I’d return to my normal life.
Packing was overrated. I shut my dresser drawers and picked up my clean clothes hamper and dumped it inside the suitcase.
“There, packing all done,” I said. I flopped down next to Heather on the bed.
“Remember when we stuck those up there?” she asked, nodding toward the one hundred glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Of course I remember, I almost broke my neck standing on my desk trying to stick them up there,” I said. We both laughed.
“Let’s make another wish,” she said. We’d been doing this for years. Usually we wished for boys to talk to us. Heather grabbed my hand and we closed our eyes. My wish was that Stephanie wouldn’t still be mad at me by the time I got back from Tilly’s place.
My leotard and tutu were in a pile on the floor. We both saw them at the same time. Heather picked them up and tossed both into my bag.
“Just in case you want to practice while you’re gone,” she said. I smiled, but pulled the leotard and tutu back out and tossed them onto the floor.
“Actually, Heather, I doubt I’ll be needing these ever again,” I said. No harm in starting fresh right away.
Heather took a deep breath. “What are you talking about? Is this because of what happened at the show?”
I shook my head no, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy getting herself all worked up.
“Because if it is, Tash, you know how kids are around here,” she said. “They’ll tease you for a while and forget all about it in no time.”
Yeah, I did know kids around here. They were my friends, but it still hurt to be the brunt of their jokes all the time.
“Yeah, I know,” I answered her.
“Really, Stephanie isn’t even that mad,” Heather said.
I wondered how Heather knew exactly how Stephanie was feeling, especially because we didn’t ever talk to her outside of ballet, under any circumstances. Heather noticed the shocked look on my face.
“And Marcia, she just gets upset over anything,” she said. “She said she doesn’t want you to dance with us anymore. But I’m sure she doesn’t really mean that. There’s no way she can’t let you dance. It’s not fair.”
Heather looked up at me as she said that. I couldn’t believe she would be talking to my enemies behind my back. I hadn’t even left town yet.
“Staying with Tilly isn’t about dance,” I lied. “I need to see something new, the world outside of this town.”
“What for?” she asked. “This town is our world. What could you possibly learn in the city that you can’t learn here with me? Dance is something new. We could keep practicing and you’ll get much better, you’ll see.”
I thought about how to tell Heather I wasn’t interested in getting better at ballet.
“I won’t get better,” I said.
“Tash, why can’t you catch a show this weekend with Tilly and then come back home like before?” Heather asked.
“Because, I just can’t,” I said, even though I probably could if I had wanted to. I zipped my suitcase closed, frustrated that Heather wasn’t willing to think of anyone other than herself.
When Heather and I finally said good-bye, she was in tears. I waved slightly as she walked away from the house, ready to be left alone.
I stood in front of my vanity and brushed my hair out. I plugged in the curling iron. I needed to learn to do my hair on my own, especially if Tilly wouldn’t do it for me while I was away. I’d never so much as seen a curling iron at her place. Her short hair had been styled in twists for years.
I pulled the first section of hair apart with my fingers and dragged the iron on top just like my mom had done so many times for me. It fell just right and so did the next two sections.
I held my left ear in with one hand and the iron in the other. I grabbed the hair and held the iron as tight as possible. I was sure to move the cord out of the sink bowl so I wouldn’t electrocute myself. After awhile, I felt the heaviness of the iron weighing down my right arm and I did my best to hold it steady.
When I let go, the iron dropped right onto my ear. Immediately I felt the pain of burning flesh. I dropped the iron into the sink and pinched the ear, causing me even more pain. The tears fell freely.
I heard footsteps and knew my mom had heard the noise.
“God, Tash, what just happened?” she asked.
She looked from the iron in the sink to my ear. She pulled the cocoa butter from the cabinet under the sink and began to rub my ear. It didn’t make it feel better, but I let her rub anyway.
“I was trying to do it myself since I’ll be at Tilly’s for so long,” I told her. I took the iron carefully out of the sink and held it out for her. “Will you help me finish? I can’t do it as well as you.”
“Sure, let’s get you fixed up,” she said. She took the iron from me and hugged me tight. “My goodness, you’re shaking like a leaf.”
“I guess I’m just nervous,” I said, drying my face with a washcloth. I let her work her magic. She redid most of my hair before speaking.
“What are you so nervous about?” my mom asked. “You’ve been going to stay with Tilly since you were a little girl.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never been to Amber’s Place with her,” I said. “Tilly has told me stories about those girls. I don’t know if I’m ready for all that.”
“Nonsense, those girls are just like you,” my mom said. “They have just had different life experien
ces.”
Those girls were not like me, according to what Tilly had told me. My heart started to race just thinking about the tales of surviving on the streets.
“Don’t worry, Tash,” she said, “I’m actually really glad you’re going to spend some time with Tilly. Maybe it is better for you to leave here for a while. We did our best to protect you from the world, but now I don’t know if that was the right thing to have done for you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know, either,” I said. She looked at me in the mirror. “I just wish Tilly wasn’t so disappointed in me.”
“Tilly isn’t disappointed, Tash,” she said. “You’re growing into a young woman now. She just wants you to learn more about who you are.”
I thought I knew who I was. Now I felt like I didn’t know anything.
“I thought I knew that,” I said.
“I know,” my mom answered. “But it will be a good change for you. And having the extra time to spend in a different environment will be nice, too.”
“I hope so,” I said.
All of a sudden, it felt like the life I’d always known was falling apart before my very eyes and I didn’t know how to stop it. My mom finished my hair and unplugged the iron. We both stared into the mirror for a while, both knowing we wouldn’t see this same girl for a long, long time.
CHAPTER FOUR
SAYING GOOD-BYE WAS more difficult than I imagined.
A stranger would have thought I was moving across the country. Dad could barely get out of the car at the bus station. He handed me money and held me for a long time. My mom pulled a tissue from her purse, dabbed her eyes, and hugged me so tight I almost cried. Tilly rolled her eyes, hugged them both quickly, and boarded the bus.
“I’ll miss you, Tash,” Mom said. “You’re going to have a great time, you’ll see. And you know we’ll come up to visit when we can.”
I looked at her with one raised eyebrow.
“Not to shop, to see if you’re okay,” she said, laughing. I laughed, too. She wasn’t fooling anyone. My mom wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to catch some sales. “By the end of your visit, we’ll be fighting to get you to come back home.”
My stomach started a flip-flop exercise I was all too familiar with. It was the same pain right before I got onstage to dance, before I gave speeches in front of my English class, and the same pain before I boarded a bus to leave my parents. I leaned from one foot to the other and took a few deep breaths.
“You nervous?” she asked, giving my hand a squeeze.
I lied, shook my head, and started to gather my bags. Tilly had already taken the larger one for the driver to put underneath the bus.
“I love you,” my mom mouthed to me as I walked toward the bus.
I took one step onto the bus at a time, each one slower than the one before. I could see Mom standing outside the window where Tilly had set up shop. She raised one hand and kissed it. I kissed my own hand and placed it against the window.
Tilly handed me a peppermint.
“You should always sit close to the front,” Tilly said, sucking on her own candy, ignoring us, “so when you get off for the break, the driver will remember you and not leave you at some rest stop in the middle of God knows where. I’ve seen it happen.”
I wasn’t sure when or if that bit of information would be helpful to me, but I nodded to show her I got the message anyway. Knowing Tilly, she would keep talking whether I answered her or not.
“Okay, Tash, let me show you how this works,” Tilly said, pulling out the bus map. I leaned on her shoulder while she excitedly pointed to each line.
“You okay over there?” she asked after she was through.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” I told her, “just a little tired.”
“Looks more like nerves to me,” she said. “I know you’re scared, but it’ll work out, you’ll see. This is going to be good for you.”
“You really think so?” I asked. I was hoping that hearing it one more time would convince me it would be so.
“Yeah, it will, baby. You’ll see,” she said. She passed the map over to me and pulled out her knitting needles and yarn.
“Tilly?” I asked. “I heard what you told Mom and Dad last night. What am I supposed to learn with you?”
She put the yarn down and looked at me.
“NaTasha, I’ve never lied to you and I’m not about to start now,” she said. “Harlem ain’t nothing like what you know here. And Amber’s Place is going to be quite an adjustment for you, too. Those girls have been through rough times in their short lives, things you’ll never know about, thank the good Lord. Two different worlds if there ever were any. This is going to be tough, but I believe you can make it. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. Tilly was planning to let me tag along for a few hours each day and spend some time with the girls, helping out where I was needed.
“Girl, if you can make it through this, you’ll walk out a stronger person,” she said. “You trust me?”
“Yeah, Tilly, I trust you.”
“Good, now help me make a grocery list. We’ve got a celebration to cook up tonight,” she said.
Tilly celebrated everything with food. When she moved into her new apartment, instead of a housewarming, she cooked a bunch of food and invited the neighborhood.
Our list was nearly a full page long by the time the driver interrupted us. He announced we were close to a rest stop.
“Okay, folks, we are forty minutes outside of New York City and we’ll be stopping soon for a break,” he said over the speaker. “You will have ten minutes and ten minutes only. Please believe me when I say I will not wait for you slowpokes. If you get left out at the stop, good luck.”
He laughed and set his mic down.
Tilly leaned over and said, “See, I told you.” She ran through our plan of action for maximizing our rest stop time. One minute to get to the restroom and three more to use it, wash, and exit. Four minutes to stand in line and order a snack. Two to run back to the bus. She was a pro, and as soon as the bus doors opened, she was off. Her legs moved like a windup doll.
“Tilly, wait up,” I called, rushing to keep up with her.
“You better catch up, girl,” she said. “I’m too old to hold it for very long. Step lively.”
And I stepped.
Tilly and I both deserved trophies for our record performance at the rest stop. We were back with three minutes to spare. I opened my Chocolate Delights and laughed at the other passengers running to make it back to the bus. You would have thought our driver was the ice cream man on a hot summer day. Tilly sipped her cranberry juice and shook her head, like she knew someone was about to get left behind.
The driver must have scared everyone, though, because we arrived in the city with everyone aboard. He congratulated us like we had run a marathon with everyone crossing the finish line.
“Good job, folks, it’s always a pleasure when I can make a trip without losing anyone,” the driver said, laughing.
He opened the undercarriage of the bus and helped us unload our bags. Times Square was just as busy as I remembered—the same amount of people, the same lights blazing, and the same sense of urgency.
“It never sleeps, huh?” I asked, to no one in particular.
“Never,” the driver heard me and answered. “There’s too much money to be made to sleep. Have a good time while you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll try.”
Tilly and I took the C train to 116th Street and Frederick Douglass Boulevard in Harlem. We stepped out onto a bustling street, near a bus depot, a small bodega, and a tire store. Darlene’s Beauty Supply Shop had lines of women waiting for their turn to get their hair braided or pressed. Tilly had an extra spring in her step.
“Girl, it’s good to be home,” Tilly said. We walked past Darlene’s and around the block to Tilly’s apartment. On our way, I bought a new cell phone case and a pair of house slippers from a street vendor, because I had forgotten
to pack my own. Once we unloaded our bags in her apartment, we headed to the bodega on the corner to stock Tilly’s nearempty refrigerator. The store was right next to an adult video store and a small KFC.
“Did you remember my list, Tash?” Tilly asked, pulling a mini-sized shopping cart away from the others. “We don’t want to go at this all willy-nilly. We need a plan.”
The store was four aisles wide. I was sure we could manage without it, but that was an unnecessary argument.
“I’ve got the list,” I said, following behind her. Tilly is the kind of grandmother you prayed would not embarrass you in public. I had to watch her like she was the child. She was liable to say anything to anyone.
Our cart was half full and the list almost complete when Tilly’s favorite song came on. Anthony Hamilton blared through the speakers and Tilly started having flashbacks of her nightclub days. She shook her oversized behind to the beat. I covered my laugh with my hand and looked around to make sure she wasn’t scaring away any of the customers. When she finally stopped dancing, she grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back of the bodega.
“Come on, Tash, I want you to meet my favorite meat guy,” Tilly said, loudly enough for the boy around my age behind the counter to hear. He winked in our direction when he saw her coming. All of a sudden, after seeing how cute he was, I couldn’t think straight. All noise around us faded—no more Anthony Hamilton, no more squeaky carts, and no more Tilly. I tucked my hair behind my ears and straightened my clothes.
“Looking good, Ms. Tilly, what can I get for you today?”
Tilly’s meat guy wore his black hair cropped closely to his head. He had beautiful large brown eyes and smooth skin. I thanked God for making such a gorgeous boy. The name tag on his apron said AMIR. He smiled widely at Tilly, like she was his best customer. I wanted to be his best customer and I didn’t even know him.
“Same as always, baby,” Tilly told him, “but add a couple more pieces of chicken breast for me. We’re celebrating tonight.”
Amir went to work wrapping pieces of meat in white paper and placing the packages on his weighing scale. His muscles bulged under his white polo shirt.
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