He hated that he was so instinctively judgmental about a woman’s carriage. He knew that it was the result of years of watching his mother checking her make up when his father’s car pulled up. After twenty-five years of marriage, she still never let him see her “real” face, not even when she gave birth. Marc was fond of that fact up until recently when he began to question what his mother had been hiding under her make up.
Unlike the trusting and loving relationship that most men have with their mothers, Marc saw his mother more as an entity that he was forced to deal with for obligatory reasons only. She did give birth to him, but she was as distant as any person who had a child for financial security could be. She was greedy and cold, but most importantly, judgmental. She questioned the motives of everyone around her. She even refused to allow Marc to join the Boy Scouts because she thought it would make her look ridiculous to host cub meetings, and she was certain that one of his fellow scouts would steal toys because they were envious.
Marc understood that his mother’s attitudes had spilled into his character. He thought it a good defense mechanism to weed out all of the gold digging chicken heads he happened upon every now and then. Most of them, anyway.
When he walked into his Georgetown office, Dora sat at her desk and feigned busy, as she often did. She glanced up and mumbled good morning out of duty, rather than courtesy and mannerism. She struggled to minimize the Black Planet chat session on her computer screen that featured a large middle-aged black man with a baldhead. When is that shit gonna end? Thanks Michael Jordan. Decidedly rude, Marc pretended not to hear her salutation and headed straight to his office. He rethought his actions and decided to turn around to greet her as he slipped into his leather high back chair.
Just as he rose to return to her area, he saw messages waiting on his desk. The first two were from potential clients that he had been trying to win bids from, but the third shook him and forced him back to his seat.
It was the call that he had awaited in anguish and fear. He held his breath as he picked up the receiver and dialed the numbers scribbled onto the paper in black ink.
As the phone rang, he closed his eyes and prayed that his life would not be changed forever.
Chapter 4 Natalie
Traffic was ugly. So many places to go, even more reasons why. Natalie felt confident that she had beaten the worst of it as she left the Mandarin Spa in downtown Houston. Glancing at the dashboard temperature of 88 degrees, she sat in her BMW 325 I, the leather seats now scorching her newly waxed legs as she cursed her decision to wear her mini skirt this morning. Realizing that she was in for a long wait, she pressed the sound button on the steering wheel and was instantly being serenaded by Wynton Marsalis on the smooth jazz station that was programmed into the car’s memory when “a friend” gifted it to her three years ago.
After listening for a few minutes, she decided that she would have a ghetto moment and listen to Hot 107.9, the city’s notoriously hip hop and R&B Station. A cute R&B singer was telling someone to move his stuff to the left, ‘everything he owned in a box to the left.’ Natalie smiled at the young singer’s declaration, but then wondered why the hell someone as beautiful as she was would ever have to buy a man anything. She had bought a few men some nice ties and maybe even the occasional watch, but a damned Jag?
Natalie’s thoughts drifted to Milton, her former college lover, and now an established oncologist. She burned with anger as she remembered sharing her college tuition fund with the promising black student who vowed to make her his wife as soon as he completed medical school. She could still smell the stale cigars at the club where she stripped for a semester to help pay his rent, because he was after all, going be a doctor and needed to devote all of his time to his studies.
She closed her eyes tightly as she recalled the betrayal that lodged itself in her throat when he announced at his graduation that he was marrying his med school classmate. A woman from a distinguished family, and overall more socially acceptable prospect as his wife. It was only when the love of her life delivered a greeting card and a check for twenty thousand dollars for her “tireless support and constitution as a great friend” that Natalie realized that love was not going to be an indulgence that she would enjoy. She taught herself to find comfort in one-night stands and occasional out-of-town flings who were more familiar with her body than her heart.
Weeks later she RSVP’d Milton’s wedding invitation with her regrets. It was symbolic. She resisted her desire to attend and announce the pregnancy that ended in “miscarriage” when he reminded her that it was the typical course of deceptive and shiftless women to trap a black man with a child at the burgeoning s career and expect compensation. Jerk.
Natalie’s mood lightened. She chuckled as she heard callers belting out the catchy anthem in broken keys as the announcer reminded everyone that the singer was going to be in her hometown soon, and that tickets were sold out weeks before the concert. The desperate callers were trying to get tickets for the songstress and readily embarrassed themselves for the privilege. Natalie laughed aloud as one caller sang the song in Spanish and then began to utter muffled sounds that baffled the listeners as well as the animated the morning personalities who quickly disconnected the call.
As she reveled in lightness of the moment, she noticed that traffic was starting to break and she would no longer be at the halt she was locked in for 15 minutes. She eased her foot off of the breaks and felt the trickle of cool air massage her neck and down her sweaty back that she now lifted from the leather seat. She knew she needed to have the air conditioner serviced, but she was trying to wait to take it to the dealership so that it could be done when the car got its annual tune-up. But this was Texas. Even in the fall, the heat was sweltering, so she decided to take it sooner rather than later as she exited the freeway and headed for the nearest service station.
She was sitting at the light when she was startled by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Though she knew it was a necessary evil for her line of work, she hated the idea of someone being able to reach her, at any time. Control freak.
As soon as she pressed talk, she heard the blare of an organ and gospel choir before the caller could manage to say hello. The sound of the Spring of Hope Missionary Baptist Choir in the middle of a hallelujah automatically told her that it was her mother. She literally felt a knot form in her stomach as she began to speak.
“Hey momma, what’s up?” Hopefully your damned blood pressure.
“Well hey yourself. You are hard to keep up with little girl. I left you a message yesterday to call me back.”
Rosemary Logan responded with a decidedly Maryland twang in her voice that made Natalie happy that she left those bammas where they were.
“Yes maam, I got it but I just got a little caught up at work and this morning I had an appointment.”
Natalie hoped that her mother wouldn’t catch on that she was alluding to her doctor’s appointment this morning.
“Chile, why are you still giving your money to that head doctor that aint gonna do nothing but tell you what I been telling you for years? I’m your momma, I gave birth to you, and aint nothing wrong with you but for being spoiled. That crazy mess aint nothing but the devil. You better turn your life over to the Lord and let him heal you.”
Here we go.
“Momma, she’s a psychologist, not a head doctor, and there’s nothing wrong with me talking to someone about how I have been feeling.”
Silence. It was Rosemary’s way of shooting a nasty look over the phone.
“You need to talk to God. And anyway, when’s the last time you fell up in somebody’s church?”
Natalie wondered when well-meaning Christians would understand that you attract more with honey than you do with vinegar.
“Momma please, that has nothing to do with…” Natalie didn’t get to finish before her mother did the infamous grunt she instituted to signal her disapproval.
“I know one thing, honey. Rose Logan is strong a
nd her family is strong. We don’t need no damned doctor getting in our head to tell us our tea. All those damned degrees got you stupid girl”.
Rosemary’s words cut Natalie sharply and forced her into the silence she often retreated to when she was younger. She hated the fact that her mother, a marginally educated government worker, could still manage to cripple her despite her many achievements and honors. She had far surpassed her mother at that age and never could understand why she never won her mother’s respect.
Instead, her mother grew more insolent with every accomplishment Natalie garnered. As tears welled in her eyes, Natalie willed herself not to show her vulnerability to her mother.
“Mother, you did call for a reason, right?”
Natalie was careful not to let her anger slip through the cracks. She chose to play the intelligent unaffected high ground against her mother’s indignant attitude. Rosemary rewarded her with another healthy dose of silence before she spoke again.
“You know LaVonte’s christening is next month, you still coming?” Rosemary asked curtly. She knew that her daughter would make up some kind of excuse for not attending another family function.
“I don’t know yet… I’ll let you know. Work has really got me swamped, but I’ll see…”Or not. Natalie had no intention on attending the christening ceremony for her newest nephew and she was sure her mother was aware of that.
“You need to be there Nat’lie. People have been asking about you, and aint nobody seen you since you graduated from college. You need to come to at least show your face. Tanya might be upset if you don’t make it this time.”
And I care because…?
“Momma, I will try, but I can’t make any promises, okay? Unlike Tanya, I am not living in your house rent free with four kids. I have to take care of myself.”
Another grunt.
“Now wait a minute Ms. High and Mighty. That girl helps me out around here, and I love having my grand kids around me…And who made you her judge and jury anyway?”
The anger grew in Rosemary’s voice at every word as she considered her daughter’s pretentiousness. She was just getting warmed up as she began to read her youngest child.
“She’s having a hard time and I am helping her out. I would do it for any of my children. You and your brother don’t want to be bothered, and frankly I don’t care to bother you. I am a mother…”
Natalie interrupted her mother’s tirade. “She’s been having a hard time since she got pregnant the first time at fifteen. Nobody told her to open her legs…”
“Watch your filthy mouth little girl. You have been around those white people too long, cause I know you’re not talking to me in that tone. I didn’t give birth to a child to have her speak to me in that way.”
Natalie heard the faint sound of a car horn in the background. God is good.
“Listen, that’s Ms. Deb coming for me to take me to my missionary meeting at the church. Are you going to be there or what?”
“I guess so momma.” Natalie was clearly defeated.
“Family is all you got little girl, remember that.”
Right, that’s what you call it.
With that Natalie said good-bye to her mother and revisited the entire conversation in her head. She hated the fact that she had agreed to return to Oxon Hill, Maryland for another one of her mother’s orchestrated family events.
She did not feel that she could bring herself to feign happiness at the fact that her sister had delivered yet another child for a man constantly in and out of prison. She was truly pissed at her sister for staying in their childhood home with four otherwise fatherless children and forcing their father to continue working at the power company, even though he should have retired years ago.
What angered her most was her mother’s jubilance and pride in the fact that her eldest daughter, Tanya, never amounted to much more than her. In fact, they shared the same bullish temperament and defeatist attitudes towards education and careers. They both felt like men should be educated and women should be wives and mothers. Any departure from that did not deserve their respect.
Natalie was made aware of this when they both were noticeably absent from her graduation from graduate school. The blow was lessened when she saw the beaming faces of her father and brother, her real family, she reasoned mentally. The missing women later gave excuses about childre and work that kept them from such an important event in Natalie’s life. She had learned to dismiss their actions as jealousy and thought it an effective coping mechanism that need not be disturbed.
As Natalie pulled into the service station, she could not help but notice all the brothers in the garage with faces covered with a mixture of car grime and sweat. Instantly reminded of the minstrels that performed in black face, she closed her eyes and opened them to remove the picture from her mind. The men had not noticed her drive up and chatted endlessly amongst themselves about what they would do if they won a million dollars.
She listened as they talked about buying their mothers new houses and buying themselves houses and cars. The stout brother with “Ricky” embroidered on his shirt said he would build a church and name it after his grandfather that used to be a deacon before he passed. He proudly showed them the jailhouse tattoo of his namesake displayed prominently on his neck. It always amazed Natalie that even the most thugged out brothers had a spiritual intercession at one point in their lives. She wondered if that was why black people always thanked God for winning awards, or why some black men came out of prison shunning pork and praising Allah.
Another brother said that he would get a Bentley like the one he saw in the rapper TI’s video and buy one for each of his four brothers. Natalie wondered if he really understood that that would be an interesting feat with only one million dollars. She was saddened because none of the men said anything about saving or investing their money. None of them even spoke of college funds for their children or starting businesses.
One particularly graying brother said he was going to “move to one of those islands and marry me one of them chinky lookin’ broads”.
Nauseated by the comment, Natalie hopped out of her car and slammed her door to bring attention to her arrival. All of the men instinctively looked up and gave her a glance over. Apparently, not in the mood to humor her, they thought better than to hurl derogatory remarks her way and opted for a quick nod and selfconscience smile.
Thinking too much of herself to associate with the field hands, she retreated to the cool air-conditioned office adjacent to the garage and awaited a white owner to emerge to assist her with her car care needs.
As she waited in the office that had not been refurbished since Eisenhower was president, she noticed all of the service awards lining the walls, and even a dusty plaque that had the picture of a little league team that the business owner sponsored: “MR . HENRY RAINES, MAN OF THE YEAR, COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT COALITION, FIFTH WARD, HOUSTON TEXAS 1994”.
She reasoned that the business owner was shrewd in his decision to incorporate community projects with his marketing strategy. The name recognition on the back of those little t-shirts would serve him well for years to come. Her career as a corporate strategist was leaking into her personal life, though she struggled to separate the two. She made a mental note to give the owner her card as she slid into the leather chair in front of the terribly cluttered desk.
After ten minutes of waiting, she looked around and did not see anyone. Apprehensive and doubting, she decided to venture back out to the garage where she originally saw the greasy brothers working on cars and shooting the shit.
Just as she rose from the chair, one of the men from outside entered the office, cleaning his hands with some type of degreaser and a hand towel that appeared ineffective. He was a bit muscular but hid it well under the pale blue uniform top and navy Dickies that had weathered one too many washings. Though soaked with sweat, he had a coolness about himself that made him appear relaxed and aloof. Natalie assumed that his physique was a result of time s
pent in a jail cell. That seemed to be where all of the eligible bachelors in Houston were.
“May I helpou, maam? He asked her in a tone that suggested that she was disturbing his otherwise urgent duties. Excuse you Fifty Cents?
“Yes, may I speak with the manager, please?” Natalie replied and waited for the man to promptly summon his manager.
“You got him.” The manager replied with no hesitation in his voice and awaited Natalie to state her business with him. He decided that her suit was too provocative for her to be with the IRS, and that she was probably the token black salesperson for some corporation trying to peddle their inflated insurance services in a black neighborhood.
“No, really, I need to see a manager about my air conditioning. It’s a BMW, and I don’t know if you all have the proper equipment to service it.” Natalie felt the exasperation growing in her voice as she noticed that the office did not have any pictures of the management team.
“Then why didn’t you just take it to the dealership? Oh, my bad, I didn’t tell you who I was. My name is Rodney and I manage this station.” He wiped his hands in preparation to greet his new customer.
Clearly not about to accept his oil soaked hand for a handshake, Natalie stared at it and then reached for her purse as a distraction. She was irritated by the fact that the manager of the service station did not have the business sense to separate himself, in appearances at least, from the other grease monkeys. She also thought that he was lying and decided that she was going to tell him off as soon as she finished dealing with the real manager.
“Look, I don’t have time to play games with you. I know that you are not the manager and you are wasting my damned time...” Natalie snapped.
“Hold it down now, little mama. You don’t know me like that to be swearin’ at me. I know you all pretty and shit, but damn little mama. I told you that I manage this station and that’s all you need to know. What you sellin' anyway? ‘Cause your sales pitch aint worth a damn.” Rodney was clearly growing agitated with the pretty businesswoman and could not hide it.
A Price to Pay for Everything Page 2