Red Hats

by Damon Wayans

  Good-bye, you cold, cruel world, Alma thought as she felt warm blood oozing from the top of her head.

  chapter six

  Delilah Samson hated hospitals as much as she hated her name. It was an inside joke that her devout Christian parents thought was clever and cute. It was supposed to remind Delilah of her spiritual roots. What it really did was become a thorn in their daughter’s side for her entire childhood. The boys were afraid of her name’s biblical history and teased poor Delilah about being a betrayer of man. The girls in her suburban neighborhood labeled her a threat to their prepubescent boyfriends and literally ran from her whenever she came around. The only friends she had were the black family that lived on the edge of town that separated the “good” neighborhood from the “bad” one.

  Being a diabetic, it made her sick to see the nurse inject the IV needle into Alma’s arm. Needles were her life. Five times a day, she had to prick her finger to check her sugar levels. Then, before every meal, she had to inject herself in the stomach with 2.2 units of insulin. The worst part of the disease was having to give herself the needle. The doctor told her she would get used to it. That was seven years ago. Delilah was still waiting for acceptance.

  Alma opened her eyes, expecting to see Jesus in such a bright white room. Instead, she saw an angel. Her daughter, Angel, was standing over her with a serious expression on her face.

  “Are you all right, Momma?”

  “My head hurts,” Alma replied weakly.

  “You had to get some stitches, and there’s a very nasty bump under that wrap. The doctor said you will be fine in a few days.”

  “How did I get here? How long has it been?”

  “You’ve been here all day. These nice women over here found you.” She pointed to the women wearing red hats, sitting patiently in a corner of the hospital room.

  Alma noticed a little bit of everything had gone into the making of the hats—silk ribbon, tulle, beading, and yard after yard of material. One of them stood up. She was white and had a big, round, pretty face with an unhealthy yellowish color to her skin, like uncooked chicken.

  “My name is Delilah, but my friends call me Sister Dee, and these are Sisters Joy, Stephanie, Sarah, Yvette, and Magdalena.” The ladies smiled and waved hello at the calling of their names. “We are the Red Hatters.”

  “We were walking by and saw you fall against the window. We had to break down the door to get to you. Some fool left the gas on! But don’t you worry your dear heart, Sisters May and Aubrey are there now, making sure the place gets aired out and the door gets fixed. They will leave your key with the building manager.”

  “Did you go through my stuff?” Alma asked accusingly.

  “Why, of course not,” Sister Dee replied.

  “Momma, be nice,” Angel whispered through clenched teeth.

  Alma rolled her eyes, dismissing the chastisement. “How’d you get here so fast if no one went looking through my stuff?”

  “I called the house to wish you a happy birthday, and one of the Red Hats, Sister Joy, I believe, told me there was an accident and police were in your house, so I hopped the first plane I could to come see you. Now, why don’t you thank these nice ladies for being kind enough to look out for you, Momma?”

  “Thank you,” Alma said.

  “You are quite welcome. Anyway, we just wanted to make sure you were OK. We’ll be getting on now and will certainly keep you in our prayers. Take care,” Dee said, and she beckoned the others to leave.

  Alma and Angel sat in silence as the women left.

  “I want to go home,” Alma said, attempting to sit up. The pain in her head prevented any real movement.

  “You’re not going anywhere right now! And when you do leave here, you are coming home with me.”

  “I don’t want to go to Texas.”

  “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you! Suicide, Momma? No, I already made the arrangements.”

  “You know I don’t fly.”

  Angel showed her two Greyhound bus tickets.

  “What about Chubbsy Wubbsy? What’s he going to say about this?” Alma asked.

  “Darryl said it would be fine with him.”

  “He really said that?”

  “Yes. He understands our bond, and besides, if he didn’t like it, he’d have to lump it elsewhere,” Angel said defiantly. Alma liked this strong will of hers. It reminded her of her own self.

  “I’m not giving up my apartment! All my children were born and raised there.”

  “I’m not saying you have to give up nothing. I just think you need to get away from all the memories for a while, until you have a chance to heal. Some sunshine and fresh country air will do you good.”

  “How long is a while?” Alma asked.

  “Three months.”

  “I was thinking three weeks. You know me and Fatso won’t make it past three days.”

  “You certainly won’t if you keep calling him Fatso, Momma.”

  “I’ll work on it. How’s my favorite grandbaby?”

  “Nia is great and so happy her grandma is coming to live with her.”

  “Well, if you had said that to begin with, we wouldn’t need to be having this conversation,” Alma joked.

  It took four days to get to Texas, because Alma kept complaining about the smell and the speed and the route of the bus. They got off twice to check into a hotel so Alma could bathe and get a little sleep. Angel had the patience of Job, and flying was not an option. When they arrived in Texas, Fatso met them at the station. He was obviously not happy about Alma’s visit.

  “Hello, Darryl,” Alma said exactly the way she had rehearsed it with Angel. “Where’s my grandbaby?”

  “I left her in the car,” Darryl said.

  “You left her in the car? You must be stupider than you look, man,” Alma fired back. “You’re not supposed to leave a child unattended in a car!”

  “The car is right there,” he said, pointing to a white SUV parked a few feet from them.

  “Momma, apologize.”

  Alma didn’t. She simply dropped her bags at his feet and hurried to the car to see Nia strapped safely in the car seat. Darryl shook his head and gave his wife a nasty look as he picked up the bags and threw them into the back of the SUV. Angel stopped him before he climbed into the driver’s seat and gave him a loving hug. Alma pretended not to notice this public display of affection. Darryl caught her sneaking a peek and used it as an opportunity to slap her back by gently kissing the top of his wife’s head.

  Alma did not like sleeping in the den. It hurt her back to sleep on that rock-hard mattress in the pull-out couch. And the sheets felt sandy. Plus, the noise from the fan spinning over her head kept her awake.

  Darryl helped Angel rearrange the baby’s room to accommodate her, but Alma complained that the bed was too small, and it made her feel as if she was suffocating in that tiny room. The only other choice was the master bedroom, which Darryl said “Hell no” to. Angel reminded him that this was her mother and they should make the small sacrifice in her time of mourning. Darryl reluctantly gave in, but it cost Angel plenty of arguments in the middle of the night. Alma would sleep through most of them in their luxurious custom bed. She had never seen such a large bed before. It was a double king, which Darryl took up half of.

  In the mornings, Alma tried to help out around the house by cooking breakfast for everyone. Angel appreciated it, but Darryl resented the strict diet Alma had put him on. She would make him only two pancakes, as opposed to the six he normally had. She said if he moved more and ate less, he might be able to do more than lie on top of his wife at night. In keeping with the spirit of moving more, Alma would leave his clothing on the floor for him to bend over and pick up, to help burn a few calories.

  Darryl started to stay out late to avoid seeing Alma. He said she was mean as hell and pure evil, even in her sleep, which was the only way he would be in the house with her.

  One night, he came home drunk and got into it with Ang
el. When Alma tried to get involved, Angel told her to back off and let them work out their own problems. Alma didn’t listen, so Darryl grabbed her by the robe and threatened to punch all her teeth out. Angel pulled his own gun on him and told him she would kill him if he didn’t let her mother go. Darryl came to his senses, broke down into tears, and walked out of the house.

  “Maybe you should go to a nursing home, Momma. At least you can make some friends there.” Angel made her mother a cup of Folgers to help steady her nerves.

  “I’m a young woman. I’m not going to live in no damn nursing home,” Alma replied.

  “Then why don’t you go live with Todd? He said you could stay in his guesthouse. It’s a beautiful one-bedroom and has a full kitchen, with a garden outside where you can grow your own vegetables.”

  “First of all, I’m not getting on an airplane and going nowhere. Them death cylinders crash all the time! And it’s not like you can stand on the side of the road and call another when it breaks down. Look, Angel, I appreciate you opening up your home to me, but I know when my welcome’s done. I’ll head back home. It’s time.”

  “You can’t go home, Momma. Let me talk to Darryl, okay? We’ll work something out,” Angel reassured her.

  Alma knew her time was up. In the middle of the night, she packed her bags, called a cab, and went to the bus station. Alma could see Angel watching from her darkened bedroom window, crying. It was best to leave.

  On the bus ride home, Alma thought about some of the things Angel had said to her.

  “Momma, life is a short ride, and the journey is easier to enjoy if you don’t carry so much luggage. Give those bags of burden to God, and try to open up and let people into your circle so you can start enjoying life. Don’t die a bitter woman. Be a better woman.”

  Angel had a way of speaking to Alma’s heart. She didn’t pull punches. Alma knew beyond a doubt that she loved her Angel, who only wanted what was best for her.

  But how do you open up when you can’t trust anyone? When you feel the whole world is against you? When every time you try to let your guard down, you get a slap in the face? Alma knew Angel was right, but having friends wasn’t in the cards for her.

  Angel begged her to try to work on softening her heart by reading the leather-bound Bible she gave her for her birthday, reminding her that the world was against Jesus, too, and he allowed love to conquer the world. Alma would only respond by saying that Jesus was a whole mess better than her.

  “If they had spit on me back then and I had all the powers he had, I would have turned them into bloated green frogs and then squished them under my sandals. Nobody is going to slap me and get away with it. If I have to turn the other cheek, it will be to show them which side of my ass to kiss.”

  Alma did like the story of Jonah. She believed it proved God had a sense of humor. He told Jonah to deliver a message of judgment to the people of Nineveh, but Jonah was frightened of what people would think of him. He ran away and caught a boat in the opposite direction of the city. God caused a huge storm to fall upon the boat, and the people threw Jonah overboard because he claimed God was after him. Sure enough, a massive, slimy fish swallowed him up. After three days of Jonah’s prayers in the fish’s belly, God had the fish spit him out near the city of Nineveh, which he was to condemn. The moral of the story, Alma thought, was that you were going to do what God said to do whether you liked it or not!

  Alma noticed the colorful leaves that decorated the tops of trees and the sides of the road. Fall was one of her favorite times of the year, because it reminded her of school when she was young, innocent, and full of hope. Being a good student came easily for Alma, having had a mother who taught English. Alma loved creative writing. She had received a full liberal arts scholarship from Brandeis University after winning several awards for her poetry and short stories. She remembered her favorite piece, called “The Girl Who Could Fly.” It was about this little girl who discovered she had the power to fly, and when people found out, they wanted to operate on her to understand how she did it. They paid her parents to give her up to science. The little girl flew away to a small town far away from everyone she knew and loved. Vowing never to fly again, she lived as an unhappy mortal until she met a boy who could fly, too. Together they traveled the world and lived happily ever after. Alma wondered why and how she had given up something she loved doing so dearly. How did she go from spending her day having tea parties with her favorite doll, Macy—because that’s where she was bought, Macy’s—making up fantastic stories about things she never knew and places she’d never been, to being this angry old woman who barely could get through the day no matter how beautiful it was? She missed that little girl in her.

  What happened to her, Alma? Did you kill her, too? she wondered, promising God that she would make it her mission to reclaim her joy.

  When Alma arrived at her apartment, she found a package in front of her door. It was from the Red Hats. Inside was a beautiful antique black doll dressed in a purple dress, with a blood-red hat on her head. Alma loved to collect dolls. Her house was full of them. The obsession stemmed from a childhood where she grew up extremely poor and had only one doll to play with. She lost Macy on a school trip, and her father wouldn’t buy another because he said she shouldn’t have brought it to school. Alma promised herself that when she grew up, she was going to buy herself every doll she had ever seen. Well, almost every one. She hated her father. The man never had a kind word to say, and she couldn’t remember him ever hugging her or telling Alma he loved her. A card came with the package.

  Dear Alma,

  It was a pleasure meeting you and Angel. All the sisters enjoyed spending a little time with Angel. You certainly named her right. She is an intelligent, sweet, and kind young woman who loves her mother. We know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We noticed you collect antique dolls and thought you would like this one. May God continue to bless you and yours.

  In love,

  Sister Dee and the Red Hats!

  Alma liked the card, because it had a beautiful red hat embroidered on the front of it. She liked how silky it felt, very classy. There was also an invitation to a book fair in the park that weekend.

  Alma tossed the invitation onto the kitchen table, thinking it and the doll were just a scam to get her to come and spend her hard-earned money at their book fair. She hated anyone who tried to hustle her. Did they think she was born yesterday? She told herself she would be damned if she’d go to that book fair.

  Alma sat at the kitchen table, sipping a hot cup of chamomile tea Angel had turned her on to in Texas. It relaxed her and didn’t make her feel groggy the way the pills did. Although she was drinking the tea, she felt cold. She noticed a breeze billow the curtains above the sink. As she went to close the window, Alma slipped on the multicolored rag rug and slammed back-first to the floor. She lay there unable to get up, moaning and asking God to help her. The moans turned to tears, and she asked God to take her.

  “What did I do to you, God? Why are you doing this to me? Why couldn’t you just let me die? What do you want from me?” she screamed to heaven.

  A strong breeze whisked into the kitchen, blowing the book-fair flyer off the table and onto the floor next to her.

  chapter seven

  Alma limped through Morningside Park toward the group of Red Hats stationed at the book fair. Her body ached from the fall. She hadn’t felt this kind of full-body soreness since getting hit by a car at fourteen.

  Alma remembered that day clearly, because she was dressed up and skipping her way to Sunday school. Her mother had warned her about running in her good church clothes, so, wanting to be obedient, she’d split the difference between running and walking by skipping real fast. Alma felt she could justify it without technically being a liar. That was mistake number one. The bigger mistake was not going the normal route to church. She had found a nickel and wanted to stop and get some penny candies to help pass the time at the two-hour sit-down. Back then, a nic
kel bought a lot of treats. Alma had a difficult time picking which candy she wanted—the shoestring licorice, Kool-Aid stick or the taffy and chocolate cherries—settling on one of each. She’d realized she was running late for service, and that would cost her a spanking, so after sucking down the Kool-Aid stick to give her the energy to skip the six blocks, she took a shortcut past the liquor store that had a German shepherd that was notorious for chasing anyone who ran past the store. The owner used to keep the door open to save on his air-conditioning bill. The mean old dog was kept on a long leash that stopped just short of the door. As Alma skipped past the store, the dog had given chase, barking loudly and almost giving her a heart attack. Alma had forgotten the dog was on its chain and couldn’t get out of the store. She had run into the street to avoid the long fangs coming her way. As soon as she stepped off the curb, a taxi had slammed into her, separating Alma from her candy.

  “So glad you could make it, Alma.” Sister Dee greeted her now. “What happened to your leg?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I lost my balance trying to open a window. I’ll be all right.”

  “Alma, none of us are getting any younger. I fell down last month. I was just standing up, and the next thing I know, I’m on the ground. The doctor said it was my blood sugar. He said my diabetes is getting worse, so now he’s put me on these medications that make me so tired I need sugar just to stay awake. Come on, let me show you around, introduce you to some more of the girls.”

  Alma was impressed by the different ethnicities of the Red Hats. She’d been sure this was a group of women from some black church who hung out together. She was wrong. Sister Dee explained that the founder of the club, Sue Ellen Cooper, was a white woman who wanted to bring a bunch of women over the age of fifty together to have fun and prove that life begins after your maternal duties end.

  The book fair was a way for the women to raise money to travel and help out the less fortunate Red Hats.