Red Hats

by Damon Wayans

  The doctor turned and walked away. Alma was furious. Joy rubbed her back and told her to calm down. Alma gave her a look that must have sent chills down the spines of all twenty-six Red Hats. Alma stormed out of the emergency room.

  chapter eleven

  Alma walked with purpose behind a young woman with the hood of her down jacket drawn tightly about her face. A winter mist blew out of both of their mouths as they climbed the steps leading into the tenement building. Alma allowed her to make it into the entrance doorway first.

  “Are you Kelly?” Alma asked sweetly.

  “Who are you?” the young woman asked.

  “My name is not important. I’m here to tell you your mother is in the hospital.”

  “Good,” Kelly said as she attempted to put her key in the lock.

  “It’s not good. She needs to see you.”

  “Too bad,” Kelly replied coldly.

  Alma snatched her keys from her hands.

  “You need to come with me right now,” Alma demanded.

  “I don’t want to see that bitch!”

  “That bitch, as you call her, loves you. But the one standing in front of you don’t give a damn about you. Now, if you don’t get your disrespectful narrow ass down them stairs and into that cab, I will pick you up and drag you there.”

  “You must be crazy, old lady,” Kelly accused.

  “That’s what they tell me,” Alma replied.

  Alma set her bag down on the ground in preparation for the battle to come.

  “So what’s it gonna be?” Alma taunted.

  The women squared off and went at it, tooth and nail.

  Alma showed up at Dee’s hospital room bruised, bleeding from a scratch on the face, and alone.

  “What happened to you?” Magdalena asked.

  “I had to handle some business. How’s she doing?” Alma asked.

  “Not too good,” Magdalena whispered. “She keeps slipping in and out of consciousness.”

  Alma took Dee’s hand. “Hey, Dee, it’s Alma.”

  “Alma? Is that you? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t have nothing to be sorry about,” Alma told her.

  “They took my foot off. I can’t do anything with one foot. I can’t do this.” Dee cried softly.

  “You won’t have to do it alone. You have an army of Red Hats behind you.”

  Dee shook her head as if to say that was not enough.

  “I brought someone to see you.”

  “Who?”

  “Get in here!” Alma shouted to the doorway. Dee turned to see Kelly enter, bruised up and in more disarray than Alma. The Red Hats were in shock. Dee smiled through her tears.

  “Come on, ladies, let’s give them some alone time,” Alma ordered. She gave Kelly one final threatening look to remind her she had better be nice as she followed the Red Hats from the room.

  Alma had the place spotlessly clean for Dee’s arrival. It was an honor to dust and clean the beautiful woodwork and her antiques. She took the liberty of throwing away anything in the kitchen that had sugar in it and replacing it with a healthy alternative. She visited several holistic doctors and bought all kinds of books on curing the sugar habit.

  She was grateful her insurance check had come so quickly. It meant she could find her own place now and not have to be a burden on Sister Dee. Alma decided she would stay until Dee could get up on her feet—or foot now. There would be many life changes ahead for her new friend, and Alma felt a need to be there to help her through some of those challenging times. After all, she wouldn’t be alive if it had not been for that woman.

  Receiving the insurance check had also made her think about James. She was a little disappointed that he had yet to ask her on that date. She had spotted him in his brownstone the other day. He’d waved, but she didn’t want him to think she was stalking him, so she’d pretended she hadn’t seen him. Maybe she should have at least waved back before shutting the blinds on him and cutting off all the lights.

  Kelly and a couple of Red Hats brought Dee home in a wheelchair. There was a beautiful basket of pink roses sitting on her lap.

  “Welcome home.” Alma gave her a big hug and kiss.

  “Thank you, Alma.”

  “Thank me for what?”

  “For everything, especially for bringing my Kelly back to me. I don’t know what you said to her, but she is a whole new person.”

  “Oh, I just threatened to cut her with my butcher knife, that’s all.”

  Everyone laughed, except Kelly.

  “Here, these roses are for you,” Dee said.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I didn’t. They’re from James. And there’s a card with them.”

  Alma hid her excitement as she read the invitation to dinner at a secret location that weekend. He said he would send a car to pick her up and reminded her to bring her dancing shoes.

  Alma wheeled Dee’s chair to her favorite spot in the park and sat on the bench overlooking the lake. Dee sipped unsweetened tea while Alma enjoyed a cup of Folgers from Harold’s battered thermos, which she’d found among the ruins of her apartment fire. They were both too occupied with their own fears to feel the cold of the winter morning.

  “Well, today is the big day,” Dee said.

  “What big day?”

  “Your date with James, silly.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dee exclaimed.

  “I need you to do me a favor and tell him I can’t make it.”

  “I will do no such thing. What are you scared of, Alma? I told you, James is a good man.”

  “Well, I’m not such a good woman,” Alma replied. “I’ll just hurt him. You don’t know me.”

  “I don’t think you know you,” Dee said. “The Alma I know is a sweet, caring, and very giving woman. You need to be that way with yourself. It’s OK to let people in, you know. Not everyone wants to hurt you. I look at myself right now, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to walk again. But I know for sure that I won’t be able to walk if I don’t try. You got to try, Alma. Let people in.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “I feel so bad inside.”

  “Well, you have to let it out. Just let it go.”

  “How do you let go with what I’ve done?”

  “You have to believe that God forgives in a big way.”

  “Can God forgive a woman who returned wrong for wrong? I didn’t tell you the whole story about Harold and me. You see . . .” She hesitated. “After I found out he slept with my best friend, I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. So I slept with his best friend, too. Then I found out I was pregnant with Seymour’s baby, and I was so scared to tell Harold that I thought about performing my own abortion. I just wanted it out of me,” Alma said, reliving the horror in her mind.

  “Being raised in the church made it impossible for me to go through with that idea, so I lied and told Harold it was his. When Jesse was born, it was obvious from the hazel eyes whose child he was. Harold never said anything out of his own guilt, but I could see he wasn’t as affectionate toward little Jesse as he was with the other children. My punishment was that he never cut Seymour off. He kept him as his friend so I’d never forget.

  “One day, I got mad at Harold, and I told Jesse that he wasn’t his father. I don’t know how I let that come out my mouth, but as I was saying it, I saw a change in my son. It devastated him. I used him as a weapon, and I ended up breaking my poor baby’s heart. Can God forgive something like that?” Alma asked.

  “Yes, God can,” Dee said. “The real question is, can Alma forgive herself?”

  That night, Alma sat down in front of her wedding picture, pondering what to say. “Harold, we need to talk. Now, I’m about to tell you what my pride wouldn’t let me say to you years ago. I’m sorry that I ever looked at you with hate in my eyes, because I know now it was love behind my glare. I wish I could have
told you what I needed from you so that you could have rescued me from the hell that I chose. Any other man would have left me as much as I put you through. But you weren’t just any other man, and I guess that’s why it hurt so bad when you and Donna betrayed me.” Alma paused to fight a wave of hurt that the memory brought back.

  “I want to thank you for loving me even though I wasn’t lovable. I just pray that you can forgive me, Harold. I’ve decided that I’m going to move on with my life now. I met someone. He kind of reminds me of you. Maybe this is God’s way of giving me a second chance. When we meet up in paradise, I’ll let you know how it turned out. I love you, Harold. Always have. Always will. Rest well, my sweet has-been.”

  Alma stood, fanned out her black dress with the red bow around the waist, and exited the room.

  Dee was in the living room eating celery sticks when Alma entered wearing her vibrant red hat.

  “Do you mind if I borrow this?” Alma asked.

  “I told you, it’s yours.”

  “Thank you. I will always wear it with pride.”

  Sister Dee watched as Alma walked out of the building with a bounce in her step, into the waiting limousine.

  The chauffer held the door open wide enough for Alma to get a glimpse of James’s smile beaming from within the long black symbol of elegance. As she took her seat at his side, Alma let out a sigh of relief, and joy mixed with pure excitement. When she inhaled the smell of James, it pleased her senses.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” James whispered. “Beautiful does not describe what I see before me.”

  Alma blushed as she played with the buttons on the arm console. “You don’t look too bad yourself. So, where are we headed?”

  “Can I enjoy this magnificent view first?” James replied.

  “We’ve got all night for you to see anything you want.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes, anything with clothes on it,” Alma cautioned.

  James laughed slyly as if she didn’t fully understand his power to seduce. “Driver, take us to Smith and Wollensky at Forty-ninth and Third,” James ordered.

  “It’s hot in here. Is the heat on?” Alma blurted out.

  James checked the heat indicator above his head. “It says seventy-two degrees. Is that too high for you? Wait a minute.” He leaned over Alma and turned the seat heater off. “You accidentally turned the seat heater on.”

  Alma felt something quiver between her legs as he leaned into her airspace. She was grateful for the invention of panties, because they caught what only God and she knew James’s touch elicited from her.

  “Excuse me.”

  Alma wondered if he had done that on purpose because of the way he looked at her as he moved back to his own seat. Alma looked out the window, thinking about how good it felt to know she was still capable of being aroused without even a touch. It had been a long time . . . too long. She felt James’s hungry stare, and the thought of it made her quiver again.

  “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine. Can you put on some music, please?”

  James skipped through the music menu with the satellite radio controller above their heads. Alma enjoyed how he knew his way around the car. The light from the vanity mirror gave him a mysterious glow as he concentrated on finding the perfect score for the ride. He quickly zipped past a classical station, then briefly paused to listen to a little modern jazz. As if reading Alma’s mind, he continued until he found the oldies but goodies that please the ears of any music lover. “Fly Me to the Moon” was the song that played.

  James sang along in a low, raspy voice. He wasn’t a good singer, but he sure sounded good to Alma, who joined in to calm her racing heart.

  “Now, that’s good music!” James exclaimed when the song ended. “I don’t know what these kids today think they’re singing, but it isn’t anything like this.”

  Alma nodded in agreement, then turned to look out the window to avoid his spell for a moment. She thought about how beautiful the city was at night as they glided down the West Side Highway looking over to the Jersey skyline. She was happy to be out and promised herself that she was going to stop fighting and just enjoy every moment of this night.

  She recognized the green sign with the white background as they pulled up to Smith and Wollensky. This was a place where she had always wanted to dine, but she and Harold could never afford it. The greeter was very friendly and had their table ready as soon as they entered. She saw James surreptitiously place a bill in his hand before he departed. James picked a 2006 bottle of Caymus cabernet sauvignon. He sniffed then sipped a small amount and explained to Alma that when this special-selection wine opened up, she would be able to taste plenty of intense flavors such as black currant, cherry, mocha, and a pepper spice.

  “Will it give me a buzz? Because that’s all I care about,” she joked.

  “That’s my job,” James said.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Don’t you feel it yet?”

  “No,” Alma lied.

  “OK, then I’m going to have to turn on my high beams.”

  Alma crossed her legs to quiet her libido, then lifted her glass to his toast.

  “To the wonder of life. And the joy of you being in mine.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  Alma mimicked the way James did his tasting before enjoying a sip of wine.

  “Wow, this is good. So, tell me how a man with good looks and great taste in wine, food, and clothing isn’t already off the market?”

  “I haven’t found the woman who meets all of my needs yet,” James said.

  Alma gave him a questioning look that said, What kind of needs do you have?

  “Let me explain that. I was married for twenty-three of the most beautiful years of my life to a woman who loved me so hard I didn’t think I deserved it. Every day was special. She took care of me and my six children and never had an unkind word to say about it. We never argued. Not to say we didn’t disagree a lot, but Nadia would simply say, ‘Let’s try it your way first.’ Most of the time, we would do it her way because I was too afraid to be wrong. And ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, she was right.”

  “Where is she now?” Alma asked.

  “She died. And so did a part of me. I was single for two years, then I tried to get back in the game. I hated it. Trying to pretend you’re interested in someone you know in your heart isn’t the one is a sad place to be. I even lived with a woman for a year, lying to her and myself that it was going somewhere, until I got the courage to be alone again. Nadia set the bar too high for me to settle for just anyone.”

  Alma didn’t know if it was the wine she was feeling or if it was the sincerity of James’s confession that had her so connected to him. The waiter arrived with a tray of prime uncooked selections of beef. James ordered the porterhouse for himself and the ribeye for Alma, stating that it would be more flavorful than his choice. The waiter refilled their glasses, then faded out of view.

  “How did she die?”

  “Diabetes. That’s how I met the Red Hats. One day, I walked into the clinic with Nadia and saw all these women in their red hats and purple dresses gathered to support Delilah. I thought I had walked into a church revival. They all came to the funeral and took care of the reception for me. I was so grateful to them, because I was just a shell of a man. I truly needed them at that time.”

  “Was Joy one of the women you dated?” Alma asked, trying her best to not sound insecure.

  “Yes. But Joy is trouble. She was a mistake.”

  “Is that who you lived with?”

  “No. I lived with a woman named Megan.”

  “Megan? That sounds like a white girl.”

  “She was white,” James confessed.

  That’s two strikes against you, Alma noted to herself. How could you betray the race that way? She thought about Todd and his white wife, her stringy hair entangled in her hairbrush. Why would you want that in your bed?

  “Are you all r
ight?” James asked.

  “I’m fine,” Alma lied.

  “Yes, you sure are fine.”

  Alma forced a smile to her face, accepting the compliment. As if on cue, the waiter returned to fill her glass of cabernet. When the steaks arrived, they were cooked to perfection. Not pink on the inside, just the way Alma liked it. She hardly spoke through the rest of the dinner. A few nods and “Oh, reallys” to look interested, but her mind was trying to accept Joy and the white woman. The soufflé put the dinner over the top. The melted chocolate in the middle was orgasmic when chased by the homemade vanilla ice cream. Alma laughed to herself at the thought that chocolate and vanilla got along so well together on the plate. She felt a little embarrassed by the amount she ate. Glasses of port wine magically appeared to seal the buzz in for the night. The thick and sweet liquid was so smooth it made her notice the corners of James’s lips and the way they begged to be kissed by her. She excused herself and went to the restroom to sort out her conflicting emotions.

  Calm yourself, girl, Alma told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. You don’t even know this man, and you’re thinking about kissing and God knows what else you want to do to him.

  It didn’t help that a woman entered the bathroom shortly after her and said, “That’s a beautiful man you’re with.”

  You can have him came to Alma’s mind, but her mouth refused to say it. She thanked the woman instead. After dabbing her face with a cold hand towel, Alma made her way back to the table, where James sat tracing his finger around the wine label the waiter had extracted and sealed between two pieces of cellophane. She hoped she didn’t look as high as she felt.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Memories. You may never want to see me again, and at least I’ll have this to remind me of the wonderful time I had with you.”

  Back in the limousine, Etta James was singing “Trust in Me.”

  The limousine was directed to the West Village. They were both disappointed by the headliners playing at both the Vanguard and the Blue Note, so Alma agreed to ride down to Battery Park City and take a walk. Alma was warm on the inside from the alcohol, but she had goose bumps on her arms from the cold winter air, so James draped his handsome black wool jacket over her shoulders. She appreciated his gentlemanly qualities.