Getting to Happy

by Terry McMillan

  “Hey, Tarik,” Joseph said. “How you doing, man?”

  “Pretty good, all things considered. Hi, everybody,” he said to the other stylists and the seven or eight customers who were under hair dryers, being shampooed or just waiting their turn. He waved to his mother as he walked back to her office, then stood at the open doorway and knocked. “May I come in?” he asked.

  “Is something wrong, Tarik?”

  “No, Ma, nothing’s wrong.” He gave her a kiss. “I just wanted you to know that me and Nicki canceled our trip.”

  “You did what?”

  “We can go another time. You don’t need to deal with the kids yet.”

  “That is not your decision to make, Tarik. Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

  “Because we just decided. Even though things have calmed down a little bit, it doesn’t feel right, asking you to watch the kids. We also don’t feel much like celebrating.”

  “Is it too late to reinstate it?”

  “Ma—”

  “I want you to go, Tarik. The one thing I’ve been looking forward to is spending time with my grandkids. Don’t do this. And don’t change your plans. Would you do that for me? Please?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “They brighten my day, and I was looking forward to them getting on my nerves.”

  “I’ll see what we can do. Thanks, Ma.”

  “And next time, call first. You scared the daylights out of me.”

  When Gloria got home that evening, she walked into the living room, sat down on the sea foam sectional, leaned her elbow against one of the cushions and looked out into the backyard. She twirled her wedding ring around her finger. She was not about to take it off just because her husband was dead. As far as she was concerned, she was still married. Marvin’s presence was everywhere. There were pictures of the two of them all over the house. They had been strategically placed on walls, tables and certain shelves, so they would always be able to wink at the other. There were some of him catching a fish or barbecuing or just being handsome. Thanks to Marvin, the water in the bean-shaped pool was lavender and in an hour would be periwinkle, but during the day it was always turquoise. Marvin was good with lights. Butter yellow strobes were aimed at the house. Soft blue beamed from the trunks of palms in blocked brick boxes. That white pergola was sheltered from the scorching sun by one of two shade trees Isaac had helped him plant when arthritis had moved into Marvin’s hands. He had done an amazing job remodeling this house. What was the point of it now that he wasn’t in it? Gloria felt like a visitor in here. She didn’t feel like gardening all by herself. Or cooking for herself. In fact, the house seemed to be growing. It took longer to get from one side to the other, and this house was small. She wasn’t sure if she could live here without Marvin. And as for work, who really cared if she had a spa or not? Right now, she certainly didn’t.

  Coming Clean

  I had Isaac served at his mama’s house a few days ago, since it was the only address I had for him. We haven’t spoken since he came and picked up all of his stuff. Mostly clothes and some of his tools. His key didn’t work anymore. It was horrible to have to let him in. He lived here for ten years and now he was a guest. It was heartbreaking. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but we were both cordial. I was a nervous wreck and tried to act busy as he made one trip after another out to his truck. I put a few dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on. I dusted the artwork and the plants, which of course didn’t need it. The housekeeper does a pretty good job. As usual, he seemed to be taking his sweet time, but I didn’t want to rush him. We made small talk. Like people do who don’t really have much to say to each other.

  Right before he was leaving he stopped and looked around. “It’s amazing how little I actually have after all this time. All of this stuff is yours: the furniture and artwork. It was all here when I got here.”

  “Well, you left your mark outside, Isaac. You made the exterior beautiful.”

  “I wish that had been the case with us.”

  I sat down on a stool and laid the feather duster across my lap. “You know what? I think we did the best we could for a while.”

  “Look, Savannah. I know you hate my guts but can—”

  “Wait a minute. I don’t hate your guts, Isaac. I have no reason to hate you. You disappointed me and you’ve made me angry as hell, but hate? No.”

  “Well, I’m glad at least to hear you say it. Look, Savannah, can we not do this like everybody else?”

  “You mean make it ugly?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Isaac. I mean, this is hard enough as it is, and I’ve been praying that if we could just be civil it would make things so much easier on us both.”

  “Then let’s,” he said. “I can tell you this right now so we can be clear about it. We both know what you came into our marriage with, so I’m not going to try to take you to the cleaners by asking for anything I don’t deserve.”

  “Well, I want to be fair, too.”

  “I mean, let’s face it, Savannah, you far out-earn me even with my business and—”

  “This is a community-property state, Isaac. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I do. But whatever the court decides I’m entitled to, I’ll take it and be happy. Seriously.”

  “Like I said, I just want to be fair.”

  “Okay, then. I guess that’s pretty much it.”

  “You want to know what I just found out?”

  “What?” He was still standing in the open doorway. His jacket was missing a button and his T-shirt looked rough-dried. I used to fold and smooth them with my hands until they were flat. I wonder if he notices what I used to do for him. If he cares.

  “We can be divorced sixty days after we file as long as we don’t contest anything. Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t. That soon, huh?”

  “That soon.”

  He picked up a black contractor’s trash bag and wrapped his arms around it as he headed down the sidewalk toward his truck. I couldn’t believe he didn’t live here anymore. I was wondering where he was going. If he missed me. If he wished we could turn back the clock.

  It has taken me almost a month to file even though the form was simpler than filling out a job application. Easier than applying for a credit card. On the day I did, red hearts were everywhere. I had forgotten it was Valentine’s Day until I handed it to the clerk, who actually looked up as if she knew I meant business.

  We had both gotten attorneys but decided to use a mediator instead of going through the whole divorce court setting. This process is called “Divorce with Dignity.” We liked the sound of it, plus it’s a whole lot cheaper.

  I forgot my cell phone at work yesterday and was surprised to see a message from Isaac. I had my coffee and bagel and for some reason was afraid to listen to it. I even read my snail mail. Including the junk. Cleaned off my desk. Looked over my notes for a possible story about domestic violence. Then another about how dysfunctional the foster care system is. Sometimes I get worn out looking at how much is wrong in the world, and I’ve been thinking maybe I might want to start shifting my focus to some of the good things people do. But it’s hard to make news out of that, so they say. Nevertheless, I’m still grateful to have the kind of job that allows me to paint portraits of our lives, good or bad. We need to be able to see how we behave instead of ignoring it.

  I finally decided to play it. “Hi, Savannah. I got the papers and of course it’s all good. Would like to talk to you about something. Don’t worry, I’m keeping my word, so it’s not anything adversarial. I hope you’re well. Call me as soon as you can. I might be moving to Vegas when this is all over.”

  “Moving to Vegas? Have you lost your mind, Isaac?”

  “Who are you talking to, Savannah?” Sally, one of the other producers, asked while passing my office. She’s six foot two and gorgeous. Her hair is black and her eyes are blue. Her husband is five ten. He’s fine as he
ll, so maybe that makes him appear taller. Or maybe she doesn’t care.

  “I was talking to myself, like I always do.”

  “Well, tell yourself a good joke and laugh it off,” she said. “You might want to take an early lunch because Thora’s bringing in her two demon seeds in about an hour.”

  “No! I am not in the mood for them today.” These would be the four-year-old twins that our boss, Thora, had at forty-six, after years and thousands of dollars of in-vitro attempts until finally two of those eggs stuck. They were the strangest-looking babies and they’re still odd-looking. They have not been trained and behave like wild animals. They must weigh fifty pounds each and they still wear those pull-up diapers at night and suck on their pacifiers like cigars. Thora couldn’t care less what anybody thinks about it either.

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” I was trying to figure out how to disappear very soon. I dialed Isaac, and as soon as he answered I just said, “What do you need to talk to me about?”

  “Hello to you, too, Savannah.”

  “Hi, Isaac. Are you worried about something? Is that why you called?”

  “Everything is fine on the divorce front. I saw the numbers and I’m fine with them. Just like I told you I would be. But I was wondering what you’re doing for lunch?”

  “Lunch? You want to take me out to lunch?”

  “Sort of. I need to talk to you about something that’s kind of important.”

  “You can’t tell me over the phone?”

  “It would be better in person. If you don’t mind.”

  “Where?”

  “How about I pick up some sandwiches and we meet at the aquarium?”

  “Are you tripping on something?”

  “No, it just seems like a peaceful place to meet. It won’t hurt, Savannah.”

  “Okay. In about an hour.”

  “Do you want your usual?”

  Why did he have to say that? And just because, I decided to change up. “No, I’ll have a turkey club on whole wheat with mayo and extra mustard and a splash of balsamic vinegar, chips and an iced tea with lemon.”

  “Wow. You are moving on. That sounds delicious. I might try it, too. See you in a minute.”

  I was sitting inside on a long concrete bench, watching four sharks swim back and forth, when Isaac tapped me on the shoulder, almost giving me a fucking heart attack. “Here you go,” he said. He looked like his old handsome and sexy self, and part of me was relieved but the other part wished he still had a little bit of a haggard look.

  I took the bag and could already smell the bacon and the mustard and vinegar. There were quite a few groups of school-age children being led by their teachers. Isaac and I used to come here a lot and watch the colorful fish in the reef tanks. We had always planned to get one but never did.

  “Do you want to move away from the sharks?” he asked.

  “I’m not reading anything into sitting here,” I said, and actually smiled without looking suspicious.

  He sat down next to me, leaving enough space between us for the bags. We placed our sandwiches on top. I took a bite and then waited for him to say something.

  “You know we did have some great years, didn’t we, Savannah?”

  I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at him. “I know you didn’t ask me to meet you here to stroll down memory lane. At least I hope not. But to answer your dumb question: Of course we had some great years, Isaac.”

  “Okay, this is the deal. Because we’ve been filing our returns separately since I got the business, there’s some things I haven’t shared with you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, I’ve had a few tax problems.”

  “And what does this have to do with me, Isaac?”

  He looked intently at the sharks, then down at the concrete floor. It didn’t seem to be as dark in here as it used to be. “I owe them a decent amount of money which I’m in the process of trying to pay back and working out a payment plan because the penalties and interest are killing me.”

  I took a few chips from the bag and offered him some but he shook his head no thanks. As soon as I started chewing, the sound they made seemed like I had made a mistake. I was being rude, so I stopped chewing and let them stay on my tongue until they started to get soft. “I’m listening.” And then I swallowed.

  “Well, I know since we’ve both signed the papers we could be divorced—ironically enough—on tax day, and if I were to get the settlement around that time, the IRS would take almost every dime of it without fail.”

  “So what are you asking me, Isaac?”

  He took a deep breath and blew it out. He had yet to touch his sandwich. “I was wondering if you would be willing to postpone the final divorce decree until July first?”

  He didn’t look at me.

  “Okay.” What difference did it really make? I wasn’t trying to hurry up and get married again, and no one but us would even have to know. Not only that, but some people battle it out in court for years, what’s a few more months?

  “Are you serious? You’d be willing to do that for me?”

  “I would, but I have to tell you, Isaac, you better be glad I was already pre-approved for the second mortgage I have to take out on the house to pay you. I still have time to postpone it. But how much do you . . . oh, never mind. It’s none of my business and I don’t really want to know.”

  “Thank you, Savannah.” He looked like he was on the verge of leaning over to give me a kiss, and I was about to let him when it hit me what we were doing and I backed away.

  “And you’re sure you’ll be able to resolve all this by July first?”

  He nodded and finally reached for his sandwich and took a big bite. Chewed. “I’m actually already working with someone but it takes a minute to set it up. It’s looking good. It’s so much you have to disclose, and I can’t afford to have that kind of money showing up in my account until I get this worked out.”

  “And is that when you’re planning on moving to Vegas?”

  “I’m just thinking about relocating. I’m getting a little tired of Phoenix. I’ve been here all my life and could use a change of scenery.”

  “Does your girlfriend feel the same way?”

  “Can we not talk about any third parties, because it might spoil the tone, and right now I’m feeling nothing but gratitude toward you, Savannah.”

  “No problem. I don’t want to know, anyway.”

  “You look good,” he said out of nowhere, which threw me off guard. He’s always been good at that.

  “So do you, Isaac.”

  And then we just sat there and ate. “This is a really good sandwich,” he said after he had devoured it and treated himself to too many of my chips. “What time do you need to be back?”

  I just looked at him. He knows I’m not on a clock, that no one cares as long as I do my job. I took a sip of my tea and wanted to get up and prepare to say goodbye, until next time, but of course it dawned on me that there might not be a next time. We don’t even have to sign the papers together and the same will hold true even with the amended date. Our divorce will just happen on the day we designate. We could be anywhere, doing anything.

  “You know what, Savannah? I don’t know when we might see each other again or if we’ll ever have a chance to talk, but I want you to know that I have absolutely no regrets about being married to you. None.”

  I was surprised to hear him say this. But I figured if this was his way of coming clean, then we should both do it. “In spite of everything, Isaac, I’m glad you stalked me at church until I went out with you, and I loved you up to the last minute.”

  “What made you stop?”

  “Don’t ask me that.”

  “I would like to know. And I didn’t stalk you. I followed you out to the parking lot but that was only because you were staring at me up in the choir.”

  “You couldn’t sing a lick, and I don’t know how you ever got in the choir. I stopped loving you because you stopped making me
feel important.”

  “When was that?”

  “When did your porn fun get deep?”

  “A couple of years ago.”

  “There you go. You stopped listening to me when I talked.”

  “Savannah, all you did was talk.”

  “Okay, I have to agree. But when I do, I try to make sure I have something to say.”

  “But sometimes it’s good to be quiet, too. Everybody doesn’t need to know what you think. At least not on an hourly basis.”

  I reached over and punched him on the shoulder. “You know what I miss about you?”

  “I do not.”

  “These,” I said and squeezed his shoulder, and then, “These,” I said, and pressed my fingers gently against his lips, and “That,” I said, and rubbed the palm of my hand across his hard belly. “I’ll stop there.”

  “No, don’t. Please. Keep going.”

  “Shut up, Isaac.”

  “Come on, Savannah.”

  “Okay. So you’re the only man that has ever made me come four times.”

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever made come four times, but that’s because I loved the way you made me feel.”

  “Okay, let’s skip this part. I loved how comforting you could be.”

  “I loved how you used to watch me when I was building something. Like you were really interested.”

  “But I was. I didn’t know how you did it. I thought you were brilliant.”

  “Really? You never told me that.”

  “I did so.”

  “I beg to differ with you. I would remember that.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now.”

  “I miss watching stupid television shows with you and you rubbing your feet across mine during the whole show. I was always glad when it was an hour program. I hate to say it, but I loved watching you jump up and down when you disagreed with something on Sixty Minutes or when something you read in the paper or saw on the news really upset you. I liked that you were compassionate and empathetic. Not very many women I’ve ever met get worked up about social and political stuff.”