The Other Half of My Heart

by Sundee T. Frazier

  At home if they needed to let out some gas, they just did it. Minni was sure Grandmother Johnson’s house rules did not permit burping at the table, even after gulping a full glass of buttermilk, but maybe this was her chance to get Keira out of the hot seat.

  Should she do it?

  What would their grandmother do if she did?

  Grandmother Johnson would be seriously shocked and appalled, no doubt, but Minni and Keira had already decided: They would only get through this together.

  She opened her mouth and belched like a toad.

  Keira laughed.

  Minni’s relief was instantaneous—until she saw the look on Grandmother Johnson’s face. Her stare pinned Minni to the back of her chair. Perhaps she had underestimated their grandmother’s disdain of the public airing of bodily gases.

  “What was that?”

  Surely she knew what a burp was.

  “I might expect this kind of behavior from your sister, but never from you…Minerva.”

  Keira’s smile flipped into a frown. She glowered at their grandmother.

  “If you need to do that, you will cover your mouth with your hand and, most of all, keep your mouth closed.” Grandmother Johnson’s mouth snapped shut, but she wasn’t done talking. “This is exactly why I wanted you here this summer. I knew your mother wasn’t giving you proper home training. You are eleven now. It’s time you learned how to behave properly—like ladies. Don’t ever let me hear you do that again, at the table or anywhere else for that matter.”

  Minni was grateful the trapped air hadn’t decided to use the lower escape route. If Grandmother Johnson felt this way about burping, what would she say about letting loose from the other end?

  Maybe that was the source of Grandmother Johnson’s foul disposition—all the farts she’d held up inside herself. The gas had to go somewhere, so it had leaked into her blood and turned her sour as her nasty buttermilk.

  Minni bit the side of her mouth to keep from smiling. She would tell Keira her theory later, and she’d make sure Keira knew she didn’t agree with Grandmother Johnson one bit—that thing she’d said about her expectations of Keira versus her. How dare she say that? Grandmother Johnson didn’t know Keira. She didn’t know either one of them.

  One thing she clearly didn’t know about Keira was how stubborn she was. Keira would stay at this table for their entire visit if she had to. She would sit in front of that buttermilk until it went bad, as if buttermilk could get any worse.

  To Minni’s surprise, Keira raised the glass with her first two fingers and thumb, lifted her pinky in the air and drained the milk without a single gulp, gasp or shudder.

  When she was done, she set the glass gently on the table, picked up her cloth napkin and dabbed the corners of her mouth. She looked at Grandmother Johnson with just a hint of defiance.

  “Very good,” Grandmother Johnson said, nodding. “Now, let’s talk about the pageant.”

  “Yes, let’s. Since that’s the only reason we’re here,” Keira said with more than a little attitude, which Minni hoped somehow their grandmother hadn’t noticed.

  Grandmother Johnson’s lips clamped together, revealing the tiny wrinkles around her mouth. She pulled a pair of thin rectangular glasses from her jacket pocket and perched them on the end of her nose. She extended her arm. Her fingernails were well manicured but polish-free. “Your applications?” She took the papers and put Minni’s on top. She murmured her approval as she worked down the page and onto the next.

  With their grandmother absorbed in her reading, Minni could observe the woman undetected. Her hair was immaculately pulled back from her chocolate-brown face and gathered into a tight bun at the back. She kept it so straight and slick that if not for its dark color, she might have appeared bald from a distance. She had a perfectly oval face—her hairstyle emphasized the shape—and her skin was amazingly wrinkle-free for a sixty-nine-year-old, although this, too, could have been at least partly the result of her tightly pulled-back hair. Maybe that was why she wore it like that.

  Still, she definitely looked older than she had two summers ago. Her cheeks sagged more, pulling the corners of her mouth down even when her lips curled into an occasional smile. The last time they’d seen her, she had come to Port Townsend. It had ended very badly; Minni and Keira never really understood why. Grandmother Johnson had said something to set Mama off, but Minni couldn’t remember what now.

  Minni continued her inventory of Grandmother Johnson’s face. It was at least one-third forehead. Her eyes were set evenly on either side of her triangular nose under straight eyebrows that were filled in with a makeup pencil. Her earlobes sagged from years of wearing heavy earrings. All her jewelry was gold—a gold watch, a gold class ring on her right ring finger, a gold necklace with a rectangular gold locket. She wore her glasses for reading only—never in pictures. Mama said she was too vain for that. Instead she posed with them in her hand because it made her look smart. She called herself “full-figured.” Like Queen Latifah, Minni thought, except without any of the glamour or beauty.

  Grandmother Johnson finished reading. She nodded at Minni. “You have done an excellent job. I am especially pleased with your A-plus average.”

  Minni glanced at Keira, whose eyes roamed over the ceiling.

  “There’s just one thing. You will write in your full first name.” Grandmother Johnson went to the desk behind Keira and pulled out a bottle of Wite-Out. She set it, along with the application and a pen, on the table in front of Minni.

  She returned to her seat and picked up Keira’s application. “Purple ink?” She tsked, then ran her finger down the page. She stopped about halfway. “You forgot to circle your grade average.”

  Uh-oh. Hadn’t Mama told her?

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Grandmother Johnson cocked her head. “Then why has it been left blank?”

  “Because none of the options apply.” Keira looked directly at Grandmother Johnson.

  “And what exactly is your grade average?”

  “C-plus.” Keira’s chin was level, her neck long. She didn’t blink once. “Mom was happy.”

  Grandmother Johnson looked as if she’d swallowed a spider. “Your mother doesn’t understand that children rise to the expectations placed upon them.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “How is it, exactly, that you have earned no better than a C average?”

  Mama hadn’t told her.

  “C-plus. I have a learning disability.” Keira said it just like that—no shame at all. “Severe dyslexia.”

  Minni hadn’t thought she could admire her sister any more than she already did, but as she watched Keira be herself without apology, Minni’s pride swelled like an ocean wave.

  Grandmother Johnson didn’t look proud. Her face had grown so tight Minni waited to hear it crack. “Severe dyslexia?”

  Keira shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Grandmother Johnson nearly rocketed through the roof. “Not that big of a deal?” She paced. “Not that big of a deal? I’m an educator! I have two master’s degrees in education!” She planted her palm on the table near Keira. “And your mother didn’t think to tell me my granddaughter has a learning disorder?”

  “Disability,” Keira corrected.

  Grandmother Johnson tossed the application onto the table.

  “She’s been doing a lot better since they figured out what was wrong,” Minni said.

  Grandmother Johnson scowled. Minni scrambled for the Wite-Out and got busy changing her name.

  “How will you get anywhere with grades like that?”

  “I can’t help it that my teachers just saw me as dumb and didn’t try to help.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “Mom did, every year. But no one seemed to take her seriously. She kept hearing that I just needed to apply myself more. I think they were being racist, because this year when Dad went in—”

  Grandmother Johnson snatched up the application. “Never blame other
s for what is your problem.”

  Keira crossed her arms. “I can’t help the way my brain is wired.”

  Grandmother Johnson straightened her glasses and put her hand to her heart as if trying to slow it from the outside. She sat, took a deep breath and thrust out her ample chest. “Perhaps not. But there is always plenty that is within your control.” She started again to read Keira’s application, then stopped and put it down. “Academic excellence has always been critical to the success of our race. It is how we have lifted ourselves from poverty to positions of power and influence. We will have to do something about your performance, but for now, let us focus on the matter at hand.”

  While Grandmother Johnson finished reading, Minni snuck her cell phone from her pocket and quietly texted her sister:

  i luv u dont listen 2 her

  She pushed Send.

  Keira fidgeted with her pocket, keeping her eyes down and her phone out of sight. Minni could tell she was checking her messages. Keira looked up. They smiled at each other.

  Later that night, Minni and Keira sat on Keira’s bed in their nightshirts with their backs against the wall and their straight legs touching. Keira put her phone on speaker, and in hushed voices they told their parents the whole buttermilk story, including Minni’s burp. “You did what?” Mama said. Then they all laughed.

  “Grandmother Johnson freaked about my grades,” Keira said.

  The other end of the line was quiet. “Oh, Keira. I’m so sorry,” Mama said finally. “Of course she would scrutinize your applications.”

  “Why haven’t you told her?”

  Silence again. “I know I should have, baby. Don’t worry—I’ll be sure she knows we’re on top of things—and to leave you alone about it. Have you done your reading for the night?”

  Minni and Keira looked at each other. “It’s kind of late,” Minni said. “We’ll start tomorrow, when we’re fresher.” Keira nodded.

  They said good night to their parents and got into bed. Lying in the dark, Minni told Keira what she’d been thinking after Grandmother Johnson had come down on her so hard, including her trapped fart theory. Keira laughed, of course. “You’re not going to let her get to you, right?” Minni asked.

  “I so don’t care what she thinks.”

  “Good.” Minni was about to say good night when something rumbled below. It sounded as if someone had dragged a piece of furniture across the wooden floor.

  The rumble came again.

  Minni sat up and pushed her ear toward the sound. It kept coming, like waves crashing on the beach—except more jarring, not relaxing like the ocean.

  Keira’s covers rustled as she sat up as well. “She’s snoring!” Keira said with glee. “Grandmother Johnson snores!”

  She was right. The jagged sound was snoring. Grandmother Johnson’s snoring.

  Minni clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to keep herself from laughing, but Keira didn’t bother She just laughed.

  Minni was sure they’d wake Grandmother Johnson with their carrying-on, but the snoring kept going and going. The longer it went, the harder they laughed, until Minni forgot all about the pageant and the applications and Grandmother Johnson’s apparent approval of her over her sister.

  Chapter Eleven

  Way too early the next morning, Grandmother Johnson yanked open the door leading to the attic. “Time to get up!”

  Minni rubbed her eyes and looked at her watch. Four-thirty. She planned to keep her watch on Pacific time.

  Keira groaned. “What time is it?”

  “Seven-thirty.”

  “That’s only four-thirty our time!” Keira rolled over and put her head under her pillow.

  Grandmother Johnson hadn’t left the bottom of the stairs. “There is no time other than the one you’re in. Now, get up and get dressed. We need to turn in your applications at the Black Pearls of America headquarters.”

  That worked. Keira got up.

  “Put on skirts and sandals.” Grandmother Johnson shut the door.

  Keira slipped on a tangerine-orange camisole and covered it with a crisp white button-down shirt. She advised Minni to wear her light blue cardigan over an aquamarine spaghetti-strap tank. They both put on flowery skirts, and Keira donned her red ballet flats.

  Then they went to the bathroom to do their hair. Minni sat on the edge of the tub and watched Keira wield her fork comb the way Mama worked her paintbrushes. First she picked out her hair. Then, at her hairline, she sectioned off a two-inch strip, made a center part and slicked down the front on either side of the part with gel. She used bobby pins to hold the hair even tighter to her scalp, then hid the pins beneath a bright pink satin-covered headband.

  Minni wound a strand of her own hair around her finger, admiring Keira’s puffed-out curls. Her sister looked even more like a model when she wore her hair like this, big and wild and free.

  Minni quickly pulled her own hair into her usual two low ponytails and left her bangs to do whatever they wanted.

  “Wait,” Keira said. She took the ends of the ponytails and put them back through the elastic bands without pulling the hair all the way through. Then she gently pulled the loops until they were the same size. “There. That has twice the funkiness factor.”

  They went to the dining room table, where Grandmother Johnson fed them oatmeal and dry toast. Minni was thankful that this time they got orange juice instead of buttermilk. She dipped her spoon in the slimy cereal, trying hard not to think of slugs or mucus.

  “Can we have some butter?” Keira asked.

  “‘May we,’ and no, you may not. Terrible for the arteries.”

  Keira crunched on the toast. She made her eyes big and exaggerated her chewing, as if trying to moisten the bread enough to get it down. Fortunately, Grandmother Johnson didn’t notice.

  They ate mostly in silence, although the bread was so crunchy and dry and the cereal so slimy it was hard not to hear every swallow. Minni felt as if she was on the verge of another laugh attack their entire time at the table.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t hold in her giggles a second longer, Grandmother Johnson finished. She picked up her empty bowl and looked at Keira. “Before we leave, you will make that head of yours presentable.”

  “What’s wrong with my head?”

  “You need to get that unruly hair of yours under control, preferably locked up in some braids. Two will do.”

  Why did Keira have to “lock up” her hair to be presentable? Grandmother Johnson made even a simple hairdo sound like prison.

  “I haven’t worn braided pigtails since I was in second grade!”

  Grandmother Johnson’s left eyebrow arched high. Her glare would have sent a bear running for cover, but Keira held her ground.

  Minni was about to jump up and pull her sister away when Keira stalked off, but not before muttering, “At least I don’t snore.”

  Grandmother Johnson’s prune lips got even more wrinkled. “How dare…I don’t snore—” she snapped, but Keira was gone. Grandmother Johnson smoothed her jacket like a hen trying to get its feathers unruffled. “I just breathe heavily.”

  She turned to Minni. “Are you finished?”

  Minni still had plenty of oatmeal in her bowl, but if Grandmother Johnson wasn’t going to make her eat it…

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then go wash up. And let your hair down. I want the program director to be able to see how nice it is.”

  “But you just told Keira—”

  “Never mind what I told your sister. Now, go finish getting ready.”

  Minni went to the bathroom and took out the loops Keira had given her. She hated that she would have to go through the day brushing her scraggly, flat hair out of her eyes and mouth. She put the elastic bands in her skirt pocket for later and stepped into the hallway.

  Keira appeared from the attic carrying her brush, spray conditioner and barrettes. Her eyes took in Minni’s loose hair. She opened her mouth to say something, but Grandmother Jo
hnson called Minni to the kitchen.

  Minni shrugged at Keira and scooted down the hall.

  “Much better,” Grandmother Johnson said, eyeing Minni’s head. “Now we just need to do something about your sister’s tight curl.” She made it sound as if Keira’s hair were a problem of global significance, like greenhouse gases or something. “Bring this chair and come with me.”

  Grandmother Johnson held a ball of twine and a huge pair of clippers with thick metal blades.

  Minni looked at the chair she’d been told to carry. Did their grandmother plan to tie Keira down and cut off her hair?

  Grandmother Johnson stepped out the back door.

  Minni thought about running to warn her sister.

  “Hurry up, now!”

  Grandmother Johnson was no small woman, but if she tried to nab Keira, Minni would jump her. It was still two against one, and Grandmother Johnson was old.

  Minni lugged the chair down the back steps, noticing the neighbor’s lush garden with cornstalks already sprouting, a gnarled old apple tree, and a compost pile next to a toolshed. Whoever lived in the lavender house must be all right. Composters were earth-friendly by definition. Two bird feeders hung from branches in the apple tree and one hung outside the back window. A small bird with a yellow head landed on the feeder near the window. She thought of Bessie Coleman, and a wave of homesickness swept over her.

  “Minerva!”

  Minni jolted.

  “The chair.” Grandmother Johnson leaned over a rosebush in the side flower bed near the front of the house.

  Minni dragged the chair behind her. A warm breeze stirred up the pink roses’ sweet scent.

  “With all that hair, your sister’s going to be a while.” Grandmother Johnson pulled on a pair of gardening gloves and sat in the chair. “And idle time is wasted time.”

  Minni was relieved the woman just wanted to prune her bushes and not Keira’s head. She pretended to watch, but her attention was fixed on the house next door. The second-story balcony would be a great place to escape to with a book and some iced tea.

  The breeze picked up and the neighbor’s many and varied wind chimes tinkled and clanged. A clink-clunking wooden sound made Minni think of one of Mama’s recordings of African music. “Those chimes sound pretty,” she said.