by L. Divine
“I hear you, Mama. It was nothing but haters up in that place.” I won’t tell her about the women giving me the evil eye, because I know that’ll just upset her more.
“Haters are everywhere. Speaking of which, how are your little friends doing?”
“Don’t ask,” I say, not ready to deal with my broken crew.
“I already did.”
“Well, Nigel’s not talking to Mickey and neither am I. Rah and I are talking again, but it’s still a little tense where Sandy and Trish are concerned. And Jeremy doesn’t get any of it. Oh, and Nellie’s still tripping. That about sums it all up in a nutshell.”
“Oh, Jayd, I’m sorry your friends are having so many issues. Have you asked your ancestors for their help?”
“Not really.” Other than my morning prayers, which I usually say in the shower, I don’t really commune with my ancestors or my orisha like Mama does. She’s always got one foot in this world and the other in the spiritual realm. I guess that’s why she only has one friend in her crew who rolls pretty much the same way that she does. Netta’s a true ride-or-die homegirl.
“Well, what are you waiting for? All hell to break loose?”
“Hasn’t that already happened? Once I started walking around in my sleep I figured Armageddon was on its way.” Mama laughs at my silliness, but I’m serious. I feel like the world as I know it is gone and all of my friends along with it.
“Speaking of which, how are your dreams? Have you been taking your prescription from Dr. Whitmore?”
“Well, not exactly.” Mama looks at me sideways like she wants to smack me, but manages to restrain herself at least long enough to hear the rest of my answer. “Mama, they’re too much. He couldn’t give me a tiny pill like an aspirin or something?”
“Girl, stop whining. I don’t care how you get that medicine in you, but you’d better do it. Here, start smashing,” Mama says, handing me the brown bottle with two spoons. She knows all about my aversion to taking pills and came prepared. I knew she’d count the pills if I left them on the nightstand, which I did by accident last night. I’m really slipping on my game these days.
After smashing two of the pills up with water and swallowing the bitter medicine, we sit in silence for a few moments, waiting to see if I feel any different. Mama continues her cooking and I’m still hungry, even with the lingering nastiness still present on my tongue.
“Your mama told me she made you some tea to help you sleep,” Mama says, changing the subject. If I’m forced to take one more damned thing I’m going to give up on this dream thing altogether.
“And that it did. I had crazy dreams, one in which you were picking my mom up off the floor in a restaurant. She had just found out my daddy was cheating on her with one of the waitresses—again.”
“Oh, I remember that day vividly. I was so upset at your father I could’ve killed him where he stood,” Mama says, beating the eggs harder than necessary. If she keeps it up she’s going to end up liquefying the meringue instead of whipping it for the banana pudding she’s preparing, one of my favorite treats. But this is no ordinary dessert. Mama’s making this special pudding for one of her favorite clients. The girl can’t cook worth shit, and she’s trying to snag a ring from her boyfriend this Valentine’s Day. Mama agreed to help her out. I’m sure she’s also agreed to put a little something extra in it to give the sweetness a boost, unlike this bowl of cereal I can’t force myself to down no matter how hungry I am.
“Mama, you couldn’t kill a fly,” I say, snacking on one of the vanilla wafers that’s going into the banana pudding, straight out of the box, and irritating Mama to no end. She hates it when I eat out of the container no matter what it is.
“What have I told you about that, girl? Children of Oshune do not eat leftovers, and by eating out of the box you’re making your next serving a leftover.” When it comes to taboos, Mama doesn’t make allowances. Mama and her logic. It’s not leftover to me yet, but who I am to argue with her?
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, reaching to the counter behind me and grabbing the roll of paper towels. I pour a few of the wafers out of the box and snack on my portion. I wish I could roll my eyes without getting smacked.
“Now, back to your crazy dreams. Have you had any more?” I didn’t want to get into it with Mama about my sleepwalking incident with Rahima, but I can’t help it. She’s going to find out anyway, and it would be better coming directly from me the first time around.
“Well, I had another sleepwalking incident while dreaming about Rah and me getting married. We also had a baby. It was freaky.” Mama stops what she’s doing and looks at me sternly, probing for what, I don’t know. I continue to snack on my cookies and let her look away.
“Did you tell Rah about it?” Mama asks. She returns to her meringue, ready to put on the final layer of cookies, custard, and bananas before putting the fluffy sweetness on top, making the perfect pudding. I hope her client knows how lucky she is to have Mama in her corner. Her man won’t have a chance once he tastes Mama’s homemade goodness.
“No. I didn’t really have a chance since I was going off on him about something else. I didn’t think I should, especially since I was watching Rahima at the time.”
“Watching Rahima? Where the hell was he?” Mama puts the finishing touches on the dessert and pushes it to the side of the kitchen table, ready to start on the next creation. Valentine’s Day keeps a sistah extra busy, I see. It could probably be a very profitable holiday for me too, if I weren’t busy going crazy.
“Working,” I say, with extra bitterness on my tongue, and it’s not from the pills. I’m going to be sour about this one for a long, long time.
“Mmmhmm,” Mama utters. “Don’t get pimped, Jayd.”
“Dang, Mama, why you gotta say it like that?”
“Because that’s how I mean it, young lady. I know Rah’s a good young man, but he’s still a man and sometimes they just can’t help themselves. They do stupid shit even when they know better. And Rah is not immune to the stupidity prevalent in his genes.”
“I hear you, loud and clear.” Unfortunately I agree with her one hundred percent. I’m just glad she said it and I didn’t. It makes me feel better knowing someone else is having the same thought that I am.
“And where was Rahima while you were walking around? Please tell me she was asleep too, and somewhere safe.”
“She was knocked out on the floor of my mom’s living room. I, on the other hand, woke up outside at the bottom of the stairs.”
“You were outside?” Mama asks, alarmed. I know it scares her to think about it. I was scared, too. If Shawntrese hadn’t been there to wake me up, who knows where I would have ended up.
“Yeah, luckily one of the neighbors came home late and woke me up. But it was still a bit much, especially with a baby upstairs I was supposed to be watching out for.” I shake my head at the thought of something happening to Rah’s baby girl.
“Was Rahima in the dream?” Mama takes a few small vials from one of the many cabinets lining the walls of the tiny house and places them on the kitchen table. She then opens them and sprinkles their contents on her sweets.
“Yeah, but she was a couple of years older. And Rah and I had a newborn. Weird, I know.” When I think about it, that was only a couple of years from now.
“Not really. You love him and his daughter very much. It’s only natural that you’d dream about them,” Mama says, mixing batter in the large, metal bowl. It looks like she’s making cupcakes now.
“If that’s the case then why were Esmeralda and Misty there? I have no love for them.”
“There how?” Mama asks, glancing in the direction of Esmeralda’s house next door. Her forehead crinkles up like she’s worried about something. She then whispers under her breath and returns to her work.
“For starters, Esmeralda looked at me while I was walking down the aisle toward Rah and gave me back my headache.” Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.
“
I see,” Mama says, almost breaking the wooden spoon in her hand. Something else must’ve happened that she’s not telling me about and I’m not sure I want to know. “Take your pills, Jayd, and try to focus on staying cool in your dreams, no matter what happens. Our enemies are working every angle they can to get to you, which is why you shouldn’t be alone with that baby anymore until this is all over.”
“But Mama, I would never hurt Rahima. You know that.” Not intentionally, but I know she’s right.
“Of course I know that, baby. And I’m not worried about the child; I’m worried about you. Children are very close to the ancestors and bring them into the world with them when they’re born. The younger the child the closer they are to the source, and Rahima has that protection all around her, like you did when you were a baby. We want you to take care of yourself fully before you take care of anyone else, children included.”
“But what about Rahima? Are you saying I can’t see her anymore?” Mama pauses before answering my question. She looks like she’s choosing her words very carefully for my sake.
“It’s like when you’re on a plane and they tell you to put the oxygen mask on your face before strapping it onto anyone else’s. How can you protect another individual if you yourself need protecting?”
“I get that. I don’t like it, but I get it.” I look at the bottle of pills on the counter and pray that whatever’s in them works. With every passing day I feel myself slipping away, and everyone that I love right along with me.
“The Williams’ legacy has always been tainted by one weakness, which is also our greatest strength—love—and our enemies know this. Esmeralda knows your weak spot, Jayd, and she’s not above using any and every opportunity that presents itself to exploit it. The door is wide open as long as your focus is distracted. Unfortunately, Rah and his daughter are big distractions. And so are your other friends. Don’t make it so easy for her to get to you through them.”
“But if she can get at me from every angle, how can I keep her from hurting me? This is too much for me to handle alone.” Tears well up in my eyes and I want to break down, but I know that won’t help. Mama reaches her left hand across the table and pats my right one. She then takes some of the flour in the canister on the table and pours it onto the wooden surface, like she’s about to roll dough over it. She reclaims my hand and sticks out my index finger, using it to draw a pattern in the flour that begins to look familiar.
“You have everything you need inside of you at all times,” she says as the symbol for Legba becomes clear on the table. “How easily we forget all of the power we were born with once the world gets a hold of us. And the older you get, the harder it will become to remember these lessons.”
“But you remember,” I say. I wish Mama would just cast a spell of her own and make this entire experience disappear.
“I can only do so much for you, chile,” she says as if she heard my request. “You have to finish this madness by yourself. Of course I’ll help you as much as I can. But some battles are more personal than others.”
“Why would the orisha allow all of this mess to happen to me?” I know I sound naïve, but I don’t understand the point of receiving a gift to then be tortured with it. What kind of blessing is that?
“No orisha is good or bad, including Legba. He’s the opener/closer, as my godfather used to say. He will open a door and you, as the seeker, have to make the choice whether or not to go through it. You’ve allowed several things to open up, making yourself vulnerable to what energy ends up coming through after you. Like I said before, don’t make it so easy for your enemies to get to you.” She takes the cupcake pan out from under the sink and places it on the table. “And as far as your dreams go, you will have to go through several past experiences and a future one to figure out exactly how to change your present, or immediate past in this case.” This sounds like some fairy-tale shit to me. Mama finishes the cupcake batter and returns her attention to layering the pudding.
“But, Mama, if I recall correctly, in the Christmas episode of one of my favorite television shows, Vegas, the fine black dude only went through one past, present, and future experience. Why do I have to go through more past experiences than he did?” Completely frustrated with my naïveté, Mama drops her spatula down in the bowl and rolls her eyes at me.
“First of all, little girl, A Christmas Carol is the original name of the story that show was based off of. And second, that was them and this is you.” Mama looks at the small, fluffy cloud of egg whites and sugar, and decides she needs more meringue for the top of the pudding. She gently cracks the eggs, carefully separating the yolk from the white. She glances across the kitchen table at the sugar and sifter. “Pass me the sugar, Jayd,” she says as I instinctively hand the items to her before she can finish her request.
“Here you go,” I say, watching Mama work her magic. I hope this client appreciates Mama’s work as much as I do. This pudding looks like it’s going to be good. “But Mama, I’m serious. Why do I have to see all of the stuff that happened before I was born? What does that have to do with what’s going on now?”
“Now I know you didn’t just ask me that.” My past and the past of my ancestors are linked in more ways than one.
“Yes, I did. I mean, what’s the point of finally getting some real sleep and having dreams, if they only turn out to be nightmares about the doomed love lives of all the women in our lineage? Who wants to have dreams like that every night? I might never sleep well again.”
“Didn’t you learn something from the vision we shared with Maman? You learned what can happen when jealousy takes over. Now you have to do the same thing with these dreams. They’re your lessons, Jayd. Learn from them.”
“I’d rather sleepwalk,” I say, listening to my stomach growl. I’m in no mood for a history lesson right now.
“You don’t mean that and I know it. Besides, this is only phase one of your transformation. I know how Esmeralda works and she’s a lot smarter than she acts.”
“Phase one?” What the hell? “Do I look like Blade? I’m not trying to change into anything.”
“Jayd, you don’t have a choice. Esmeralda’s curse is forcing us to move you ahead in your spirit lessons to save not only yourself but also our lineage. You have to master your powers sooner than later, and I’m here to make sure you do it right, uncomfortable dreams and all.”
“But Mama,” I whine. But she’s not having it.
“Girl, don’t test me. That shit didn’t work when you were two years old and it isn’t going to work now, so get over it. Here, drink this,” she says, passing me a tall bottle of apple cider vinegar with some twigs floating around in it. What the hell is that?
“I’m actually full,” I say. The very sight of the thick brew is making the few cornflakes I did digest turn in my stomach. The last thing I feel like doing is swallowing that shit.
“Did it sound like a choice?” Mama passes me a shot glass from the dish rack on the counter next to the sink, and continues spreading the meringue over the pudding. I twist off the bottle top and air escapes the strong concoction, causing bubbles to fizz at the top. I pour a small amount into the glass and Mama’s eyes tell me to keep pouring. After the glass is full, I quickly take the shot to the head, swallowing the bitter drink down in one swift gulp.
“Yuck!” I exclaim. Mama laughs at my reaction, but is pleased that I took it. “What was that for?” I ask, twisting the top back on the bottle and pushing it across the table to Mama.
“It’ll help thicken your blood and fortify your body in other ways, too.” Mama puts the last of the meringue on the pudding, making my mouth water, especially with the bitter taste still fresh on my tongue.
“My blood is fine. It’s my mouth that could use the help.” Mama smiles at me, rising from her stool and replacing the bottle on the counter.
“Your mouth needs help in more ways than one.” Mama can be sarcastic when she wants to, just like anyone else. She turns the dial on the
stove to preheat the oven for baking.
“But Mama, isn’t making this food and having your client do this ritual the same thing that Esmeralda and Misty did to me?”
“No, because I’d give this to my granddaughter,” Mama says, rolling her eyes at my line of questioning.
“I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t. Believe me, Jayd, Esmeralda doesn’t want a taste of what she’s dishing out to you through Misty. She’s taking advantage of that girl, but Misty’s mother left her vulnerable, and when her grandmother was alive she was no help either. You have to take care of yourself spiritually or you leave yourself vulnerable to anything. We fortify you, child. Your ancestors, your elders, your family. We give you support, and that’s why I do what I do everyday. I do it so my lineage lives on.”
“Okay, I get all of that. But doesn’t your client’s man have a right to know what he’s eating?” Mama looks weary but continues with her explanation.
“That man is sleeping his future away. All my client wants to do is help him get a jumpstart on their life together. There’s nothing wrong about helping someone to wake up from the living dead. Some people are out here just walking around asleep with their eyes wide open. They don’t know who they are or why they are here. Those are voluntary zombies, as far as I’m concerned, and if I don’t help to wake them up, someone else will. Speaking of which,” Mama says, opening the oven and pulling out a mini pudding and handing it to me.
“So you do love me after all,” I say, biting into the tasty treat. This tastes damn good. I love the fact that Mama whips her bananas smooth, unlike most banana puddings that have chunks in them.
“More than you know.” Mama’s eyes look into mine and I can see my reflection bouncing off the green glow. As I continue to look into Mama’s eyes I see Maman’s eyes inside of them, looking back at me. It’s as if the energy of our ancestors is alive and recognizable in her eyes in a way that I’ve never seen before. “It’s time for you to get inside, little Jayd.”