by L. Divine
“Tastes like Kool-Aid,” Chance says, making him and Nigel laugh hard. I think it was mostly funny because they’re high.
“How would you know?” Mickey asks, throwing punches at the white boy in the room. I guess she’ll take cheap shots at Chance as a warm-up to roasting on Nellie for the rest of the evening, not that she needs warming up. Mickey’s got plenty of ammunition, and with Nellie’s new attitude and attire, I know Mickey’s just waiting for the right moment to dig into Nellie’s ass.
“Hey, we drink Kool-Aid at our house too,” Chance says a little defensively. Ever since he landed Nellie after jocking her for many months, he’s been a bit sensitive about being the token white boy in our crew. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he started hanging out with us.
“Okay, y’all, be cool. We’re supposed to be celebrating our boy getting the motion back in his shoulder,” I say. I don’t want the party to take a turn for the worse before I have a chance to see if this stuff works. We need to get our drink on and fast. I don’t know how much longer we can all stay in a room together and keep the peace.
“And just being alive, nigga. On the real,” Nigel says solemnly. Mickey gulps down her share, ready for seconds, but there are none. My mom made enough for everyone to get their fair share, plus some. I know Mickey feels guilty about Nigel’s arm and wants to make it right, but she just doesn’t know how. Nigel has barely spoken a word to her since she got here and she looks uncomfortable.
“Now I’ll drink to that,” Rah says, raising his glass to Nigel’s. We all follow suit and finish the first round. Nigel takes the remote from the nightstand next to the futon where he’s sitting and turns the music up. Nigel must be in quite a mood to play Sade all night. She’s my uncle Bryan’s favorite songstress and I love her, too. It’s also the perfect music to help lay us all out.
“I used to have a copy of this CD but I think one of my brothers stole it,” Mickey says, passing the freshly rolled blunt Nigel just gave her and officially starting the rotation. I hope smoking won’t affect the punch.
“I hate it when that happens,” I say. I’m probably the only other person in the room who can relate to what Mickey goes through on a daily basis, living in a house full of family. Everyone else in this room is either an only child—which I am from my mother—or has only one sibling to deal with. But being raised with my mother’s brothers has not allowed me to ever truly feel like the only one.
“I love being the only child. I gets all of the attention,” Chance says, putting his hands behind his head like he’s big daddy. The long, embroidered sleeve of his new Sean Jean shirt slides back again, revealing his new diamond-encrusted watch.
“Damn, nigga, that’s a lot of ice,” Nigel says, peeping the shiny platinum timepiece from across the room. Nellie smiles at the sight of someone envying her man. She’s turned into quite a trick.
“Yeah. It was a good holiday. I’m not complaining,” he says, smiling big like he hit the jackpot this year. I’m glad one of us did. As soon as this punch settles in I can see what everyone else truly wants from Santa, even if he is hella late this year. But I guess it’s better late than never.
“Man, what’s in that blunt? I feel like passing out, and we didn’t even get our munch on yet,” Rah says, stretching out on the futon he and I are sitting on. We haven’t seen each other since last weekend and we haven’t talked about our plans for Valentine’s Day, or Mickey and Nigel’s issues, since then either. The only conversation we’ve had has been about the mundane daily shit. I wonder if Mickey even knows about Nigel possibly being transferred out of South Bay High if his shoulder doesn’t heal? Probably not, since Nigel’s barely speaking to her. He hasn’t looked her in the eye since she’s been here and she’s feeling the neglect.
“Some of your shit, fool. What else?” The secret ingredient isn’t wrapped up in that cigar paper but they don’t need to know that. I casually take over hosting duties since Nigel and Rah look unable to help anyone out. Just as well. They need to relax and let it take over. The sooner I can get in their heads the quicker I can begin to unravel this hell we’ve created.
“More punch?” I ask, topping off everyone’s cup except my own. The spirit book says I, as the seer, shouldn’t have any. The more everyone else takes the deeper their dreams will be. I want to make sure everyone gets their fair share so we can get down to the root of our problems and solve them before Misty and Esmeralda completely destroy my crew.
Before I even finish pouring the second round Chance is knocked out and Rah isn’t far behind.
“Man, I can see why Sade named this track ‘Punch Drunk’,” Nigel says, almost slurring his words he’s so relaxed. “It makes you feel straight.” I look at Mickey staring at Nigel and wonder what she’s thinking. As I focus on her eyes, they begin to give in to their sleepiness and she and Nigel both fall into a quick slumber. Nellie’s the only one who’s resisting the urge to chill, but she can only hold out for so much longer. I focus on the rhythmic tones of the saxophone playing in the background, intent on Nellie falling asleep. I glance over at Rah, sleeping next to me. I can’t wait to get in his head, but Chance is the first to invite me in.
“His mother’s father was a black man and she had a rough time. I guess she thinks baby Chase will have a better chance at living a good life with someone else,” the woman says, holding an infant Chance in her arms for the couple to see.
“Chance, that’s his name. Chase is so common,” Chance’s adopted mother says, holding her arms out, ready to receive her son. The father, on the other hand, doesn’t look so sure he’s ready to accept the new arrival.
“Look, we wanted a son that would look like us. We don’t necessarily want everyone knowing we adopted a child. Won’t his other side start to show?” At least he’s honest about his issues with black people, which is more than I can say for a lot of people I meet.
“No, not necessarily. I didn’t know the mother was half black when I met her. She just looks like an average young white lady. I mean, can you tell this baby has any black blood?” They look down at the tiny infant swaddled in a blue blanket and their eyes melt at the precious sight.
“All I see is the perfect Christmas gift. Tom, write the lady a check. We’re taking our son home.” Wow. I wonder if Chance knows this is his true Christmas story? Does he even know he’s adopted, let alone part black? That would explain a lot, but damn, I didn’t ask to see all of this. I thought I was just supposed to see what they were wishing about, not shit they’ve been through and may not even remember.
“Oh, you can’t control that, Jayd. Just relax and go with the flow. Whatever’s there for you to see, you will observe. Don’t worry about anything else,” my mom says, quickly checking in and out. I know she’s still recovering from her night of drunken bliss with Karl and his family. I’m glad they had a good time without me. “Remember, you asked how to help your friends and this is the answer. It may not be what you expected, but it is what you asked for. Good night.”
“Later, Mom,” I think back. Rah is still out cold and not making a sound, which means I can’t get into his head yet. I can’t seem to penetrate Nigel’s dreams either. Maybe he didn’t drink enough of my mother’s concoction. I turn my attention to Nellie, who’s not giving it up, either, even though she’s now asleep, too.
“Remember, you have to be invited in when they start talking in their sleep,” my mom says. And these three aren’t saying a word. Mickey’s the only one left. I hear her uttering something and that’s all I need to jump in her head.
“I’m Nickey Shantae, your goddaughter. You don’t recognize me?” the little girl in Mickey’s dream asks me. There’s a glow around her head that reminds me of being in my mother’s womb. Mickey’s daughter is a caul child? I wonder if Mickey is conscious of just how special this child really is. The little girl looks dead at me and I can see her clearly now. Unlike in Chance’s dream, I’m not witnessing what happened in the past b
ut rather I’m an active participant in this vision from the future.
“Hello. Earth to Jayd,” Nickey Shantae says to me, but I’m still stuck on the fact that this child is talking to me through her mother’s dream. “Look, all I want for Christmas, my birthday, and any other holiday is for my mama and daddy to be together—end of story. And as my godmother you’re supposed to make that happen.” Even if she weren’t the spitting image of Mickey, I can tell it’s her child by the way she talks. I’m definitely going to have to get myself together so I can be a steady influence in this child’s life, because she’s going to need it.
“Nickey, your birthday is not a holiday. And I’m not sure I can make that happen.” Mostly because at this point no one knows for sure who her daddy is. But she doesn’t need to know all of that.
“Why not? Because my mama’s not sure my daddy’s the real daddy?” I guess she can hear everything that’s going on from the womb, just like I could. We caul kids really need to come together and form our own crew. We can have international chapters and all. “Jayd, I wasn’t born yesterday and neither were you. Our destinies were decided ages ago and mine doesn’t stop here, you feel me?” She hasn’t been born at all, but who am I to tell her that?
“How old are you?” I ask the mini boss bitch. She’s cute, but if she keeps rolling her neck at me, I’m going to check her, dream or not.
“Eight going on eighty,” she says, like that’s her real age. I’m sure by the time she’s really eight she’ll have heard that very thing time and time again.
“You sure are demanding for an eight year old.”
“Wait until you meet me at sixteen. My mom’s going to send me to live with you for a while. But that’s another story. The point of this little visit is for you to make sure that my mama and the man we are choosing to be my daddy stay together, you got it? I’ve got little brothers and sisters depending on this working out.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” I say, smiling at the mini Mickey. She is a cutie. Besides, I know she’s really speaking on her mother’s behalf. It is, after all, Mickey’s dream. And I think I’ve had all I can take from her mind for one night.
I can understand Mickey’s child coming to me on behalf of her parents, but how is knowing Chance is adopted and part black going to help me get my friends back together again? And how am I supposed to keep all of this to myself? Since no one else is inviting me in and the drink is now wearing off I think I’ll catch some sleep with my friends. Lord knows I need it after what I just saw.
Last night’s pre–Super Bowl party had all of us hung over today, some more than others. I’m still recovering from the dream sharing. By the time I woke up yesterday morning, Rah, Nigel, and I were the only ones left. If it weren’t for Nigel’s begging me to braid him up today I would still be in my cozy spot on my mother’s couch. Instead, I’m out so early on a Sunday morning.
“Hey, watch where you’re going,” I say to the car in front of me. The driver can’t hear me, but I know he heard my loud horn. It’s too early to have road rage, but Crenshaw Boulevard’s always packed, no matter what time of day it is. I turn my iPod up and try to focus on the road ahead, almost to Lafayette Square, one of the most exclusive neighborhoods for wealthy folks who still want to live near the hood.
Nigel’s still not allowed to have any friends over—with his parents’ knowledge—who got him caught up, me included. Rah’s exempt because he’s practically family, but I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Esop aren’t too happy with him, either. I know Nigel’s having me come over this early because his mom and dad are steady churchgoers, even if he says it’s because the game party he and his family are going to is in the Hollywood Hills and they have to leave early. I’m not tripping. As long as I get paid the same money, I’m not sweating the small stuff.
Now that I know Mickey’s baby is going to be my spiritual godchild, I’ve got to intervene in their tattered relationship. When Nigel called me this morning to ask me to braid his hair, I thought it would be the perfect way to get inside his head and see what he’s really thinking about, since he didn’t let me in last night. I don’t care what he’s going through. He can’t just leave our girl and her baby out in the cold.
Brothers always think that when they’re going through some madness the whole world should stop and pay homage. Whatever. Nigel’s going to find out the world doesn’t revolve around him, and that the baby takes precedence over everything now, funky attitudes included.
“What’s up, Nigel,” I say, entering the foyer of his classic home. If his parents weren’t mad at me for the role they think I played in Mickey trapping their son, I might be able to kick it over here more often, which I wouldn’t mind. I never really got to try out the game room. And it looks like it’s complete, from what I can see through the open door to my right. I can hear someone fumbling around in the kitchen. Maybe it’s the maid. I know his mom isn’t the cleaning or cooking type.
“Jayd, thank you for coming over on such short notice. I’ve been meaning to get this head dealt with. I’m just glad it’s you braiding it and not some stranger,” Nigel says, leading me up the stairs to his private fortress.
“Me too,” I say, thankful I can help. If Mama hadn’t given me the psychic clearance to braid again it would be a stranger up in his head, and that’s never a good thing when someone’s trying to heal. And the dream-sharing with my friends really took a toll on me, but it was interesting, to say the least. I should’ve just stayed here, had I known he’d want me to come right back.
“Hey, Nigel,” Tasha says, surprising us both—or so I think. Nigel doesn’t look nearly as shocked as I think he should.
“Hey, girl,” he says casually.
“I picked up your favorite snacks and the movies for tonight after the game. I’ll be right back,” she says, smiling at me as she walks out of the room without directly acknowledging me. Oh no, this trick isn’t back in Nigel’s life. What the hell’s going on around here?
“I know what you’re going to say,” Nigel begins, but not before I can smack him in the head with my comb.
“Damn right you know what I’m thinking, because you should be thinking the same thing. What is your ex-girlfriend doing here when you have a pregnant girlfriend at home, crushed?”
“My mom called Tasha when I got shot, and she’s been here almost every night, no drama included.”
“Oh no, Nigel. Mickey is sprung on your ass and thinks you feel the same way about her.”
“I did, until her man came after me and Rah with a gun. Besides, I don’t even know if the baby’s mine, and when that nigga gets out, I don’t want to be anywhere around.” I’m glad Nickey Shantae can’t hear this.
“Well, you should have thought about that before, Nigel,” I say, smacking him in the head harder than usual. “Have you lost your damn mind? Mickey’s hard enough to deal with as it is, and now you’re going to drop this shit on her?”
“Man, forget her. She wasn’t thinking about me when she got us into this mess. Why should I care about what she’s going through?” Tasha walks back into the room with a tray full of snacks, like she’s been serving him all his life. I refuse to discuss this in front of her ass.
“How many braids do you want?” I ask, pulling his hair back hard.
“Ouch, girl,” Nigel says.
“Is it your shoulder, baby?” Tasha asks, almost throwing the tray down on the table to rush to his side. What the hell?
“Baby?” They both look at me and I look at Nigel, who knows he’s stepped over the line now. They’re back sleeping together. I can feel it.
“I’m okay, Tasha. Would you mind getting my medicine from the kitchen? I think it’s time for another dose.” Tasha looks from Nigel to me and then back at Nigel, like she wants to say or do something but he won’t let her. I wish the trick would step to me. It’ll be the last time she steps in those shoes if she does.
When Tasha leaves the room Nigel begins his begging fest. We’re cool, but I
’m not his boy and he can’t expect me to hold this information for him.
“You know you’re tripping, right?”
“Come on, Jayd. I know you understand.”
“The hell I do. I’m not your boy, lest you forget. And as I recall, Mickey didn’t hold a gun to your head when y’all first met. So man up and take responsibility for your shit,” I say, packing up my hair tools. “I can’t braid in this environment. You’ll have to come to me if you want your crown kept, no hussies allowed.” I storm out of his room, down the stairs and out the front door. I’m so glad I have access to a car now, I don’t know what to do.
Putting the key into the lock, my head starts pounding like another headache from hell. And with it comes the vision of Mickey’s daughter talking to me through Mickey’s dream. As her godmother I’m supposed to help her destiny manifest, and part of that destiny is making sure Nigel and Mickey stay together. I don’t know how, but I’ve got to keep my friends together for the sake of their unborn child. But heffas sure can make that task more difficult than it already is.
10
5 Golden Rings
“Looking like she is the queen of the Nile/
Like she wanna be the mother of my voodoo child.”
—BIG BABATUNDE
Yesterday was a quiet day once I got back to Compton and I caught up on my homework last night. This new semester has taken off regardless of our personal issues. Work still has to get done and I’m the only one who can do what I do. For a Monday it wasn’t bad at all. My sleep has been improving and I’m glad for it. I took my bath and I’m ready to hit the sack. Thank God one school day is already behind me. Maybe the rest of the week will be just as quiet as today was, and it all starts with a good night’s sleep.
“I’m so glad we had a daughter,” the woman says, opening the baby blanket and revealing a pink-cheeked newborn child. “She’s the best gift we could’ve asked for.”