Holidaze

by L. Divine

  “Chica. Que paso?” Maggie asks with her entourage not too far behind. “You don’t look so good, Mami. I know you’re not still letting those brujas mess with you, are you?” She shouldn’t even joke about witches because they’re real. And I know Maggie knows it.

  “Girl, you know how it is,” I say, giving my friend a hug while continuing the trek to my locker. “Your hair still looks tight but bushy.” I’m proud of my work, especially now that I’ve figured out a way to keep the braids in longer with my personal line of products. But touch-ups are inevitable with cornrows, and I’m thankful that they are. That will always keep a sistah in business as long as I stay on my game.

  “Sí, Señorita. So when can you hook me up again? Me and my papi are going to take pictures next week and I want my hair to be extra flyy.” Maggie’s becoming one of my best clients and I am grateful for the steady side hustle.

  “Well, maybe Monday after school. I’ve got to get to Inglewood this afternoon and hook my mom’s crown up, otherwise I’d do it today.”

  “Maggie, Jayd, vamanos,” Mario calls after her. Her boyfriend smiles our way, giving me a nod to walk over with her and I oblige. It’s been a while since I showed mi hermanos in El Barrio some love.

  “Oh chica, mi papi told me you have a secret admirer,” Maggie says like she’s sharing the family crest with me.

  “Oh, no. I don’t need any more admirers, secret or otherwise,” I say, as serious as a heart attack. “I have enough drama on my plate.”

  “But what if he’s the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life? And what if he’s super cute?” She sounds like she’s seen Cinderella one too many times.

  “Okay, Maggie, I can see it’s not that secret so just tell me who he is. You know you want to.” Maggie looks like she’s going to pop if she doesn’t spill the beans, but we reach her crew too quickly for me to get the full details. I’ll get it on Monday when I get inside that head of hers.

  “Hola, Mario, y adios,” I say to Maggie and her crew. I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get to third period. We have a quiz today and I don’t want to be late.

  “Later, Jayd,” Mario says. I give Maggie a quick hug and head to class. Besides, the sooner I get through government class, the quicker I can get to speech and let Mr. Adewale distract me until lunch.

  Mrs. Peterson’s quizzes always take up the entire period. I thought that was called a test, but whatever. I’m just glad it’s over. Jeremy and I didn’t get to speak much in third period and by the looks of it we won’t have much time to catch up in fourth, either.

  “Okay, class. Today’s debate is going to center around the purpose of music in our lives. This entire section for the next few weeks is going to focus on the relevance of culture in our daily lives. We’ll begin with the roots of hip-hop, since I know many of you listen to that genre. Then we’ll venture into rock, alternative, and reggaeton as well as reggae, jazz, and the blues.”

  As the music begins to play, students start dancing and really feeling the vibe. I personally love Common. Jeremy looks at me and I him. We both love East Coast rap, and even though Common’s from Chicago, he’s still got that East Coast vibe.

  “Want to dance?” Emilio, the new student, asks. I don’t want to embarrass him but I was kind of hoping Jeremy would ask me. Jeremy smirks at the youngster’s advance. What was I thinking—Jeremy would offer me a dance? I should know by now this is not his thing, but that doesn’t have anything to do with me.

  “Sure,” I say, taking Emilio’s hand and allowing him to lead me into a slow dance. He slips his right hand around my waist and moves me to the melodic beat. Mr. A watches us as we easily move to the music.

  “You’re pretty good,” I say, acknowledging Emilio’s skills. The boy can move.

  “So are you,” he says, blushing as he smiles down at me. I look at Jeremy, who’s no longer smiling in that cocky way of his. He looks concerned now. Serves him right. He should’ve taken my hand when he had the chance.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Mr. A says, rolling his eyes at me as he stops the music. Why is he hating? “Now, how did the music make you feel? Jayd, let’s start with your response.” I haven’t even had a chance to catch my breath yet and he wants to put me on the spot. Damn, I guess that’s how it’s going to be having him as my regular teacher in not one, but two of my classes this semester. Lucky me.

  “Hot,” I say, fanning myself like I’m in church. Before he can reply to my smart-ass answer Mickey shows up, interrupting the already excited classroom.

  “May I help you?” Mr. A asks.

  “Yeah. I came to get Nigel Esop. We have a doctor’s appointment,” Mickey says, rubbing her baby bump like it’s a trophy. I see that’s not the only reason she’s ventured up to the main campus this afternoon.

  “What’s up, Jayd?” Mickey asks while Mr. A inspects the early pass from the office. Something about her tone isn’t sitting well with me. We haven’t seen each other since she accused me of trying to steal her man when I braided Nigel’s hair the other day. I know she’s not over that conspiracy theory so quickly.

  “What’s up?” I say. Mr. Adewale calls the main office to verify the pass and I don’t blame him. With Mickey and Nigel’s history of ditching, their faces should be posted across campus to let everyone know not to let them leave without triple-checking their notes.

  “Me and Nigel made up, and just in time for Valentine’s Day, too,” Mickey says, sitting on Nigel’s lap and claiming him like he’s a puppy. I’ve never seen Mickey giddy before and I don’t like it at all, especially not at my boy’s expense.

  “I’m happy for you.” Even she has to know she’s living in a dream world if she thinks she and Nigel are back to normal. Nigel hasn’t been himself since the shooting, and not playing football isn’t helping the situation much at all. And neither is his keeping a girl on the side.

  “You should be, especially with this bling,” she says, holding up her ring finger and showing off the shiny diamond and gold engagement ring on it.

  “What the hell?” I exclaim without thinking first. I look at Nigel, who has no response at all. It’s like he’s asleep or something. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Mickey turned him into her personal zombie.

  “Careful with that word. We know that’s what they’re trying to do,” my mom says in my head, reminding me of the fact that Misty and her evil godmother are trying to make me their dream mule, even if we’re not having it. And that goes for my friends becoming ones, too.

  “That doesn’t sound too happy at all,” Mickey says, smiling at her conquest. I just talked to Nigel and he was anything but ready to propose. He wasn’t even claiming her baby fully, and now they’re engaged? Something’s definitely not right with this picture.

  “Oh, she’s just mad because she couldn’t get you the results that we did,” Misty says. “You know haters can’t help themselves.” Mickey laughs at Misty’s comment and Nellie, Laura, and the rest of their circus crew join in the fun. Jeremy looks at me and shakes his head as if to say I told you so about hanging with my torn-down crew. And I’m with him now. This is getting to be a bit much for a sistah. Why am I fighting so hard to put us back together when it seems like my friends are the very ones tearing us apart?

  “What, are y’all chilling now? Please say it ain’t so.” I look at Mickey, who smiles slyly, like there’s a secret I’m not in on. The bell for lunch rings and Mr. A dismisses the class. The rest of the students file out as Mr. Adewale watches the end of our drama unfold.

  “Everyone’s realizing just how crazy you really are, Jayd. Hurts, huh?” Misty says. Usually her words are empty threats, but for some reason those hit home. I can’t think of anything to say in response. She’s right. It does hurt and I can’t do anything about it.

  “Okay, that’s enough. You can all leave now. Here’s your note back,” Mr. Adewale says, stepping in front of my desk to block the hater rays coming at me from every angle. Nigel’s even quie
ter, and now I know there’s definitely something wrong with him. He would never let anyone talk shit to me like that.

  “Jayd, are you okay?” Mr. Adewale says when they exit the room.

  “I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern,” I say, rising out of my seat and leaving his room, too. Before Mickey started hating on me, Mr. A was hot on my and Emilio’s trail. I feel like the whole world as I know it has turned upside down and I’m buried underneath it. This weekend I just want to crawl under a rock and hide out. And I think I’ll start my retreat right now and wait for this confusing day to end.

  Driving down Artesia Boulevard and heading toward my mom’s neck of the woods, I recognize all of the small side streets and landmarks that let me know I’m going the right way. The bank on my left, the gas station on my right. There are several fast food restaurants on either side of the street, as well as other businesses that tell me I’m heading in the right direction. But if it weren’t for these familiar landmarks, I wouldn’t know which direction I was headed. That’s how I feel at school with my friends.

  I know I’m not in familiar territory if Mickey and Misty are hanging tight. I know I’m going in the wrong direction if I end up married to Rah and sharing my wedding with his baby mama. I know this is a warped existence if Nigel proposed to Mickey, when I know he’s feeling quite the opposite way. If I trust my visions and know that the way I’m feeling is what’s real, then how do I balance everything else out, and set my world straight again?

  I turn on my left blinker to indicate I need to change lanes. As usual, the haters are out this sunny Friday afternoon, and no one wants to let me into the left lane. This turn onto Hawthorne Boulevard is always difficult. Finally, one brother lets me get in front of him and I wave thanks in my rearview mirror. I barely make it through the light, leaving the kind stranger behind. I wish friendships had the same traffic laws. There should be some sort of signal when we’re all turning on each other so no one gets left in the dust.

  “It’s bigger than hip-hop,” my cell sings, announcing a call from Mama. I put Dead Prez’s song as her personal ringtone because she’s the realest person I know. I’m sure she would’ve preferred Aretha Franklin or Anita Baker. But she won’t hate on old school hip-hop because it has the same roots as the music she loves.

  “Hola,” I say, putting the cell on speaker. These cops around here would love to pull my black ass over and cite me for talking on the phone while driving.

  “Hello to you, too,” Mama says, sounding exhausted. She’s been working day and night to fill her clients’ orders, as well as dealing with all of my shit. “Are you planning on working at Netta’s tomorrow?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, glancing at the indicator on the dashboard that shows my gas tank is nearly empty. I wish I did have a choice between working at Netta’s over the weekend and catching up on my rest, but unfortunately my funds are suffering.

  “Good. I would like for you to look through your spirit notebook and brush up on your dream notes. Have you been keeping track of all of your dreams?”

  “Uhmm, not really. I think they’re permanently etched into my memory.” Once you’ve been burned and attacked, as well as all of the other stuff that’s happened in my dreams—whether walking or not—it’s pretty hard to forget them.

  “Don’t be so sure, little lady. Make sure you write down everything you can recall in your notebook, you hear? I want to take a look at it tomorrow when you come to the shop.” I have enough work to do, but I know Mama doesn’t want to hear me complain. At least there’s no traffic to deal with on this street, making my afternoon a little bit smoother.

  “I thought you were taking Saturdays off?” I ask. Mama’s been working too hard and resting too little lately. She needs to take her own well-being more seriously.

  “I will take a day off when this love rush is over. You know these people out here are desperate to get their hands on anything they think can bring them more of everything they desire, whether it’s good for them or not.” Sounds like some of my friends have become Mama’s clients.

  “Okay, Mama. But please get some rest. I’m worried about you.” I’m almost to Inglewood now, and can’t wait to lie down on my mom’s couch.

  “Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ve been doing this for a long time and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. By the way, how was your day, baby?”

  “Oh, it was a day,” I say, not really wanting to divulge to Mama all of the details of Misty’s coup. She’s taking over in almost every area of my life and I’m too tired to fight her effectively.

  “Well, I know that. But I asked you how yours was. Uh oh, what did Misty do now?” Mama knows when I’ve had a bad day.

  “She helped Mickey get Nigel to propose to her, when I know for a fact Nigel was not a willing participant in the engagement.” I turn onto my mom’s street, now only three blocks away from her building. Boys and girls alike are chilling outside, ready for the weekend. One guy in particular catches my eye as he puts a fresh coat of wax on his Cutlass Supreme. The red paint sparkles in the afternoon sun and his boys look on, completely entranced by his arm movements. I wonder if I gave him five dollars, would he wash my mom’s car?

  “Really?” Even though Mama answers nonchalantly, I know there’s more behind it than innocent concern. “How’s Misty looking these days?”

  “Great,” I say. I’m not going to front. She’s got a new swagger in the past couple of months, that I quietly envy. When I look at my reflection these days, all I see is bags under my eyes and none of them come with a Gucci tag.

  “I see.” I know she does. Whatever she’s thinking about is probably a clear picture in her mind. I always wanted to know how Mama’s vision looks through her eyes, and my mom’s, too. I got a brief glimpse of my mom’s vision when I was her in one of my dreams. I wonder how it looks to see my thoughts from her point of view. But Mama’s powers are the fiercest.

  “Yeah, she’s been on point lately.” Mama’s quiet on the other end of the phone as I park my mom’s car in her spot and prepare to make my exit. I can feel Mama looking for something in my answers, but I’m not sure what it is she wants to hear. I felt her powers a little bit when we shared the vision of Maman getting beat by her husband, on Christmas Eve. But that was only an ounce of Mama’s strength, and it was enough to knock me out then. Had I not been wearing my mom’s gift to me, which ironically ended up being the same dress Maman received as a Christmas gift, I probably wouldn’t have been pulled in like I was. Mama, on the other hand, needs no assistance jumping in and out of her visions. I guess that’s why she was—and still is—revered as a queen not to be messed with.

  “Jayd, did I ever tell you the story of the day I married Oshune?”

  “No, I don’t think you did. You’re not talking about your initiation, right?” I’ve heard that story so much I think I lived it.

  “No. I’m talking about the day I was crowned. It was quite an event, but it almost didn’t happen. I was under so much scrutiny from the law that I almost went to jail instead of the temple where my coronation took place. It is a marriage ceremony where you dedicate your life to serving the orisha and their devotees. Once a priestess slips on those rings there’s no turning back.”

  “Rings?” I repeat, envisioning the gold bands on Mama’s left hand. “Aren’t those your wedding rings from Daddy?” I open the front door to my mom’s house and shiver from the unwelcoming cold chill that always greets me. My mom probably hasn’t been here all week.

  “No, dear. The wedding set on my right hand is the one your grandfather gave me. The thin bands on my left hand represent my union with Oshune. That is how I got the title Ayaba. It literally means ‘wife to the king’ and Oshune is a female king.”

  “And Daddy didn’t have a problem with you not wearing his ring on your left hand?” In my mind I can see the five thin circles held together by one thick gold link on the backside of the set. I’ve always envied how beautiful the rings look on her s
mooth hands.

  “Whether he had a problem with it or not is irrelevant. He knew what he was getting into when he married me. It bothers him more now than it did then, I admit. But he jumped in with his eyes wide open. The point that I’m making is that all relationships are difficult, especially ones where you have to lead and serve at the same time. But our ancestors have mastered this already. Find out the common message in all of your dreams after you write them down. And be prepared to talk about them tomorrow. Now get some sleep and I’m going to get back to work.”

  “Good night, Mama, and I love you.”

  “I love you more, little Jayd. See you tomorrow. And take your pills,” she adds before hanging up. I’ll be so glad when I’m out of this mess and done taking those damned pills. In the meantime, I’ll have to keep up with my dose until Misty’s off my back. If they’ll help me get my sight back on point, then I’ll be one step closer to kicking Misty’s ass once and for all.

  “If you want the marriage to be over you have to take off the rings,” Mama says as my mom and Aunt Vivica get ready to leave Mama’s house. The baby me looks at my mother and smiles, knowing she’s in safe hands with Mama.

  “I intend on taking them off and pawning them, like my wedding china and everything else that belongs to me in that house. Come on, Vivica, let’s go get my stuff.”

  “Lynn Marie, you need to leave well enough alone, girl. Don’t go back to that house and whatever you do, don’t pawn those rings. The only way to shed your past is to bury it.” My mom didn’t listen to her about burying my caul and she isn’t hearing her now either. Damn, my mother has a hard head. That must be where my rock comes from. The next scene shifts to my mom outside of my dad’s house.

  “Give me Jayd’s things. And my wedding gifts,” my mom says to my father as she opens the door, stepping into the kitchen while my aunt Vivica waits outside by the car. I think they watched Thelma and Louise one too many times.