“That sounds like shopping, and I’m not in the market. If I do get with someone, they’ll have to find me. I’m not looking.”
“I guess it’s too soon. Your divorce hasn’t been final that long.”
“That was only a formality. Our marriage was over a long time ago, although Michael has been calling me lately. He even called me at midnight to wish me Happy New Year.”
“See, maybe you’ll get back together,” Carolyn said. “Maybe you just needed a break.”
“I do miss him. Despite everything, we had some good times. But I don’t want to talk about that. What did you guys do to bring in the holiday?”
“I wanted Derrick to come to Chicago so we could go out, but we haven’t gone anywhere. He says it’s too cold. If I had known we were just going to stay in and watch football, I would have gone to Eden. This is Daddy’s first New Year’s without Mama and I’m sure he misses her. I called at midnight and didn’t get an answer. I guess he just went to bed.”
“It does seem strange for Mama not to be here. She always called when she got home from Watch Night service,” Cecelia said. Their mother’s death had been unexpected. She had been losing weight, but they all thought it was from grieving. Their oldest brother, Charles, had died a year earlier. His diabetes had gotten out of control and while having his foot amputated, he had a stroke and died. Charles was the only child that never left Eden, and he and his wife, Brenda, lived right next to the farm. Their mother took his passing hard. Their father had a stroke and was diagnosed with skin cancer a few years ago. He made a full recovery from the stroke and his doctors had declared him cancer free, but their mother still kept a close watch on his condition and treatment. While she was caring for everyone else, she neglected her own check-ups. When Cecelia saw her mother at Carolyn’s wedding, she was alarmed at how much weight she had lost and changed her return flight so she could accompany her mother home and to a doctor in Little Rock. Her mother had protested, said she preferred to go to her regular doctor. Cecelia insisted and after numerous tests, her mother was diagnosed with an endocrine disease. It was very aggressive and within two months, their mother was gone.
“I think about all the times she wanted me to visit and I didn’t. When I do finally move, I plan to spend a lot of time with Daddy,” Carolyn said.
“When are you moving? I know Derrick is tired of having a long distance wife.”
“They moved my transfer date back again. Now it will be the first of May. Not thrilled about the delay, although it does give me more time to sell my condo. I’ve only had three showings. Hopefully things will pick up in the spring. Did you make any resolutions for the new year?”
“Only to reclaim my life.” Carolyn wasn’t the only one looking for things to pick up in the spring. Cecelia had been living like a hermit the past six months. Part of her self-imposed exile was a way of grieving for her mother, and the other part was her way of proving to herself that the casino was a hobby, not a habit. One other small issue was the fact that she was broke. Withdrawal from plastic hadn’t been easy, but she had learned to live within her means. The bankruptcy had given her a clean slate and she was getting her finances in order. With the new year, she was ready to get back to her life.
“I’m going to apply for the nurse practitioner program. I’m doing the work anyway, so why not be compensated. I’m going to spend more time with Daddy, and I’m finally going to the Essence Festival. The girls at work invite me every year, but Michael wouldn’t go. He said he didn’t like crowds, like fifty thousand people at a Bears game isn’t a crowd. Anyway, Michael’s preferences are no longer my concern. I’ve already started saving for the trip. Want to go?”
“I doubt if Derrick will want to go. He doesn’t like crowds either.”
“I forgot, you’re an old married lady now. I know you’re ready to move with Derrick, but let me warn you, you guys actually have the best of both worlds right now. There’s still the excitement of dating without the drudgery of laundry, bills, and the daily what-to-cook-for-dinner dilemma. Enjoy it.”
The tables had changed. For almost twenty years, Cecelia had been the married sister, fitting activities around her husband and children. Now her children were grown and her husband was an ex.
“You just say that because you’re still reeling from your divorce. Now that you’re back in circulation, I’m sure you’ll meet some hot guy who will make your toes curl and have you giggling like a teenager.”
A hot slot machine would be more like it, Cecelia thought.
“I’m always making a comeback, but nobody ever tells me where I’ve been.”
Billie Holiday
Chapter 2
MAKING A COMEBACK
“Beverly, how many times have I told you to keep this door locked?” Anthony said as he walked in.
“First of all, you don’t tell me anything,” I said.
“Don’t go getting all huffy. I’m just concerned about your safety. You wouldn’t sit in the house with the door unlocked. Why do it here? A shop full of women – you’re just asking to be robbed.”
“I’m so used to Money standing guard, and I had planned to be gone by the time it got dark, so I forgot about the door.” Actually, I hadn’t planned to be here at all. Everyone in the world knows beauty shops are closed on Mondays — everyone except Aunt Belle. She seems to pick the busiest day of the month or a Monday to come to Memphis to get her hair done. Most women her age wear a wig, a short afro, or braids. Not Mae Belle Washington-Parker-White-Johnson-Roy. She still gets her wash, press and curl, and her auburn rinse.
Aunt Belle is our father’s aunt. She’s just seven years older than Daddy, but she practically raised him and his siblings when their mother died in childbirth, so she’s more like our grandmother. She’s always been on the thick side with big legs and a set
of breasts that she uses like most women use a purse. I used to do Aunt Belle’s hair in Mama’s kitchen. I haven’t been to Eden as regularly since Mama passed and I referred Aunt Belle to a shop in Eden. But she claimed the younger beauticians don’t know how to press hair anymore. She said I’ve been doing her hair for the last twenty years and she saw no reason to stop now, unless I was too busy. I couldn’t say no. Aunt Belle and Mama were my practice heads when I was growing up and while I attended cosmetology school. I loved listening to Aunt Belle’s stories about her days as an entertainer on Beale Street and back-up singer at Stax Records. They didn’t call it gossip, but they knew who was cheating, lying or breaking up in Eden. They both had sage advice about men. Mama, because she had a long marriage, and Aunt Belle because she had a few husbands and a few almost husbands. They were the ones that told me I should open my own shop and not just work for someone else. Aunt Belle even thought of the name, The Oasis. And they were the ones that counseled me on keeping Anthony in line, or at least trying.
Aunt Belle is a walking history book with a story for any situation. And watching Mama manage our household while working occasionally as a seamstress was better than any business school lesson on time management. I left high school with a diploma, a baby, and a husband (thanks in part to Daddy’s shotgun). I didn’t go to college like my sisters, but I got an education in life from those special times with Mama and Aunt Belle.
“Locking the door is something you can’t afford to forget. This new breed of thugs doesn’t care about the time of day. They rob a bank in broad daylight, so you know they’ll rob a beauty shop,” Anthony said. “Aunt Belle, did Beverly tell you the Lexus was stolen a few weeks ago?”
“No, she didn’t mention it. So did they find it? Isn’t that the same one in the driveway?”
“Yes, it was recovered,” I said.
“Well, that was lucky. Them poleece in Dwight County never find anything,” Aunt Belle said.
“Yes, very lucky,” Anthony said.
“I’m told it was at some ugly woman’s house not far from here,” I said.
“As usual, you got the story all wrong,” An
thony said as he looked through the stack of mail on the counter.
“I don’t need stories when I have the facts. GPS is a great invention.”
“Sounds like there’s more to this story,” Aunt Belle said.
“Nothing more. I’ve got to run,” Anthony said as he handed me an envelope. “I’ll come by tomorrow. Remember to keep the door locked.”
We had worked out our own separation agreement. Anthony kept the money from the rental houses and from the barbers’ booth rent. I kept the money from the salon and paid the bills. Anthony paid half the mortgage and kept up with maintenance. The only disagreement we had was over, Money, our dog. She was a salt and pepper German shepherd and I couldn’t imagine staying alone in the house without her. Anthony said he found and trained Money, and she was his dog. We both lost when Money got out of the back yard and never came back.
“We’ll be fine. Don’t let the cane fool you,” Aunt Belle said as she patted her chest. “Anybody come in here for something other than getting their hair done is going to get a little surprise.”
“And I have my own peacekeeper in the drawer,” I said. Mama protested when Daddy would take me hunting. She said it wasn’t lady-like. But I always wanted to go with Daddy and Charles, and turned out, I had a pretty good aim. My eyesight may not be what it used to be, but I pity the fool that puts me to the test.
“I’ll install a doorbell tomorrow. I can’t have my wife and favorite aunt going to jail,” Anthony said then planted a kiss on Aunt Belle’s forehead.
“Don’t be wasting your kisses on me. That’s the one you should be kissing,” she said, pointing to me.
“I’ve been trying to tell her the same thing. Talk to her Aunt Belle,” Anthony said as he doubled checked the lock on his way out.
“I always liked that boy,” Aunt Belle said.
“You said he was a dog.” Aunt Belle had warned me about a pretty man, and she was right. Anthony turned out to be the slick, philandering rogue that she predicted. But he was also funny, kind, generous, easy on the eyes, and still the best kisser.
“He’s a dog, but that doesn’t mean he’s not likeable. He came by it honest. He’s just like his daddy and granddaddy. You know, I don’t like getting in your business, but you need to either break up or stay together. This limbo you got going on can be dangerous and basically just lets him do what he wants to do and still claim you as his territory.”
“We’re both grown. He can do what he wants and so can I.”
“Baby, it’s not the same for women. A man with a lot of women is a player. A woman with a lot of men is called a ho.”
“Times have changed, Aunt Belle.”
“They ain’t changed that much. These men is just telling you things is changed so they can get what they want. I see all that mess on the television. Such a shame, girls don’t even know who they baby’s daddy is. It’s pitiful.”
“Getting pregnant is one thing I don’t have to worry about.”
“It ain’t just about getting pregnant. It’s about keeping yourself. I know I had me a few husbands, but that’s because I let them jokers know there would be no laying, playing, or staying without a ring. Course, every now and then I let one slip through, but that was the exception, not the rule.”
“But I don’t want to get married. I’m not even divorced.”
“My point exactly. That’s why you need to you-know-what or get off the pot. You’ll never find anyone while you’re still tied to Anthony.”
“I’ve been dating.”
“Is that what you call it? Men don’t like to share. They can have fifty women, but their feelings get hurt when a woman steps out. They can’t stand another man having what’s supposed to be theirs. So these men you fooling around with is just passing time with you. A woman will spend years being a mistress, have kids for him and everything, on a promise of him getting a divorce. You ever heard of an ‘other man’?”
“I guess I never thought of it like that,” I said. “I’m not looking for a relationship, but I don’t want to be somebody’s sidepiece either.”
“Your mama isn’t here to tell you these things. You’re good and grown, but you haven’t had much experience with men. If you and Anthony are through, there will be somebody else – when and where you least expect it. But seems to me anytime you see somebody more than a few times, Anthony pops back up for another chance to break your heart. ”
“No more chances. He knows it’s over.”
“But do you know it's over? It’s like being a little bit pregnant. Menfolk love to string you along, but either you’re married or you’re not. My third husband kept coming around after I put him out. Then his girlfriend come up pregnant. I knew he was seeing her, that’s why I put him out in the first place. But it still hurt to know he wasn’t seriously trying to get back together. For years me and Libby Douglas didn’t speak. Then he did her the same way and she begged my pardon.”
“Sister Douglas at Mama’s church?”
“They didn’t always wear white missionary dresses down to their ankles. There’s nothing new under the sun. It’s just that now people advertise their mess on the television. Folks used to try to hide it back in the day.”
The older I get, the more I realize that drama isn’t a new invention. A few years ago, I got the shock of my life when I learned that Daddy isn’t my biological father. Apparently, Mama and Daddy had their own on again off again thing going on back in the day. I am the darkest in the family, and my siblings would tease me when we were younger. I know James Brown said we were supposed to be ‘black and proud’, but light skin and long hair was still the beauty standard. Now, I love my cocoa brown skin, and my sisters are jealous of my smooth skin and even tone. I was taller and bigger than most of the boys and envied my sisters’ compact frames. But most black family histories are an unknown gumbo of genes, so it never occurred to me that we had different fathers. I did meet my biological father, but felt no connection to him and didn’t pursue the relationship. I saw no need to pursue someone who hadn’t shown any interest in me. I guess I need to transfer that philosophy to Anthony. It’s time to quit holding on to the past and embrace the next phase of my life.
“You’re right, Aunt Belle. It’s time for me to let the brother go. That New Year’s Eve stunt was the last straw.”
“I didn’t say let him go. I just said make up your mind.”
“It’s not easy to let go of someone I’ve spent the majority of my life with. But I promise you, I’m going to do it,” I said.
Aunt Belle turned around and said, “I’m not the one you have to convince.”
CARL
Today was Carl’s two-year anniversary. He had spent one thousand four hundred eighty three days locked up and each hour crawled by. Now it seemed that time had sprouted wings. He was grateful to be home, but nothing had gone as he planned. The joyful reunion he had envisioned with his boys had been more of a tepid introduction. His older son tolerated him and his younger son didn’t know him. He was still living in his parents’ house. He was broke and since his plumber’s license had expired while he was in prison, he couldn’t get a contractor’s job.
Despite these obstacles, he had faith that the situation was temporary. But one thing that wasn’t temporary, his mother was gone. A few months after his return, his ex-wife, Pat, agreed to let Carlton and Terrell spend spring break in Eden. He didn’t know who had more fun, him, the boys, or C.W. He and his oldest son, Carlton, weren’t best pals, but at least they weren’t strangers anymore. There was no internet or video games, but they went fishing, played cards, and watched basketball. He and his father played baseball with the boys, which was déjà vu, as he remembered C.W. pitching to him and his brothers. He was shocked to learn his boys had never even played baseball. Lois complained about the boys running over her periwinkles and about cooking for an army, but she was in her element. She said it reminded her of the days when she had a house full of children. In a matter of months, she was gone and C
arl was glad his sons had gotten to know their grandmother.
He smiled when he remembered the expression on his mother’s face when she saw him walk through the door, two years ago today. She ran toward him, grabbed his hands, and just looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“Thank you, Jesus! Oh, thank you, Lord! Praise God! Why didn’t you tell me?” she said looking at Raymond, who walked in behind Carl.
“We didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Raymond said as he put the olive green prison issued duffel bag on the floor. Carl served four years of a six-year sentence. He was released early due to a combination of good behavior and prison overcrowding. He had been convicted of aggravated robbery. But his real crime was stupidity. He wasn’t raised in a ghetto by a poor single parent. His parents weren’t drug addicts or alcoholics and his mother had raised him in Sunday School. He had never been hungry or without a roof over his head. He had been a star athlete in high school, which meant celebrity status in a town like Eden. He started smoking marijuana, like all the other so-called cool kids in high school, and by college was dabbling in cocaine. But when everyone else was dabbling, Carl did cocaine the way he did everything else—full speed ahead. He left college without a degree, or the NBA contract he just knew he was going to get. He was able to function for several years, but eventually he went from cocaine to crack, lost his family, and forgot the solid values he had been raised with. He was with some guys he barely knew, and even though he waited in the car while they robbed a convenience store, because one of them shot the owner, he was charged with aggravated robbery. If the owner had died he could have gotten even more time. Once he came back to himself, he realized how much time he had wasted and how many people he had hurt. But there was nothing he could do but stay out of trouble and try his best to get out as soon as he could. He had been devastated when the parole board denied his first application. So this time, he didn’t tell anyone until he was sure he was approved.
Down Home Blues Page 4