“Let me help. You know, this reminds me of us going through Mama’s things. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year already.”
My sisters and I spent a week going through Mama’s closets and drawers after the funeral. Daddy said he couldn’t bear to do it. Mama had saved all of our cards and many of the gifts we’d sent were still in their boxes. She had a trunk full of sheets and towels. Mama used white sheets and towels and saved the colored linens for company. I sent her a beautiful seven hundred thread floral sheet set and it hadn’t even been opened. We shipped most of her clothes and hats to our aunt in Detroit. Beverly took her wedding ring, the cake pans, roaster and cast iron skillets. Cecelia and I both claimed the same china set. Mama had promised it to me as a wedding gift. I hadn’t taken it out of the house since I hadn’t moved yet. But Cecelia said since I was getting the quilts and porcelain ashtray set, she should get the china. Daddy, in his Solomon wisdom, split the china set.
“I hope this is the throw away pile,” Cecelia said as she picked up my red velvet skirt.
“Can you believe that was in style? I wore it when we went to the Oprah show.”
“That’s no reason to keep it. Where is your phone?” Cecelia said looking around. She picked it up off the dining room table and handed the skirt to me.
“Hold it up.”
I obeyed and held it up. She took two pictures, then tossed it in the giveaway pile. “Now you’ll have the memory without the clutter.”
“You need a television show,” I said. “It wouldn’t take you long to straighten out those hoarders.”
“I have an even better idea on how to help you. Why don’t you sell me your condo?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Can you get a loan approved?”
“Not right now. The divorce ruined my credit. But I can take over your payments. I have to wait ten more months before I can take out another loan from my retirement account. Then I’ll get the money to pay you your equity and just keep making the payments until my score improves and I can get a loan.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not? You have a condo you can’t sell and a husband waiting to live with his wife. The redemption period on my house will be up soon and I’ll need a place to live. You won’t have to paint or make any repairs, and you can just pack whatever you want to take and leave the rest here. And this is so much closer to the hospital. It’s a win-win for both of us.”
“I should probably discuss it with Derrick first.”
“He’s the one pressuring you to move. Why would he be opposed?”
“Cecelia, don’t take this wrong, but remember my job. I work in collections for the IRS. One of the main reasons people run into money problems is cosigning for a boyfriend or a relative. You know money and family don’t mix.”
“You wouldn’t be cosigning.”
“Right, it’s in my name. That’s even worse.”
“You think I wouldn’t pay you?”
“You already owe me three hundred dollars from last month.”
“I know, but this is different and you save the broker sales fee by finding your own buyer.”
“We’re going to buy a house in Arkansas so I need this one off my credit.”
“Then, if you don’t want to sell it to me, rent it to me. I have to pay rent somewhere. Why not pay you? I can put my things in storage and stay here while your place is for sale,” Cecelia said. “That gives me a little more time to find an apartment.”
“Your house is in foreclosure. You don’t exactly have a pristine payment history.”
“That’s different. We had one of those crazy loans where the interest rate jumped after the first two years.”
“Which I told you not to get.”
“I know, I know. Anyway, our house payment jumped right when Michael decided he didn’t want to be married anymore. I wasn’t going to pay all of that by myself. I could have paid it, but I figured why struggle when we didn’t have any equity? Sheree had moved out and Junior wanted to stay with his dad. I didn’t lose the house; it was a decision not to keep it. I made a monthly mortgage payment for almost twenty years, so you will get your money.”
“What you say makes sense, but something still tells me this isn’t a good idea.”
“Girl. please. We can do it all legal and I’ll sign a lease and give you a deposit and whatever else you require. At least the property won’t be vacant and you can finally move.”
“The realtor will need access to the unit at a moment’s notice. You’re always at the hospital.”
“We can work something out. I’d prefer they not have a key. You can give them the number to the nurse’s station and I can break away. I can even post notices at the hospital. Doctors and interns are always looking for properties in this area. I’m not going to lose my job or disappear. You’ll get your money. I’m your blood. If you can’t trust your blood, who can you trust?”
BEVERLY
What is Anthony’s truck doing here? I wondered as the garage door lifted. I changed the locks but had forgotten about reprogramming the garage door opener. I should have accepted Neal’s offer to stay at his place. I haven’t gotten used to sleeping in other men’s beds yet, although it’s not for lack of trying. I was a virgin when I began dating Anthony in high school and he had been my only lover. Now at forty-six, I’m making up for lost time.
I met Neal at my stylist’s birthday party. Normally I wouldn’t mess around with an employee’s relative. But I’m learning not to have so many restrictions and qualifications. I had always criticized Carolyn’s choice of men and told her to be more selective. But now I understand. I’ve eliminated gay men, married men, unemployed men, men under five feet six inches, men under thirty-five (although I’m thinking about lowering that to thirty), men who don’t pay child support, those that live with their mothers – unless she is ill, those that live with a woman, men who drink too much or do drugs, those with missing front teeth, men without a car (I’m thinking about eliminating this one if they have a job and a driver’s license), and men with long fingernails (too much like Anthony). If I eliminate my employee’s relatives, that would cover half of Memphis. So Neal made the cut.
My first lover, after Anthony moved out was Rick, a police officer in Dwight County. He’s a widow and one of the few eligible men in town that isn’t in a wheelchair or on a breathing machine. Growing up, I always felt like the ugly stepsister so I was surprised and flattered when he asked me out.
“I’ve always had a crush on you,” he said. “And if Anthony is dumb enough to let you go, I’m not complaining.”
Mama was appalled. “Beverly Ann, you are still a married woman,” she said.
“But we’re separated and getting divorced.”
“Then wait until it’s final.”
“That could take months.”
“What’s your hurry? Why are you rushing toward hell?”
“Mama, please. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I know you’re grown, but some things just don’t look right.”
“I’m way past worrying about how things look,” I said.
Mama fretted, but didn’t have to worry long. Our one and only time together was so disappointing I almost called Anthony. I’m not sex-crazed, but if I’m headed toward hell, I want it to be worth the trip.
Surprisingly, my longest companion since separating from Anthony has been Mark. Because of him, I eliminated another restriction from my list; white men. I met Mark at a truck stop in West Memphis, Arkansas. I had forgotten that my windshield wipers were worn, until a downpour blinded me as I was driving to Eden. I crept slowly over the bridge and stopped at the first exit to buy new ones. Mark noticed me struggling to put them on my car, and put them on for me. He was a truck driver and part time instructor at a truck driving school. I decided to order lunch and wait for the storm to pass, and Mark invited himself to my table. Four hours later the storm was long gone, but we were still at the table
nursing glasses of sweet tea. My stylists teased me for weeks when he came to pick me up for dinner.
“He’s cute, for a white guy,” Sharon had said. “Almost as cute as that guy in Best Man Holiday.”
“I would never talk to a white man,” Fatima said. “You know as soon as you get into an argument, he’s going to call you a nigger, and then it will be on.”
This was funny, considering that she didn’t blink when her so-called boyfriend called her a bitch.
“Is it true what they say about white men?” Sharon asked.
I just smiled and said, “you know what the song says – it ain’t what you got, it’s how you use it.” Our fling lasted three months until he was promoted, which meant he had to transfer to their headquarters in Atlanta.
“That’s not far at all,” he said when he told me the news. But I knew it would be the end for us and it was just as well. Things were fine when we were alone, but I was always self-conscious when we went out. I know I shouldn’t care about things like that, but I couldn’t really relax.
“Is everything okay in Eden?” Anthony asked as I walked in the door.
“Everything is fine,” I said as I placed my purse on the counter.
“I know you don’t like to drive at night, so for you to come in at this time, something must have happened.”
“I’m not coming in from Eden. Although that really is none of your business.”
“Oh,” Anthony said quietly.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I stopped by last night to drop off my part of the mortgage payment and noticed all the outside lights were off. My extension ladder is at the rental house so I couldn’t change the floodlight. I waited for you to get in since I know you don’t like to come in when everything outside is dark, especially since Money is gone. I fell asleep on the couch. I didn’t realize it was this late. So, did you and the girls go down to Tunica?”
“Too bad you weren’t this concerned about my safety when you were living here.”
“Beverly, can’t we just have a conversation without you getting an attitude? So how did you do?”
“How did I do what?”
“At the casino.”
“Who said I went to the casino?”
“Oh, I just assumed…”
“Don’t assume anything, and quit trying to figure out where I’ve been. I don’t question you.”
“I can take a hint,” Anthony said as he grabbed his keys. “But you need to watch the company you keep. Unless she’s just a trick, I never let a woman drive home alone this late. Dude should have at least followed you to the house.”
I rolled my eyes and walked upstairs. “Leave the money on the counter. You can see yourself out.”
I took a shower and went to bed, but couldn’t go to sleep. Once again, I had let Anthony get to me. Neal did ask me to stay, but I don’t like him enough to actually sleep with him. Maybe that means I shouldn’t be doing anything with him. Neal could have at least texted me to make sure I got home.
I picked up the remote control and found a healthy living show on CNN. I’ll either learn something or be bored to sleep. The show actually piqued my interest and I made a note to ask Cecelia if I should be taking fish oil. Then there was a breaking news interruption. The anchor announced details of a suicide bomber in Afghanistan. I rarely watch the news. As long as I don’t hear about the wars and killings, I can function without worrying about Tony every minute.
Tony is over twenty-one, but he’s still my baby, my only baby. We tried to have more children, but after three miscarriages, my doctor advised me to have a hysterectomy. Tony was good looking like his father and maybe just a little spoiled. After attending two colleges and spending time working with Daddy in Eden, Tony enlisted in the military. I was devastated, but everyone else said let him go, it would help him grow up. “The terrorists can’t be any worse than these gangbangers around Memphis,” Anthony said. “The Lord will keep him,” Mama said. Before I could even get used to the idea of him being away from home, he was deployed to Afghanistan. The military was one thing. War was another. I wish I had Mama’s faith. If God is going to keep him, why did he allow war in the first place?
I changed to the business channel and that news wasn’t any more encouraging. All the talk about the Fed, bulls, bears and Dow Jones – whoever he is – meant nothing to me. All I know is that Anthony moved, but the bills stayed. He still gives me money, but not like before. I have a mortgage, car payment, and salon utilities. Everything is going up, except sales. More women are doing natural styles and one barber left, so income is way down. Whenever we went through a slump, Anthony would get a roofing job or something to come up with the extra money. Now it’s all on me.
I turned off the television and did what I always did when I felt bad. I went to the kitchen. I settled on a menu of cheese grits, eggs, hash from leftover steak, and biscuits for my pity party. As I cracked the second egg, I noticed a text. Mark was on his way to Tulsa, but the roads were bad so he was rerouting his trip and would stop in Memphis. Did I want to go to breakfast? He’d be here in two hours. I responded that I would cook and he could come by. I turned off the stove, put the hundred dollar bills Anthony left in my housecoat pocket and went to take a bath. Pity party over.
“The blues is when you drop your bread on the floor - and it lands jelly side down.”
Leroy "Lefty" Bates
Chapter 4
JELLY SIDE DOWN
Cecelia slipped into the family waiting room and opened the bag of Cheetos that was serving as her lunch. She agreed to work three extra hours so her coworker could get off early to get to the beauty shop in time to be ready for her date to the R. Kelly concert with her new man. Millicent didn’t lack suitors and always had a full social calendar. Cecelia didn’t mind filling in. She would make a few extra dollars and Millicent always had a funny story the next day. That was before she knew that another nurse would call in sick and the emergency room would fill with flu patients, causing her to skip lunch. Millicent had half-heartedly said she would stay, but Cecelia told her not to worry about it. At least one of them was having fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to a concert. She and Michael loved reggae and went to festivals in Miami and Jamaica every year in the early years of their marriage. But once the children came, they stayed home and were content to do so. By the time they tried to recapture the sizzle, it was too late. Cecelia had laughed like Sarah laughed at God, when Millicent promised to return the favor by working late for her when she had a date.
Since her divorce, she had been on a handful of dates, but nothing close to a relationship. She had been amazed at how casually the men she went out with treated sex. She was not interested in hooking up. Men acted like sex came first, then you decided if you really liked each other. She had been accused of being a lesbian, still hung up on her husband, or having a relationship with the man in the drawer; none of which were true. Carolyn had suggested she try online dating. Cecelia wasn’t interested. “That seems like shopping. Any man that I get with is going to have to find me.” So far, no one had found her and she wasn’t convinced anyone was looking.
“That’s pretty sneaky – making a promise you know you won’t have to keep. Millicent, by the time I have a date, we’ll both be retired.”
“That’s because you need to do something more than work and go home. We’re going out next weekend and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” Cecelia had said okay, but already knew she wasn’t going. Her grandbaby’s birthday party was the following Saturday. She and Michael had spent Christmas at Sheree’s apartment so Simone could stay home and play with her toys. They were actually civil to each other and shared a private joke about their daughter’s cooking. They didn’t want to discourage her, but it was apparent that cooking was not her strong suit. Cecelia was surprised at how easily they had settled into the role of grandparents and how much she had enjoyed his company. He had even hinted at spending New Year’s Ev
e with her, but she was already scheduled to work. Sheree overheard them and teased her parents about going on a date.
“Mind your own business, young lady,” Cecelia told her.
“Your mother and I will always have a bond,” Michael said.
“Okay, whatever you say,” Sheree had said with a smirk. Cecelia knew she and Michael would never get back together. But that didn’t mean they had to be enemies. She had an early morning hair appointment on Saturday and was getting off early on Friday, so she would be fully rested without bags under her eyes. She wanted to look her best – for her granddaughter.
She was about to go back to the nurse’s station when her brother’s number came up on her phone. An ice storm had come through Dwight County and the cell tower wasn’t working. Beverly had been to Eden and assured Cecelia that everyone was okay, but she still wanted to talk to her father and brother herself. She used to avoid his phone calls before he went to prison, and had a brief flashback of those times. He usually needed money, a ride, or a place to stay. Although Cecelia had been broke so long, she could hardly remember when she even had money to loan anyone.
“Finally,” Cecelia said as she answered the phone. “How are you guys?”
“We’re fine. Lots of people still don’t have power, but Daddy has a generator, so other than no cable, some missing shingles, and a few trees down, we’re doing okay.”
“I hope Daddy isn’t around there trying to fix things himself. Let me speak to him.”
“He’s not here right now. They went fishing.”
“Fishing? It’s not that warm down there. That man is determined to land himself in the hospital.”
“He just wanted to get out of the house. Miss Emma promised they wouldn’t stay long.”
“Miss Emma?”
“There’s no power at her house, so she’s been staying here.”
Down Home Blues Page 7