“I’ll see you later, right, Jerry?” I say.
“Yeah, Faye,” he says. But his words are not so convincing.
Thank God for the rain, because without it, our apartment would be shrouded in silence. I want to turn on the radio, but with the mood Mama is in, I decide it’s best to have things remain as quiet as possible. She shut herself away in her room right after Jerry left, and I haven’t seen her in the two hours since. It might be a little late for it, but I decide to make breakfast anyway. I scramble up some eggs and warm some of the precooked sausage patties in the oven. After the bread pops out of the toaster all warm and brown, I arrange everything on a plate and walk over to Mama’s door. I put my ear against it, but the only thing I hear is the rumbling sky. Finally, I knock.
“Mama,” I say. Only, she doesn’t answer. “Mama, I made some breakfast. I’ll bring it to you if you want.” But she still doesn’t answer. I try the door and it opens, with a rush of smoke coming at me. I try to stifle my coughs.
“Thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some food,” I say. But I don’t advance any closer at first, in case she’s about to have one of her throwing fits and is deliberating whether to launch an ashtray or a phone at me.
She’s lying on her bed in her black slip, propped up against two pillows. There’s a cigarette in her mouth. And since there’s more of her mascara staining her cheeks than coating her eyelashes, she kind of resembles a giant raccoon. But despite all this, she still somehow manages to look beautiful.
“I brought you some food,” I say again as I finally start moving forward. I do it at a very deliberate pace. I’m pretty sure I look like one of those animal-control specialists dispatched to capture an escaped beast. You know how they always approach so gingerly, as if they’re preparing to be attacked.
I reach her nightstand without incident and put the plate down. Then I shoot a quick glance at her. Something about the way she looks is making me uneasy. Well, that’s not really a news flash. But today is different because she has a look to her I’ve never seen before. Defeat.
“Mama, are you all right?” I ask.
She shakes her head slowly.
“Why does Dad’s new baby make you so upset?” As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I regret it. I’m sure they’re exactly what she needs to hear to snap her out of her funk and make her go off the deep end on me. I don’t usually bother her when she’s in one of her moods, but here I am in her territory, butting into her business. Her eyes shift a little and she finally looks at me. But she doesn’t really seem angry. And she actually responds.
“I don’t know why,” she says softly. “Listen, Faye, I think maybe you should pack your suitcase with some stuff. And you should call your aunt Nola and tell her and Paul that I need for you to stay there a little while.”
Usually, I’d be doing backflips after hearing this. And it’s not like I don’t want to go, but I know in my gut that something’s really wrong here. Guess I got so used to Mama always being irate, I don’t know how to react when she’s anything but. Weird, huh?
“Well, how long should I pack for?”
“A week, maybe two. Maybe longer. Once you’re all done, you go on over there. This afternoon. You understand?”
“No. Not really. I mean, are you going somewhere? You and Jerry, maybe?”
“I just need a little time. That’s all. I’m just so tired, and I need a little time.”
“Time away from me?”
When she doesn’t say anything else, I walk out of her room, closing the door behind me.
I eat by myself and look off at the rain as it smacks against the kitchen window. I especially focus on the little drops that cling to the bars of the fire escape.
Once I’m done, I pull my travel case out of the hall closet and start packing some clothes. Then I dial Aunt Nola, who is confused as to why I’m the one calling to ask about staying with her, and not Mama. But she reassures me that I’m always welcome there.
I don’t leave that afternoon. I just go to my room and look out at the rain and think about all that’s happened over the last few months. And I wait. I wait for Jerry to come back. I wait for Mama to come out of her room. I wait for the phone to ring. But none of these things happen. I never thought I’d say so, but right about now, I wouldn’t even mind hearing one of Jerry’s boring stories about some barrel he had to ship to Antigua that ended up in Anguilla instead. I wouldn’t mind hearing that weird laugh of his. But Jerry doesn’t come back that afternoon or even that night. I stay up until one, but I never hear the front door open. I never hear footsteps in the hallway. No voices, no noises, no “hey, hey, huh.” There is only the trickle of raindrops against my window.
Mama doesn’t leave her room at all. Not even to go to the bathroom. The next morning when I knock on the door, she doesn’t answer. But when I try the knob, the door opens again.
“Girl, didn’t I tell you to get going to your aunt and uncle’s?” Mama asks. She’s still in her black slip. Still lying in the same position as the day before when I brought her breakfast. I look around for the plate. It’s on the floor near her bed. There’s still food on it, but I can tell she ate a little.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I was here taking care of myself a long time before you ever came around,” she says. That sounds a little bit more like the Mama I’m used to.
“Go on, now, Faye. Go on to your aunt and uncle’s.”
“Okay, I will. But only if you answer this one question: What is it about me that makes it so hard for you to love me?”
Mama suddenly looks confused.
“You’ve never once told me you loved me. So I just want to know, why am I so hard to love?” I ask again.
Mama’s eyes soften a little. She reaches for the box of Virginia Slims on her nightstand and takes out a cigarette, but she doesn’t put it into her mouth or light it.
“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Of course I love you. You’re my child.”
“Then maybe it’s that you don’t like me.”
She shakes her head slowly. “It’s not you. It was never you. It’s me. I can’t seem to figure out what I’m feeling inside. I can’t figure out why things make me as angry as they do. Life shouldn’t make me as angry as it does. Running out of milk shouldn’t make me as angry as it does.…” Her voice trails off and she lets out a long sigh.
“No, it’s not you, Faye.” Those are the last words she says to me. I stand around a while longer, but Mama seems to have zoned out.
I return to my room only long enough to grab my suitcase. I suppose I didn’t realize exactly how heavy it was before, because it takes way too much energy to get it down the hall and out of the apartment. I guess when you’re not really used to going anywhere, it’s hard to gauge exactly how much to pack.
It’s pretty warm outside, and it seems like there are a million people on the street. Four girls jump double dutch a couple of buildings away. One has her long hair in cornrows, and there are all these beads hanging from the end of each braid. I stand by for a few seconds, watching her hop around furiously, trying to figure out how she doesn’t knock herself out from the force of her hair adornments. When she trips over the ropes and messes up, she turns to look questioningly at me and the suitcase resting near my leg. I take this as my cue to continue to the bus stop, so I grasp the handle of the suitcase and go back to hauling it down the street. But I only make it a few steps before another hand latches on to the handle. I look over to find Gerald standing next to me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I saw you from my window. Where ya going?”
“To catch the bus to my aunt and uncle’s house.”
“For how long?”
“Don’t know.”
“Well, this is way too heavy for you to be dragging around. I’ll carry it for you.” He shakes my hand away. “Hey, if you’re around at all this summer, maybe I could take you for an Itali
an ice or something,” he says once we start walking.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“It’s cool. I understand. Pretty girls always go for those good-looking guys.”
I stop right there in my tracks. “You think I’m pretty?”
“Of course. Anyway, it’s okay. You don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to.”
I sneak a look at Gerald. All of a sudden, his teeth don’t seem as horselike as they did before. And he wouldn’t look lanky if he was sitting.
“It seems like it’s gonna get pretty hot this summer,” I say. “So, if I don’t go visit my dad in Florida, I’m probably really gonna be wanting an Italian ice.”
* * *
Uncle Paul’s got his britches in a bunch when I get there. He’s carrying on and screaming about me lugging a suitcase that’s almost as big as me through the streets of Brooklyn; about why I didn’t call so he could come and pick me up; about why my mother didn’t help me. But I relay all that’s happened over the past couple days, and he gets really quiet. I catch the look he shoots Aunt Nola’s way before he goes storming out the door.
A few hours later, he’s back. But he’s not alone. Jerry is right there next to him. And he’s asking to talk to me alone in the kitchen.
“I have something for you,” he says as we walk in. And in his hand is an envelope with the American Airlines symbol on it. “It’s a plane ticket to Florida.”
“Did you buy this?” I ask.
“Nope. Your dad sent it last week.”
“And you held on to it?”
“Negative there too. Your mama had it. Couldn’t decide whether or not she was gonna have you go down there. But now, well, I guess she sees it might be a good thing for you.”
“When?”
“End of the week.”
“So you went over there with Uncle Paul? You saw her too?”
Jerry nods.
“She’s acting strange, even for Mama,” I say. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s had a lot of things not go the way she’s wanted them to. I think she’s had a lot of disappointments, and she’s feeling real tired and beaten down. I don’t think you know this, Faye, but she recently got let go from her job. I didn’t even know it. Not until we just went over there. Anyway, she barely has enough energy to take care of herself right now, and she knows she has to be able to take care of herself before she can take care of you or anyone else, me included. So she’s just gonna need some time. She’s gonna have to figure out a way to get back her confidence and herself.”
“Sounds to me like she’s having some kinda breakdown,” I say.
“What do you know about those kinda things?” Jerry asks. “I don’t know if I’d call it that, Faye. Think right now I’d call it a life transition.”
“How long will she be transitioning? How long will I be away?”
“Wish I could say maybe a few days or a week. But truth is, I don’t know right yet. I don’t think she knows right yet.”
“So you still gonna be living there with her?”
“No. No. I don’t think she needs any extra pressure from me right now. And I’m not a stupid man. I understand that I’m not her first choice. But I’ll be there for her whenever she needs a friend. Whenever she needs some help. You can count on that.”
I can tell that Jerry’s sad, but he’s trying to put up a strong front for me.
“Will I see you again?” I ask.
“Well, first of all, it’s not like I’m dying. And I’m always popping in to see Paul here. But same thing goes for you as goes for your mama. Whenever you feel the need, just give old Jerry here a call.”
Despite all the wetness and greasiness, I hug Jerry. And it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Well, I make sure I avoid any face-to-hair contact by angling my head away. And I have to hold my breath a little to block out the burnt-chemical smell, but his hug is bearlike and firm. And I can feel how much he really cares.
“Faye, the money I gave you is to spend on things you need, not on me,” Ms. Downer says as the lights in the number 6 train dim for a few seconds, then come back on full blast. “And if you wanted to take me out to eat, we could have done it in Brooklyn. There are plenty of fine restaurants there.”
“Right, but the finest restaurants are in Manhattan. Besides, I’m gonna be gone the whole summer, so you should enjoy the time you get to spend with me now, even if we’ll be spending it in Manhattan. And when was the last time you were here in the city, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a couple of years. But there’s really no need for me to come here anymore.”
“I disagree,” I say as I check my watch. It’s two-fifteen and we’re only a couple of stops from Seventy-Ninth Street, which means we’re right on schedule.
“And why do you keep looking at your watch?”
“Because I don’t want us to be late for our reservation.”
“Will you tell me exactly where we’re going, at least?”
“Upper East Side.”
“Which is where we are now. But what kind of food? Which restaurant?”
“You never come here. You wouldn’t know anyway,” I say. “You’re just gonna have to wait till we get there.”
Once we get off the train, I hear the old lady calling for me to slow down. I didn’t realize I was walking so fast. But when I stop and turn, I notice she’s about six feet behind me. And this happens like three more times, and the place we’re heading is only about four blocks from the station. I have to force my legs to go slower to stay at the old lady’s pace. I’m so excited, it’s as if I’ve lost all control of my muscles. I steer her toward a familiar-looking building. Since it’s such a warm day, there are a lot more patients in the courtyard than the last time I was there.
“Faye, this doesn’t look like a restaurant,” Ms. Downer says as we slow down.
“It’s not. But I need to make one small stop.”
“What, you’re checking me into a nursing home?”
“No,” I say with a chuckle. “It’s so much better than anything you could ever imagine.”
I spot an empty table in the farthest corner of the courtyard and lead her over. She’s pretty hesitant about it all, but she follows me. Once that’s done, I run into the building.
After talking to the really large woman at reception, I sit down next to a couple of those crazy-looking old people who seem to be able to look in only one direction—straight ahead—and who smell as if they’ve been bathed in Vicks VapoRub. I sit there waiting and waiting. Every couple of minutes, I go over to the front door and stick my head out to make sure the old lady hasn’t taken off. It’s killing me having to wait. And even though only ten minutes pass before Delaine shows up, it seems like a lifetime.
But Delaine doesn’t come alone. There’s some big sumo-wrestler-like security guard tagging along. Like any of the five feet and ninety-five pounds of me would be able to harm Delaine in any way. But before she can say anything or ask her goony sidekick to remove me, I start flapping my lips.
“This will only take a minute,” I say. “And you can have this man follow you. But there’s something out in the courtyard I think you should have a look at.”
She shoots a glance at the guard, then looks at me again.
“Please …”
“Let’s make it fast,” she says. “Scotty, just stay close by.”
I walk through the door first, followed by Delaine and then Scotty.
“It’s just over here,” I say as I head to the table at the corner of the courtyard where the old lady is seated.
The closer Delaine gets, the faster she begins to walk. And then she clicks into supernurse mode.
“What’s wrong with her?” she asks.
Ms. Downer turns toward us and begins to stand slowly. At first there’s not any recognition on her face.
“Are you all right?” Delaine asks her. “It might be better if you sit back down.”
Bu
t Ms. Downer doesn’t say anything. She just keeps staring and staring. And then I see this lightbulb go on in her eyes.
“She doesn’t live here with us,” Delaine says to me.
“No. She doesn’t.”
“Well, we can’t just accept people off the street. We go through a whole admittance process.”
“She’s not trying to move in. She has her own home. In Brooklyn.” But this doesn’t seem to trigger anything in Ms. Downer’s daughter.
“Her name is Evelyn,” I say. I don’t say anything more. I don’t need to. Delaine just freezes. Her body straightens completely and her head snaps back.
As I look from one to the other, I suck in my breath. This is electrifying. I want to set off fireworks Fourth of July–style and moonwalk like Michael Jackson did on that Motown twenty-fifth anniversary special.
“Delaine?” The old lady’s voice comes out all crackly and hoarse as she says those two syllables.
They just look at each other for a while. The daughter opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. Then the old lady does the same. I’m thinking a hug is going to come, a holding of hands even, but there’s only a shake of the head by the younger woman, who then kind of waves the guard off. Once he turns to go back into the nursing home, she sits. The old lady does the same. So now they’re sitting next to each other and they’re both kind of staring out into the distance, not saying or doing anything much at all.
“What are you doing here?” Delaine finally asks.
“I don’t know,” the old lady says as she looks my way.
I start backing off. I move all the way to the other side of the courtyard, but I never take my eyes off them. I understand they might need a little time to build up to a big show of emotion.
Finally, a steady rhythm comes to the movement of their lips, and there seems to be some sort of conversation. But I can’t hear what’s being said. I can’t even guess what it could be. Neither one ever moves to sit across from the other. Neither one ever embraces the other. Then, after about fifteen minutes, Delaine gets up and quickly walks off into the nursing home, while Ms. Downer just continues sitting there.
Revenge of a Not-So-Pretty Girl Page 23