It's a Curl Thing

by Jacquelin Thomas

  “What was up with Pastor Scott and all that Jewish stuff he was talking about?” I ask my aunt as we climb into her van. My brothers are riding home with Chester, so it’s just the two of us in her car.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know, but it was a good sermon, I thought.”

  “It was interesting,” I admit. “Especially when he mentioned the part about the woman with the issue of blood and how touching the hem of Jesus’ garment was so significant. All she had to do was touch his robe and she was healed. That’s totally cool.”

  “She had to have faith, Rhyann. She had great faith.”

  “I still think it’s cool to be healed just like that,” I respond. “When Pastor Scott was talking about it, he almost had me up there shouting.”

  Auntie Mo chuckles. “You need to quit, Rhyann. You weren’t about to be up shouting nowhere. The spirit don’t just fall on you just like that.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “Sister Hargrove sure be slain in the spirit every Sunday she in church. Around the same time, too. Watch next Sunday…at five minutes to twelve—she’ll be falling out.”

  “Rhyann…” My aunt can’t finish her sentence because she’s laughing too hard. “You wrong.”

  “It’s the truth and you know it,” I respond with laughter. “You just don’t want to say it. Auntie Mo, you’re always telling me confession is good for the soul, so c’mon and tell the truth. Sister Hargrove don’t always have to be slain in the spirit, do she?”

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”

  “Well, I don’t think so.” I change the subject back to the sermon. “Auntie Mo, I just can’t imagine having a sickness like that for twelve long years.”

  “I can’t either. She didn’t just suffer physically, though, Rhyann. This woman had to have suffered emotionally as well. And like Pastor Scott said, she suffered spiritually. Can you imagine seeking God and praying for Him to heal you of your illness for twelve years?”

  “I don’t know if I’d still have any faith left,” I admit. “It doesn’t take God twelve years to do anything unless He wants it to be that way.”

  “When something like that happens, perhaps He’s showing us something,” Auntie Mo says. “Or He could be teaching us. Our time is not God’s time, and we can never know the mind of God. His thoughts are far greater than we could ever comprehend.”

  “That woman had it bad, though, Auntie Mo. Pastor Scott said that back then a woman was considered unclean during her menstrual cycle—well, this chick had one for twelve years.”

  “She was considered unclean for all that time. She couldn’t be around her own family. And she couldn’t be in the Temple, so not only was she ostracized by everyone, she couldn’t go to church. That poor woman had to be spiritually starved.”

  I shake my head. “That’s messed up.”

  “That’s what Pastor Scott meant about us being thankful for what Jesus did for us. Because of Him, we can come to church in any shape or form. We can come to Him just as we are.”

  I nod in agreement. “I’m sure glad times have changed.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Auntie Mo says.

  As soon as we get home, she starts barking orders. Divine calls this Mom Mode, but I call it straight Military Mode.

  “Brady, go tell your brother that he needs to make sure he has clean clothes for school,” Auntie Mo tells him. “I don’t remember seeing any of his laundry when I did the washing. If he don’t have any, then he needs to get busy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tameka enters the house. “Hey, everybody.”

  “I should’ve known you’d be coming around,” I say. “Girl, you need to bring some groceries since you’re over here every Sunday for dinner.”

  “I love you, too,” she replies.

  Tameka hugs our brothers, then she and Brady lapse into a light banter.

  I interrupt their conversation by saying, “Tameka, if you’re planning to eat dinner with us, then you need to help in the kitchen.”

  She gives a short sigh. “I came down here to get a break from cooking.”

  “Yeah, right,” I utter. “Like you actually been cooking. The only thing I’ve seen in your kitchen lately is hair products.”

  Tameka glances over at Auntie Mo and asks, “Where is the love?”

  We laugh.

  “Did you have a good time last night?” Tameka inquires.

  I nod. “The band was good, but our DJ was fierce.”

  She and I head to my room to talk while I change out of the clothes I wore to church. I’m going to be helping Auntie Mo with the cooking, so I slip on a pair of denim shorts and a blue-and-white T-shirt.

  “I think you and Traven make a cute couple,” Tameka states. “Are you interested in him at all?”

  “He and I have been friends for over ten years. I don’t think we’ll mess it up by getting involved.” Checking them, I run my fingers through the bouncy curls. My hair is holding up well—Miss Marilee knows her stuff. “How are you and Roberto? I know that you were having some issues.”

  “Girl, he is getting on my last nerve. I told him last night that we need some time apart. I’m tired of his lying tail.”

  I’ve heard this story before. Tameka knows she’s not about to break up with that jerk. She’ll be mad for a few days and then it’ll be back to all lovey-dovey between those two. Auntie Mo doesn’t even want to hear about their drama anymore. She gets mad when Tameka talks about how Roberto disrespects her, and then, when things are good between them again, Auntie Mo is still mad.

  I respect myself too much to deal with a jerk. I guess that’s why I don’t have a boyfriend. Sometimes drama beats being lonely, though.

  Tameka and I venture to the kitchen to help Auntie Mo with the Sunday dinner. She’s cooking one of my favorites—drunken chicken, rice, collards, and corn-bread muffins. Making the muffins is always my job. Tameka may not be able to do hair, but she can throw down on some greens. She makes them nice and spicy. Roberto is a head chef at a restaurant that specializes in New Orleans cuisine, and he gave her some tips.

  Before we left for church, Auntie Mo dropped a seasoned whole hen into the Crock-Pot, then added chopped green onions, chopped red and green bell peppers, and cooking sherry. I guess that’s why the chicken is drunk.

  I savor the smell of the cooking meat and can hardly wait until it’s ready.

  “Auntie Mo, are you working on Thursday?” Tameka asks.

  “I think so,” she responds. “I have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday, so I switched with one of the other girls. What’s going on?”

  “I wanted you to go with me to this furniture store. I need to buy something for that second bedroom, and they have some futons on sale.”

  “We can go Wednesday if you want.”

  “I have class all day,” Tameka says.

  The telephone rings, cutting into their conversation. The phone call doesn’t last long, but my aunt’s mood heads straight south.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask my aunt when she gets off the phone. “You look like you’re about to blow over something.”

  “That Gloria Cohen is getting on my last nerve,” she mutters, pacing back and forth. “Jesus, lover of my soul…You are my rock and my strength…”

  I can tell she’s angry because she gets all red in the face and starts spouting scriptures.

  Auntie Mo finally stops. “She wants me to work all day tomorrow and then help with her dinner party tomorrow night. Like I don’t have nothing else to do.”

  “Did you tell her no?” Tameka asks.

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t really tell her anything other than I’d have to call her back.” Auntie Mo folds her arms across her chest. “I can’t stand this last-minute stuff she tries to pull. People like her really think they own the world. They think all they got to do is say jump and we supposed to say how high.”

  I nod in agreement. My aunt’s been working for the Cohen family for over ten years as t
heir housekeeper. They always want her to help when they throw parties. You can’t blame them, though. She can throw down in the kitchen.

  “I’m gonna have a long talk with Gloria and that husband of hers,” Auntie Mo vows. “And if I do this for them, I better see some overtime in my check. I don’t work for free.”

  “I know that’s right,” I respond. “Tell them to pay you time and a half, Auntie Mo.”

  “Oh, they not gonna do that. They cheap as all get-out. I am gonna tell them that slavery days are long over. If I work, they paying me for my time or I’ll go out there and find me another job. They have been pretty decent to me over the years, but I can’t let them keep taking advantage of me. People are always saying how cheap Jews can be. I try not to think that way, but right now I’m inclined to agree with the consensus.”

  “I still think they should pay you more money.”

  She laughs. “So do I, Rhyann. But Abraham Cohen ain’t gon’ pay any more than he has to—that’s just the way it is. If I hadn’t put my foot down in the past, I’d still be getting paid same as when I first started working for them.”

  Chester and Phillip walk into the room.

  “We going down to Marcus’s apartment for a minute,” Chester announces. “He bought some spikes for Phillip. They’re the Nike Rival ones he wanted.”

  Auntie Mo grunts but doesn’t say a word.

  Marcus is just trying to get back on my aunt’s good side through my brother, but from the looks of it, it’s not gonna work.

  By the time dinner is ready, they still aren’t back.

  “Well, we’re not waiting on them.” Auntie Mo fixes plates for the three of us.

  I say the blessing once we’re all seated at the table.

  “You put your foot in this chicken,” Tameka says. “It’s delicious.”

  I agree. I’m not doing too much talking, because I’m stuffing my face.

  “Hey, Rhyann, are you gonna audition for the praise team?” Tameka asks.

  I take a sip of water. “I’m thinking about it. You know Kelly is trying out.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that,” my sister responds. “Well, I hope you get it.”

  “Me too.” I’ve been wanting to join our praise team for a long time. Kelly is my girl, but she trips out when she doesn’t get her own way.

  When we’re done eating, we clean up, then settle into the family room to watch some television.

  I pick up the photo of my mother from the end table. I was six years old when she died in a car accident, so I have snatches of memories of her, but Phillip was only two and doesn’t remember her at all.

  “You look just like her.”

  I turn around to face my aunt. “You really think so?”

  She nods. “You have her dimples, her eyes, and her nose.”

  “She was so beautiful,” Tameka murmurs as she drops down into the olive-colored leather love seat.

  “She and Cherise looked like our mother,” Auntie Mo notes. “Tameka, you look a lot like my father. Both you and Tanya.”

  “People usually think Tameka and Tanya are sisters,” I say. “Because they look so much alike.”

  “I know how much you both miss your mother and Cherise,” my aunt says. “Lord knows I miss my sisters, too. When we were growing up, we weren’t close. It wasn’t until Monica graduated high school that she and I became almost inseparable.”

  My eyes travel over to the folded flag in the wooden display case. “I don’t think it’s fair that God takes both my mom and Aunt Cherise like that,” I say, taking a seat beside Auntie Mo.

  “Baby, I understand how you feel,” Auntie Mo responds. “I felt the same way when your grandparents died and when I lost my husband.”

  “I know people die all the time, but it just seems like our family has seen so much death.”

  Auntie Mo agrees. “Death is a part of life, sweetheart. It’s the one thing none of us can ever escape. That’s why it’s so important not to waste one moment of the time you’ve been given.”

  We hear the sound of a helicopter overhead.

  Auntie Mo stirs, looking toward the window. “Lord, where is my son? I hope he doesn’t get caught up in some shoot-out. I can’t go through that again. And I hope Brady is with them and not hanging out on some corner.”

  “I’m in my room,” Brady yells out. “Phillip went with Chester.”

  “Why didn’t you come to the dinner table when I called you?” Auntie Mo demands. “How long you been in the house?”

  “I’ve been home since we came in from church. I was asleep until a few minutes ago,” Brady answers. “I heard y’all in there talking when I went to the bathroom.”

  “Boy, you were in that room running your mouth with that girl,” I say when Brady joins us in the family room.

  Brady gives it right back to me. “You should’ve asked Chester to drop you at the mall so that you could buy yourself a life.”

  “And you need to go out and find yourself some sense, because if you call yourself going with Shaquan, you’ve really lost your mind. That girl is nothing but trouble. I told you what happened with Divine’s cousin. Chance is doing double duty as a father and trying to finish up high school.”

  “I’m not Chance,” Brady states. “I’m not gonna get caught up like that.”

  “You better not,” Auntie Mo chimes in. “I’m not taking care of another child. I’ve done all the raising of children I intend to do. I didn’t mind when I had to take care of y’all, but I’m getting older and I’m tired. When I get Rhyann and Phillip out of school, it’s gonna be my time. Time for me.”

  We hear Chester and Phillip when they come through the front door.

  Chester heads straight to the kitchen. “Drunken chicken…man, I’m starving.”

  “Make sure you boys clean up the kitchen when you’re done. We girls are done for the evening.”

  We find a chick flick on television and make ourselves comfortable.

  Auntie Mo is trying to hide it, but I can tell that she’s still bothered by those cheap employers of hers. I hope she tells them off tomorrow. African Americans have been through too much in the past, and it’s time we get some respect. If a person does a good job, they should be paid for it, no matter whether their skin color is light or dark.

  Chapter 7

  I can’t wait for school to end,” Mimi moans when I catch up with her on Monday morning. “I’m tired of all this homework and studying.” Playing with her ponytail, she adds, “I’m sooo ready for summer vacation. Can you believe it? We still have six more weeks left of school. It might as well be forever. Ugh.”

  I agree. “Dee and Alyssa will be out here June sixteenth. We’re gonna have so much fun shopping, hanging out at the movies, going to the beach, and whatever else we feel like doing.”

  At the mention of Divine’s upcoming visit, Mimi sighs. “I wish Dee would just move back to Cali. I still can’t believe she actually likes living in that small town. She can visit Alyssa during the summer, but she belongs here with us.”

  “She’s not coming back, Mimi,” I tell her. “Not for school anyway, so just get over it. Her mom is living in Atlanta, remember?” I’m getting irritated with Mimi’s constant whining about Divine living in Georgia.

  “Well, they still have their house out here, so they might change their minds,” she points out. “We have several homes, but this is our main residence. The only reason she was staying there was to be with Madison. That relationship is dead.”

  “She has T. J. now,” I remind her. “They’re getting close.”

  “It won’t last.”

  Her negativity surprises me. “Mimi, why would you say something like that?”

  “Divine is a diva. That little preacher’s boy is not going to know how to deal with her.”

  “Have you shared this particular thought with Dee?” I inquire. I know she hasn’t, because she and Divine would definitely be on the outs.

  “Not really. You know how Dee can be. S
he’ll be ready to move me down to the bottom of her B.F.F. list.”

  I switch my backpack from one side to the other. “You’d be the same way if she said something like that to you.”

  “I’m not losing my best friend over some stupid boy.”

  The bell rings, letting us know that it’s time for first period.

  Mimi and I have English lit together, so we walk to our class. “By the way, you and Kyle looked pretty cozy at the prom,” I say. “What’s up with that?”

  “He asked me to go with him,” she announces with this big stupid grin on her face. “Finally, after a year of trying to get his attention, he asks me to prom. I feel like I’ve been chasing him forever.”

  Frowning, I ask, “And you’re proud of that?”

  Mimi giggles. “It might sound crazy to you, but I really like him, Rhyann.”

  “Wait till you tell Dee,” I say. “She’s gonna be so happy for you. She has been saying all along that you two belonged together.”

  “I know,” Mimi responds. “To be honest, I just didn’t think it was going to happen. Kyle and Claire have been together since ninth grade. I know he agreed to go with me to the prom, but I wasn’t looking for anything more. I just figured he was still in love with Claire.”

  “That sure didn’t last long,” I say. “I knew it wouldn’t, though. Claire Brett is more into actors, not sons of pro tennis players.”

  “That’s what Dee kept saying. But after the prom, he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

  “Just be careful,” I caution. “Don’t rush into anything.”

  “I already told him that I’d be his girl. Rhyann, c’mon…stop the hate for boys, please. There are some really nice ones out there, girl.”

  “I know that,” I respond. “I’m just reminding you of your own words, Mimi. Go into the relationship just to have fun.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” she says lightly.

  Who is this chick trying to kid? Not me, that’s for sure.

  We head to class bemoaning the fact that we still have another six weeks.

  “I’m here, Miss Marilee,” I announce when I enter the salon on Tuesday. I came straight from school, excited about paying off my debt. I hate to owe anybody.