Disappearing Acts

by Terry McMillan

  “We’re working on it,” he said. Marguerite said good night and went into her and Daddy’s room and closed the door. Daddy came upstairs and watched Franklin press his lips against mine. Then Franklin turned and started walking toward his room. He didn’t see Daddy.

  “Where you going, son?”

  “To sleep, Pops.”

  “Why ain’t you sleeping in Zora’s room—with her?”

  “Miss Margie told me to sleep in here.”

  “I swear, she’s behind the times, ain’t she? Where you sleep when you at home, son?”

  “With Zora, Pops.”

  “Then that’s who you gon’ sleep with here. Hell, this is the eighties, and both of y’all damn near middle age,” he said, slapping his thigh. That’s his favorite thing to do, slap his thigh. “I don’t know where Margie’s brain is sometimes. Now, y’all go on, and sleep tight.”

  Franklin hunched up his shoulders and walked toward my room with me. “Good night, Pops.”

  “Looks like it might be one now, huh?” Daddy winked at Franklin, then closed his door.

  Franklin wanted to do it, but I couldn’t. My Daddy was only two doors away, and we—or I should say I—have a tendency to get loud. Franklin does more shivering and shaking than anything. I would’ve been embarrassed as all hell or felt so restrained that I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it. So instead I considered another alternative—one that always makes him make promises he could never keep.

  * * *

  When I woke up, Franklin was gone. I went downstairs and saw him standing on a ladder on the front porch.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. It was colder in Toledo than it was in New York, but he didn’t have anything on but a T-shirt and his jeans.

  “Fixing this light.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause it’s broken, that’s why.”

  “Did Daddy put you up to this?”

  “Naw. It just look like he ain’t able to do some of the things that need to be done around here, so I’ma make myself useful. When I’m through doing this, I’ma build him some shelves in the garage, and that toolshed in the back is gon’ look like brand-new when I finish with it. I feel good, baby,” he said.

  I just smiled.

  For the next few days, Franklin fixed everything around the house he could find. He and Daddy laughed, drank, and played poker with Marguerite and Uncle Jake, while I watched. Aunt Lucille finally came over when she heard I was here, and I guess she felt sorry for Uncle Jake, because she let him go home with her. I even went to church, but Franklin hadn’t brought the one suit he owned, so he stayed home. Daddy insisted on staying home to keep him company. They were both drunk when we got back, and laughing like two friends reminiscing about old times.

  On Christmas morning, we exchanged gifts, and there were two envelopes under the tree, for me and Franklin. Daddy had given us each five hundred dollars. Daddy definitely liked Franklin.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I said.

  “I feel the same way, Pops. You’ve been too generous already,” Franklin said.

  Daddy just took a puff off his brand-new pipe I’d bought him, and blew out a big cloud of smoke. At one minute after midnight last night, he had convinced me that it was officially Christmas and opened his boxes. Marguerite, who was a copycat, had opened hers too. She was wearing her new kimono now.

  “Looka here, son,” Daddy said. “It’s my money, and if I wanna spend it on you and my baby, that’s what I do. Understand?”

  Franklin grinned at Daddy, and Daddy smiled back—that gold tooth just shining.

  “What’d you get Zora for Christmas, Franklin?” Marguerite asked.

  “That’s none of your business, Margie,” Daddy said.

  “She’ll get it when we get home,” Franklin answered.

  Daddy slapped his thigh and blew out more smoke.

  * * *

  Marguerite didn’t go to the airport with us, because she was waiting for her new washer and dryer to be delivered from Sears. Once we got inside the terminal, Daddy looked Franklin in the eye. “You take care of my daughter, son. I mean that. You’ve got the best there is, and don’t ever forget it.”

  “I won’t, Pops. Believe me, I won’t.”

  “And you remember what we talked about, you hear?”

  “I will.”

  “And you keep singing, baby. Something gon’ happen. Good things always come to people who work at it. You take care of him,” he said, pointing at Franklin. “He’s a good man, and I want some grandbabies what look just like him.”

  “I will, Daddy. And what did you promise me?”

  “That I’ll go to the doctor. Margie got the biggest mouth in Toledo, don’t she? Happy New Year, you two.” Daddy kissed me on the forehead and shook Franklin’s hand hard.

  We said the same to him and boarded the plane. By the time we were airborne, it occurred to me that Franklin hadn’t had a drop to drink before we left, hadn’t stopped at the bar like he’d done on the way here, and when the hostess came by, he didn’t even order one.

  “So did you have a decent time?” I asked.

  “It was the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time,” he said. “In a long, long time. Thank you, baby.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it. And thank you for coming with me, Franklin.”

  “Your Pops is all right. A wise man,” he said, then leaned back in his seat and looked out at the clouds.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “A lotta things. We had a real good man-to-man talk, something I been hoping to do with my own Pops, but this was the next-best thing.”

  I pushed my seat back so that it was even with his.

  “What’d he say?”

  “He just told me to go ahead and be a man. That just because I get laid off from time to time, that that ain’t no reason to feel like less than one. I needed somebody to tell me that, baby—another man. He told me about how hard it was for him when he was just getting started, and he told me to believe in myself first and don’t never give up. Don’t even think about it, no matter how bad things get. I like your Pops, Zora, and wish like hell mine could be more like him. You tired?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Then put your head here, baby,” he said, tapping his shoulder. He lifted his arm up so it went behind my neck, and his hand landed on my arm. He stroked it, the way you would a crying baby.

  “Aren’t you scared, Franklin?”

  “Of what?”

  “Nothing,” I said, and pressed my head against his shoulder.

  12

  “So what you wanna do?” I asked.

  “Anything but stay home, Franklin.”

  “Well, all the best shows and concerts is already sold out, and I ain’t spending no seventy-five dollars to go nowhere and dance—I’m telling you that right now.”

  “Why not? We can afford to splurge at least one day out of the year. Where’s the newspaper?”

  “Call some of your girlfriends. One of ’em should know where a decent party is. Try Portia—she’s like Rona Barrett when it comes to what’s happening, ain’t she?”

  “You don’t like Portia, do you?”

  “Did I say I didn’t like her?”

  “No, but you always make such sarcastic remarks about her.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. Call her.”

  “I will, in a minute. Let me look through the paper first.”

  “Ain’t Marie supposed to be stopping by on New Year’s?”

  “That’s what she said, but you never can tell about Marie. She might have forgotten.”

  “Call her up to remind her.”

  “Why? Do you want to see her that bad?”

  “I just thought she was an all right lady, and I dug her style. Besides, she’s funny as hell, and she is a friend of yours, ain’t she?”

  “Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were staring at her boobs that night.”

  My face felt hot
. Shit, who wouldn’t stare at ’em when they looking you dead in the face? I ain’t used to seeing Zora act jealous. I love it. Every once in a while, when we’re walking down the street and she notice my eyes on some young girl’s ass, she’ll say, “Like what you see?” “What’s that?” I ask, and the whole time I’m trying to keep the grin off my face. “If you want it, why don’t you go on over there and try to get it?” I play dumb. “I don’t know what you talking about, baby.” This is when she usually hiss and start walking faster than me. Hell, I ain’t thinking about no young girls. Any man in his right mind’ll look at a eighteen-year-old ass when it’s squeezed into something tight. It’s called lust, and why women always think just ’cause we looking means we want it, I don’t know. The woman I want is walking on my side. All this shit is a test. If she loves you, she’ll get pissed off, which almost always guarantee you gon’ get some super-deluxe loving that night—’cause she’ll fuck you like she got something to prove. But if she don’t act concerned one way or another, a man gets to wondering what the real deal is.

  “I wasn’t staring at Marie’s breasts, Zora. They was begging everybody in the whole damn place to look!” I started laughing, and to my surprise, she thought the shit was funny too.

  She was leaning over the kitchen counter, flipping through the paper, and I walked up behind her and pushed Tarzan against that sweet round ass of hers. “Franklin, get away from me. I’m not kidding.”

  “I just wanna feel you, baby. But if you want me to wait till Marie gets over here, fine with me.”

  She turned around and slapped me. Not hard, but hard enough.

  “Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How about a game of Scrabble when you finish?”

  “Then get the board ready. Look, here’s something at the Savoy, and it’s only fifty dollars.”

  “Apiece?”

  “Yeah. And the Savoy is really nice, Franklin. Let’s go there.”

  “Zora, fifty fuckin’ dollars? Gimme a break. Call Claudette, too, and anybody else you can think of. At least try to find out if something free is happening.”

  She picked up the phone and dialed. I guess it was Claudette who she called first, ’cause I heard her congratulate her on her new baby. How could anybody name a kid George in this day and age is what I wanna know. Zora told her all about her voice classes and that demo tape she supposed to start working on, and she just kept running her mouth, while I’m sitting there listening if she was really trying to find out if something was happening on New Year’s or not. Finally, I cleared my throat a few times. “Girl, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be out to see you and the baby within the next few weeks. Promise. Or you can bring him and Chanelle over here. I bet she’s big now. She is! Well, kiss little George for me, and Happy New Year’s to you and Allen both, honey.”

  “You forgot to mention the First Amendment, you know. Now, after all that, I betcha ain’t no happenings, right?”

  “Be quiet, Franklin,” she said, and started dialing again.

  “Marie, this is Zora.”

  She musta got one of them damn machines, “Get your ass over here for your New Year’s drink and call to let me know if anything free and exciting is going on tomorrow night. Bye.”

  “Step on it, would you, baby? I’m ready to kick some ass over here.”

  “Take it easy, Franklin. You wanted me to find out what’s going on, and that’s what I’m trying to do. You’ll be crying in a few minutes anyway, so go get some tissue.”

  She stealing my lines. I watched her dial again, and I knew she was calling Portia, who, to my surprise, was at home. From what I overheard, Portia was going to the Savoy. “What do you mean, house parties are out of style, girl? That’s true. Okay, point made. You do? Great. Then we’ll definitely see you there. What’s his name? Well, if you guys get there before us, try to get a good table. Don’t worry, we’ll be there. Bye.”

  “Why’d you tell her that lie?”

  “What lie?”

  “That we’d see her there.”

  “Look, Portia’s got two extra tickets. Another couple she knows had to cancel, so at least we can get in. And besides, it’s a swank place, and we don’t have anything else to do, and at this point I don’t care how much it costs. All I know is that I don’t want to be sitting in this apartment on New Year’s Eve playing Scrabble. Roll ’em.”

  “I ain’t in the mood now. I feel like doing some woodworking.”

  “Fine. And just what am I supposed to do?”

  “Go sing something.” I got up and went over to my little corner and sat down in front of my worktable. I heard her stomping toward the back, and then her door slammed shut.

  * * *

  I bought myself a bottle. It was New Year’s Eve, so I said fuck it. I had stayed up all night sanding and shaving a piece of wood and didn’t even know what I was making. I left sawdust everywhere, and didn’t crash until late this morning—after I had polished off the whole pint. When I finally woke up, I went to make a pot of coffee and watched Zora dust, polish, wipe, and swish that broom across the floor until I was bored shitless. She still wasn’t speaking to me and spent most of the afternoon cleaning the place inside out. I went and laid back across the bed and started watching a football game. By the time she made it back here, she finally said something to me. “Get up.”

  “Look,” I said. “I think I’m going down to the bar. I’ll be back later on.” I’ll be damned if I was gon’ sit in here the rest of the night getting the silent treatment. Women. They worse than kids when they can’t get their way.

  “Take your time,” she said.

  That’s exactly what I planned on doing. First, I took a shower, shaved extra close, and then got clean. I put on the only suit I owned, her favorite cologne, and my best pair of Stacy-Adams. Zora rolled her eyes at me when she saw me. She ain’t never seen me in no suit before. It wasn’t that I was pissed off. I just didn’t like her attitude: Because Zora wanna spend fifty dollars to go dancing, Zora thinks we should spend fifty dollars to go dancing.

  New Year’s ain’t that big a fuckin’ deal to me, really. All the crazy motherfuckers in New York City is out on the streets; you can’t never get a cab, and if you go to a public place, you don’t know no-fuckin’-body, so you stand around looking stupid or pretend like you having the time of your life. You dance a few sides, drink up forty or fifty dollars’ worth of liquor—’cause they always up the price of ’em for the occasion—and then you go home, either too tired or too fucked up to even think about fucking.

  Zora was in the bathroom on her knees, scrubbing out the tub, when I left. I didn’t bother to say bye.

  I thought I heard something hit the other side of the door after I closed it, but I wasn’t sure. I had a pocketful of money, I was looking good, smelling good, and feeling like a million dollars. So I got a evil-ass woman at home—I ain’t letting her spoil my mood.

  I stopped in Just One Look, but everybody musta been home getting their act together for tonight, ’cause wasn’t too much going down. The music was live, even though it was only six-thirty. I sat down at the bar and ordered a double Jack Daniel’s. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, then some lips on my right cheek. They definitely wasn’t Zora’s, ’cause I’d know them lips anywhere. These belonged to Terri.

  “Long time no see,” I said.

  “You’re telling me, Frankie. How’ve you been? You sure looking good.”

  “You ain’t looking too bad yourself, sweetheart. What you doing in here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Yeah, right. What you drinking?”

  “Rum and Coke.”

  I flagged the bartender and ordered her a drink. It felt good being able to buy a lady a drink for a change. Terri looked as good as always. Not only is she pretty and look like a black Chinese, but she got these Donna Summer lips. While I watched ’em slip over the rim of the glass, I couldn’t help but thinking about how good they used to suck Tarzan. She also got the longest legs I ever had wr
ap around me. Damn. My dick started getting hard just thinking about it. But she was still wearing that damn wig.

  “So tell me, Frankie. Where’d you run off to? I mean, damn, you just upped and disappeared off the face of the earth. What’s her name?”

  “Zora.”

  “Well, where is she?”

  “At home.”

  “What’s she doing at home on New Year’s Eve?”

  I was looking at her ass hugging the edge of the barstool. That squeaky-ass voice of hers didn’t sound so squeaky now—unless it was just my imagination, I don’t know. “Cleaning.”

  “Frankie! How sexist,” she said, running her fingers through her wig.

  “Well, you asked, so I told you. I ain’t making her clean; it was her bright idea.”

  “So what else have you been doing for yourself?”

  “Working. What about you?”

  “Same old thing. Still at the bank. I got a promotion, though—I’m a head teller now.” She was swirling the mixing straw around and around in her glass, locking them slanted eyes on mine like she had already made up her mind what she was gon’ do next.

  “That’s nice,” I said.

  “So tell me, Frankie, how you spending your New Year’s Eve?”

  “With you,” I heard myself say. The words just slipped outta my mouth, and I swear to God I wasn’t even thinking no shit like this. I ain’t one for fuckin’ around on my woman—even if she ain’t speaking to me. But I couldn’t renege now. And Terri always was a hot one—besides, let’s face it, all women like to get fucked on New Year’s. They don’t forget you after you done fucked ’em good either. I know that’s what Terri was thinking when she saw me.

  “Let’s get outta here, then,” she said, and jumped off the seat.

  “I can’t stay long,” I said. I wanted that clear up front.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have you home in time for the countdown.”

  “You still in the same place?”

  “Nope, I moved, but it’s only ten minutes by cab. Come on, Frankie. You know it’ll be worth the ride.”