by L. Divine
“Water, Jayd. Use the water to rinse your eyes,” my mom says into my mind with panic in her voice. This shit feels too real to be a regular vision.
Near fainting, I turn around and rinse my face off in the water. As my sight clears, the feeling slowly returns to my hands. I push my hair back and feel around my neck to loosen the ghostly grip, but I can’t. The steam seeps up my nostrils, clearing my airways and melting the fingers around my neck.
“That’s it, Jayd. Inhale and then exhale. It’s not real, baby. Mind over matter,” my mom says, helping to calm my nerves.
Finally free, I reach for the metal knobs to turn off the water, ending this nightmare on Larch Street, but not before I lose my footing and fall flat on my ass, hitting my head on the back of the ceramic tub.
“Ouch!” I rub my head in the same spot where I hit it falling on black ice in one of my dreams a few weeks ago. It’s already tender from that experience, and now I’ve reopened the wound. What the hell is really going on?
“It’s like I told you last night, Jayd. You’re holding on to the residual negative emotions from your clients. You have to get rid of it before it drives you crazy, and Mama’s the only one who can tell you exactly what to do.” I hate it when my mom’s right, and I’m suffering the consequences in the midst of her revelation. “You have to tell Mama, Jayd. Now get yourself up and shake it off, or you’re going to be late for school.”
“Can a sistah get a little sympathy?” I ask aloud, picking myself up and grabbing the towel from the back of the shower door to dry off. I guess I’ll be wearing my hair wet today with some leave-in conditioner since my shower was cut short.
“Hell no, you can’t get any sympathy. You asked for it and here it is. I know it sounds mean, Jayd, but I’m telling you the truth. There’s so much more to our visions you don’t know about, and that ignorance alone can harm you. Tell Mama today. Bye,” my mom says, checking out and leaving me to my Monday.
I’ll tell Mama about this one as soon as possible, but I have to get through the rest of the school day first. I’ll see Mama at Netta’s shop this afternoon when I go to work. Until then, I’ll have to deal with this madness on my own.
School has been pretty relaxed so far, except for drama class. It’s fifth period and we’re in full rehearsal mode. With both Nigel and Chance in the spring play, it’s sure to be a lively production. Both of their girlfriends have been tripping about their men spending too much time with the Drama Club members lately—mainly me. Lucky for Nellie and Mickey, they’re my girls and I know this routine all too well. Once the play is over, their jealousy will quiet down until the next time it rears its ugly green head.
I’m glad Chance is coming around, but he’s still not answering to his common name. If we don’t call him Chase, he gets extra sensitive about it. Personally, I’m over it. It’s going to take some time for all of us to adjust to our friend’s new identity. And if Chance is smart, he’ll give it some time, too.
“Okay, from the top of the scene, please. Dim the lights!” Mrs. Sinclair shouts to Matt and Seth offstage. There are only fifteen minutes left in the period, and then I’m off to cheer practice. It’s the guys’ turn to get grilled this afternoon, leaving Alia and I free to study our lines outside. It’s a breezy, sunny day, making me thankful I attend a school by the beach. I know it’s sizzling in Compton where my cousin Jay’s high school’s located. There’s no sea breeze that far inland, but knowing Jay and the majority of his classmates, they left campus hours ago. Most teenagers don’t take the last month of school seriously.
“Jayd, do you know where Chance is?” Nellie asks, interrupting our flow.
I’ve got most of my lines down, and if I could stay in my head long enough to clearly hear the voice of my character, Suzy, I’d have the rest.
“He’s inside rehearsing,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Alia shakes her head at the rude intrusion and the fact that Nellie is completely ignoring her presence. If Nellie doesn’t know Alia’s name by now, she sure will when Alia finally makes a move on her man.
Before Nellie can walk through the open door, Chance emerges looking pissed. What did I miss?
“What’s this about you not taking me shopping after school?” Nellie asks, shaking her cell phone up at her tall man. “You promised me a new summer wardrobe months ago.”
“Nellie, calm down. It ain’t that serious,” Chance says, ignoring her outburst.
But my girl will be heard—damn the rehearsal. Ever since she wasn’t chosen for the cheer squad, Nellie’s been on one and she’s doing her best to take everyone with her.
“Not that serious?” Nellie asks, her blond weave swinging in the wind. “I have to get new outfits for all of the end-of-year socials, and you don’t seem to care.”
“That’s because I don’t,” Chance says, causing all our mouths to drop. “Besides, you can take yourself shopping. I’m not your servant boy anymore.” Chance reenters the dark classroom, leaving our girl hanging.
“I’ve had it! Don’t call me again until you get rid of the attitude,” Nellie yells, storming back up the hill. Reappearing through the open door, Chance tilts his baseball cap back farther, revealing his crooked smile and red eyes. I know what he and the rest of my boys were up to at lunch.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Chance says to her back. I’ve never seen Chance so cold before. Looks like he found more than his long-lost relatives down South. “I’m back, people,” Chance yells into the classroom in his best Tony Montana impersonation.
From the way Alia’s eyes are shining, I can tell she wants to smile at the argument we just witnessed, but she holds in her joy. She’s got Chance right where she wants him. If Nellie and Chance keep going at each other’s throats like this, it’s only a matter of time before Alia makes her move on our boy.
“You want to start from the top?” Alia asks, refocusing our attention to our work like nothing just happened. She can pretend to be unconcerned all she wants, but she can’t fool me.
“Alia, how bad are you feeling my boy?” I ask her point-blank. If she’s working her way into a permanent position into our crew, I need to get the preliminary interviews out of the way.
Without trying to hide her feelings, Alia looks up from her script and smiles at me, her silver braces shining bright. “Chance and I go way back to elementary school, Jayd. We were best friends,” Alia says, playing with the booklet in her hands. “We were each other’s first kiss.”
This girl sounds eerily familiar, except I’m trying to get away from my first love, not waiting for him to be free of his crazy attachment. “That doesn’t answer my question.” I want the full confession. Alia’s already secretary of the African Student Union and in Drama with us: If she’s going to hang with our crew on the regular, I need to know she’s down for the long haul.
“I’ve been in love with Chance for forever,” Alia says, like she’s Snow White and Chance is her Prince Charming. It’s official: Nellie’s got some serious competition vying for her man’s attention, and Alia came first. If I know anything about puppy love, it’s that it can become a full-grown bitch real quick. “Does he ever talk about me?” Alia asks, looking dreamy eyed.
“Not to me,” I say. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but even Chance isn’t that crazy. Alia looks at me, and we both acknowledge that although we may be cool, Nellie and I are girls. And some lines you don’t cross, one of them being conspiring with the female trying to take my girl’s man, no matter how I may feel about the issue. The bell for sixth period rings, and Alia jumps up to collect her things from the classroom without saying good-bye. That was awkward for both of us, but I hope she knows she can trust me. I’m not the one she should be worried about.
“What up, Jayd?” Nigel asks, placing his arm around my neck as he catches up with my quick stride. I’ll be glad when this daily trek across campus is over. It’s too hot for all of this every afternoon, and I know the other fifty or so students who have similar s
chedules feel me, too.
“Your boy Chance and his soon-to-be-ex-girl, that’s what,” I say, slowing down to match Nigel’s pace. “You need to talk to him before it’s too late.”
“Unlike chicks, Jayd, we brothas don’t get involved in another man’s female problems,” Nigel says, taking my backpack off my left shoulder and sliding it on his arm. He’s such a good homeboy. “If Chance brings it up, we’ll let him vent. Otherwise, it’s like the shit isn’t even happening in our world.”
I guess Nigel’s right. I’ll have to go to the women for help with this one. Mama and Netta are the wisest women I know. Thank God I’ll see them at work in a couple of hours. The occurrences in my life today alone will give us a lot to talk about. And I’m sure there’s a lot going on in their worlds, too.
“Well, should he bring it up …,” I begin.
Nigel looks down at me, nodding his head. “I’ll make sure to steer him in the right direction, Lady J,” Nigel says, smiling. I know he’s got our backs. Our crew can be a little crazy at times, but we’re here for each other, no matter how out of hand things can get.
2
Mi Vida Loca
But I’m a rebel stressin’ / To pull out of the heat no doubt.
—NAS
When I was a little girl, days home from school felt like a dream that lasted all day long. Mama would let me stay home whenever I asked—whether the request was verbal or not. At the slightest sniffle or bad dream, a phone call was made to the attendance office: No one at any of my schools ever questioned my grandmother’s judgment. Once Mama’s mind is made up, that’s it—no discussion allowed, especially if it’s about one of her own.
Keeping my mom’s powers in spite of the crazy daydream I had in the shower this morning is my main priority this afternoon, even if Mama’s adamantly against me doing so. Maybe with Netta there to have my back and the sweet spell I put on her and my mom a couple of months ago still in effect I can convince her to let me keep them a little while longer. Between hotheaded friends and crazy baby mamas, I need to maintain the ability to chill people’s minds out now more than ever.
The sweet scent of strawberries and peaches leads me from the parking lot toward the front door of Netta’s Never Nappy Beauty Shop, where Mama and Netta are already locking up for the day. They never close the salon early, so something must be wrong.
“Hi, Mama and Netta,” I say, noticing their upbeat mood. At least I know whatever’s going on isn’t too serious.
“Little Jayd, you’re just in time to help us,” Netta says, passing me two large paper bags filled with supplies. There are several more on the ground in front of the door.
“How was your day, baby?” Mama asks, kissing me on the cheek and heading toward the parking lot.
Why are they acting like they’re not messing with my money? I need to work this afternoon. “Where are all the clients?” I ask, turning around and following my grandmother and godmother. “And why are we leaving the shop?” Maybe there was an outbreak or something. I can’t believe there’s no work to do. These women always have a honey-do list at least two feet long.
“So many questions for a young queen in training,” Netta says teasingly, going back for the rest of the items. I place the bags in the passenger seat and head back for the last one.
“We have a lot of work to do and need the family shrines to get it done,” Mama says, loading the back of Netta’s pickup with stuff of her own. She’s still not comfortable riding in the car with me and probably never will be. I say she and Nellie need to get licenses. It’s unimaginable to me that they would rather depend on others for a ride than to drive their own cars.
“We’ll meet you back at the house,” Netta says, getting behind the wheel and starting the massive truck’s engine. Mama pulls herself into the passenger seat and shuts the heavy door. Netta’s husband usually drives her around, but she’s got the keys today. They still haven’t explained how I’m supposed to make my money for the afternoon. Hopefully I’ll pick up a few more personal clients to make up my weekly quota.
“There are some things more important than money, chile,” my grandmother says through the open window, wiping her brow. She’s wearing her salt-and-pepper hair up in a white scarf this afternoon, showing off her dazzling green eyes and caramel complexion, making her look much younger than her fifty-plus years. “Especially doing work that can help us stay in the ancestors’ and orishas’ good favor.”
Mama’s right. Without them, none of the good in life would be possible. It’s time to get my hands dirty and give thanks for all of my blessings, no matter how overwhelmed I may feel.
“Place the bags on your bed, Jayd,” Mama says, unlocking the bedroom door and leading the way into her room. I haven’t slept in here since I left Mama’s house last month. I’m glad that insanity is over, but Mama’s still not over me moving to my mom’s apartment. We place the goods on the crowded bed now used as a storage space and remove our shoes, ready to work.
“Netta, you can start the libations. Jayd and I will get everything else ready,” Mama says, moving to the side and letting Netta walk around her small bed and into the corner where the shrines are housed. This room is crowded for one person. How Mama and I shared it for sixteen years is something else. I miss Mama, but I wouldn’t trade having my own space for anything in the world.
Netta kneels down and salutes the shrines before opening the sheer white fabric, revealing the three-tiered wooden shelves, each holding individual altars. I place my purse on the nightstand in between the two twin beds as Mama takes three cups from Netta to clean in the bathroom sink across the hall. My pink cell phone goes off, causing my purse to vibrate and Netta to look at me, cross. Nellie will have to wait. She doesn’t want anything anyway except to yell at me about Chance’s behavior earlier today. I’ll put her up in my prayers as soon as we get started. She and Chance need all the help they can get.
“Sorry,” I say, turning the phone off and returning it to my bag where I can’t help noticing two boarding passes with Mama’s name on her side of the antique table. This can’t be right.
“Going somewhere?” I ask, waving the colorful papers in the air before Netta has a chance to start the traditional prayers. Mama walks back into the room and shakes her head at me. I guess Nigel was right about us women being nosy.
“Your grandmother’s finally going to Miami, and I’m going with her,” Netta says, more excited than I’ve ever seen. She takes one of the fresh water glasses from Mama and places it on the floor in front of her knees. “One of her favorite clients moved there several years ago and recently opened a spiritual house. He wants Lynn Mae to come and bless it.”
“Calm down, Netta,” Mama says, replacing the clear glasses of water on the ancestor altar. Netta tosses back her shoulder-length brown curls and smiles at her friend. I can tell Mama’s nervous even if she won’t admit it. Mama hates to travel, especially if it has to do with a plane or a boat, and in this case, it’s apparently both.
“I can’t,” Netta says, handing Mama the Florida water to sprinkle over the items that need blessing, including more belly balm for Mickey’s stretch marks. I know Mickey will appreciate that. “It’s been too long since we’ve traveled. She’s agreed to the cruise to Puerto Rico and all. We’re going to have so much fun.”
Mama cuts her eyes at her friend, who’s completely un-fazed by her reservations. Netta’s brown eyes are shining brighter than Mama’s. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Netta’s about to burst wide open she’s so happy.
“The only traveling we’re doing right now is to the spirit room,” Mama says, helping Netta to her feet.
Netta smiles at Mama, who can’t help but smile back at her best friend. Netta’s slightly slimmer than Mama, but they’re about the same height and build. They share clothes just like me and my girls used to do before their bodies changed: Mickey because of pregnancy and Nellie because of severe weight loss, trying to fit in with the rich-girl crew.
/> “For now. But soon we’re going to be off on a real Legba adventure,” Netta says, giggling as she picks up a few of the supplies and passes them to me to carry. She and Mama grab two bags and leave the rest on the bed. I step out into the hallway and Netta follows.
“I just pray that Legba blesses our journey and our homes while we’re away,” Mama says, calling on our father orisha to bless their travels. Legba’s the orisha over movement of all kind, and he likes to play while doing it, which can be good or bad, depending on his inclination. That’s why it’s important for us to do the work that we do.
“Oh, Lynn Mae. I know you know Legba loves his children. We’re going to have such a good time you won’t want to come home.”
Mama gives Netta a look that says she’s not so sure what all the excitement’s about. Once Mama gets away from all of the pressures of being a priestess and a housewife, hopefully she’ll loosen up a bit.
“I’m going to leave it up to you to make sure the spirit room is not harmed while I’m gone, Jayd,” Mama says, turning out the light in her bedroom before locking the door and walking toward the kitchen with Netta and me behind her. She looks at her stove and shakes her head in disgust. “Fools know no boundaries,” Mama says, disturbed by the lack of respect her gift has been shown.
“Wise people know what’s sacred,” Netta says, touching Mama’s shoulder with her free hand. Thank God Netta was here with us on Mother’s Day. She’s the only one who can calm Mama down when she goes completely off.
“My mom said the repair guy will be out by the end of the week,” I say, wishing I could do more to help. My words provide little comfort to Mama, whose eyes turn red at the memory of her present being destroyed by my uncle Kurtis as we performed a ritual for the ancestral Mothers outside. Mama went way the hell off and will again if he’s not out of her house soon.