by L. Divine
“What’s everyone doing up here?” Mr. Esop asks. When he reaches the top of the stairs and sees the mess, he understands.
“Jayd, we’re meeting here promptly at ten o’clock tomorrow morning to prepare. Please be on time,” Mrs. Esop says. She gives Mickey one final glare before following her husband out, both of them dressed to kill.
“Let’s get this party started,” Mickey says, stepping back into Nigel’s room like nothing just happened. She takes the blunt out of the box under the bed and attempts to light it, forgetting her daughter’s lying on the futon next to her almost asleep. She’s really gone off the deep end, and it’s not cute.
“Mickey, the baby,” Nigel says, taking the filled cigar and lighter from her. Nigel finally got her calmed down, but she probably needs more to eat before she’s out for the night. I guess her pacifier will do for now.
“Why you tripping?” Mickey asks, snatching the items back and causing Nickey to stir in her sleep. No wonder the child doesn’t sleep through the night. She’s too nervous with all the drama constantly going on around her, courtesy of her selfish mother. “You never check Rah for smoking around his daughter.”
“That’s because I never do,” Rah says, entering the room and adding his two cents.
Oh, shit, Mickey’s about to really go off. I’d better rescue my goddaughter before she ends up falling off the futon.
“Whatever, nigga. I know you’ve smoked around that baby at some point.” Mickey tries to reclaim the blunt, but Nigel’s not having it.
“No, I haven’t, mostly because my baby just came into my life nine months ago. And it’s unhealthy for any kid to be around smoke, especially a baby.”
Feeling outnumbered, Mickey looks around at her friends, pissed as hell. I pick up Nickey and cradle her in my arms, ready to transfer her to the blankets I’ve laid out for her on the plush carpet downstairs. She would sleep like an angel if her mama would chillax. I can remember arguments my parents had when I was a baby, and I know Nickey’s feeling the same uneasiness even in her sleep.
“Maybe we should have a session where no one smokes,” Nellie says, causing Rah, Nigel, and Mickey to eye her like she’s lost her mind. If Chance were here, he’d give his estranged girlfriend the same blank stare.
“Or we can just smoke up here while y’all head downstairs where the pizzas and movies are waiting. Let’s hit it, man,” Rah says.
Nellie and I head out, leaving the smokers behind. I lay Nickey facedown on the blanket. Mama says babies sleep better on their stomachs no matter what conventional wisdom says.
“What are we watching?” I ask Nellie, who sits on the couch. She and Mickey picked up the movies on their way here. I’m surprised she’s here, but I guess without her man to drive her around, Mickey’s back to being her main chauffeur. I know none of her white friends are driving to Comp-ton to pick her bougie ass up.
“I’m not sure,” Nellie says, retrieving a nail file from her Louis Vuitton bag. “I stayed in the car with the baby while Mickey went into Blockbuster.”
“That’s cool. I’m more concerned about the food anyway.” Hopefully we’ll all relax after we eat and get through the first flick. After all of that unexpected excitement, we need to vibe out.
The first movie was just what we needed to escape. There’s nothing like watching Jason Bourne’s fine self escape death multiple times. But if our girl doesn’t slow down with the alcohol, she might not be so lucky.
“Mickey, haven’t you had enough to drink?” I say, reaching for the bottle of liquor, but Mickey’s determined to show her ass today—red G-string and all.
“Jayd, you ain’t nobody’s mama up in here, especially not mine,” she says, taking the half bottle of expensive liquor straight to the head. I haven’t seen my girl this far gone in a long, long time. The one good thing about her teenaged pregnancy was that it stopped her from drinking, which apparently she missed.
“Look, it’s the Pussycat Dolls,” Chance says, walking through the back door and scaring the shit out of us all. “What up, folks?”
“Damn, nigga. Announce yourself before you walk through open doors,” Mickey says, nearly spitting the brown liquor out on the white carpet. If she did, that would truly be her ass. Nellie and I look at our inebriated homegirl and shake our heads.
“Chance, I’m so glad you’re back,” I say, giving my boy a bear hug, damn his testy soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend. Nellie doesn’t even look happy to see him. What a shame she doesn’t know what she’s got in Chance.
“What did I tell you about that, Jayd? It’s Chase,” Chance says, hugging me back. We used to hug like this all the time before he and Nellie started dating. Now, for jealousy sake, we stick to the simple quick hug you give acquaintances. Nellie’s a trip. She acts like she doesn’t want her man, but let another sister give him some attention and she’s all over him like white on rice.
“Well, look who decided to show up,” Nigel says, walking down the stairs by twos, smiling and reeking of herb smoke.
I guess Rah’s still getting his fix.
“Ah, man, you know I couldn’t miss a session. I just landed an hour ago,” Chance says, giving his boy a one-armed hug.
“How’d you know about our session?” I ask. I’m all for surprises, but this was a big one.
“You know I had to holla at my boy and let him know I was on my way home,” Chance says, playfully punching Nigel in the chest.
I guess guys have their secrets, too.
“How was your trip?” Nellie asks, the first thing she’s said to her boyfriend since he walked in. Trust, if Jeremy walked through the door, I’d be all over my man. He doesn’t get back for a couple of weeks, and like a clock on the wall, I’m counting the minutes until our reunion.
“It was great,” Chance says, overly excited even if Nellie’s curiosity is insincere. She looks like she wants to go off on him she’s so angry. I can feel her heat from across the room. “Man, I’ve got about a hundred cousins, aunties and uncles, nieces and nephews. It’s awesome and they all welcomed me with open arms,” he says, getting out his new iPhone to show us the photos. I’m happy for our boy. There’s nothing like family, even if they can work a nerve like no other.
“Nobody gives a damn about your newfound relatives, Orphan Annie,” Nellie says, sounding as bitter as Mickey can get, who is still sipping on her syrup by the bar. When Nigel’s parents get home, they’re going to be pissed about their liquor cabinet being lighter than when they left a few hours ago. And they’ll be even more pissed when they find out who did it.
“What did you just say to me?” Chance asks, looking like he’s ready to slap some sense into Nellie, who looks ready to throw a couple of blows herself.
Oh, shit, it’s about to be on and cracking in Lafayette Square this evening.
“You heard me,” Nellie says, rising from her seat and walking over to Chance, finally greeting her man even if it’s not as warm and fuzzy as it should be. “You act like we’re supposed to really care about your Southern roots when you deserted us without any notice.”
By “us” she means her because I don’t feel that way, and I think it’s safe to say that the rest of our crew doesn’t feel that way, either. I know Alia missed him terribly. She’s asked about him every day during summer school.
“Well hello to you, too, baby,” Chance says, attempting to give his girl a hug and chill her out, but it’s no use. Nellie’s tripping and we’re all here to witness her fall.
“Don’t baby me,” Nellie says, pushing his arms down. “You left me, Chance. And I’m over it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chance asks, putting his phone back in his jean pocket and turning his full attention to his enraged girlfriend.
I guess the family photos will have to wait. I personally can’t wait to see what his birth family looks like, but right now I think we’re all more interested to see where this argument leads.
“It means that I’ve had enough of your soul searching. You found your
blackness and I’m happy for you, but I can’t do this anymore.”
Rah comes down the stairs, lit as all outside and apparently confused by the drama unfolding in the living room. I can hear Nickey stirring in her sleep from her cozy spot. But like Mickey so eloquently stated, I’m nobody’s mama. I might be the only one able to take care of the baby in a minute the way this evening’s turning out, and I for one am tired of babysitting. I love my goddaughters, but I don’t work for free.
“So, what, are you calling it?” Chance asks, all of us waiting for the answer.
Is this finally the end of Nellie and Chance? Mickey breaks the still air with a belch loud enough for the ancestors in heaven to hear.
“Excuse me,” she says, hitting her chest to make sure it’s all out. If Mrs. Esop could see her now.
“That was real ladylike, babe,” Nigel says, smiling at his girl.
Aren’t they a perfect pair? Chance hasn’t moved an inch and neither has Nellie. She’d better seriously think about what she’s doing letting him go. Chance treats her like a queen, and she’s not the easiest chick to deal with, which says a lot about Chance’s patience. I never understood why they were together in the first place, but they are and I’ve learned to deal with it.
“I’m out,” Nellie says, going nowhere fast. She rode with Mickey, and unless Chance takes her back home, she’s out of a ride. Mickey’s in no state to drive anyone anywhere, and I’m not about to waste my precious gas taking her ass home, so she needs to get over herself and be happy for Chance. Is that really so impossible to do?
“Where are you going?” Chance asks, following the drama queen out of the living room and into the foyer. “We’re in the middle of a conversation. You’re just going to walk away?” Nellie keeps walking and Chance follows. “Real mature, Nellie. Real mature.”
“Whatever,” Nellie says, taking her purse and exiting the house without saying good-bye to any of us.
Why is she so upset, and where is Nellie going with no car and a serious aversion to public transportation?
“Damn, y’all are really tripping,” Mickey slurs, barely able to stand up. She needs to sit her drunk ass down somewhere before she passes out. “It’s not like Chance knows about David. Oops,” Mickey says, covering her mouth for letting that secret slip out.
Chance looks at Mickey and back down to Nellie, who stops in her tracks. If her dark brown skin weren’t so perfectly kissed by the summer sun, I’m sure we would all see just how red her cheeks are from being busted.
“David? Who the hell is David?” Chance asks, feeling out of the loop. He walks out of the door and down the steps to Nellie in the driveway. Damn, why did Mickey have to get drunk and open her big mouth? The last thing we need is our crew falling apart again. I don’t know if I can fix this mess, mainly because I don’t know anything about this mystery guy. Who knew Nellie had it in her to cheat?
“He’s a friend from church,” Nellie says, crossing her arms in quiet indignation like she has nothing to be sorry about. Her phone buzzes in her hand, and Chance snatches it up and reads the text aloud.
“‘See you at Popeyes on Crenshaw in five. David,’” Chance says, tossing the phone back at Nellie. Well I guess she does have a ride after all. “For real, Nellie? You’re cheating on me with some dude you met at church?”
“I’m not cheating on you,” Nellie says, looking down at the phone. “And like I said, I’ve had it. I don’t owe you an explanation, especially since you weren’t here to take care of me like a good man would.”
“A good man? Bitch, please,” Chance says, calling Nellie out of her name for the first time ever. There was a time when he would have slapped anyone who dared disrespect his queen, but she’s been officially dethroned and we’re all present to witness it. “Let your new nigga know I said good luck and good riddance,” Chance says, waving bye to Nellie and walking back inside the house, slamming the door. That was cold, even for this messed-up situation.
I walk back inside to grab my purse. Chance heads upstairs to blow off some steam, and our boys are right behind him. They’ve been where he is on more than one occasion, and I know they can’t talk freely among us girls. I look back at Mickey, who’s finally laid out on the couch. I turn around and head back outside to check on Nellie, who’s halfway up the block by the time I catch up to her.
“Nellie, wait up,” I say, running to my girl. Damn she walks fast. Nellie’s crying and looks like she wants to be alone, but I can’t leave my girl hanging even if this ordeal is her own damned fault.
“Jayd, we had sex. I’m deflowered and I gave it up to the wrong person. What am I supposed to do now? No one will want me all used,” Nellie says, crying into her soaked tissue.
I wish I had a napkin or something to offer my girl, because she’s crying the ugly cry, for real. I would ask her if she’s on her period, but I don’t think it would go over too well.
“Nellie, this isn’t a sixties sitcom,” I say. “People don’t get ‘deflowered’ anymore. And it could have been much worse. Chance isn’t a bad guy.”
“He’s not the same guy, Jayd. If I wanted to be with a confused black boy, I’d be with Mickey’s man.”
We continue walking down the block, turning on the main street at the corner.
“So David is your rebound guy?” I ask. The smell of chicken and biscuits permeates the air, drawing us closer to our destination.
“No. David’s a good guy from the summer Bible institute at my church. And he’s a good listener. David’s always there for me, and he makes time for the important things.”
“Look, Nellie,” I say, attempting to reason with her. “I know it’s been hard on you with cheer tryouts and Nickey being born, but breaking up with Chance isn’t a good thing.”
“He left me, Jayd. We slept together the night before, and he left me without a word. How could he do me like that?”
“Nellie, talk to him. Tell Chance how you feel,” I plead as we enter the bustling lot. The drive-through line is packed and nearly every spot is taken.
“He doesn’t want to hear it. All he cares about is his family reunion.”
A guy I assume to be this David character pulls into the Popeyes parking lot looking like the sucker he is, preying on someone else’s girl. Nellie’s feeling vulnerable, making her easy to manipulate. I don’t need to jump into David’s mind to see his true intentions: They’re written all over his smiling face.
“David. Thank God,” Nellie says, quickly walking up to his white Ford Focus. If there’s such a thing as a virgin mobile, this must be it. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
So am I and as fate would have it, I’m in the parking lot of one of my favorite chicken spots. I’ll treat the rest of my crew to a family meal, and we can catch up once the dudes are finished bonding.
When I make it back to Nigel’s house, Nickey Shantae’s wide awake and her mother’s passed out on the couch. The menfolk are still upstairs. I guess it’s just her and me. I could use a nap, too. I can’t believe this time tomorrow I’ll be stepping out in style for the cotillion. I’m not sure if I can stand being in the ball with all of the heffas I have to deal with, but I’m glad after tomorrow it’ll all finally be over. My only commitment outside of work is cheer practice and the last month of summer school. Other than that, my time is mine and I can’t wait for freedom to ring loud and clear. Then maybe I can enjoy the rest of my summer in peace.
13
A Midsummer’s Nightmare
But at best a dream is just a fantasy /
When I touch his hand he’ll disappear.
—RANDY CRAWFORD WITH JOE SAMPLE
Motion. The fast pace of my bare feet takes me off guard. It’s a hot night, but darkness is darkness and I’m not exactly comfortable walking on the ground with no protection. The green foliage is thick, and the jungle ahead looks even more dense than the bush hitting me in the face as I move along the path. Someone’s clearing the way for me to only God knows where. I
want to stop from exhaustion and fear, but something tells me to keep going.
“Watch your step,” the voice says through the trees. I clear the brush, the smell of salt water tickling my nose. She’s already at the shore draped in a white cloth: Only her green eyes are visible through the narrow slits in her veil.
“Maman?” I ask, uncertain of the woman’s identity. Caution is necessary because I’ve been tricked many times before.
“Oui, ma petite,” my great-grandmother answers in one of her native tongues. She reaches her hands toward me, and I move in her direction. I wish I spoke French fluently, but even in my dreams that’s not the case.
“Where are we?” It looks like a deserted island somewhere in the Caribbean I’ve seen on the Travel Channel, but this ocean feels more familiar.
“Jayd, are you feeling okay?” Maman asks, feeling my forehead with the back of her hand. “It’s the night of your wedding and now you want to have a meltdown. We’re home, girl.” My wedding? Oh, Lord, not again. The last time I dreamed about getting married, it was a shotgun wedding to Rah. “Let’s get started. We don’t have all night.”
I carry the remaining bags to the blanket Maman’s laid out on the white sand. I follow suit, emptying each of the bags’ contents out and taking note. Our spirit tools haven’t changed much since Maman’s time.
“The spirit book,” I say, holding the ancient text in my hands. This is the first time it’s appeared in one of my dreams.
“We’re going to need it tonight more than ever.” Maman looks pleased with my affinity for the leather-bound book.
I flip through the pages, not expecting the last page to be up-to-date, but it is. This ritual is happening in the present day—highly unusual for a dream with Maman in it.
“You know it’s your job as the youngest in the lineage to protect the book, Jayd,” Maman says, taking the text and setting it down on the blanket beside my foot. She directs me to sit down, and I’m glad to rest. It feels like we’ve been walking all night.