If It Makes You Happy

by Claire Kann

  And neither of those worked. Too soft, too hard, either way I ended up a target. Bullies would come for me. Public judgment would come for me (and leave Kara out of it).

  I wasn’t ever allowed to be my full self.

  He waited for me to continue. No pressure. No pretense. Only his usual patient expression waiting and wanting to hear what I had to say. “It’s like I’m dimmed.”

  His eyebrows raised in surprise and he blinked a few times. “Really? I would’ve never guessed that, because you don’t feel that way to me. Everything about you has always been so overwhelming and so vibrant, but in a good way, if that makes sense? You’re impossible to ignore—at least for me anyway.”

  “That makes me happy.” I said it without a smile even though I inherently knew those words would stay with me for a very long time. “It’s not always like that, though. I wish I was allowed to tell someone how I felt without having to make it palatable.”

  “Oh, okay. I get it, I get it.” He nodded. “The way people perceive you affects how real you get to be? I understand that. Definitely. Perception is everything in my family. I have to be perfect and presentable all the time.”

  “I don’t think you have to be. For me, I don’t feel afraid to make mistakes.” My parents had a lot to do with that. They gave me the security to fall down and a hand to help me back up again.

  “I do. Wanna know why I broke up with Lacey? I was driving, and we got pulled over. She had an open bottle of vodka in my car. I still don’t know how she cried her way out of us getting in trouble, but she did. Sheriff Mills didn’t charge us. He told my parents, though.” He didn’t look sad or upset. Just resigned in an it is what it is kind of way. “My dad flipped the fuck out over it. He said being light skinned and talented wouldn’t save me. None of the shit I had accomplished mattered at all to them or their guns.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath.

  It would never stop flooring me how honest he always was with me.

  “All it takes is one time,” he continued. “One mistake and everything my parents worked for will disappear. One case of mistaken identity and I’ll get falsely accused if I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time. One mistake and the police will shoot me. I don’t ever not think about those things.”

  Dread sunk into my bones. We’d been born into this, trapped in a game of half-life and certain death, and it might never change. Not in our lifetime or the next.

  A sniffle. I didn’t mean to let it out, but the little bastard escaped.

  “And here I was thinking that that woman had just hurt my feelings.”

  “Don’t cry.” He wiped my tears away. “That counts. It’s looks a bit different for you, yeah, but it’s still just as hard and terrible. You don’t deserve that shit.”

  “Neither do you.”

  Dallas leaned forward and I closed my eyes. He kissed both of my cheeks and my eyelids. My forehead and nose. My mouth.

  “I’m glad you came here,” he whispered. “To me.”

  Thirty-Six

  Five. Ten. Five.

  Walk. Jog. Walk.

  Purgatory was a ten-minute jog when the air decided it wanted to try catching on fire. A heat wave had rolled through Haven Central and refused to leave. At seven a.m. it had nearly reached eighty degrees. The sun had forsaken me, but another cosmic entity up there still liked me.

  The cool water had felt marvelous on my cramped muscles and tired feet. Bath bomb, bubbles, and a book. I’d been truly blessed.

  “Winnie, get in here.”

  I barely finished drying off and getting dressed when Granny yelled for me. I looked out the door. “Yes?”

  “Downstairs, my office, five minutes.”

  Just when I’d thought it was safe to go back into the water.

  WINSTON (Zeddemore)

  Winnie: I am in such deep shit that not even my bath bomb could make the smell go away

  Winston: That’s what happens when you play the game The Customer Is Not Always Right

  Winnie: In my defense, she deserved it.

  Winston: YIKES that’s even worse.

  Winnie:… I know

  Winston: Punishment?

  Winnie: Not sure. She’s been hard-core avoiding me but now she wants me downstairs in five minutes.

  Winston: Godspeed. May the angels have mercy on your temper

  Winnie: My life, it crumbles like ivory towers of old

  There wasn’t much to Granny’s diner office. A desk and chair; file cabinets; framed business-related things like her license, safety inspection certificates, her first dollar from her first sale, a picture of the family standing in front of Goldeen’s on opening day, and the like.

  Granny sat across from me, writing on a triplicate paper—the kind that had a white, yellow, and pink copy. I only knew what those were because of my time in Goldeen’s and never thought I’d see one of those forms with my name on it.

  “You’re writing me up!?”

  “You’re an employee. I’m dissatisfied with your performance.”

  “But I’m your granddaughter?”

  “Did you sign a hiring agreement?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you work here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you receive a paycheck?”

  “Yes.”

  “The second you put on that uniform, you agree to do what’s asked of you by your employer. I agreed to hire you. I signed your hiring agreement. I sign your paychecks. This is my diner, Winnie. Not yours. When you are working here, you do as I say, not what you want. Is that clear?” She turned the paper around and slammed a pen on top of it. “Read it and sign.”

  I read it.

  “I’m supposed to write my side of it. Am I allowed to do that or is this going to be a continued dictatorship? Because I did the right thing. She had no business acting like that and thinking she could get away with it. So what if I was rude to her? She was rude first. You didn’t hear the way she talked to me. You didn’t see the way she looked at me.”

  “I don’t need to see it. I already know.”

  “So if you know, then I was just supposed to roll over, take it, and be nice? That’s ridiculous.”

  Granny kept her eyes on the desk, chest visibly rising as she breathed in and out. “I shouldn’t have to tell you what happens when white people feel threatened.”

  Thing One hadn’t been the first to try to skip out on a ticket, and had been relatively calm compared to the more scandalous incidents. Others had complained, whined, and tried to use their tears to get me to bend. They’d scanned the diner, too, searching for someone to come help them, to take their side, even though they were obviously in the wrong.

  It wasn’t fair that Thing One and Two had eaten all the food that Layla served with a smile, that Aaron worked hard to make, that Granny worked to secure contracts for, that the farmhands picked and delivered, that farmers grew and raised—and had tried to refuse to pay for it.

  Everything was connected. How did they not see that? Did they think it just came from nowhere? Sprang into existence as soon as the words left their mouths like magic?

  “I would have done that to anyone. She was wrong. I don’t care that she was white.”

  “But she was. That’s the point.”

  I tapped my bent knees.

  “They don’t know you like how we know you. They don’t see you right. They might never,” Granny said gently.

  Barely eighteen, and there I was, the angry Black woman bullying people again, but inferior enough to be called “girl” even after I’d told Thing One my name.

  “It’s not about a stolen meal or an unpaid ticket. In some cases, it’s better to just give ’em what they want. It’s not worth it,” Granny said. “If you want to own a business, these are things you need to think about. Not just white people, but men of all colors, too. They won’t respect you. They won’t listen unless you make them, but only if you do it in the ways they want you to make yourself heard.”

&nbs
p; I signed the paper. The room felt too hot, the walls too close, my temper high and feelings bruised. I needed air and to calm down. I just needed to go.

  “I know it might feel like I’m being hard on you, but I need you to listen to me,” she said. “Which you never seem to do. You’re going to tell Winston that you were wrong and that he has to drop out of that contest. Set a good example for him like you should be doing.”

  If I had any fight left, that might have crushed it out of me. “He’s not entered as Goldeen’s. It’s just Winston.”

  “I know. And I’m telling you to drop out because I told you no.”

  “That’s not good enough. Tell me why.”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to fight.

  I thought of the way Winston’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when he showed me the recipe he’d chosen, the way he had hugged me so hard he lifted me off the ground—he had even kissed me on the cheek. My wonderful and stoic brother, who stood stock-still anytime anyone hugged him, voluntarily gave me a kiss. A whole two seconds later he said, “She can be mad all she wants. She doesn’t believe in me anyway.”

  Anger and sadness mixed together and made me forget how to see reason.

  This thing that I had given him wasn’t mine to take away. A part of me hated her for thinking she could force me to.

  Something cold and broken shredded its way through a very specific spot in my heart. I loved Granny. I did. But this last stretch of growing pains had fractured our relationship forever.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you, child. You do what I say. Period.”

  “What is wrong with you? Why are you like this?”

  “Who in the hell do you think you’re hollering at?”

  I didn’t even realize I had yelled at her. It just happened. I pressed my lips together but didn’t break eye contact.

  Her entire face morphed into someone I didn’t recognize—harsh and pinched, barely hiding its disgust. “Just nasty and disrespectful like you ain’t got no goddamn sense.”

  My mouth all but opened on its own. “Like you’re any better? You’re always trying to control us. What about what we want? You never listen to anything we say unless we agree with you.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you. This is my house. If you don’t like it, you can get out.”

  A scoff jumped out of me, loud enough to echo around her office. “You always do that. That’s your perfect solution for everything. The second someone disagrees with you or steps out of line you kick them out.”

  The strongest sense of déjà vu rocked through my entire being. We’d been here before. Over and over and over, and we’d be here again.

  Granny had told me no. I had disobeyed on purpose. Clear-cut and dry, I was in the wrong. But I had assumed she’d get over it after a prolonged silent treatment. I would apologize and take my punishment, whatever it was, like I always had. She’d talk to me again on her terms. We’d move on like it never happened. That was the standard. That was our reality.

  My hands shook as I realized I only had two choices: accept this awful and unchanging cycle or stand up for what I believed in.

  Granny would never give me a reason why.

  I believed in Winston and that Granny would never change.

  “You know what? If you don’t want me here, I don’t ever have to come back.” Regret tasted bitter in my mouth as I stood up. “And my brother is entering that contest if he wants to, and there’s nothing you can do about it because I say so.”

  I whirled around, and my fury returned, seething in my ear to leave.

  “Winnie!” she shouted behind me. “Get back in here.”

  Taking the steps two at a time, I ran up the familiar stairs, not stopping until I reached my room.

  Her room. Her house. Her rules.

  What did I do? What did I just do?

  Covering my face with my hands, I breathed through the gaps in my fingers, too fast and burning on the way in and out. The tightness in my chest wrapped around my heartbeat—it thrummed in my ears and pulsed in my fingertips.

  What was I going to do? Where would I go?

  Packing. I had to pack.

  My mom had bought me a new suitcase set for college. I had brought the largest one with me to Haven Central. A hardshell, bright green with silver stars, it clattered to the floor after I unzipped it, falling open in front of the dresser. Yanking the drawer open, I pulled all my stuff out and threw it inside of my suitcase, not bothering to be neat. Fueled by frantic energy, I did the same for the closet and the desk and the bed. Clothes. Shoes. Bras. Panties. Laptop. Chargers. Anything and everything that was mine. I ran to the bathroom to grab my toiletries and shoved those in, too.

  “What are you doing?” Winston stood in the doorway, gaping at me.

  “Packing.” Disorganized and bursting, my suitcase refused to close until I lay on the lid.

  “Yeah, I can see that. Why?”

  “Because she kicked me out.”

  “Yeah, but she always does that.”

  “And today she did it for the last time.” He didn’t need to know the details. His focus needed to be on winning the contest, not his sister fighting for him. And myself. “I’m going to Kara’s.”

  Winston blinked at me in surprise. A small, proud smile quirked at his lips. “I’m coming with you—”

  “No. Stay here.” With both hands, I tugged my suitcase into an upright position, wheeling it to the door. “I don’t need Mom and Dad mad at both of us.”

  “Like I care about that. I’m not staying here without you.”

  “You are. Just until I get this figured out.” I hugged him. “Keep an eye on Sam for me.”

  Thirty-Seven

  “I’m fine.”

  White powdery patches and dark red smears in straight lines covered Kara’s blue and white gingham apron. “You are not fine.”

  “False.” I rolled my suitcase into the corner of Kara’s room. “I’m peachy keen, jelly bean.”

  “Don’t use cutesy quotes with me.” She watched as I passed her to sit on the bed, crossing her arms, pursing her lips, and finally huffing at my continued silence. “So you just left? You fought and you left?”

  “Also false.” I concentrated on the floor, eyebrows up to stop myself from blinking. “She lectured. She demanded. I called her out. She kicked me out. I left.”

  “With your suitcase, though? What the hell happened?”

  I loved how everyone kept being so shocked that I had left for good. As if they’d all become so used to this cycle of shit that their first thought revolved around me overreacting and taking this too far.

  “She wanted me to tell Winston he couldn’t enter the contest. She wanted me to make him drop out.”

  Kara’s jaw dropped. “Why?”

  I shook my head and shrugged and threw up my hands—a trifecta of I don’t know. “Her reasoning was literally ‘because I said no.’ The usual.”

  “I’d ask if you were joking, but I know you’re serious. I cannot believe.”

  “I’m tired. I’m so tired of her acting like that and threatening me.” I ran my hands through my braids, tugging on them before lacing my fingers together on top of my head. Breathe. In and out. Eyes closed, I tried that again. My left leg had begun to bounce involuntarily. “I don’t understand how she can keep making somebody feel unwanted and expect them to stick around. She always kicks me out when she doesn’t want to deal with me, and I always wait her out and come back, but that stuff sticks to you after a while, you know?”

  The bed shifted next to me. I opened my eyes to find Kara’s concerned face, open and waiting for me to continue. She rubbed my back from shoulder to shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said. “Tell me.”

  Tears began to bead in my eyes, ready to crest over, but I wiped them away before they could fall. I hated how hurt I felt. My anger had abandoned me and left me with this unbearable pain in my face and jaw and throat, left me shaking and raw.
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br />   “She tried to send me home after Winston had his asthma attack,” I admitted. “She said it was for me, but now I think she just wanted me gone but didn’t want to come right out and say it.”

  “I don’t—” Kara began, but stopped. Her brows lowered into straight lines as she stared at me. I’d known her long enough to guess her initial reaction would have been I don’t think that’s true. But that would have been a lie, and we didn’t lie to each other. “Yeah. I can see how everything together would make you think that. I see it.”

  “But?” I wanted to be wrong. That one word was saturated in the hope that Kara saw something else, too.

  “I got nothing.” A sigh. A headshake. “I mean, I know she loves you.” The oven timer beeped in the kitchen. Kara’s gaze darted to the doorway and then back to me. “My tarts are ready. Okay, um, hang on. I’ll be right back.”

  Breathe. I wished I could believe in anything but the truth. Instead of trying to find and talk to me, because anyone who had known me for longer than ten seconds could correctly assume I’d run straight to Kara, Granny was probably calling my parents to make them feel bad for how I turned out.

  They’d call me any second.

  “You know what?” I asked no one at all. Reaching into my pocket, I took out my phone. She answered on the first ring. “Mom?”

  “Where are you?” Her voice came through clear but with a slight hollowness around it. Speakerphone. My dad was listening.

  “Kara’s. Before you say anything, I want to tell you myself for once.”

  Silence for six torturous heartbeats and then, “Okay. I’m listening.”

  The knots curling in my stomach loosened. Wonderful as my mom was, this almost never happened. When confronted, I never lied about the things I’d done. Downplayed? Oh, yeah. One hundred percent. But not lie.

  I also never fessed up first, or at least tried to.