A Day Late and a Dollar Short (30 page)

"Well, thanks for calling, Randall. And don't worry, I've got enough to keep me busy until you get here."

Before I click back to Charlotte, I have to pause for a minute. What a nice voice. What a sexy voice. A landscaper. He's probably rough and ready and raggedy and ugly and dry and dirty, and I bet he stinks. Oh, who cares, as long as he can get the job done. I press the receiver. "Charlotte?" "I'm still here." "So-how are you, again?" "I'm fine, Paris. Couldn't be better. How's Dingus?"

"He's fine. Except some little white girl might be pregnant by him."

"Yeah," she says, like she couldn't care less one way or the other.

"How about your kids? How are they?"

"They're all doing good. Real good."

"And Al?"

"Oh, he's fine. We're all fine."

"That's good. What are you doing for your birthday?" "Nothing. I don't celebrate my birthday no more. It's just another day." "Well, we're trying to decide what to do for Mama for hers, and we were wondering if. . ." "Who is 'we'?"

"Me and Janelle," I lie. We haven't exactly discussed it again in any detail, but she'll go along with the program. She always does. "I'm listening."

"Well, first I thought Mama wanted to spend a couple of weeks here. . . ." "Don't she always?"

"No, she doesn't always, Charlotte. Would you let me finish, please?" "I'm listening."

"Anyway, since Shanice is staying with her. . ." "Since when did Shanice start living with Mama?" "Since the end of March. You haven't talked to Janelle?" "No. I ain't talked to nobody but a lawyer." "A lawyer? For what?" "I'm getting a divorce."

"Hold it a minute! You just said you and Al were fine." "We are. This is the best thing that coulda happened to both of us. I shoulda done it a long time ago. Why is Shanice staying with Mama?" "Because Janelle and George are having problems." "And she gets rid of her daughter and not his ass?" "Good point. He's supposedly gone." "What happened between them two?" "I don't know for sure. Janelle's not talking about it."

"Mania thinks he probably messed with Shanice, even though Shanice claimed he just hit her."

"Who told you that?" I ask.

"Mama. Why? Was it supposed to be a well-kept secret or something?"

"I don't know. I'm confused. This is just getting all fucked up. Everybody getting divorces. Splitting up. What's going on with you and Al, even though I'm not sure I want to hear this?"

"You ain't gotta hear it."

"Are you serious, Charlotte?"

"As cancer. He just got served some papers for back child support from some woman he slept with over ten years ago who just came outta no-damn-where and they done took our fucking income-tax return and everything."

"No shit. Who is this woman?"

"I don't know the bitch!"

"She had a baby by Al and he didn't know it?"

"Apparently, he did."

"I don't know what to say, Charlotte."

"You ain't gotta say nothing. It's a lotta things I been wanting to do with my life to get away from this post office, and, to be honest, Al ain't been doing nothing but keeping me down. We been in a rut, so this might just be a blessing in disguise. Anyway, what about Mama's birthday?"

I don't know what else to say about her divorce, so I'll let it pass for right now. It's not something you gloss over, but I'm not in any position to fix their problems, if in fact their problems are real. You never know with Charlotte. She can be so melodramatic. "Well, Mama told us to forget about doing anything for her on her birthday, but she was wondering if we could all chip in a little something so she could go on a cruise this summer with her friend Loretta."

"How much something?"

"I don't know yet. Probably no more than five hundred."

"That's a lotta money. For some of us."

"If you can, you can. If you can't, you can't. Don't worry about it, Charlotte." "You'll take care of it if we can't come through, ain't that right, Paris?"

"I don't know. I've got a lot on my plate right now, too. Look, I just wanted you to know."

"All right. That's it?"

"I guess. But are you sure you're feeling okay, Charlotte?"

"Couldn't be better. Look, I gotta go, Paris."

"Okay, Charlotte, but call me if you need to talk."

"I will. And tell Dingus to make that girl get a abortion. He don't need no baby. He got a future ahead of him. Bye."

I'm in shock. She's getting a divorce? Charlotte loves Al, and he's been there for her and those kids since the beginning of time. Do you fault somebody for something they did a long time ago when it comes back to haunt them? It doesn't seem fair, but, then again, I'm not in her shoes.

I can't go into my office now. No way. I feel like I'm floating in a holding zone, waiting for this guy to show up and a call from New York. Why isn't she calling? Did the deal fall through? I dial my other sister, who answers on the first ring.

"How're you doing, Janelle?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"Exhausted, if you want to know the truth."

"Me, too."

"You won't believe this."

"What?"

"Charlotte says she's divorcing Al because some woman from his past hit him up for child support."

"I can think of better reasons to divorce your husband than that. She's not divorcing him. Wait and see."

"I don't know. Have you talked to Shanice?"

"Yes I have. She's fine. She and Mama are bonding."

"You miss her?"

"Of course I miss her."

"Well, when's she coming home?"

"I don't know right now."

"Why don't you know?"

"Because there's a lot of confusion around my house." "Like what?"

"I don't feel like getting into it right now, Paris."

"Why not, Janelle? You never feel like talking about anything that really matters. Why is that?"

"That's not true. It's just that sometimes other people can't solve your problems."

"Did I say anything about solving your problems? No. But I'm your sister, bitch, and if something is wrong over there, I just wanted you to know you can talk to me." "1 know."

"Then why aren't you?" "I am."

"No you're not, Janelle. Something is going on with your daughter and your husband and you're not telling it."

"You're right. But, like I said, Paris, I have to work this out myself." "But you're not very good at that." "You don't know what I'm good at."

"I've only known you for thirty-five years, Janelle. We grew up in the same house. So-I think I do."

"Look, can we talk about something else? Like Mama's birthday, for instance?"

"She told me she just wants us to chip in so she can go on her cruise this summer."

"That sounds good."

The phone clicks. This has got to be New York. "Can you hold on a minute? I'll be right back. I promise." "Okay." "Hello?"

"Is this Paris?" somebody with a raspy voice is asking. "Who is this?"

"This your Aunt Priscilla, baby. How you doing?"

"You mean Prison, Aunt Priscilla?" I ask, disappointed again.

"Well, yeah, since you put it that way."

This call means two things: she's out and she wants something. And it's always the same thing-cash-for the same thing-drugs. She's the oldest drug addict I know. I hope it doesn't run in the family. "Aunt Pris- cilla, is there a number I can call you back at? I'm on a long-distance call right now."

"Look, I just need a favor, is all. I just got out, you know, and I went to the doctor and he done told me I got cancer, and I wanna know if you can help me get the operation."

"What kind of operation?"

"The operation that's gon' get rid of the cancer."

This one takes the cake. "What kind of cancer do you have?"

"I think he said it's in my throat. A lump or something, and they need to get it out."

"Look, Aunt Priscilla, I'm really sorry to hear that you've got cancer, and I wish I could help you right now, but I'm broke. Don't you have insurance or Medicaid?"

"Broke? Everybody know you got money, baby. You ain't gotta lie to your Aunt Priscilla. When you do time you don't get no benefits," she says, and starts crying. "This ain't no way to come home: with nothing but a whole lotta something you don't need. You ain't even gon' try to help your auntie live a little longer?"

"How much is the operation?" I ask for the hell of it; I would love to come right on out and ask her how much does she need to get her through the day, but it's coming. I know it.

"I think it's only gon' be about a thousand, but if you could send me a hundred or two hundred today that would help take care of the doctor's visit and them X-rays they took."

"Are you staying with Aunt Suzie Mae?"

"No no no no no. You know Suzie Mae and me don't get along. I ain't got no permanent residence as yet."

"Hold on a minute, Aunt Priscilla." I click Janelle back on. "Girl, you won't believe this. It's Aunt Priscilla on the other line."

"Did she escape again?"

"No, she's out. This time it's cancer and she wants me to pay for her operation. I'll be right back." I click back. "Aunt Priscilla?" "I'm still here."

"I could Federal Express you a little something at Aunt Suzie's and you could go over and get it tomorrow."

"Is there any way you could Western Union like fifty or a hundred so I can have it today?"

"I can try, but I don't know, Aunt Priscilla, I've got a lot to do today. Have you talked to Charlotte? She's right there in Chicago."

"Suzie Mae just gave me her number, and I left her a message, but she ain't called me back yet. You know how she is."

"Look, I really have to go, Auntie. Just check back tomorrow." "Wait! These days you can use a credit card and do it over the phone. You ain't gotta go nowhere!"

"Okay! I'll do it. But I've got to go right now, and I'm glad you're out. Again. Goodbye!" And I click the phone. Janelle's still laughing.

"Don't ask. Anyway, what are you doing right now?"

"You mean right now?"

"Yeah."

"I'm out in the front yard counting all the red cars that go by. I'm up to seventeen. I guess I'm trying to decide if I want to have this baby or get an abortion."

I get a gigantic lump in my throat. "Oh, so . . ."

"So you were right. But I feel kind of weird, Paris. George is gone."

"For how long?"

"I hope forever. I just don't know what I'm doing right now. It's too much. I need to talk to somebody who doesn't know me. Just to explain how things have transpired."

"Please don't go to a psychic for this kind of shit, Janelle. Please." "I'm too scared. I went to a Tarot reader and the first card she flipped over was too much, so I left."

"Out of pure curiosity, what was it?"

"The Hanged Man. Anyway, I just want my daughter to come back home. To be honest, I don't know how I'm gonna take care of her, and I don't know if I should have this baby or not."

"You're not handicapped, Janelle. You can get a decent job. How far gone are you?"

"A little over two months."

"Whoa. That's cutting it close."

"I know."

Now here conies Miss Ordelle, standing in my doorway with one hand 011 her hip and holding a pair of jeans in the other. Something's wrong. I hired her just to iron, but she insists on washing anyway (when her stories go off she gets bored). We argued about it, but she won. I asked her not to wash my white clothes, because she uses too much bleach and she's stingy with the softener.

"Hold on a minute, Janelle. Yes, Miss Ordelle?"

"Excuse me, baby. But I don't know how this happened. See this red stuff, here? I think Dingus musta had something red in his pocket. But it done got on a whole lotta stuff, and I just want you to know-I didn't do it."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it, Miss Ordelle."

"You sho'? I mean, I can try to get it out, now," she says, "but this look permanent to me."

"If you can, fine."

"All right," she says, coughing hard as she heads back toward the laundry room. She smokes like a fiend. Outside the garage door. And it seems like once a month Miss Ordelle has an abscess and has to get another tooth pulled. She was homeless three years ago, even though she's got grown kids. I found her through an agency. She ironed as good as Mama taught me. But when she told me how much her take was of the fee they were charging, I offered her a few dollars more if she would come once a week on her own. That was two years ago. Since then, every week, when I ask her how she's doing, it's gone from bad to worse, so much so that she should've been dead about a year ago. "Sorry about that," I say.

"Was that Miss Ordelle?" Janelle asks.

"Of course it was. She loves interrupting me when I'm on the phone, you know that."

"Does she have on her bandana?" "Yes she does."

"How many teeth does she have left?"

"Never mind, I love that woman, so shut up. Look. I was just calling to reach out and make a sisterly gesture. Between you and Charlotte, I swear. Lord only knows what our wonderful brother's up to."

"Well, all I know is Jamil called over here a few days ago for his address." "You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not. He wasn't very communicative, but I gave it to him. And that was it."

I hear the doorbell ring.

"Look, there's my front door and it's probably this landscaper I've been waiting for."

"I thought your yard was already landscaped."

"I wouldn't go that far. Anyway, this guy's just going to look at it, throw some of his ideas out, and then go work on some plans and give me an idea how much it'll cost to make it lush and pretty, although right now, to be honest, it seems really trite compared to what you guys are going through."

"Don't worry. Everything always works out. I didn't get a chance to ask-how're you doing?"

"I'm fine. I think I sold my cookbook, and I've been going bonkers waiting for my agent to call and let me know the deal."

"That would be so cool, Paris. This is right up your alley. It took you long enough."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I say, trying to peek around the corner, but can't quite do it without being spotted. The doorbell rings again. "Just a minute! Be right there!" "Okay, so go, and I'll talk to you later."