Disappearing Acts (13 page)

“Good,” Portia said. “There’s enough retards in the world as it is.”

Claudette didn’t bother responding to this. We both
know that Portia’s just jealous, and in spite of the fact that she lives in the fast lane, she’d give anything to have what Claudette has. Steady love and security.

“I don’t want nobody’s kids,” Marie said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Cause I don’t like ’em, that’s why. They get on my nerves, I don’t have the patience, and besides, I’m too selfish.”

“They’re a lot of fun,” Claudette said. “Anybody’ll get on your nerves when you see them three hundred and sixty-five days a year. True, kids are definitely a lot of work, but they’re worth it. It does make things a helluva lot easier when you’ve got a husband that helps you.”

“You just lucked out. They ain’t all like that,” Portia said.

“I didn’t luck out, sweetheart. I picked the right man, something you know nothing about.”

“Fuck you,” Portia said.

“I’ve got a husband who does that, or are you deaf?”

I swear, the way they argue, you’d think they really hated each other or were sisters. “All right, let’s cool it, ladies,” I said. “We came out here to get some sun, relax, and have a good time.”

“Okay, Zora,” Portia said. “Now cut the bullshit. How much does he make?”

“Portia, you are so tacky, I swear,” Claudette said, smoothing the edges of her blanket and wiping the sweat from Chanelle’s forehead.

“I just asked Zora a simple question.”

“How much money he makes is really none of your business,” Claudette said.

“I didn’t say it was my business. I just wanted to know if he’s making any money, or is he as poor as a church mouse?”

“What difference does it make?”

“If I had a live-in housekeeper and was married to a doctor, I guess I could talk the same shit you’re talking.”

“He wasn’t a doctor when I married him.”

“Yeah, but you knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d be raking in the dough.”

“You’re aggravating as hell, you know that, Portia? You think everybody in the world thinks like you do, but thank God that’s not true. Women like you give the rest of us a bad reputation. But there’s some of us out here who’ve got more than an overworked pussy to offer.”

Portia jumped up, like she was getting ready to hit Claudette. “If you wasn’t pregnant, I’d kick your ass, you know that?”

“I’m starving,” Claudette said. “Anybody want something from the snack bar?”

“Yeah, me. I need a drink,” Marie said.

“Keep an eye out on Chanelle for me, would you, Zora?”

I nodded a yes and glued my eyes toward the tiny brown body on the blue blanket. She was beautiful. One day I hoped to be so lucky. After the two of them left, Portia was eyeballing the beach again. “I can’t stand Claudette, you know? She thinks she’s hot shit. Well, since ain’t nothing happening out here today, I might as well get wet,” she said, and ran toward the water.

I put my head down and closed my eyes. All I wanted to do was think about Franklin.

*   *   *

After hours of gin rummy and spades, we left the beach about six. My skin looked like red clay, and I was tired. Claudette, the only one with a car, dropped Portia and Marie off at the train station when we got to Brooklyn. And since I was on the route to her house, she took me home.

“Is that him?” she asked. Franklin was sitting out on my stoop again.

“That’s him.”

“Damn,” she said, waving, and he waved back. “I see what you mean, girl. What a hunk. I don’t need any introductions right now. Some other time. Don’t be a fool, Zora. Don’t you listen to a word of advice Portia has to offer. You see what condition she’s in, right?”

“What condition?” I asked.

“She can’t keep a man. If this one treats you good and makes you feel good, give him a chance. That’s what it’s all about.”

“So far, he does and I am.” I pecked her on the cheek, blew the baby a kiss, and got out of the car. “See you soon. Tell Allen I said hello, and congratulations, girl. I hope this one’s a boy.”

I was glad to see Franklin, but I didn’t like the idea that he was waiting for me.

“Hi, baby,” he said, without moving.

“Hi,” I said. “Franklin, would you not do this, please?”

“Not do what?”

“Sit out here and wait for me like this.” I just didn’t want him to start taking so much for granted.

“Why? You trying to hide me or something?”

“No, that’s not it at all. We said we’d take this slow, give each other some space, didn’t we?”

He just smiled and whipped out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. Flowers make me weak. “I just wanted you to have these. You got so many plants up there, and the only flowers I saw was dead. A woman as beautiful as you should be surrounded by ’em.”

Those dimples were showing, and I knew he knew he was flattering me to death, so I couldn’t help but go along with it. “Why, thank you, sir.”

“You look like you been to the beach.”

“I have, with Marie, Portia, and Claudette. That was Claudette who just dropped me off. All of them want to meet you. I’ve told them all about you.”

“What’d you tell ’em?”

“None of your business.”

“Look, baby, if you’re busy, I can see you tomorrow. I just wanted to give you these and tell you that I started a new job today. A hotel in Manhattan. Real money. And this one’ll probably last at least a year or two. I feel good.”

“That’s wonderful!” I said. I was glad to hear it for his sake, because Franklin had told me about some of the problems he’s had trying to get in the union and just trying to work steadily. I can’t lie: As I stood there looking at him, I started to feel lucky. Lucky that someone was waiting to see me. “Well, I’m not planning anything special,” I said, trying to clean up the fact that I may have given him the impression that I didn’t want to see him.

“I wanted to take you out to dinner, but these white boys tried to work me to death today. There’s a fight coming on tonight, and I did wanna see it.”

“You can watch it here if you want to. I was going to broil some chicken, steam some zucchini, make a salad.”

“You saying you wanna see me?”

“I see you now,” I said, and unlocked the front door.

He chuckled. When we got upstairs, it was sweltering inside. I put the flowers in a vase. Gladiolas and baby’s breath.

“You need a air conditioner, baby. I’ve got a extra one—let me run and get it.”

Run and get it? “How far do you live from here?” I asked.

“Right up the street,” he said. “Be back in a flash.”

That meant he was my neighbor. Before I had a chance to think about how I felt about him living so close, he was back and carrying this gigantic thing. He set it right up, and I was just grateful that it worked. He turned on the TV, sat down on the couch, and pulled a half pint of something out of his back pocket.

“Can I get a glass of ice, baby?”

“Sure,” I said. I handed him a glass, then went into the bedroom to take off my clothes.

“Can I see what you look like in your bathing suit?”

I had just slipped out of it, but I put it back on and walked out into the middle of the living room.

“That’s the only bathing suit you got?”

“Why, don’t you like it?”

“Yeah, I like it all right. But I don’t know all about you wearing it to the beach and everything.”

I put my hands on my hips and looked at him like he was crazy. “And just what are you trying to say, Franklin?”

“What I’m saying is this—No, first answer me this question: Do you consider me to be your man?”

“I’m beginning to think of you that way.”

“Then if you’re my woman, I don’t like the idea of you prancing around no beach in no bikini.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look serious?”

“Yes, you do, but let me tell you something so we can get this straight, right now. First of all, I’m a grown woman. I wear anything I want to wear when I want to wear it. My Daddy lives in Toledo.”

“Oh, so what you’re saying, then, is that it don’t matter what I think, is that it?”

“What I’m saying is that you sound like you’re living in the fifties or something.”

“Let’s drop it, okay? I feel too good to mess up my mood over some damn bathing suit.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m dropping it.”

I turned and started back toward the bedroom. Then I stopped and looked back at him. “Is this our first argument, Franklin?”

He started laughing. “No. This is our first disagreement.”

“Oh,” I said, and proceeded to the bedroom.

“You do look good in it, though, baby.”

I took off the suit again and threw it on the floor. He must be nuts if he thinks he’s going to start telling me what I can and can’t wear. I mean, he’s not dealing with one of these dingbats who can be told what to do. If it’s a bathing suit today, what’ll it be tomorrow? Please, Lord, don’t let him turn out to be a reincarnation of Percy.

I looked into what I called my piano room. It was empty. Granted, I’m paying less rent, but it’s still going to be a while before I can save up three hundred dollars to get the piano out of layaway. Once I start my voice lessons, it sure would be nice to be able to come home and practice instead of staying after school. I closed the door, then took a shower.

When I came out into the living room, Franklin was stretched out on the couch with his shoes off. I tightened the sash on my kimono and lay down on top of him. He felt better than he did the last time I was on top of him. He put his arms around me, and we watched Sugar Ray Leonard beat up somebody.

“How about a game of Scrabble?” he asked afterwards. The game was sitting on my bookshelf.

“The question is, can you play?”

He just started grinning; those deep black dimples were showing, and I had to bend over and kiss the man.

“Set it up,” he said, “and cut all this mushy stuff. You getting ready to get a royal ass-kicking.”

I already knew Franklin was smart; I just didn’t
know how smart. He came up with words I’d never even heard of. Most of them were construction terms, which I didn’t think was fair. But some of them weren’t. He put down the letters
e-a-r-w-i-g.

“That’s not a word, Franklin, so pick it up.”

He leaned back on the couch, crossed his arms, showed at least fifteen of those white teeth, poked his big chest out, and said, “Challenge me.”

And I did. I looked it up in the dictionary, and sure enough it was in there. I slipped in a few good ones too. Musical terms I knew he didn’t know, and words that could have two
c
’s or
l
’s, but I still couldn’t outsmart him. He was too quick. He was ahead by over a hundred points. It was embarrassing, really. But I knew I had him when he put down
y-e-t-i.

“Pick it up,” I said. “I know that’s not a word, and I’ll challenge you.”

“Wait a minute, baby. Let me look it up for you, since you can’t spell. I know that little pea brain of yours been working overtime, and I can see it’s throbbing, so sit tight. What college was that you said you went to?”

I went to pop him upside his head, but he dodged me. An abominable snowman? A double-word score. Next came this word
xu
, which he dared me to challenge, but I was onto him now. I didn’t dare. Triple-word score. He got up to go to the bathroom, and I grabbed the dictionary and looked it up. A Vietnamese coin? Where’d he learn all these damn words?

“You make me sick,” I said when he came back.

“Don’t get so upset, baby. It ain’t over till the fat lady sing.”

He won, of course. Next time I won’t be so easy on him. I put the game away, and we ate and watched the news.

“Oh, I forgot to ask you: You want to go to a brunch with me Sunday afternoon?”

“A what?”

“A brunch.”

“Is it gon’ be a bunch of uppity black folks drinking white wine, eating pâté and crackers, talking about what’s going on on Wall Street?”

“Is that really what you think a brunch is?”

“I don’t know. I don’t mean to sound so cynical, but to tell the truth, I usually work out on Sunday afternoons, plus there’s another good fight coming on. For the title. I’ll let you know, though, baby.”

“It should be fun, Franklin, and besides, I’d like you to meet some of my friends.”

“I’ve got a confession to make,” he said. His face was somber now. I wanted him to tell me everything, because that would mean he trusted me, could talk to me. He turned away so I couldn’t see his face. “I’m not the person you think I am.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I know you grew up in Staten Island, you’ve got two sisters, you’re a sports fanatic, you want to start your own carpentry business one day, you’re good with your hands, smart, a fantastic lover, and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I killed my first two wives.”

My throat felt like I’d just swallowed a whole cough drop. Relax, Zora, I thought. He’s kidding.

“And I’ve been to prison for it.”

Now I knew this had to be some kind of prank. I hadn’t forgotten what Vinney had said about Franklin being a jokester. Besides, I couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with a murderer
and
an ex-convict, could I? “You did what? Franklin, don’t play these kinds of games with me.”

He just looked at me, dead serious, his black eyes shining like jet. Shit, I should’ve listened to Portia. But no, I always have to dive in heart first. I looked over at the door and was thinking about getting the
hell out of here, but I couldn’t move. Here I was thinking that I’d finally found Mr. Right. How stupid could I be? And he’s been married? Twice?

I was so busy tossing all this stuff back and forth in my head that it took a moment before I realized he was laughing, just like Jack Nicholson in
The Shining.
Franklin had a sinister look on his face and started coming toward me, but I jumped up from the couch and ran into the closet. “Get away from me!” I screamed through the door. This kind of shit only happened in the movies, not in real life. I started feeling light-headed, but I wasn’t about to have a damn fit now. I shook my head, took a few deep breaths, and closed my eyes to regain my composure. “This is not happening,” I said over and over in my head.