The Coldest Winter Ever (22 page)

On the third bedridden morning Ms. Johnson the social worker
came. “If there’s a problem, Winter, we can talk about it. We can work it out.” I just stared at her face, then rolled over and balled up again.

By noontime the psychiatrist came and insisted that I needed a session. “Pent-up aggression wouldn’t solve anything,” she said. I had better eat some food or at least drink some water. I said nothing. By one o’clock security came, poked me with a nightstick and said I had to get dressed and go to the psychiatric office immediately. The rock-face lady-man with the big arms made it clear that if I didn’t move my ass she would move me. I got up and went through the motions of preparing to go.

Rashida was seated on her bed. She watched me with tears in her eyes. As the guard waited outside the door, Rashida came to me and said, “Alright Winter, you don’t have to say anything. I can understand it. But whatever happened to you, I been there before. It’s a real bad place to be but I been there. It almost make you wonder if being dead isn’t better. But let me just say this. Once I took a bottle of pills ’cause I wanted to die. I figured I die, no more pain right? Wrong,” she said, answering herself. “I ended up on the operating table with the doctors pumping my stomach. A lot of pain. When I got better, there was still pain. So I tried it again. I slashed my wrist with a knife. I figured, surefire way to die, right? And when I die no more pain, right? Wrong. When I woke up I was in a hospital room with tubes everywhere and stitches in my wrist. When the anesthesia wore off there was pain for weeks later. I still had a cast, painkillers, and pain. Soon as the pills wore off there was more pain. Even when I got better, there was pain. Pain’s a part of life. That’s my point, pain is part of life. When it’s your time to go, you go. If it’s not your time, you don’t go. Until then make the best of it. If you find God, the good in yourself, you can take most of the pain away and then the few times you get pain you can just surrender to Allah and the pain will go away.”

I couldn’t connect to what she was saying. The security yelled in and said, “C’mon Santiaga, the doctor is waiting.” I got up.

Rashida said, “Listen, tonight I’m going to see Sister Souljah speak. She’s a real beautiful sister who has helped me to understand myself a little more and get it together. If you want to come I’ll take you, my treat.”

“Your treat! It cost money!? What the hell you giving her money for?” My face was vexed and Rashida was intimidated by my sudden
change and instant anger. “I could see if you were gonna see a show,” I went on. “Then at least you get what you pay for. You going to listen to somebody talk shit. Souljah gets paid. You get nothing, stupid ass!”

Rashida looked shocked at the dramatic change in my personality. “I guess I am a stupid ass for tryna help you!” Rashida exclaimed.

As she left the room, probably just to get away from me, I shouted, “Do me a favor.”

“Oh, now you need a favor.”

“Ask Sister Souljah if she knows somebody named Midnight.”

My session with the psychiatrist revived me. Not because of anything she did, because of what I did and said. The story I told her just made me laugh inside and that helped to take away some of the depression I felt. I told her I had a best friend named Natalie and ever since childhood we had been connected. We were so connected that when she cried, I cried, when she was sick, I was sick. When she was happy, I was happy. Even when we were separated I could still feel Natalie’s emotions and she could feel mine. Natalie had made one of her other friends angry by telling some of her personal business, so the girl beat Natalie unconscious. The reason I was stuck in bed for three days was because I was unconscious like Natalie. After the story, she asked me a thousand questions, all of which I answered. I can’t repeat my answers because I made them up as I went along and forgot them just the same.

That day I decided I would think of everyone in my family as dead. This made everything easy. It would be me against the world. Simone would be important to me because she was my business connect. I had learned that there was no point in getting personal. It was just a waste of time. As Santiaga would say—I mean, everybody knows—time is money and money is time.

Simone was on point as usual. She delivered my things, I gave her the loot.

“What’s wrong with you, Winter?” she asked, as though I was different than normal.

“Nothing. Just going over the numbers in my head. What’s up with that connect?”

“It’s not gonna happen. Forget it, Winter. He don’t want to get mixed up with no trouble. He got vexed just for me mentioning his
business. I told him I could trust you, that you were in for self but he said that was hard to believe.”

“Damn!” I said, frustrated.

“Any other options?” she asked.

“I got a couple of ideas in my head. Let me work on ’em. Alright Simone. So what else is up?”

“I’m debating on whether to go to the show tomorrow night or not.”

I laughed at her. “Yah belly kind of out there,” I said, looking at her belly.

“No, crazy, that’s not it. I figure if I’m gonna go to a show I ought to be able to stay awake. This sleeping shit is getting out of control.”

“Who’s performing?”

“Wu-Tang.”

“Let’s do it,” I said.

“What you gonna wear?” she asked.

“Hey, Saks Fifth Avenue got this dusty pink suede dress with a matching jacket, banging. Pick it up for me. I already got the shoes. I was tryna wait for you to get them, but there was only one pair left in my size and I didn’t want anybody else to buy them. If you can cop the dress and the jacket, I’ll give you $350 for it. That’s a little more than half of the price.”

“You got it, Winter. Let’s meet at your spot about nine. How we rolling?” Simone asked.

“Limo, like usual,” I said with a half-smile. “Alright big-timer,” she agreed.

When I got back to the house, I apologized to everyone for buggin’ out for the past few days. I told them my mother was hospitalized and very sick. It got me depressed because the doctors said she might not pull through. I saw her today and thank God she was gonna be alright. They all accepted my apology. I gave them discounts on shit they needed for the weekend. After the discount we were all cool again. None of these girls would hold a grudge because they’d had their good days and their bad days, too.

One by one, girls were leaving on weekend passes. I hung around because Friday night was a money night for me. If I had a good take, I would have a total of twenty-eight hundred dollars saved.

Rashida came in and threw shade on me. For business purposes, I immediately apologized to her. The truth of the matter is Rashida was
one of maybe two girls in the House of Success who never bought anything from me. She didn’t borrow money, didn’t ask for shit. How-ever, in business, I know that if a bad feeling spreads about the sales-woman or the product, it can infect others. So I was being scientific about it. Rashida accepted my apology, but not in a way that made me believe things were cool between us. She was cautious. But I’d rally her back to a good position, find out something she liked and provide it to her.

On Saturday morning I went out to the stores. There was really no need for me to shop anymore ’cause Simone could get what I wanted. But nothing could replace the whole idea of the store along with the thrill of being there. I kept my finger on the fashion nerve by always being in and out of the top stores. This made Simone’s job easy because I could tell her what I wanted, which store to lift it from, down to the exact section and sometimes the exact rack. I liked to keep up with cosmetics, although I didn’t need anything besides a little lipstick. My skin was smooth, my eyelashes were already dark and long. Some of the girls I sold shit to had uneven skin, some had blotches, and some straight up had scars, razor cuts they wanted to hide. My being up on the skin remedies, new cosmetic colors, styles, and exclusive shit they could never have known existed, meant they would have to keep coming back to me. I had packaged my advice, products, and styles like a secret potion that they could only purchase from me.

While I was out, I saw a cute pink suede hat that I wanted. It would go so perfect with the dress, jacket, and shoes. I was gonna get Simone to pick it up for me, although I was tempted to buy it myself just in case. Sometimes Simone was slow to answer her beeps. You couldn’t blame her because she was usually in the middle of
picking something up.

Later I wandered into a pawnshop just to price what I could get for my diamond tennis bracelet, necklace, and earrings in an emergency situation. I found out the shop owners were not only thieves but perverts who made it clear that they weren’t above fucking me in the back room of the shop. Four hundred dollars was what they offered for a bracelet that cost my father a few thousand. The only good thing was if I got desperate and needed the money I could pick up the four hundred dollars and buy the jewels back later.

I saw a phat nail design in this Chinese lady’s shop so I went in and got my hands redone. She was overcharging. When I asked her the price she could tell from the look in my eyes that she was about fifty dollars over the normal nail-design fee. But she was smart. I never seen the same nail designs she was pushing anywhere, so I told myself,
Hey, she’s a businesswoman, I’m a businesswoman. Motherfuckers gotta respect that.
I got a fly design and easily calculated a way to pass this personal expense on to my loyal customers at the house.

Saturday evening the House of Success was like a ghost town. Besides the security staff, no one was there except Rashida. She was lying on her bed, reading her book, of course.

“What’s up, girl?” I asked Rashida, trying to get things between me and her back to normal by striking up a little conversation.

“A letter came for you,” she said dryly. “It’s on your bed.”

Winter—

This letter is to the most beautiful daughter any man could ever have. I couldn’t see you the other day. I was concentrating on things that needed to be done. But the real shit is I needed a shave and a haircut. I didn’t want you to think your pops was falling off (smile).

Listen, don’t worry about me, you know I’m holding it down. I’m a fighter and so are you. I raised you to be on top. I got to admit, I wish the rest of the family was strong like the two of us. A lot of them been breaking down under the pressure, slipping. I thought I could depend on certain family members to take care of some small but important things, now I know that I can’t. Now there’s a lesson for you Winter. When you’re making the dough it’s all love. The click is tight and the family’s ’bout it. When your dough is low, you ain’t shit. Niggas forget what you done for them, what they owe you.

I need a small favor, Winter. If you can do it, good. If you can’t, don’t worry over it. Get in touch with Midnight, I need something taken care of that I can’t trust anybody else to do. Tell him to drop me a line or pay me a visit.

Poppa Santiaga

Two tears came rolling down without my permission.

“Is everything okay?” Rashida asked. “Is your mom alright?”

“Everything’s cool,” I said, quickly clearing the tears from my face.

“Why do you always do that?” Rashida asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re so cool, like you’re in control of every little thing. Why can’t you just admit when something isn’t alright so somebody could help you?”

“You bugging! These are happy tears; I’m fine. But since we’re on the topic of things people do that we hate, why do you always wear that damned ponytail? Why don’t you try to live a little? Let your hair down.”

“Depends on what you consider living, Winter.”

“Oh, I guess you’re not like everybody else,” I said smartly. “I try not to be.”

So I pushed it. “Do you have a man, Rashida?”

“Nope.”

“Probably because of that damned ponytail,” I laughed.

“Listen,” Rashida said, like she lost her mind and was about to get loud. “I’m not Claudette. I know who I am and all that. I’m not just looking for a man, I’m not ready yet. When I’m finished working on myself then I’ll bother with that.” Ignoring her explanations, I asked and stated at the same time.

“So you like girls, huh? It’s cool, I don’t judge nobody.”

“You’re crazy, Winter! I didn’t say nothing about liking girls. I’m just taking my time. I’m only sixteen.”

“Are you still a virgin, Rashida?”

“You’re not?” she shot back at me.

“Yeah I am …
Hell
no,” I said, as I busted out laughing. “I been fucking since I was twelve years old. I started late. How about you?”

“Well, you could say I’m a virgin because I never had sex voluntarily. I just never had those kinds of feelings for a man. I guess you could say I just find it hard to trust any guys. So I’m waiting to meet a brother who won’t mind just taking everything nice and slow.”

“Good luck!” I said, with a doubtful voice. I wasn’t gonna get all personal with her. “Hey, do you want to go to a concert with me tonight?” I asked.

“Who’s performing?”

“Wu-Tang and Death Squad. You know, hip-hop.”

“Nah, I’ll pass,” Rashida said unenthusiastically.

“You might as well come. If not, you’d be the only one left on this floor,” I warned her.

“It’s OK. It took me awhile, but now I’m okay with being alone. Besides, security is here.”

By 10:20 P.M., I figured out that Simone wasn’t showing up. I wasn’t mad at her, but I wasn’t rolling to the concert alone either. No doubt her big ass was either somewhere eating or sleeping. Finally I got Rashida to loosen up enough to try on my Adrienne Vittadini dress. She spun around, looking at herself in the mirror.

“You see, this is what I’m talking about. This kind of dress gets a girl in trouble. Trouble is what I don’t need. I tried it on. Are you satisfied? Now you can have it back.”

Rashida looked so good in my dress I was happy to take it back from her.

When the lights went out I lay awake in my bed thinking about Santiaga’s letter. I know I said I was going to act like he was dead. Now things were different. I understood why he refused my visit last time. He didn’t have anything to give to me. He felt he couldn’t do nothing for me. I believed him when he said he didn’t want me to see him ’cause he didn’t have it all together that day. What he didn’t know was that he would forever be my hero, regardless of the small stuff. Before, I was crushed, devastated even. Now I realized that me and him were just alike. We were both born to win. And, when we were not winning, it was OK ’cause we were busy planning to win.