The Coldest Winter Ever (8 page)

“Your mother’s OK. She’s a soldier. She’ll be home by the end of the week. Now, she’ll have bandages. She’ll have to take it easy for a while. But we’ll all help make it easier for her. You know how conceited she is,” he added, half-joking, “so don’t act like anything’s wrong with her face. She will have to have some type of treatment after a couple of weeks. I got something to make her forget the whole thing.” He signaled me to follow him. He led me down the hallway to the back window. “Take a look.” My mouth dropped open when I saw the big red set S-600 v12 Mercedes-Benz with a thick red bow and ribbons everywhere.

“Oh shit,” I mumbled. My mind started working up a new wardrobe. If you gonna sport a ride like this, you gotta be dressed to kill. Me and Mommy would have to go shopping immediately. Santiaga was still talking but I couldn’t hear him anymore. I kept seeing the expression on Natalie’s and Simone’s faces when I came to Brooklyn pushing not a 190 baby Benz, not a 280, but an S-600 v12. Would my mother let me drive it? Or would she only think of herself? Would she make me wait until Santiaga bought me a car? Or would she kick it with me like sisters would?

Wait a minute. She was sick. Maybe she’d need me to drive around and do errands for her. Maybe she’d be a passenger for about a year or so. OK, I thought. Maybe she’d let me drive her around, but she wouldn’t let me chill in the car with Natalie ’n them. It would
defeat the purpose of having a red Benz if you couldn’t flash it for your girls, ride around flexing. You know how many niggas would be on my bra strap after they saw me behind the wheel? Mad niggas! I’d be making them beg me, do shit they wouldn’t ordinarily do. Kiss my ass. Suck my toes. I started cracking up.

Santiaga looked at me like I was bugging. I straightened my face. “Now, I’ve known a lot of cats who been shot before. Shot all over the body, the leg, the chest, the stomach, but every dude I know been shot in the head, never been the same no more. That’s the shit that worries me. That’s the shit that makes me want to kick my own ass for letting this happen. Winter, where’s your head at? I’m talking to you. If me and you are on point, everything else will fall in place. Here’s what I need from you. Stay out of Brooklyn, until I tell you it’s OK.”

“What!” I said.

“Now, listen to you,” he said. “Ten minutes ago you were saying just tell me the plan, I’m down for you Santiaga. Now you’re ready to betray me.”

“No Santiaga, never betrayal. Betrayal is for suckers. That’s what you taught me. I’ll do what you want. I’ll stay out of Brooklyn until you tell me otherwise.”

“And less talking is better. A
whole lot less talking.
You know how we do. The less you know, the better off we all are. And don’t get too comfortable just because we’re out here in the suburbs. Play your hand close to your chest like you’re still in the ghetto. Trust no one and answer no questions. Don’t give anybody our phone number who doesn’t already have it. Now don’t get paranoid. Just don’t get sloppy.”

A long pause fell. I broke the silence. “You know when Midnight called the night of the incident and said he was coming to get us, I didn’t know whether I should have beeped you to confirm what was going on or just go along with what he was telling me to do. I figured everything was cool with him ’cause it always been.”

“It’s good that you thought twice about it,” Santiaga said. “But Midnight’s clean. He’s as loyal as a blood-born son. I never had a problem out of him. I couldn’t have left him with my girls if I didn’t think I could trust him with my money and my life. Why, everything went OK, didn’t it?”

“No, it went fine. He was a real gentleman,” I stated firmly, so as
not to cause no problem between the two men I love. “Where did you meet Midnight?”

“He was just a kid who had a brush with the law. You know how they do. Don’t want to give a kid a second chance. They force a man into a position where he can’t survive, can’t make no money. But when I first saw him, I knew he would be a good worker. He just had it in his eyes. Plus he didn’t have no family. A cat like that is gonna be loyal. He needed to be able to take care of himself.”

“What happened to his family?”

“I haven’t seen you this interested in nothing. What’s all the questions about?”

“You know Daddy, I’m growing up. Look at me. I’ll be seventeen soon.” Santiaga watched me spin from left to right.

“Yeah, you are growing up. I been thinking about that a lot lately.” He put his head down into his hand as though this topic was too heavy for him.

“What about it?” I asked.

“Do you know what I want for you? I want you to settle down. Meet a
nice guy.
One of those budding doctors or lawyers or engineers.”

“You talking crazy, Daddy.”

“No, seriously, Winter. My life from the outside is all good. But believe me, whether it’s actually all good or bad, right or wrong, there’s no letting up. No time to relax and just enjoy life. It’s right when you think you’ve made enough big moves, now you can take that deep breath, that’s when the next guy gets you. He’ll figure he caught you sleeping, call you a tired old fool and move on you. Nobody wants to be all the time with one eye looking over your shoulder and one eye at the door. You, Winter, you deserve better. You deserve to relax, kick back, have the easy and finer things in life. No stress. One of these big-headed doctors, lawyers, engineer boys around this neighborhood can give you that. A man in Midnight’s line of work can’t.”

When Momma was wheeled into the house the following week, it didn’t matter that Santiaga had coached us on how to act and what to say. By this time he had told my younger sisters that Momma fell down and had a little accident where she cut her face. But no rehearsal could have prepared them for what they saw. Anybody who knew Momma could only be thinking one thing: Damn! Who was that? She looks bad! Me and Magdalena tried to smile and make light of the situation. But that look of shock and horror that came over the kids’ faces when they saw her could not be erased by any joke. Momma was thinner than usual. The area around her mouth was twisted and disfigured. She still had a piece of bandage covering a small part of her face. There was only one thing I was sure of. I
would
be driving the big Benz.

Later that evening, while Santiaga was out, I pushed my mother’s door open and quietly walked in. “What’s up, Momma. How you feeling?” She was responding but her words were slurred. She sounded like an old-style wax record with the needle dragging on it. “OK, Momma, don’t talk,” I said, holding my hand up and smiling wide to make her feel comfortable. “I got a lot to say. Let me just fill you in. Nordstrom’s has the perfect all-leather red Adrienne Vittadini suit for you. I even spotted some red driving gloves that go with it real nice. You hurry up and get better ’cause we gonna be cruising!” She gave me a sigh, then a half-smile. I knew that meant I was making her feel good. Hell, this was Momma. I knew what made her feel good!

“The housekeeper is here full time now. We been taking care of everything. The girls missed you so much, they’re real happy you’re home. Oh and Santiaga, he’s like a puppy without his woman. You gotta hurry up and get better ’cause he needs you.” Just then with the mention of Santiaga’s name, one tear rolled out of Momma’s left eye. “Don’t worry, Momma. If there’s anything you need, I’ll get it for you.

We gonna get it together.” I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead, then whispered in her ear, “We bad bitches, remember? Bad bitches don’t die.” Again she cried instead of smiling. I tried to remain cool. “Girl, Santiaga’s gonna get you the best of everything, no doubt. Your face gonna look even better than it did before the accident.” At Momma’s gesture, I handed her the pen and pad from her night table. She scribbled a note to me, which read:
Stay out of Brooklyn.

Overcoming boredom was my new project in life. I had spoken with my girls from Brooklyn, but I ended those conversations as soon as the questions started flowing. Usually the questions started flowing immediately. Of course nothing but a Mack truck could stop Natalie’s mouth from yapping. She volunteered the information that some serious shit had gone down around our way and some peeps turned up missing. Which really meant nothing to me except nosy niggas around the way ain’t see certain people for awhile, but for all they know niggas could be down South visiting relatives or some shit like that.

“The block is hot.” That’s how Natalie put it, which meant that the 5-0 was everywhere. That shit didn’t scare me ’cause we always had plenty of cops around our way in Brooklyn. Sometimes they were on the scene of the crime and looked the other way ’cause they had a piece of the action.

The way I figured it everybody had to have a hustle to survive. The cops wasn’t no threat as long as their cut was in it. As Santiaga said, “You gotta know how to spread the cheese around the table.” Natalie also filled me in on the up-and-coming cuties who was buzzing around the way and the goings-on. She had seen Midnight only once in passing. He didn’t say shit to her. He never did and according to Natalie he just seemed to keep everything on the down low. He hadn’t been to the club and Tasia been running round with little Nickel.

I wasn’t going to tell her about the new Benz. But it was taking all I had for me to keep it a secret. Then Natalie remembered that my birthday was next week, on Friday. She said she wanted to big me up on my birthday, take me out, get some bubbly, and do our thing. The bonus was that Slick Kid, her man of the moment, was cool with Bullet. We could double-date and live it up at their expense. “Bullet?” I asked. “Little Bullet.”

“Girl get up on it. Little Bullet is Bullet now and ain’t nothing little about him.” I thought about it for a second. I always thought Bullet
was a little cutie, swift on his feet, a fast talker, and definitely had the hustle in him. He was a small-timer though. Not the type I’d ever consider to set up with or marry, but I could easily swing an episode with him. The puzzle was that I couldn’t go to Brooklyn. I also couldn’t mention that I wasn’t allowed to go to Brooklyn.

I had been stalling and lying to Natalie about why I wasn’t coming around the way. Security at our house was at an all-time high. The Saturday night parties were dead. Other than Magdalena, security, and the workers, we couldn’t invite no houseguests. Now I needed to come up with a compromise, an alternative. This date was something I needed in order to connect with myself and my people. I really needed the attention. Mamma had been hogging all of it up lately. Santiaga been either having meetings in the den, out working the streets, or on the phone.

“Yeah, I’m down for the double date,” I told Natalie. “I’ll call you back to set up the details. But let Bullet know I’m all in.”

Strategizing came easy to me. I got that from Daddy. I just laid the problem out like a chessboard and thought of different angles to come at it. The key was to be able to relax enough to see the whole situation in your head. If you got stressed out, Santiaga taught me, then you start making mistakes, overlooking critical shit. Now I wasn’t a chess player myself, but everyday problems, I could decipher that shit.

Thoughts was running through me like a high-speed train. Stretched out on my bed, I came up with a brilliant plan. I say it was brilliant because it wasn’t just a simple everyday plan. It was one that took everything and everybody and every possibility into consideration.

There was only one week left until my birthday. I started activating my plan that same afternoon. Mother was out of the confinement of her room and moving slowly throughout the house. Her mouth was still crooked and her face stiff and slightly swollen. She wouldn’t go outside because of the embarrassment of her appearance. She was waiting for some type of operation to put her face back in order, but it was still too soon. The doctor said she had a few weeks of healing before her body could undergo another operation. I knew she was feeling bad. In fact, this was the first consideration in my plan.

“Momma, you’re looking good today,” I lied. “I can see where you’re healing.” I touched the left side of her face with two fingers. “Listen, let’s go outside and head to the mall.” She rolled her eyes at me. “No really, Mommy. I picked out some fly things for you. Since
your face is looking better, you might as well get back on your feet. I know you like to be on top of things. You do want to look good for Santiaga and all.” Momma smiled. It was funny, everything else could be fucked up but mention Santiaga and Mommy’s whole world would light up. But still she protested; “I can’t drive. It’s not safe. I don’t feel ready yet.”

“Mommy, I can drive. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Treat you like the queen you are. We can leave the kids with Magdalena. How about it?” I opened my arms wide to give her a hug.

She smiled. “I’ve been dying to get in my new car, but I didn’t want to torture myself.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy. Just remember I know how you feel. We have both been trapped in this house too long. But today is our day and we might as well enjoy it.” I helped Momma get dressed and ready. We picked out a full wig and tried to hide the left side of her face by letting the hair fall down in the front. I lent her my sharp leather hat. We went outside, cut the red ribbon, and both got high off the smell of the fresh leather interior.

Pushing a Benz was like being the president of the United States. It rode like a private jet. Even the potholes couldn’t affect the smoothness of the ride. Everybody I passed on the road looked to see who was inside, yet the tinted windows shielded us like we were top-notch celebrities. Momma looked happy discovering more and more features in her car: the wood paneling, her engraved initials, the CD player, digital display, lighted mirrors, and so on. She relaxed. I knew I had accomplished step one, getting Momma used to the idea of me driving her car. I had to get her on my side so we could convince Santiaga that I needed to drive this car on my birthday.

Mommy and I got manicures and even pedicures at the mall. We even let this butch-like Swedish lady give us each a massage. We ended our day with a dinner.

“Wait until Santiaga sees your new outfits,” I teased her. “He’s gonna chase you all around the house.”