Unbeweaveable (25 page)

“I like my hair color,” Heather said. “It's natural, by the way, but everybody insists that I color it. And my smile. I have a killer smile,” she said, giving me an example.

“Okay. Now it's your turn,” Gloria said.

“All right. I like my…my eyes?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I'm telling you. My eyes. I like the shape of them. And I have really thick eyelashes. Never wore fake ones, never had to.”

“There you go.”

“Heather! LUNCH!” a voice boomed from the living room, making me jump out of my skin.

“Well, the old man's awake.” Heather stood and cleared our glasses away. “What time is the dinner party tomorrow?”

“Six. And don't be late this time.”

“That was one time. You are never going to let me live that down.”

“No, I'm not.” They hugged and I felt the weird urge to hug Heather, too. And I did.

“Sorry,” I said, backing away from her. “I shouldn't have—”

“Nonsense. I don't get enough hugs in the day. But Gloria was right about you. You are a sight to see.”

Mrs. Millie

“Where to now?” I asked, backing out of the driveway. “Can we stop by my father's job?”

“And do what?”

“I don't know, have lunch?”

“Nah, Paul be too busy to stop for lunch most days. You'll see him this evening. Y'all really have taken a liking to each other. That's real good.”

“I expected things to be more awkward, but I feel really comfortable here.”

“I'm glad.”

I heard my cell phone ringing in my purse and I dug in my bag to get it.

“Hello?”

“I think I just lost my small intestine,” Renee said.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. Ask Gloria if she has some Pepto somewhere. I don't want to go digging around in her cabinets.”

“Gloria, Renee is still feeling sick. Do you have any Pepto Bismol?”

“Tell her I keep all my medicine in the refrigerator. In the part where you keep the butter.”

“Renee?” I said, talking back into the phone.

“Yes?”

“She said it's in the refrigerator. Check the part where you're supposed to keep the butter.”

“All right. Where are you guys?”

I looked at the rearview mirror and saw Gloria's lime green house.

“Not that far. We're about to pick up something to eat—”

“Girl, don't even mention food to me.”

“You sure you'll be okay by yourself?”

“Trust me, I'm fine.”

“Okay, well, we'll be back before dinner. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Tell Gloria I said thanks.”

“Okay.” I hung up and gave Gloria the message.

“Well, one thing you do have is a wonderful sister.”

“I know.”

“Let's get going. I need to eat something. My sugar's getting low.”

“Okay, where to?”

* * *

Where to, was a barbeque joint named Miss Millie's. Picnic tables were strewn over a dirt-patched lawn, and you ordered at a trailer, where the legendary seventy-six-year-old Miss Millie took your order.

“You want to eat outside?”

“Got to. Miss Millie don't have any indoor tables.”

So she could eat outside, but couldn't walk a few steps to visit her friend?
Go figure.

“I'll find a table and you place the order.” She grabbed a folded $20 bill from her bra and fit it in my hand. It was wet from sweat. I handed it back to her.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I'm positive.”

“Well I ain't never been one to turn down a free meal.” She slipped the $20 back in her bra. “I want a rib sandwich. And tell her extra bread, last time she forgot. Oh, and two orders of coleslaw. Yes, ma'am, that coleslaw is good. And a Diet Coke. Gotta watch my sugar.”

“Okay.” I walked over to the trailer and placed her order and added a baked potato for myself.

“That's it?” Miss Millie asked. The few lines that were on her face were around her mouth, which made me think that Miss Millie smiled a lot. She had on a pristine white apron and her gray hair was covered with a black hairnet.

“Yes.”

“All right.” She handed me a white plastic card with the number sixty-seven on it.

“What do I do with this?”

“You must be new. Stick it on your table and someone will come bring your food.”

“All right. Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm. Next!” she shouted to the person behind me. I walked back to Gloria with my number in hand.

“What'd you order?”

“Baked potato.”

“Loaded?”

“No, just butter.”

“I can't eat a potato like that. I need some meat, some sour cream and cheese,” she said as she shook out of her purple jacket, revealing a gold tank top.

“I appreciate everything you've done, Gloria. You've made me feel so at home here.”

She waved her hand. “This is your home. I hope this won't be your only visit to Memphis. I want you to love it here. Just like I love it.”

Our food arrived, and we ate in silence for a few moments.

“Why does my father still live with you?”

Gloria looked up, sauce on her chin.

“You don't pull no punches, do you?”

“I didn't mean to seem rude—”

She shook her head and took a sip of her Diet Coke. “Most people wonder why a fifty-year-old man is staying with me. Paul ain't a loser.”

“I didn't mean that.”

“But you thought it, right? Don't even try to lie about that one. No, Paul is a good son. He moved in last year when my sugar started to get out of control. I don't drive, so it helps having someone with me.”

“That's good.”

“Told you I raised a good boy. A good man. Oh, yeah, he take care of his responsibilities. Now you mind if I ask you a few questions, young lady?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Why don't you have a job right now? You get fired or something?”

“I was laid off,” I said, bristling.

She put her hands up. “I was just asking. Sheesh,” she muttered.

I laughed. “I don't know why I'm so sensitive. I've always worked. This is the first time in my life that I haven't. It takes a little getting used to.”

“Well, your sister is taking good care of you. Yes, ma'am, for her to buy a brand new BMW. I take it Beverly still got a load of money?”

“Beverly still has money, but my sister has her own money.”

“How did she get all that money?”

“She married well.”

“Humph. That seems to run in y'all's family. Wanna get rich? Marry a rich man.” She laughed. “What did you do before? At work?”

“I was the book review editor for
Spirit
Magazine
. Have you ever read it?”

“Naw, it was too uppity for me. Don't like to read nothing that I need a dictionary with. But I'm sure it was a nice job.”

“It was.”

“Why'd you get fired?”

“Technically I didn't. The magazine folded.”

“Folded?”

“Closed. No more
Spirit
Magazine
.”

“Oh. Well, I wouldn't take that too personal. It's not like you weren't doing a good job.”

I nodded.

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I don't know. I really liked writing reviews and reading. My two loves.”

“Not everyone is fortunate to do what they love to do. With that rich sister of yours, you can take your time and find out what you really want to do.”

“You sound just like her. I have to admit it is nice to take my time and figure things out.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She belched. “I need another Diet Coke.” She lifted her Styrofoam cup. “Yoo-hoo? A little more soda, please?”

* * *

After a two-hour stint at the grocery store, I was finally pulling up in Gloria's driveway.

“You go on inside, I'll bring the groceries in.”

“You sure?” Gloria asked.

“Positive,” I said, as I popped the trunk.

“Well, if you think you can handle it, that's fine by me. Yes, ma'am, I've never been one to turn down some help.”

I got out of the car and grabbed as many plastic bags as I could handle and walked to the front door. Gloria was standing there, blocking my entrance.

“Gloria, do you mind? These bags are heavy.”

She moved, and then I understood why she stood like a statue.

Beverly was sitting on Gloria's couch.

 

The hair is real—it's the head that's fake.

—
Steve Allen

It Was an Accident

I dropped the groceries.

Fortunately, most of what I was carrying was canned goods and paper products, so no harm was done to the food. But a lot of harm needed to be to done to the woman who held my gaze. For the first time in—well,
ever
—she had no makeup on. Her bouncy hair was slicked back in a bun and revealed the prominent dark circles under her eyes. She was dressed simply in a long, blue sundress. She rose and picked up all the bent-up cans around me as I stood silently, mouth agape.

“What are you doing here?” I asked after several seconds. I searched the room and saw Renee standing in the corner. “What is she doing here, Renee?”

“She called me—”

“Why is she here, Renee?”

“I knew you would be upset, but she asked me if we made it Memphis and I told her that we were here.”

“She had no idea I was coming,” Beverly said, her hands full of cans. She walked them to the kitchen, comfortable in the surroundings of Gloria's home.

“You brought her here,” I said to Renee. “I can't believe you.”

“Mariah—”

I walked outside to get the rest of the groceries. Beverly came up behind me and reached in to grab a bag just as I slammed the trunk closed.

“OWWWW!” she screamed, her eyes smarting with tears.

I dropped the bags, this time breaking eggs and other perishable items.

“Oh, Mama, I'm sorry!”

Tears were running down her face, and she held her hand out. Her knuckles were bloody, and before my eyes her fingers began to swell.

“I think it's broken,” she said.

“What happened?” Renee said, running outside. “Who's screaming?”

“I closed the trunk on Mama's hand—”

“Oh, my goodness! Mama, let me see!”

Beverly showed Renee her swollen, bloody hand. Renee looked at me.

“It was an accident.”

“Sure it was.”

“Do you think I would do something like this on purpose?”

Renee just stared at me.

“It was an accident!”

Gloria came outside.

“What's all the hooping and hollering about?”

Beverly outstretched her hand.

“Ooo, that looks bad. What happened?”

“Mariah slammed the trunk on my hand—”

“A total accident, by the way—”

“Mm-hmm. Yep, you got banged up. Some of your fingers look broken. Mariah, drive her to the hospital.”

“I think Renee should—”

“What did I say? You did the damage, so you help fix it. Drive your mama to the hospital.”

I hesitated.

“Now, Mariah,” Gloria said. “Renee, help me pick up the rest of these groceries before they get run over.”

Renee picked up the spilled groceries while Gloria opened the door for Beverly and helped her in the passenger seat. After buckling her seat belt, I saw her whisper something in Beverly's ear, which only made her cry harder.

“Okay, the closest hospital is a couple of miles away.” I listened as Gloria rattled off directions and we were on our way.

Beverly was still sniffling and crying, a few moans escaping her lips.

“I'm really sorry.”

“I know.”

“It really was an accident.”

“Okay.”

“You believe me, don't you?”

She sighed. “After everything I've done to you, I wouldn't be surprised that this wasn't done on purpose. But don't worry, I know this was an accident.”

“It was.”

“Okay.”

“Why did you come?”

She sucked in a breath. “I didn't want you facing Paul alone.”

“I'm not alone. Just be honest, you just didn't want me hearing the truth about you and my father.”

“I came to right some wrongs. I figured you should hear the truth from
both
of us. Not just him. You should hear my side of the story, too.”

“Why? So I could feel sorry for you? So we can be all lovey-dovey, mother and daughter? I used to want that, too, but it's not going to happen. You've done too much.”

Tears fell from her chin. “I know. But a girl can try, can't she?”

* * *

“We're on our way back. Four of her fingers are broken, and her hand was fractured. We need to fill a prescription and then we'll be there.”

I was cradling the phone under my chin as I helped Beverly back into the car.

“Her hand is in a cast?” Renee asked.

“Pretty much. She's fine, though. In a little bit of pain, but otherwise okay.”

“Well, I'm glad. Your dad's here. And your sister Misty,” she whispered.

“Okay. What does she look like?” I asked, buckling Beverly into the car.

“Like a bigger version of you.”

I shut her car door, and leaned against it. “You should have called me—”

“Look, I had no idea she was coming. She surprised me, too.”

“Give me a break, Renee. You knew—”

“I told you I didn't.”

“You want to wrap this up in some neat little package.
Stevens
Family
Reunion
. Stop playing peacemaker!”

“I wasn't. You've some nerve telling me off. The way you broke Mama's hand like some kind of Mafia goon.”

“That was an accident!”

“Sure it was.”

She clicked off before I could yell at her more. I walked over to the driver's side and yanked the car door open.

“You're still angry?” Beverly asked quietly.

“No,” I said, my hands clenching the steering wheel.

She sighed. “I didn't mean to upset you. I really came to help—”

“Do you have any idea what you've done by coming here? This trip was about me, about me finding the truth about my father. Now you've turned this whole thing into something about you. I'm sick of you, can't you tell? All my life I've been trying to get your approval, and now I don't care what you think of me. I just want to be as far away from you as possible. But no, you had to ruin that, too.”

“I'm sorry. I thought if I explained my side, you would understand.” She looked out the window. “I can see it's too late for that now.”

“You bet it is,” I said, keeping my attention on the road. For the first time in years I didn't care if she listened to me or heard me. I just wanted her away from me.

* * *

After picking up her prescription we were finally back at Gloria's house. We came into the living room and Paul jumped up at the sight of Beverly and her cast.

“Beverly,” he breathed. He straightened. “You all right?”

“It's good to see you, Paul,” she said, stiffly. He paused for a minute and gave her a side hug, something more appropriate for an ex-wife.

“Mariah, this is your sister, Misty.”

Renee wasn't kidding when she said she looked like me. Her dark skin glowed and her kinky hair was twisted up in an elegant updo. She hugged me almost as hard as Gloria.

“I can't believe I have a sister. This is amazing.” She pulled away and examined me, head to toe. When she reached my hair, she stopped. “You wear a relaxer?”

My hand flew to my hair. “Yes…Why?”

“I can't believe you put that stuff in your hair. Why would you ruin what God created? He meant for us to be nappy—”

“Misty, save your natural hair speeches for later. Your sister just got into the door, and I don't think she feels like being preached at.”

“Grandma, I was just letting her know how damaging relaxers are.” She shook her head. “Well, at least you don't have a head full of weave.”

Renee laughed.

“Mama, I need to take a dump.”

I looked down and saw a small boy tugging on Misty's pant leg. I knelt down. “And you must be Tyrese.” I held out my hand. “I'm Mariah.”

He looked up at his mother.

“Go on,” Misty said. “It's okay.”

He placed his little hand in mine.

“Nice to meet you, Tyrese.”

“T-Bone.”

“Sorry, T-Bone.”

He looked up at Misty again. “Mama, I need to boo-boo.”

She shrugged. “That's kids for you.” She reached out and hugged me again. “I'm so glad you're here.”

“I'm glad, too.”

Misty left the room and Beverly coughed.

“I need to rest,” she said, turning to Gloria. “Could you—”

“Yes, you can sleep in the girls' room. I have a pull-out bed. Paul, go set it up. Dinner's ready if everybody's hungry. Come on, Mariah, help me dip up the plates.”

I watched as Paul led Beverly to our room. I followed Gloria to the kitchen, Renee on my heels.

“I'm still mad at you,” I said.

“Good,” Renee said, “cause I'm still mad at you.”

“You girls just hush. Neither one of you is mad. It was an accident. On both parts.” She pulled down dishes from the cabinet. “Now if you two don't mind, fix the plates while I go wash my hands.”

“You okay?” I asked. She was sweating profusely, and her hands were shaking.

“Just fine. The events of the day just got me a little riled up. You girls fix the plates and start eating. I'll be back in a minute.” She kissed my cheek, then walked to the back of the house toward her bedroom.

Paul came back in the kitchen.

“How's she doing?” Renee asked.

“She was falling asleep when I left.”

“You think I should—”

He shook his head. “She'll be fine. The best thing to do is let her sleep.” He walked over to me and hugged me. “Mama told me what happened, you okay?”

“It was an accident!”

He backed up. “Okay, just calm down. Who said you would do anything like that on purpose?”

I looked at Renee, and his eyes followed my gaze.

“You think your sister did it on purpose?”

Renee crossed her arms over her chest.

“You don't know her like I do.”

“Girls, that's enough,” Gloria said, coming back from her bedroom. Her dark skin had taken a grayish tone and she was still sweating. “I think we've all had enough drama for today.”

“Mama, you okay?” Paul asked, walking over to Gloria. She waved him off. “Boy, I'm fine. Just a little winded.”

She looked around the kitchen. “You girls get those plates down. I don't want to have to tell y'all again.”

We both got plates and glasses from her upper cabinet near the stove, rolling our eyes at each other. Misty came back from the bathroom with T-Bone. After setting him up in a booster seat at the kitchen table, she fell right into step with us, and we made an assembly line of dishing out the food.

We sat down to eat, and Paul said another short eloquent prayer. Misty kept up the conversation, asking me questions every few minutes.

“So you don't have any kids?” Misty asked.

“No.”

“And you're not married?”

“No.”

“And you don't have a boyfriend, either?”

I sighed. “No.”

“Man, I was hoping you at least had a kid or something. T-bone wants a little playmate, don't ya, T-Bone?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, chewing on an ear of corn.

“Stop pestering her with questions, Misty. This isn't a job interview,” Paul said.

“Daddy, I'm just trying to get to know my older sister. So what do you do for a living?”

I sighed again. This was going to be a long night.