Holidaze (7 page)

Once we make a successful escape from the crowded parking lot, we relax in Rah’s car and exhale the edgy experience. Misty knows how to rattle my tail feathers and so does Mickey.

“I love that you’re you, no matter what,” Rah says, turning out of the parking lot and onto Alondra Boulevard. We see Bryan walking down the street to work. Miracle Market is on the next block, which is on the way to Mama’s house. If we’d known we were leaving the service early, he could’ve gotten a ride.

“Do you really?” I ask as Rah stops at the sign. It’ll only take us a minute to get back to the house. We could’ve walked, like my uncle, if I were feeling up to it. But I’ve done enough walking the past few nights to win the LA Marathon in my sleep—literally.

“Yeah, I do. Look at how you went up to the pulpit and did your thang, girl. You’re going to be a bad-ass priestess one day, no joke.” I look at the smile in his eyes and know he’s telling the truth about that. “It also get on my nerves sometimes, no joke,” he says.

“The feeling’s mutual.” I can see why my mom was so shocked to find out Rah and I haven’t had sex yet. The way he treats me when we’re together has “serious relationship” written all over it, but I’m not going there yet.

“Huh,” he says, turning up the music’s already thick bassline. “Then I guess this is our song.” We listen to The Roots and Erykah Badu sing about the woes of being in a relationship, and Rah and I can relate fully to the lyrics. “You know you got me, right? No matter if we get angry and don’t talk for a week or whatever, I’ll always come back to center if I know you’re standing in the middle with me.” Rah claims my left hand in his right and raises it to his lips, softly kissing each of my knuckles. Damn, his lips feel good.

“I wish it were that easy,” I say as we pull up to Mama’s house. My eyesight is now fully back after the good cry we all had at the service, so I should be able to drive to Inglewood on my own. But Rah’s going to follow me to my mom’s apartment anyway, just in case. I already put my backpack and weekend bag in the car, and I know Mama’s at Netta’s shop working in the back, which is where I would normally be on a Friday evening. But until I get Esmeralda’s curse off my back or get some solid sleep, I’m not allowed to touch anyone’s head or the hair products. This curse is costing me both sleep and money, and I need both to keep it moving in my world.

“It can be as long as we agree to have faith in us. I love you, girl, even if I did blame you at first for Sandy taking off with my baby. I know it’s not your fault and I’m sorry I reacted so strongly.” I admit I feel a little responsible for giving her the keys, but Rah chose to be with Sandy in the first place, and her crazy behavior is a consequence of that choice.

“I know, Rah. I know. I just wish we could have a normal relationship, where you bring me candy and flowers and take me out on a date.” He puts the car in park and reaches into the glove compartment, pulling out a box of Tic Tacs and a deodorizing tree for his car.

“Would you settle for some mints and an air freshener?” he asks, passing the items to me. I can’t help but smile at Rah’s silly self.

“I guess it’ll have to do for now,” I say, surrendering to the moment.

When I get to my mom’s, she is supposed to help me make a tea to help me rest, and I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep. My body is starting to feel the effects of sleepwalking and I can’t think about anything else right now. Rah looks like he hasn’t slept a peaceful night since Rahima disappeared either. I know he’s feeling me right now.

“I’ll always be here for you, queen.” Rah does go above and beyond for me when I need him, like following me to my mom’s house, even though I know he’s as tired as I am. Who said chivalry was dead?

When I finally arrive at my mom’s apartment, it’s dark and vacant, as usual. I turn the lights in the living room on and drop my bags on the floor by the door. I guess she and Karl had plans. I miss hanging with my mom on the weekends, but I understand how being in love can be. All I really want is the tea she promised and to go to sleep.

I take the large bottle of horse-sized pills Dr. Whitmore gave me out of my weekend bag, and immediately decide against taking them tonight. It’s just something about swallowing these large things that makes my stomach turn in the worst way. Besides, I don’t want to mix the tea my mom mentioned with the doctor’s medicine. But since my mom isn’t here to make her concoction, maybe I can find the recipe in her spirit notebook.

“Now, do you think I’d leave my baby hanging like that? When you get settled, your tea is in the pot on the stove. Don’t add anything to it. Karl and I have a tennis match tonight and a tournament this weekend. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Sleep well, baby.”

“Thank you. I’m going to drinking this now so that by the time I’m ready to go to sleep I can just fall out,” I say aloud. My mom needs a pet, because when she’s not here I have no one to talk to. I don’t want the neighbors to think I’m crazy. I walk into the kitchen and take a mug out of the dish strainer and fill it with the warm, fragrant brew on the stove. I wonder what’s on television tonight. There must be a
Girlfriends
marathon on or something to keep me company.

The couch looks so inviting, with all of the fluffy pillows and the velvet throw draped across it. I’ll make it up into my bed later. Right now I just want to sit down and unwind. I could sleep in my mom’s bed when she’s not here, but I feel like I can’t hear everything if I’m in the bedroom—not that I want to hear too much of anything tonight. If this elixir does the trick I should be down for the count soon, tired feet and all. My cream pumps have been pinching my feet since I got in my mom’s car to come here. I guess my Kenneth Coles don’t agree with pressing on a clutch.

“’Cause I’m a boss, boss, boss,”
Kelis sings, announcing a text message as I sip on my drink. It’s Jeremy, wanting to know if I’m all right. I guess not seeing me for two days has made him miss me a little bit. Good. He needs to miss what he could’ve had if he’d acted right. Both he and Rah have a tendency to take me for granted, and that’s changing as we speak.

As soon as I’m back on my A game, they both won’t know what hit them, because Miss Nice is about to be replaced by a new and improved Jayd Jackson—no nickname needed, even if my license plates will read
LADY J
when they arrive. Rah and I already applied for them when we registered my old hoopty. I just have to get the registration transferred from that vehicle to my mom’s, if she decides to let me take it over completely. It all depends on how long Karl lets my mom roll his second ride. If things continue to go as smoothly between the two of them as they are now, I should be able to drive my mom’s car indefinitely.

Speaking of taking over, my head is starting to feel heavy and the room is spinning slightly. Barely able to place the tea back down on the coffee table, I look down at my half-empty cup and lean back into the couch pillows. What’s in this stuff? I’m feeling overwhelmed by my tiredness all of a sudden, so I’ll have to worry about researching the ingredients tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to surrender to this feeling and let it lull me to sleep.

“And for my beautiful girls,” my dad says, passing my mom a red box with a large gold bow on top. They’re seated by the Christmas tree, which is next to the fireplace. My father still puts up the tree in the same place to this day. Even the couch and other furniture in the living room are the same. My mom was right: when she left all she took was me and her cast iron skillets. Everything else my father held onto out of spite, or so my mom says. But Mama says he held on to my mom’s stuff because he still loves her and that’s his only way of both getting back at her and keeping some of her ashe around.

“Oh, Carter,” my mom says, opening the box to find a gold, heart-shaped locket hanging on a gold chain. My daddy takes the necklace out of the box and puts it over my mother’s head. She moves her long, black hair out of his way and my father kisses her neck gently before closing the clasp. Once secure around her neck, she opens it to see a picture of my dad inside. Her face is less than thrilled at the sight. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m going to get the camera, especially since this day almost didn’t happen. I’ll be right back,” my dad says, exiting the living room and heading to their bedroom. And according to everything I’ve ever heard from my mom and Mama, he’s right. They weren’t even together when I was conceived.

Waiting for my dad to come back, my mom warms herself by the fireplace. She looks into the glowing fire and truly appears to be happy and calm.

Interrupting her peace, the phone rings and my mom picks it up from the end table next to the couch. She’s not as big as I pictured her at six months pregnant, and moves easily from one position to another.

“Merry Christmas,” my mom says into the receiver, but her face looks anything but jolly. “No. Who is this?” she repeats into the phone. Oh, this can’t be good. I think I remember this incident from when I was in her womb. And if I recall correctly, it didn’t end so well. “You called my house. Who the hell are you?” Oh shit, I know that conversation all too well. It must be one of my daddy’s side hoes calling to wish him a happy holiday. I bet you she’ll think twice next time before calling this house.

“Who’s on the phone?” my father asks, the camera in hand. My mom looks up at my father and throws the cordless phone at his face, breaking the skin above his eyebrow before he catches the falling phone.

“Damn it, Lynn Marie. What’s gotten into you?” My dad returns the phone to its base without speaking into it. He then touches the blood dripping from his head. So that’s how he got that scar. The phone rings again and neither one of them answers it.

“I knew I should have never listened to you. I’m out,” my mom says, making her way out of the living room and to the back bedroom he just left, going to pack up her things to leave—again.

“You can’t leave. That’s my baby in there, girl. You can never leave me.” If I could wake up right now, I would. Before I can see what happens next, my dream shifts to a different scene and I’m forced to follow. Damn, I wish I could choose what I want to see and when, instead of being an unwilling passenger on this ride down memory lane.

“You bastard!” my mom shouts at my dad. “You gave me the same heart necklace for Christmas. You think you’re slick but you’re not. What you are is busted.” My mom stands up in the crowded restaurant and throws his glass of red wine in his face. Rubbing her very pregnant stomach, she picks up her purse from the back of the chair and gets ready to leave him sitting there, embarrassed. From the red-and-white heart-shaped balloons everywhere, I’d say they’re celebrating Valentine’s Day.

“You gave her my necklace?” the waitress asks. “How could you, Carter?”

“He can do it because he’s nothing but a cheating jackass. Mama was right about you from jump street. Do you know how mad it makes me to have to admit that?” My dad looks like he wants to answer but he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“I thought when I left your ass on Christmas you had learned your lesson, but I see you’ll never change
.”
My mom looks from my dad to his mistress and then at the bottle of red wine on the table. “A toast to your new fool, because I’m done playing.” She takes the bottle and pours the remaining wine over my father’s head. “Bye,” she says, looking victorious as she turns around to walk out of the restaurant. His side trick picks up the napkins on the table and hands them to my father. Before my mom can make her way out of the now silent place, she doubles over in pain, holding her stomach.

“Lynn Marie, are you okay?” my dad asks, throwing down his napkin and running over to my mom, who’s now balled up on the floor in a fetal position. “Call an ambulance, now
,”
he says to the hostess, who promptly dials the phone at her booth. His broad walks over with a handful of napkins, but it doesn’t look like she wants to help.

“Lynn Marie, Lynn Mae Williams’ daughter
?”
I see she’s heard of our lineage, and by the way she’s now trembling, she’s heard enough to be scared, and rightfully so. “I heard she’s into that voodoo mess. Why didn’t you warn me you were married to a witch
?”
My dad looks at his scary-ass side skank and shakes his head as if to say “not now,” but the dumb broad doesn’t take the hint.

“Ahhh,” my mom groans in pain. I remember feeling frustrated in the womb and I feel the same feeling now in my dream.

“I didn’t know you were his wife, you have to believe me,” the woman says to my mom, who’s now panting heavily, like she’s in labor. My mom looks at the young sistah, her jade eyes glowing—she’s so pissed.

“I’m not worried about you right now, trick!” my mom screams at her. She looks up at my father. He is trying to comfort her, but she doesn’t want him to touch her. “And you, why don’t you do me and my daughter a favor and leave. We have no use for you in our lives.” My father looks sincerely hurt by my mom’s words, but doesn’t budge from his stance by her side.