Mama (19 page)

On Mildred's last day, she finally pooped out. Freda made bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwiches, put potato chips in a plastic bowl, and set out two long-stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine on the kitchen table. Freda had seen a documentary about winemaking and had jotted down the French name to remember it for moments like this. Bordeaux.

"Mama," she said, "let's go swimming before lunch."

"Swimming? Girl, I ain't been swimming in damn near twenty years."

"I thought you said you could swim."

"I can, but I don't have no bathing suit. I didn't bring one. Didn't know I was gon' be this close to water."

"Put this on," Freda said, going to her closet and handing her a one-piece Hawaiian print. She had bought it for Mildred because she knew her mother was going to have some excuse. Mildred took the suit into the bedroom and Freda followed her. They both removed their clothes and tried not to notice each other's bodies. They couldn't help looking. Mildred's breasts looked like someone was pulling them down. But aside from the stretch marks and a few too many pounds, for thirty-seven, Freda thought, Mildred still looked pretty good. Not like she'd had five babies. And peeking over at Freda, Mildred remembered that her own hips used to be that narrow and her waist used to clench like that too. Damn, Freda's skin was so smooth and firm. Mildred pulled the straps of her suit across her shoulders and didn't bother looking in the mirror.

They took turns diving and doing laps and relaxed on the lounge chairs. Mildred didn't like the wine. "Oooh, this stuff is so bitter, ain't a drop of sugar in here, is it?"

"It's not supposed to be sweet, Mama. It's a dry wine. They say the drier it is the better quality it is."

"Is that right," Mildred said, sipping it slowly, after watching how gracefully Freda drank hers. And the more she drank, the better it tasted. She leaned her head back and stared up at the clear blue sky. I could get used to living like this, she thought. But she didn't dare let Freda know what she was thinking. She didn't know how Freda would feel about her and the kids moving out here. Freda was so independent, now that she was on her own. Maybe she would think her mother was following her, or moving out here just to check up on her. Which would be half true.

Freda pulled up another lounge chair beside her and put her sunglasses on. Her dark skin looked glazed against her white bikini, but she massaged another layer of suntan oil on top of the latest coat of color anyway.

They were both silent for almost ten minutes.

"You probably gon' stay out here, then, huh?" Mildred asked.

"I don't know, Mama. It's nice out here, and I'm getting a free education."

Mildred nodded her head up and down in agreement. Freda stared at her through her dark glasses. Her mama looked so relaxed. She wished she had enough money to move the whole family out here. But all Freda had in the bank was $234.

"There're opportunities out here for all kinds of people, and it doesn't seem to matter what color you are. As long as you've got a skill, you can find a job." Freda felt like she might as well have just bit her tongue. She knew Mildred had only done day work, cooked in restaurants, and worked in factories. There weren't any factories in LA. And she also knew Mildred wasn't getting back on her knees again. And working in a restaurant? Well, she'd see.

But Mildred hadn't taken it that way. The way she figured it, she could get qualified for damn near anything. Hell, if Freda wasn't but twenty years old and could come all the way out here and make it, surely, she could come out here and learn how to do something worthwhile. LA. wasn't that big of a deal.

"Everybody miss you, Freda."

"Who is everybody?"

"Me. And the kids."

"I miss all of you too, Mama. But I swear, I can't go back to that place. A person could rot away there."

"You got a boyfriend?"

"Not really."

"What's wrong with you? You can't tell me you on your own and you ain't screwing."

Freda was embarrassed. She had never talked about this kind of stuff with her mama before. "Well, yes, I'm going out with someone, if that's what you mean."

"Chile, please, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Is he good?"

"Mama!"

"Aw, you can stop that little innocent act with me. I saw that diaphragm in your bathroom."

"You've been rambling in my drawers?"

"I was looking for some bobby pins," Mildred said, laughing. "At least you know how to protect yourself. It's a relief to know that." She took another sip of her wine. "You ever want kids?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Of course I want to have kids, Mama."

"How many?"

"I don't know. How am I supposed to know?"

"Well, you should have some general idea. One, two, three, how many?"

"Two."

"That's all! You'd hardly even know they was there."

"Two is enough to keep you busy."

"What about a husband?"

"What do you mean, what about a husband?"

"You want to get married, don't you?"

"Well, of course, if I want to have kids, most likely I want to get married."

"Just when you plan on doing that?"

"When I meet someone I love and someone who wants to marry me. I'm going for a swim," Freda said and dived back into the pool.

Mildred watched her baby swimming back and forth through the turquoise-blue water. She refilled her glass, but left it sitting on the cement. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. The sun was blinding. Then she put on Freda's sunglasses and closed her eyes.

Freda was still just a child, Mildred thought. And Mildred had always worried about her. She remembered one of those hot muggy summer nights when Freda was a baby. Crook was supposedly at the Shingle. She had put Freda in bed with her while she watched TV because she was lonely. Crook had warned her that the baby would get spoiled, too used to sleeping with them, and he had insisted that she sleep in her crib. But how would he know when he wasn't here? As Mildred was watching the television, a mosquito swerved past the screen. Freda already had two purple bruises on her tiny arms where she'd been bitten a few days ago. Mildred wasn't about to let her get bit again. She pulled the top sheet up under Freda's chin and got up from the bed. Then she closed the bedroom door and made sure the window screens were secure. Mildred lay down on top of the sheets and waited. If it was going to bite anybody it was going to be her. She waited some more. She was tired, but kept her eyes wide open. Finally, Mildred felt something soft land on her arm and she slapped it so hard she hurt herself. She walked over to the window to use the light from the moon, and sure enough, she had smashed the damn bug. There wasn't a drop of blood in it, either. With relief she slid under the sheets next to her baby and wrapped her inside her arms. Something Mildred had not done since.

Now, whenever the phone rang late at night, Mildred's heart would pound like crazy because she just knew it was somebody calling to tell her that her baby had drowned, had been hit by a car or was in a horrible accident. Something tragic. And for the past two years Mildred had to keep reminding herself that that baby was a woman now, just like she was.

"Are you seeing someone, Mama?" Freda asked, startling her. She was standing in front of Mildred, blocking the sun's rays and drying herself with a light blue beach towel.

"Like who?"

"Come on, I mean, are you in love with anyone?"

"Chile, the only thang worth loving in that town now is your dog or cat, and I ain't got neither one."

Freda could hear Mildred's bitterness. And she wondered what it felt like to have had five kids, three unsuccessful marriages, and have nothing to do now but sit around and watch your children grow up and leave you one by one.

"You ever thought about what you would do when all of us are gone, Mama?"

Mildred suddenly felt like she had a migraine headache. She never got headaches.

"Girl, Doll ain't but fifteen, I got at least four or five years to be worrying about something like that."

"But have you ever thought about what you're going to do?"

Mildred did not like being put on the spot like this. Do? She wasn't prepared for this kind of question. She hadn't ever thought about what she would do when her kids grew up. She didn't know what she was going to do. Shit. How in the hell was she supposed to know?

"I might go back to school," she said on the spur of the moment, just to get an answer out. Now that she'd said it, it didn't sound bad at all.

"School?" Freda was just as surprised to hear it as Mildred had been saying it.

"Yeah, school, I might just go back to school."

Freda wasn't about to ask her exactly what she would go back for. "That sounds great, Mama. I sure hope you do. It's not too late, either."

"I'll put it this way," Mildred said. "If Money keep his act up, he gon' either be dead or in prison for the rest of his life. He still on that shit, and ain't nothing nobody say to him works. He hardheaded and act like he doing this to get back at me or something. And that Bootsey. She getting so grown I could strangle her sometimes. I don't have no trouble out of Angel. And Doll, if I could pay somebody to give her an ounce of common sense, I would."

Freda started laughing, but not because what Mildred had said was funny. God, Freda thought, how can you save your family from itself?

"I don't want to get as black as you, chile, I'm going upstairs. You coming?"

"Nope, I think I'm going to do a few more laps and swim off some of this wine. I don't like to drink this much, and this sun is giving me more of a buzz than I wanted."

That night the two of them stayed up drinking until almost three o'clock in the morning. Then they crawled into Freda's double bed and said goodnight to each other, but Freda was too wired up to fall asleep. A yellow glow from the streetlight filtered throughout the room. It was so quiet, to Freda it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

She was thinking about all the times she used to sneak in bed with Mildred. Crook was still in the sanitarium then. Freda loved nestling up next to Mildred's warm body.

"Is that you, Freda?" Mildred always asked, knowing full well it was.

Freda always had some excuse. "Mama, Bootsey keep taking up all the room, and she likes to push her knees against mine and—"

"Get on in here, girl," Mildred would say, and she'd lift the covers back and act like she was shuffling around to make room for her, but really wouldn't move an inch. She loved the way her daughter felt against her skin.

"Mama, you asleep?" Freda asked Mildred now.

"Almost. One more drank and my head would be spinning."

"If you can scrounge up the plane fare for everyone to come back out here, I'll help you find a job and a place to stay."

"That's sweet, Freda, but I have to thank about it. You talking about making a pretty big move. Now go to sleep, we'll talk about it tomorrow." Mildred closed her eyes and tried to wipe the grin off her face. She had made up her mind this afternoon that she was coming back. Shit. She wanted the other kids to get the same introduction to the good life that Freda was getting. And Freda had sure changed. She was so much sharper and alert, even sounded wiser. And she wasn't just her daughter any more, this person was her new friend.

They overslept.

"Aw, shit, Freda," Mildred said as she was hurrying to pack the next morning. "You forgot to remind me!"

"Remind you about what?"

"You were supposed to pluck my eyebrows this time like yours!"

"Oh, Mama. I thought it was something important."

"It is important. I want to look different when I get home."

"You do look different. You're two shades darker, and you look rested."

"I sure do, don't I?" Mildred said, smiling to herself in the mirror. "I sure do." If this place and this lifestyle could make her look this good in just two weeks, Lord, what would years do?

"Here, Mama, take these," Freda said, handing her a pair of earrings. They were shaped like half moons.

Mildred took them gladly.

"Thank you, Freda. I didn't want to tell you this, but you know that pretty red brassiere you had in your drawer?"

"Had?"

"I borrowed it. I ain't never seen a brassiere that red before. Okay?"

"It's quite okay, Mama. I put it there so you would see it."

"Do me one favor, though, would you, baby?"

"What's that?"

"Promise me you'll start wearing one regularly so they won't be hanging down to your navel."

"I promise, I promise, I promise!"

They were announcing the last call for Mildred's plane when they reached the ticket counter. She kissed Freda on the cheek, but there wasn't any time to hug. Mildred was already inside the entrance gate, running, waving, and yelling. "Just give me a minute to get my money together, baby, and we'll be back out here so fast it'll make your head swim."

Twelve

P
OINT HAVEN HAD SHRUNK
. Seemed like Mildred had been gone a year instead of just fifteen days. The streets looked narrower and shorter, the houses old and rickety. Even the people in South Park looked like they had aged and their clothes looked like they were from another era. Mildred's front yard was nothing more than a patch of grass to her now. Hell, she'd seen rolling hills and green mountains, mansions hanging off cliffs, had eaten Chinese, Italian, and Mexican food, and had shopped in Beverly Hills. Mildred felt like she'd stretched out like a rubber band and now she'd been snapped back into reality.

"So, how was it?" Bootsey asked, "I bet Miss Show and Tell went all out for you, huh?"

"You know, you got a smart-ass mouth. One day it's gon' get you into trouble. I had a ball. Angel, get those clothes off the line, would you? And where's Doll?" Mildred asked.

"She went to K-Mart."

"With what and with who?"

"I don't know," Angel said. She was busy reading a teen magazine with the Jackson Five on the cover.

"Where's Money?"

"Upstairs, asleep, where else?" said Bootsey.