Mama (25 page)

"We all have problems," Jasper yelled out. "
Sometimes,
they can make you so discouraged and panic-stricken, that you feel destined for
gloom.
Destined to
suffer.
Destined for
misery.
Am I telling the truth this morning, brothers and sisters?"

A few voices called out from the congregation. "You telling the truth, Reverend." "Tell it."

"
Sometimes,
you can get so full of sorrow and so heavy-hearted, that you feel like you in a jail run by Satan."

"Let me out!" somebody yelled.

Mildred turned to see who it was, but she didn't recognize the woman. Bootsey elbowed her, and Mildred turned back around to face Jasper.

"
Sometimes,
you confronted with situations that feel so threatening, feel like misfortune is your middle name. You feel so downcast, so weary, so spiritless, and you don't know which way to turn. Am I right or wrong, this morning, y'all?"

"You right, Reverend, you right."

"And it seem like the harder you try, the less progress you make. Sometime, do it feel like you in a boat rowing backwards when the island you trying to get to is up ahead?"

"All I see is fog," yelled a fat woman with a tall white hat on. She was fanning herself with white gloves.

"But wait a minute. So you rowing backwards, but thank about this, this morning. Who is it you thank give you the strength to row? Satan? No. It's the devil causing all that fog. It's the devil making you feel discouraged, making it so hard you don't even feel like rowing no more. Y'all want me to tell you the answer? It's our Lord Jesus Christ that gives you the strength to row."

"Amen."

"But what can you do, brothers and sisters, what can you do to turn your boat around?"

Reverend Jasper looked out at their blank faces.

"You can pray."

Pray, thought Mildred. Shit. Was that what she was supposed to do when she couldn't pay her house note? When she needed a man to put his arms around her? Pray.

"Once we reach an understanding with God, every last one of our problems can be solved. Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?"

Did that mean God was supposed to be inside you, Mildred wondered? If it did, then where the hell was he? She'd already been here a half hour and didn't feel no different.

"The Bible is full of promise," Jasper declared.

"Ain't that the truth," Mildred said to herself.

"Let me tell you a story," he said.

Mildred eased her red pumps off. This was gon' take all day. She sure wished she could smoke in here.

"Know this first. Desire is prayer. Did you hear me, brothers and sisters? I said
desire
is prayer. And in order to find God, you must first have discernment." Mildred did not know what that word meant. But it sounded like something quiet. She took off her gloves.

"
Sometimes,
" Jasper yelled, "God demands mental strength in his children, before he heals. Take the case of the teenage girl who injured her ear. For two years she couldn't hear nothin' but a roaring sound. For two years she slept in her bed on that bad ear, and she slept so very sound. But do you know what she did every single night for those two years? That little girl prayed to hear like normal again. She had faith in the power of Almighty God. And then one day. I said,
one day,
sisters and brothers, after praying persistently to our God, that little girl's hearing was completely restored."

Reverend Jasper lowered his voice.

"A miracle, you say? To human view, yes, it is a miracle. But that's how our God works." Now his voice was rising again, and he was clapping his hands. Then he started laughing. "The power of Almighty God is
swift. Immediate.
His healing powers are
dramatic.
And
perfect.
Can I get an Amen?" he asked, waving his black-robed arm up into the air. Sweat was pouring down his face now, and he patted it dry.

"Amen," roared the congregation.

"Preach," someone said.

"Teach us the truth," someone yelled out.

Jasper continued to tell healing stories for what felt like hours to Mildred.

Finally, he said, "I leave you today, my brothers and sisters, with the
belief,
not in
superstition,
but
knowing
that the power of
God
is within you. We must
wake up
and wean ourselves from Satan. Have no
fear
of the mountain, brothers and sisters, because the
spirit
of God, the
faith
in
God
alone lessens the sum total of all evil. Let us bow our heads."

As Reverend Jasper prayed, all heads looked toward the floor until they heard him say Amen. When the organ music began, he asked for donations. Mildred heard the sound of rustling in pockets and pocketbooks and she dropped one of her last five dollars into the brass plate.

She could hardly get her feet in her shoes because they had swollen up, but Mildred told Bootsey she wanted to walk home anyway. She shook hands with folks she hadn't seen in years and told Jasper how much she enjoyed his sermon. He was on his way to somebody's house for dinner and thanked Mildred for coming.

She stood outside on the church steps and could see her daddy's rusty brown house. It looked like it was on its last legs, like most of the houses around here. Mildred was glad she was going back to California. She fastened her coat and started down the steps, and there was Percy, pulling up along the curb.

"Need a ride?" he asked, as he leaned over to roll the window down farther. Mildred looked at him for a minute. He was so nice, it was too bad she couldn't force herself to love him.

"Naw, but thank you, Percy. For some reason, I feel like walking today."

"You sure, now?"

"Positive," she said, and started walking down the sidewalk. The yellow, orange, and red leaves were dropping from the trees. The October air was crisp and Mildred felt it stiffening her hands. She slid them into her pockets and continued to walk. Mildred was thinking about some of the things Jasper had said, but she was disappointed. She did not feel an inch closer to God.

Fifteen

"H
ERE," DELBERT SAID
, passing Freda a mirror with eight hefty lines of cocaine spread out on top. She took it carefully, pressing her thumb on the straw so it wouldn't fall into the water.

"I don't know if this was such a bright idea, Delbert. We could have a heart attack in here. This water is a hundred and seven degrees, you know." She set the mirror on the redwood floorboards surrounding the hot tub and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"We won't have a heart attack, sweetie. We can get out now if you want to."

"For fifteen bucks an hour, I'm staying."

They'd been up two nights in a row, and had walked here, a new establishment called Shibui Gardens, that rented individual saunas and hot tubs and gave Swedish massages. "Let's cool out tonight," she had said to him earlier.

Delbert lit a Sherman cigarette. Freda picked up the mirror and snorted a few lines. Then she lit a Kool. They always smoked lots of cigarettes when they did coke. Delbert raked his long fingers through his dreadlocks, moving them away from his eyes. He had stopped combing his hair almost a year and a half ago, right after he and Freda had moved in together.

"I gotta get out of here," she finally said, and got up. Delbert didn't move, but he watched Freda's wet and shining body move gracefully out of the water. He loved looking at her naked, and under these yellow lights, her brown body glowed. Freda's hair was now short and curly and she didn't have on any makeup except lipstick, most of which Delbert had kissed off. She opened the adjoining door, and closed it behind her. Then she stood under the shower and turned on the cold water. It felt like someone was throwing electric darts all over her body and the next thing she knew, Delbert was rubbing up against her, cupping her breasts inside his hands.

"I'm too high," Freda said, breaking free and lying down on one of the wooden benches. Delbert followed her and then lay down on top of her, but she pushed him away. He went back out the door to get the mirror. When he returned, he walked around her to another bench. The ceiling was made of redwood strips, and through it Freda watched the leaves on the trees, which were swaying and making a whispering sound. Pretty, she thought. But then again, everything in Marin County was pretty, and everything seemed like it was made out of redwood.

Freda was buzzing.

"When are we gonna stop this, Delbert?" she asked, staring up through the cracks of wood. Most of the time she loved the sensations she got from cocaine. It made her feel perceptive, sometimes so perceptive that the real condition of her life was as clear as glass.

"Stop what, sweetie?"

"That," she said, pointing. Delbert was bent over the mirror with the straw in his nose. Freda was getting tired of this whole scene. Staying up three and four nights a week, partying. Her neck was always full of tension, like it was now, and it felt like someone was plucking guitar strings up and down it. She rarely ate a decent meal. And her skin was sallow. They never relaxed, which was why Freda had wanted to come here tonight.

"Didn't I promise you I'd only sell on the weekends, and I'm keeping my promise, right?"

"Yeah, you're keeping your promise, Delbert. But you also promised me that you'd get a real job, but you haven't. You just had to take up auto-body repair. But when was the last time you went to class?"

"It's hard getting up at six-thirty every morning."

"Tell me about it. What time do you think I get up to go to that stupid secretarial job?"

"You didn't have to take that job, Freda."

"Yeah, well a lot of good a B.A. in sociology has gotten me. When I met you, Delbert, you had all kinds of plans about what you were going to do with your life. That was one of the things I really liked about you. Your energy and your drive. I've got ideas too, you know, and my mama didn't raise me to live like this. Drinking tequila, snorting cocaine, and hanging out every night till the crack of dawn."

"Nobody's making you do this, Freda, so don't blame me."

"I'm not blaming you, Delbert. Let's get out of here. I want to make us a nice dinner tonight."

"I'm not hungry," he said.

When they got home, their Doberman pinscher greeted them at the front door. Freda had decorated this house to suit the rustic atmosphere, using plenty of reds and purples and whites to complement the woodwork. She patted Dane on the head and went to the kitchen, where she took out a thick steak and slid it under the broiler. Then she made a salad. By the time she walked into the bedroom with a plate in each hand, Delbert was sitting up in bed doing more lines. He had set up the backgammon board and he had a guilty look on his face.

"How about a quick game?" he asked her.

"Sure, why not," Freda said, setting their plates on the headboard. The bed was wooden too, and whoever had made it had started to carve a monkey on one of the bedposts but had stopped before they could chisel out the eyes. Freda's heart was beating so fast and she was already so bored that she needed to do something to stop from fidgeting. "Any more lines?" she finally asked. Delbert took a small Baggie from the table and poured about a tablespoon onto the empty mirror. Freda got the razor blade to chop up the rocks.

They played five straight games and when she finally looked at the clock, it was two in the morning. The plates of food were still untouched.

"You feel like it, now?" Delbert asked, looking desperate.

Even though Freda was far too high to feel anything, she took her clothes off and lay down beside him. Delbert was a good lover—a slow, considerate lover. But each time she felt herself on the verge of coming, something blocked it. It didn't stop Delbert. Under normal circumstances, he would have waited for her, but tonight he couldn't help himself and Freda was glad. He fell asleep instantly. But she couldn't sleep. She got up and went into the dining room.

Now it was three o'clock, and Freda still wasn't sleepy. She found the half pint of gold tequila and drank some from the bottle. It burned her throat. What the hell, she thought, it was tomorrow already, so she walked back into the bedroom and lifted the Baggie from the table. She tiptoed back into the kitchen and took out about a teaspoonful of cocaine, putting some flour back in its place. Who would know the difference out of a whole ounce? She put the Baggie back, then sat at the dining room table in front of her typewriter. She put a piece of paper in, then took out enough coke to make two lines. Her mind was already into next year. "Things I Have to Change" headed her list. Quit smoking. Exercise. Apply for
real
jobs in my field. She put a question mark after the word field. Stop getting high (at least during the week). Apply to graduate schools. Write something every day. She chopped up more coke and typed "Article Ideas" on a separate sheet of paper. By five o'clock, Freda had used up seven pieces of paper and felt like a zombie. She went to lie down, but each time she closed her eyes, it was hopeless. Delbert was snoring.

When she heard the birds chirping outside their bedroom window, Freda realized she must have finally dozed off. It was six-thirty, so she got up. She didn't bother to wake Delbert. She took a hot then a cold shower, hoping she would feel invigorated, but it didn't work. She got out her stash and did a few more lines to perk herself up.

When she got to work, Freda called Berkeley and New York University to ask them to send her their journalism brochures. This vacation had lasted a whole year.

When the brochures came in the mail, she didn't try to hide them.

"I know you don't want to move all the way to New York, Freda," Delbert said.

"I don't really know, Delbert, but I gotta get away from here. I'm falling apart."

"You mean you would leave me?"

"If that's what I have to do to get my life back on the right track. Yes," she said, swallowing the huge lump in her throat.