Mama (29 page)

"Damn, Freda, what are you eating in New York?" Angel asked, when she first saw her.

"You look good, girl, don't listen to this bag of bones," Mildred said. "It's about time you gained a little weight. You look like you could stand to do some sit-ups, though."

Freda had learned something from her mama—how to lie—and had switched around the last two digits of her social security number, added a few years to her length of employment and a zero to the end of her income, and had managed to get some credit cards. The week before she flew out to California, she went on a shopping spree at Macy's and Bloomingdale's. Bought Mildred two lace Christian Dior bras with underwires and bought herself one with matching panties. Of course, she had to have the perfect dress and had spent over a hundred dollars for it. She also bought Angel and Ethan four red long-stemmed hand-blown wine goblets.

Angel had asked her if she wanted to be one of the bridesmaids, but Freda had told her she wasn't sure what day she was going to arrive and she'd rather not hold up the show, what with all those rehearsals and fittings and everything. The truth was, Freda felt the same as Mildred did about big church weddings. They reminded her of funerals.

"I can't wait to meet this Ethan," Freda hollered from the kitchen to Mildred and Doll. "What does he look like?"

"He's real light and his hair is straight," Doll said, laughing under her breath. Mildred, who was sitting on the floor, picked up the brush and whacked her on the knee. Then Doll pulled Mildred's head back so it fell in her lap, took the comb, and zigzagged it against Mildred's scalp.

"I asked you to scratch my head, not dig my damn brains out. Pour me a stiff one, would you, Freda?"

Freda poured some VO into one glass, and tequila into another. She went back into the living room. "Did you say he's got straight hair? Is he mixed with something?"

"Yep, white and white," Doll said, cracking up.

"He's white!" Freda almost spit her drink out on the carpet.

"Angel didn't tell you yet?" asked Doll. Mildred was very quiet. It was almost as though she wasn't in the room.

"No, Angel didn't mention a thing about this. I just assumed he was black. What the hell. It's almost the twenty-first century, and things are changing. If she wants to marry somebody white, that's her business."

Mildred and Doll looked at each other like they were in shock. They'd expected Freda to have a fit. What Freda didn't tell them was that she had slept with a white man herself, out of sheer curiosity. He was in her broadcasting class. Had taken her for a drink, then invited her up to his apartment. Without even thinking about it, she went, and without giving it another thought, spent the night. What she learned was that white men made love the same way black men did. She wouldn't have known he was white if she had closed her eyes. As a matter of fact, he had made her Christmas bearable. So now, what could she possibly say about Angel marrying one?

"What does he look like?" Freda asked.

"He's..." Mildred began.

"He's rich and drives the baaadest peach Mercedes, and—"

"He's handsome," Mildred said, cutting Doll off and sipping her drink, "and he's tall and got light brown hair. He's gon' be a dentist in a few months."

"Do you guys like him? Is he friendly?"

"Yeah, we like him. Of course he's friendly, especially after I told him if he mess over my daughter I'd blow his brains out."

"Mama, you didn't!"

"I tell all y'all boyfriends the same thang, and I mean it. What difference do it make if he white, he still a man."

"Are you gon' ask Angel the same thang you asked me, Freda?" Doll asked, giving her the eye.

"About what?"

"You know, personal thangs."

"It's none of my business."

"Since when?"

"I just hope this won't be one of those stiff and dry weddings," Freda said.

"Girl, puleeeze. It's still gon' be a lot of black folks there who know how to party," Doll said.

They heard Angel's car pull up and she walked in without knocking. She said hello to everyone and Freda gave her a wicked grin.

"Mama," Angel said, "can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

Doll thumped Mildred on the head, then stuck the comb into a mound of red hair and pushed her away. "I'm finished anyway," she said, and flipped one leg up and over Mildred's head, leaving Mildred sitting on the floor like a Raggedy Ann doll.

"I'm coming," Mildred said, in a tired voice. She was not only tired but drunk. She and Freda had been drinking all morning. Freda got up and went into the bathroom to change into her swimsuit. She wanted to work on her tan. Doll went into Mildred's room to wake up Little Richard for lunch. Mildred followed Angel outside and within minutes they heard Mildred's voice getting louder and Angel screaming. What Freda didn't know and Doll did know but had kept her mouth shut about, was that Mildred hadn't come up with the money. When Doll and Freda heard the front door slam and Mildred stormed into the living room with Angel trailing behind her, no one moved an inch.

"Look, you little ungrateful wench. I don't care if you never get married. I told you I don't have no money, not one damn dime. And I don't. He ain't worth all this trouble and I don't know why you had to have such an expensive-ass wedding in the first place. He's rich and he's white so let his mama and daddy pay for the whole goddamn thang. I don't like him noway. And I don't care if you get married in a damn sheet!" Angel was crying so hard she could hardly catch her breath. Like most brides-to-be, her nerves were frazzled. Mildred flopped on the couch and crossed her arms. Angel ran out the door and Freda jumped up.

"Mama, you didn't have to talk to her like that. Damn, it's her wedding. If you didn't have the money and knew you weren't gonna have it, why'd you have to wait until the last minute to tell her?"

"Why don't you just shut up? This ain't none of your damn business, anyway. You been way over there in New York, living it up, and now you thank you can just come in here and jump in the middle of something and put in your two cents when you don't even know what the hell is going on."

Freda heard Angel's engine start up and told Doll not to let her out of the driveway. Doll ran outside and Little Richard followed her.

"I don't care what's going on. You don't have any business talking to Angel like that."

"I don't, do I? Well let me tell you one thang, sister. I'm about sick of you and everybody else around here asking me to do this and do that, like I'm some kind of goddamn miracle worker. Have any of you bastards ever helped me when I needed some, huh? And now, here you come on our high and mighty horse, with your college-educated ass, like you the Queen of Sheba or something. And I'll tell you another thang while I'm at it. I'm not going to the little whore's wedding since she feel like this. And I mean it! I hope the church fall down and crush every last one of y'all. And I'm not drunk!"

Without realizing what she was doing, Freda walked over and slapped Mildred so hard it hurt her own hand. At first Mildred just looked up at Freda like she was crazy, then she raised her own hand as if she was going to strike back. But she saw that I-dare-you look in Freda's eyes, sank back into the cushions, and started crying.

Freda ran outside to Angel.

"Don't worry, sis, I'll help you. You know Mama didn't mean what she said. You know how she is. Try not to let it get to you. She's drunk. Now what exactly do you need?"

Angel got out of the car and Freda pulled her sister into her arms. When Angel caught her breath, she told her. "I still need a hundred and twenty dollars to get my dress. I don't have the seventy-five for our best man's tuxedo, and that's about it. I don't want to ask Ethan for any more money, and I already told him Mama was going to help. Freda, why'd she have to say all those terrible things to me? All she had to do was be up front and tell me she didn't have the money in the first place. She had me thinking she wouldn't have a problem. Why?"

"Look, don't worry about Mama. Let her sleep it off. She's just tired and drunk, Angel. And she's broke. And she doesn't have anybody. Besides, you know Mama has always lived over her head. And this is no different. She just couldn't pull this one off and now she's trying to strike out at you and all of us. Try to understand that. You know she wouldn't do anything deliberately to hurt any of us. And don't worry, honey. I've got my Visa and MasterCharge, and I don't care how much all the stuff you need costs. This is gonna be the best damn wedding anybody in this family has had yet."

When Freda walked back into the house, Mildred was sipping on another drink and staring blankly at the wall. She did not move her eyes when Freda poured herself one too and sat directly across from her.

"So, now I guess you feel like a big woman, after damn near breaking your daughter's heart, huh?" Freda said to her.

Mildred took her glass and threw it at Freda, but Freda had foreseen something like this happening and ducked. The glass shattered on the wall behind her head.

"I'll tell you one damn thang," Mildred said, as she got up and walked toward her bedroom. "I won't be going to no wedding, and that ain't no threat, it's a promise." She slammed the door behind her.

Curly Mae arrived the day before the wedding. Like everyone else who had never been to California, she was in awe of everything when she first set foot on the hot LA pavement. And Curly was even more impressed with Mildred's house.

"This house is finer than the ones we got on Strawberry Lane, chile," she said, limping from room to room with her cane.

"I wouldn't say all that, but it's mine, every last drop of it. Come on, girl, let me show you the rest of it. Did you bring your bathing suit like I told you to?"

"Naw, girl. I told you I can't swim with my leg. But I did bring"—Curly scrunched up her shoulders, unable to stop giggling—"some shorts that belong to one of the kids. Cut-offs. I figure at least I can get a little sun on these pale thighs."

Mildred took her through the rest of the house and then outside to show off her pool and flowers. The blossoms looked iridescent to Mildred, maybe because for the first time in months she was sober. But since her favorite sister-in-law and best friend had finally made it to California, today was a good day to celebrate. She went to the kitchen and pulled out a quart of VO, and poured each of them a drink. Mildred had already told Curly that Ethan was white, which didn't faze Curly at all.

"So, how is everythang going?" Curly asked.

"What you mean?" Mildred said, defensively.

"All the wedding plans going on schedule? Is there anythang I can do? That's why I came a day early, so I could help do something."

"I wouldn't know, really. I'm not going."

Curly gulped down her drink. "What you say, girl?"

"You heard me the first time. And don't ask me no more questions about it, Curly." Mildred reached for the bottle awkwardly and poured another glassful.

"Milly, now I know you must have had a falling out with Angel about something, but damn, don't be ridiculous. I came all the way out here to have a good time, see something beautiful—my niece getting married—and I'm not walking into that church without you. You need to swallow some of that Peacock pride and whatever else it is that's bothering you."

"I'm not going, so drop the subject."

"We'll see."

The next morning, the whole house was chaos. Women running around half naked, bumping into each other. Music blasting. Earrings lost. Bras found. Shoes polished. Runs in panty hose, bath water gone cold. Curly was pulling sponge rollers out of her hair and Freda was in the shower, where two dresses were hanging up so the wrinkles would fall out. Mildred was still hiding in her bedroom with the door closed. Freda had told everybody to ignore her. When she finished drying off, she wrapped Mildred's bathrobe around her and walked directly into Mildred's room without knocking.

"What you want?"

"I came to see how you were feeling."

"I feel just fine and dandy."

"Mama."

"What?"

"Why are you doing this ?"

"Doing what?"

"Dammit, Mama. When you gonna learn that being so damn stubborn isn't gonna get you anywhere? All you're doing is hurting yourself and hurting Angel even more. When are you gonna stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself and think about somebody else's feelings for a change? You like hurting people, is that it?"

"No. I don't like hurting people," Mildred said, cutting her eyes up at Freda. "You should know that better than anybody."

"Then think about this. We don't have a father to march any of us down the aisle. But we do have you—our mama—and each other. So how do you think Angel's gonna feel twenty years from now, knowing that on the most important day of her life her mama was sitting at home pouting like some three-year-old?"

Mildred clasped her hands together. "My hair is a mess."

"I'll press it and put some curls in it for you," Freda said, feeling as though she was getting somewhere. She always did have a way with Mildred. Freda was the only one who could raise her voice and Mildred would listen. And now the only one who could smack her and get away with it.

"What I'ma wear?"

"I thought you were gonna wear that dress Doll made for her prom. The peach one that stretches, with the matching jacket."

"I don't know where it is."

"Well, I do. It's steaming in the bathroom with mine."

Mildred looked up at Freda and broke into a smile. "You thank you slick, don't you?"

Freda walked over and kissed her on the head. "Now get your fat ass up and get in the shower. And tie your hair up. We don't have all day."

"You can watch your mouth. You thank you grown, but I'm still the mama in this house. Can I wear them orange earrings?"

"Yes, you can wear 'em, you can have 'em. I don't care. Just step on it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm stepping on it. Hollering at me like I'm some child," Mildred mumbled as she walked toward the bathroom.

The wedding was fabulous, of course, and everything went just the way it was supposed to. When Angel saw Mildred sitting at the end of the front row, she stuck her hand out and squeezed Mildred's shoulder as she passed her. Mildred winked at her, glassy-eyed and head all clogged up, and the look on Angel's face said that no apologies were necessary. Freda sat next to Mildred. She was even more choked up than Mildred was, and when Angel said "I do," for the first time in her life Freda wished it was her.