Second House from the Corner (21 page)

“Hello.”

“Hi, Mama.”

It's Rory. The spell is broken. “Honey, hang on for two seconds, okay?” I push the mute button. “Martin, I have to go.”

He's on his feet, walking me to the door. “Promise you'll come back tomorrow evening. I'd love to make you dinner.”

I undo the locks and turn the knob.

“Beef or chicken?”

“Beef.” I call over my shoulder.

“Rory, sweetie.” I shove the phone against my ear and he's crying.

“I miss you so much. When are you coming home? Daddy won't tell me,” he whispers.

“Soon, baby. Where are you?”

“In the closet. I didn't want Grandma Juju to know I was calling you.”

“Why?”

“Because she said I can't call you every time something doesn't go my way.”

“What happened?”

“She yelled at me because she told me to make up my bed and clean my room. I did, but she said it wasn't neat.”

My heart burst. I want to get into my car and drive home. I want to hug him. “Rory, do you trust Mommy?”

“Yes.” He whimpers.

“Just be a good boy and listen to Daddy and Grandma Juju. As soon as I can come home, I will. Write me a letter.”

“I don't know the address.”

“Do you have a pen?”

“No, I'm in the closet, remember?”

“Okay, write the letter. Tell Two to draw me a picture and call me tomorrow with a pen so I can give you the address. I love you, sweetie, even when we are not together. Don't ever forget it.”

“I love you more.” He hangs up.

 

TWENTY-SIX

The Mountains Are High

The tears fall freely on my drive back to Gran's, and the effect of the alcohol wearing off adds to my torment. What type of mother am I to leave my cubs?

But Preston told you to go.

So fucking what? I'm no better than—

Your mother?

Shut up.

I take Belmont Avenue through Fairmount Park, drive past the plateau, the spot Will Smith describes with fond memories in his famous song “Summertime.” It was where the famous “Greek Pic Niks” used to take place every July. Gran would never let me go, because before the weekend was over someone always got shot and some girl got raped. Crystal went behind Gran's back and would come home with long tales, and rolls of 35mm shots of the freakiness that went on.

I put my blinker on, turned onto the Strawberry Mansion Bridge, and then over to Cumberland Drive. It's easy to get from West Philly to North Philly through the park, and when I make a left onto Ridge Avenue, I see the Dell Music Center. It makes me think of my mother, and how she used her pretty to get us into the amphitheater to see Diana Ross perform. My mother, Lanette Hayes, was always a great flirt. So when she opened her eyes fully, turned them onto the burly man at the gate, with her Louisiana accent exaggerated, he was a victim of her will.

She balked, “Some horrible man pushed me down on the ground, held his hand to my throat, and then snatched our tickets.” She ran her fingers through her hair with her bony wrist, like she was pulling herself together.

“Come with me, ma'am,” said the man wearing the black security polo. Mommy kept squeezing my hand as he escorted us past all the people and up to the front row.

“For your troubles, ma'am.”

Mommy patted his wrist and gave him her eyes again as a thank you.

I was so close to Diana that I could see her Adam's apple bob. She sang all of my favorites, “I'm Coming Out,” “Missing You,” “Love Hangover.” My mother lost her mind when she sang the theme from
Mahogany
. “Ain't No Mountain High Enough” was next, and that's when she tugged on my ear and whispered,

“Ain't no mountain high enough to keep me from you, baby. I'll always be here for you. Never forget it.”

Two weeks later she was taken away from me on an ambulance stretcher.

*   *   *

Dauphin Street leads me all the way to Fifteenth, and then I have to come back around to Sydenham Street, since it's a one-way. As I lock up my car, I'm rubbed with how this separation will damage the children. I've worked so hard to make them issue-free by watching them with hawk eyes, giving them all that they need. And now this will be their issue. My mother was a liar, and now so am I.

I push open the front door. The house has a hum to it. Gran is already in bed. I want to call Preston, but I'm afraid of what hearing his voice will do to me, so I take a Schlitz from the fridge and carry my phone out to the front steps. The steps are smooth and cold against my dress. The street is quiet. None of the kids that I grew up playing with live here anymore, except for Precious down the street. But we don't have anything in common, haven't since I fled. I instant-message Preston.

How are we going to do this?

Two minutes later he replies.

You're a liar.

And you're perfect? The kids miss me.

I know.

I want to come home. We need to talk. Call me.

That's not a good idea.

I'm angry.

Why are you acting so over the top?

Our whole marriage is built on a lie.

I'm coming home.

Please stay where you are, for the children's sake. Let's not make this ugly. I'll call you when I can. Good night.

I stare at the phone until my vision is blurry and then power it down. The tasteless beer is finished and I feel restless. I suddenly wish Crystal had left me a joint. My mind finds Martin and calms. It was amazing how for just those few hours that we were together my discomfort had retreated. He has the same ability he had when I was fifteen. Underneath Martin, in the back of the car, in his bed, the sting of losing my parents disappeared. The potholes were filled and I'd forget that my life was a blistering sore, if only in those moments.

 

TWENTY-SEVEN

The Runaround

Angst chased me all night in my dreams. I woke up feeling like I wanted to stay with the bedspread over my head until the nightmare that was now my life lifted. The only reason I threw my legs over the side of the bed was because I didn't want to answer to Gran. She had a dislike for lazy. My hands cup my breasts. Liv's milk didn't come in as heavily as before, and I know it's because I'm drying up. I'm an old prune. I can't think about anything but home, and I bite my knuckles in attempt to get myself together.

But this is what you wanted. Freedom.

Not like this.

I throw on a robe and head downstairs. I dial the house, but it rolls to voice mail. I leave a message for the kids. My voice is a fake cheer.

“Hi munchkins, it's Mommy. I miss you guys and I hope you have the best day ever. Please don't forget to put your toys away and brush your teeth. Call me tonight so I can sing you a bedtime song. Love you.”

I try Preston's cell phone but he doesn't answer. Why won't Preston talk to me? How the hell are we supposed to work things out? I hear Gran on the steps and I chase away my feelings by percolating her coffee and boiling two eggs.

“Morning.”

“Hey, Gran,” I call from the kitchen. When I carry her cup and plate into the dining room she is sitting in her chair, pressed out and polished.

“Where are you going all dolled up?” I ask. She's wearing a red button-down sweater with a feathered broach, her hair is in pin curls, and she even has on blush and lipstick.

“To the doctor's office. And then this evening Mr. Scooter coming by to take me to the All You Can Eat Buffet. They just built a new one up on Roosevelt Boulevard.”

I hand her the brunch I've made.

“No eggs for me today, just the coffee with no sugar and a lot of cream. I don't want the doctor to say my cholesterol is too high. I'll save all of my eating for the buffet.” She laughs, and I see that she's put her teeth in. Gran looks pretty and happy today, and I borrow a little of her sunshine and force a smile back.

“You ready to talk yet?” She looks through me like I'm made of Plexiglas.

I shake my head no.

“Always been like that, walking round here like you ready to bust. Ain't good. Better when you get stuff off your chest, gal.” She gives me her Gran look.

I shift my weight.

“Planning on going to see your mother?”

“How are you getting to the doctor's office?”

“You going to take me. So run along and get dressed. Should be dressed anyway, it's almost ten.”

*   *   *

Getting Gran to the doctor's is no easy feat. I'm driving the Nissan, which is ten years old and low to the ground, so just getting her into the car is an ordeal. When we arrive at Temple University Hospital, she wants me to drive her to the front and then meet her upstairs, but she doesn't tell me where upstairs. Then, of course, she doesn't answer her ancient flip phone until I call for the eighth time.

“Where are you?” I'm exasperated.

“Gal, I thought something was wrong. I told you fourth floor.” And she hangs up without saying good-bye, like I'm inconveniencing her.

My thin blouse clings to my sweaty skin, and I am flipping through
Lucky
magazine when Gran shuffles out. She is smiling and the doctor is behind her.

“This here is my grandbaby. Down from New York City. She's an actress. Had a commercial run in the Super Bowl.”

“Oh, you're the one your granny is always bragging about.”

I go pink and take Gran's arm. “Nice meeting you.” I stretch my hand. His is chapped and calloused.

“See you in six weeks, Ms. Hayes.”

As we walk out, I look back to make sure we haven't left anything, and everyone is looking at me. I bet they are thinking,
is she really famous?
I smile as big as I can, and let them wonder.

In the elevator, Gran leans against the back wall.

“Are you tired?”

“No, just catching my breath from all the poking and prying. I'll be fine. I need to make a few quick stops before we go home.”

Of course she does, and I wonder again how she does all of this when I'm not around.

By the time we get home, the sun has meandered to the other side of the street. Gran and I have only been in the house for five minutes before the front door drags across the wood floor. Crystal walks in, singing.

“Friday night, just got paid.”

Behind her are my young cousins. They've sprouted up like cornstalks. I hug them both and try ruffling their hair, but Crystal's oldest boy is taller than me.

“How old are you now?” I eye him.

When Derell answers, his eyes smile same as when he was a boy. “Just turned twenty-one.”

I slap my hand across my forehead. Damn, time flies.

“Mike-Mike just turned eight, not that you sent him a birthday gift,” Crystal snares at me. “You can give him a few bucks now. I mean damn, Faye, don't be so cheap. He's a kid, for Christ sake.”

“Crystal, stop all that mess, you hear?” Gran calls from her spot at the dining room table.

“Mama, why you always taking up for her?”

“Girl, hush, I say.”

Crystal crosses her arm over her big breasts and stomps her foot. Her weave needs combing, and her jeans are too tight because her gut is wiggling under her red shirt.

“Why you running round here in them little clothes?” Gran asks.

“I be back for Mike on Sunday. I packed his church clothes. Derell just stopped in to say hi to Faye. You listen—”

“Where you going?” Gran holds onto the dining room table and lifts herself up.

“I axed you on Monday if Mike-Mike could spend the whole weekend.”

“No, you didn't. I'm going out with Mr. Scooter in a few minutes. I wasn't expecting him till Saturday night, same as always.” She looks at me.

“I have dinner plans, too.”

Crystal looks back and forth between us. “Well, Derell, you goin' have to hold it down until Gran get back. Mama ain't gonna be out long.”

“We might go to the casino afterward,” Gran reveals, lowering herself back down.

“That's cool,” said Derell. “I didn't have plans.”

Gran huffs. “Y'all can stay, but don't be tearing up my house.”

Derell moves his cap to the back and leans into me for a hug. “Nice seeing you, Faye. How long you here?”

“She 'ont know,” Crystal answers for me.

The boys head down into the basement. I haven't been down there, but I assume that's where their video games and other boy toys are. I'm sure it's the coolest place in the house because Gran still doesn't have an air conditioner. The one fan blowing out hot air and one fan blowing in cool air aren't working, and I am a sticky mess.

“Mama, you always keep Mike-Mike for the weekend for church. Don't get new 'cause Faye's here.”

“I'm going up to take a shower. Gran, have fun.”

She looks like she wants to say something, looks at Crystal, and then holds her tongue. Crystal has flopped down on the sofa and is watching a talk show.

When I come back downstairs, Gran is gone. Crystal looks me up and down.

“Where you going all dressed up?”

“I'm not dressed up. Just dressed,” I shoot back.

“Excuse the hell out of me.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, give me a ride.”

I pretend to be bothered but really I don't care. Crystal is the only woman close to my age that I've spoken to since coming to Philly. I don't feel comfortable calling my mommy friends back home because what am I going to say? My husband kicked me out? Melanie and Erica have texted me, but I haven't responded.

I unlock the car and Crystal climbs in. Before I can pull out of the tight parking space, she is blasting Power 99FM.