Two Thin Dimes (15 page)

“Come on over here, Eddie Lee. I've fixed this for you.”

“Jamaica, you always make a fuss over me every time I come home.” Eddie Lee waved his hand through the air. “There's no need.”

“It's my pleasure, besides, you deserve it,” Jamaica told him. “You've been clean for how long?”

“Four weeks,” Eddie Lee replied. “Four weeks of pure hell.”

He looked up, and Jamaica offered him a half-smile.

“Come on, Eddie Lee, I know it's not that bad.”

Eddie Lee offered a laugh. “It's not.” He slapped his massive hand against his paunch. “I feel good.”

Eddie Lee lifted his fork to his mouth, and sampled Jamaica's cuisine. “Not bad. You're becoming a regular chef-girl-Ardee.”

It made her smile. Jamaica sat down upon the tattered arm of Eddie Lee's large recliner. The jaggedness of the taped tears in the faux leather no longer bothered her. She had become used to it.

“And you're becoming a regular Eddie Lee Murphy,” she told him. “So what time do you have to be back at the treatment center?”

“I got a pass until four. Can you believe it, they trust me to stay clean for eight whole hours?”

Jamaica folded her arms and laughed. It ended suddenly when her thoughts shifted to someone else. She had been waiting to ask Eddie Lee a certain question for a long time. Since they were now alone, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“So what happened between you and Mrs. Harris?” she asked.

Eddie Lee stopped chewing. The question had taken him by total surprise. Slowly, he lifted his napkin, wiped his mouth clean, and stared at the table for several moments gathering his words. Finally, he lifted his head and turned to Jamaica.

“I don't think it was because she stopped loving me. I think it was because she stopped loving our life together.”

Jamaica nodded. She understood the difference.

Eddie Lee cleared his throat.

“She wanted another life, a life I couldn't give her, and a life we could no longer have.” Eddie Lee leaned back in the rusting, folded, metal chair, and nervously tightened his fist, crumbling the napkin it held. “She didn't want a family; she didn't want the responsibility, the commitment. And…And I love my boys, both of them. My boys were, and still are, everything to me. I was angry at her for not wanting this life, for not wanting our two magnificent children.”

His weary eyes looked down at the metal card table, and conveyed a sadness that was radiating, infectious. Jamaica wanted to rush to him and offer comfort, but she paused for lack of words. Eddie Lee continued.

“Jamaica, I…I…I tried to make her stay. I used my fist to try and make her stay. I thought that if she just stayed and gave things a chance, she would eventually like it. I ended up driving her away even faster.”

Jamaica rose and began her journey toward Eddie Lee. She was embarrassed, ashamed. She wanted to learn more about Tameer, but instead she unlocked the demons of Eddie Lee's past. She had opened the flood gates to the pain which his heart soundly held.

“It's okay, Eddie Lee,” she told him as she rubbed her tiny hand across his broad back. “It's okay.”

“Jamaica.” Eddie Lee looked up from the table, and placed his hand on top of hers. “It was a long time ago. I can't say that it no longer hurts, because I'd be lying. But what I do say is, I want you for a daughter.”

Jamaica laughed nervously.

Eddie Lee waved his hand toward a nearby chair, motioning for her to sit. She did.

“Jamaica, I really like you. I like you a whole lot better than that Dashawnique girl.”

Jamaica frowned, tilted her head to the side, and nodded. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Well, it was meant to be,” Eddie Lee replied. He reached out and took her hand in his. “Know what you want before you involve others. Know what plans you have, and tell your partner about them. Be honest up front, and don't let other people get hurt.”

It was Jamaica's turn to look down and stare at the center of the table. She was embarrassed, ashamed. It was as if Eddie Lee was reading her soul. It made her seriously wonder if he knew about her deception. It was her not knowing, that made her so uneasy.

“If my son ever lays a hand on you, and I doubt that he will, but if he does, you run. You run away, far away from him.” He shook his head, and shifted his glance away from her. “My wife did nothing wrong when she did that,” he said softly.

Jamaica looked up from the table. “Is that why…”

“Yeah,” Eddie Lee answered. He looked down again. “Yeah, that's why I turned to alcohol and drugs.”

Jamaica rose and leaned forward embracing him tightly.

He laughed.

“What's an old man done to deserve one of these?”

Jamaica kissed him on the cheek. “You're so sweet.”

“Why, thank you.” He touched the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him.

“Are they going to let you come over for Christmas?” Jamaica asked.

“Oh, I'm sure they will.” Eddie Lee smiled at her. “But I tell you what, let me do the cooking.”

Jamaica folded her arms and leaned back. “What are you trying to say about my cooking?”

Eddie Lee's gigantic, ever-ready smile appeared again. “Nothing, it's just that I don't know if you're ready for Christmas dinner yet.”

“Oh Eddie Lee!” She slapped him across his massive, ironlike shoulder, and then rose from the table. “At least let me make the cookies for the carolers.”

“The what?”

“The Christmas carolers,” she answered. “When I was a little girl, that was one of my favorite things about Christmas.”

Jamaica closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as she reminisced. “Going door to door and singing. My favorite was ‘O'Silent Night.'” Jamaica opened her eyes and spun. “Eddie Lee, I used to tear that song up!”

Eddie Lee laughed heartily. “I'll bet you did used to tear that song up,” he told her. “Your Christmas sounds wonderful, Jamaica, but…Christmas is a little different here in the Courts.”

“Different, how different can Christmas be?” she asked. “Christmas is a time for snow, and snowmen. It's about carolers, Christmas trees, lights, and toys.”

Jamaica stared at Eddie Lee and smiled. “Lots of toys!”

“Well, it sounds like you were a very lucky little girl.” He turned in his chair and faced Jamaica. “Jai, most of the families in the Courts are barely eating during the rest of the year, forget about Christmas. A Christmas tree?”

Eddie Lee raised his massive arms and shrugged his shoulders. “Who has money for a Christmas tree? And toys, yeah right!”

Jamaica's face went from incomprehension, to comprehension, to horror. Then came anger, and finally, determination.

“Eddie Lee, are you telling me that most of the families out here aren't going to have a Christmas dinner, most of the apartments won't have trees, and most of the children won't get any toys?”

Jamaica was furious. Children without toys, and nobody was doing anything about it! Children wondering why Santa didn't come to their home, thinking that they may have done something wrong, but deep down knowing that they had not. Children without a smile on Christmas day! Jamaica began turning red.

“Yeah.” Eddie Lee nodded slowly. “It's sad, isn't it?”

“Sad?” Jamaica shouted. “It's impossible! Kids should have toys, at least on Christmas! Dammit, Eddie Lee! At least once a year, these kids should have a magical experience. Every child should!

Jamaica's anger was seething, her nose began flaring. “Eddie Lee, where's the telephone?”

Eddie Lee turned back to the table and lifted his fork again. “It's over by the table, next to the couch.”

Jamaica rushed to the couch, where she slung pillow cushions and throw pillows around, until the cordless was located. The number to the motel was dialed before she even stepped foot outside onto the porch.

“China?”

“Yes. You could at least say hello first,” answered LaChina. “Especially since you've…”

“There's no time for games!” Jamaica told her. “Don't play with me, play with your boy toy!”

“I was!” LaChina countered.

“Well, stop!” Jamaica was embarrassed. “I had meant later, play with him later. I've got a job for you.”

LaChina exhaled loudly, and pushed Troy off of her. She sat up.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Her voice turned gruff. “What is it now, Jai?”

“Toys, food, Christmas trees, and decorations!”

“Okay,” LaChina replied. “I'll be sure to tell Santa what you want. Can I go now?”

“China, this is serious,” Jamaica whined. “People here aren't going to have a Christmas tree, a Christmas dinner, or Christmas toys. We've got to do something!”

LaChina exhaled. “Alright, Jai, calm down.” She slapped Troy's hand away. “I'll call the supermarkets, the toy stores, and some of the local tree farms.”

“Decorations!” Jamaica shouted into the receiver. “The kids will need decorations. We'll bag them up and pass them out with the trees. One bag for each tree.”

“Jai, I know that you speak French, honey, but don't mix it with English. You said
we
.”

“China, I need you!” Jamaica shouted. “I need you to help me pass the stuff out!”

“No.”

“But, China!”

“No.”

“Where's your Christmas spirit?” Jamaica asked.

“In New York.”

“Remember that old lady who lived in that big, creepy mansion at the end of your block?” Jamaica asked.

“Mrs. Devonshire? Yes, why?”

“You're acting just like her.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! You're going to be mean, old, and alone just like her. I hope your cats bite you in the…”

“Alright, Jai, alright!” LaChina exhaled loudly again. “I'll call Jemia and see if she can scrounge up any help.”

“Thank you, LaChina!” Jamaica bounced up and down. “Thank you! I knew there was a reason why I loved you!”

“I hate you, Jai.”

“I love you too, Sis.”

“Bye, girl.”

“Bye.”

T
he ten trucks were large eighteen-wheelers, with massive cargo holds. One truck carried the still bundled, but bulky Christmas trees, while another carried bags of Christmas tree decorations. Two of the eighteen-wheelers carried bags of toys, while the remainder carried food.

LaChina had the stores pack each bag of tree decorations so that it included everything needed to decorate one seven-foot Christmas tree. The grocery stores happily obliged, by packing in every four bags, enough food to make an abundant Christmas dinner for twelve. The set included not only a twenty-five-pound turkey, but cans of corn, string beans, cranberry sauce, bottles of three-liter sodas, and boxes of stuffing and cake mix. She even threw in all of the ingredients to mix and make all the items, as well as a roll of cookie dough for the kids.

The toys were bagged according to gender and age group. Half of the toys were donated by local toy stores, which had been a miraculous feat this close to Christmas. The total bill for the trucks, the workers, and the merchandise surpassed one hundred thousand dollars easily, though one would not be able to tell by watching Jamaica. She handed out bags of goodies with an enthusiasm and cheerfulness that would have made Santa himself envious.

The trucks were lined in a row, in the middle of one of the Courts' busy, snow-covered intersections. The tenants themselves were lined up in an orderly row as well. Their line mimicked that of the trucks, allowing them to move from trailer to trailer, and receive their goods in an efficient manner.

The chill of the morning air did little to dissipate Jamaica's warm smile, as she stood bundled and wrapped on the back of one of the food trailers, handing out bags of turkeys. She turned to LaChina.

“Isn't this fun?” Jamaica asked.

LaChina, bundled in a fur-lined Bomber jacket, stopped handing out bags of canned goods, and stared back at Jamaica.

“Yes, Jai, just wonderful, peachy, fantastic. I feel like a damn elf, are you happy now?”

“You're a scrooge, a Mrs. Grinch.”

“I am not.” LaChina shook her head. “I agree with what you did, Jai, but we could have hired someone to pass these things out.”

Jamaica hugged her friend. “Oh, China, this is what Christmas is all about!”

LaChina stood up straight, and stretched her back. She placed her hands onto her hips and leaned forward for several moments, and then reversed the process, by leaning backward. When finished she turned and stared at Jamaica again.

“Jai, this is what Christmas is all about, but what about next year? What about when you are no longer with Tameer, or when you've gone back to New York and when you're traveling and being Tiera again? What's going to happen then? This is a commitment, Jai, a big responsibility. You can't rush into people's lives thinking that you're going to make it better, and then forget about them next year.”

Jamaica stopped passing out bags and stood erect. She stared at her friend.

“China, I thought about that. I didn't think about it when I first called you, but I thought about it later. There's a playground here that I've been going to. There's some little girls that play at that playground every day. I talk to them, I push them on the swings, I push the merry-go-round for them, and I catch them when they slide down the slide. I see us, China. I see me, you, Naivasha, Jemia, Tamara, Arriana, Porsche, Teremesha, Brittany, Germany, all of us, when I look at them.”

Jamaica nodded her head slowly, and stared off into space. “They're going to college, China, all of them. They are going to go to private school, and then college, on me. They're going to make it.”

LaChina smiled, leaned over, and embraced her friend.

“Well…” LaChina blinked several times and sniffled. “There has to be a new generation of the Sisterhood of the Treehouse Chipmunks.”

LaChina and Jamaica shared a laugh, and embraced each other tightly. LaChina rocked Jamaica slightly, from side to side.

“My sister, my dear sweet sista.” She released Jamaica, leaned back, and examined her. “What's happened to you? What in the world's happened to you?”

LaChina waved her hand over Jamaica's body. “You're dressing different, you're talking like you're from the hood, and you're caring. You really care about what happens to people.”

LaChina lifted her hand and placed it on Jamaica's forehead, where she pretended to check for a fever. It made Jamaica laugh.

“I ran away with a spoiled little star, and I'm bringing back a woman. A mature, elegant, socially concerned black woman. My sista!”

Again they embraced.

“If you hoes are dikin', then what you need my man for?” a voice called out from the street.

Jamaica and LaChina quickly turned in the direction from which it came. It was Dashawnique accompanied by Shamika and LaShay.

Sensing trouble, LaChina's aunt Savanna approached from the neighboring trailer. She was followed closely behind, by her daughter Jemia.

Jamaica jumped down from the trailer, followed by LaChina. Dashawnique approached Jamaica.

“Yeah, bitch, what's all that shit you was talking?” Dashawnique asked, pointing her finger in Jamaica's face. “You've got to give the people what they want? Well, I'm here.”

Jamaica's palm flew up, stopping just in front of Dawshawnique's face. “You can talk to the hand, because I don't have time.”

“That's what I thought,” replied Dashawnique. “You scary bitch!”

Jamaica shook her head. “I'm not going to be too many more bitches.”

Dashawnique's hand flew to her hip, as she leaned her face into Jamaica's. “Bitch!”

LaChina grabbed Jamaica, and pushed her back against the trailer. Savanna approached them.

“What's going on here, young ladies?” Savanna asked. “If there is a problem, I'm sure that beautiful, intelligent, mature young ladies like yourselves, can all sit down and talk about it.”

LaShay's hand quickly flew to her hip. “Ain't no problem, bitch, unless you want it to be one.”

Savanna's hand flew to her face and covered her mouth.

“Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed. The language and disrespect was shocking to her.

Jemia turned to LaShay. “Did you just call my mother a bitch?”

LaChina turned and rolled her eyes at LaShay, who had offended her aunt. LaShay's head began moving from side to side as she spoke.

“You heard me, yeah, I called her one!” answered LaShay. “I'll call you one, your momma one, your daughter one, and your grandma one, if the bitch was here.”

Savanna grabbed Jemia's arm. “Jemia, don't worry about that, let's go.” Savanna turned to Jamaica and LaChina. “Let's go. The people from the church can finish giving out the rest of the stuff.”

Jemia pulled away from her mother, and reached for LaShay. “You called my mother a bitch, that was all I needed to hear!”

Jemia's first slap landed directly on LaShay's left cheek. It was quickly followed by a left hook to LaShay's right eye.

Jamaica, free from LaChina's restraint, lunged forward and grabbed Dashawnique's braids with both of her hands. She pulled with all of her strength, bringing a screaming and swinging Dashawnique's head down to her waist, where she started slinging it to and fro.

With Jamaica engaged, and Jemia giving LaShay an old-fashioned Texas-style thrashing, it left a smiling LaChina, staring at a wide-eyed Shamika.

Savanna, frightened at the melee erupting around her, ran to gather her sons, and some male parishioners from the other trailers.

The fight between Jemia and LaShay was beyond one-sided, it was a slaughter. Jemia punched, pounded, ducked, dodged, punched, jabbed, moved, and punched some more. LaShay's eyes were blackened, and her lower lip was split.

Jamaica's hold on Dashawnique's hair was broken, when she could no longer find any more braids to pull out. Standing on a snow-filled street, surrounded by dozens of synthetic micro braids, the girls clawed, scratched, bit, and fought.

“And I'll…teach…you…never…to…call…my…mother…a…bitch…again!” Jemia's sentence was interspersed with solid smacks across LaShay's cheeks with her fist. LaShay was desperate.

“Shamika!” screamed a bloody LaShay. “Help me! Shamika, you bitch! You better help me!”

LaChina folded her arms and leaned back against the tractor-trailer. She smiled at Shamika. Together they listened for several moments to LaShay's desperate, crying, screaming pleas for help. LaChina nodded her head in LaShay's direction.

“She's calling for you,” she told Shamika. It was a dare.

Jamaica pulled some of Dashawnique's real hair out as well. Her four solid smacks to Dashawnique's face, were the last blows of the free-for-all, as the men from Savanna's church finally arrived and pulled everyone apart. Dashawnique spied her braids strewn all over the ground, and quickly covered her head in embarrassment.

“You bitch!” Dashawnique screamed at Jamaica. “You fake bitch!”

Dashawnique's tears dropped into the slushy snow, joining her fallen tracks.

Jamaica, still being held by the meaty hands of a very large church deacon, replied in kind.

“I'm fake?” she shouted back at Dashawnique. “My hair is still on my head!”

No one held Jemia, as no one had to. Her opponent was sprawled out in the snow being treated.

“Leave Tameer alone!” Dashawnique screamed. “You don't need him! Go be with your superstars! We're just regular people, why are you messing up our lives!”

Dashawnique's hands were released. She used them, not to attack Jamaica, but to cover her tear-filled face. The crowd's silence became a screaming vacuum that served only to amplify Dashawnique's sobs.

“You can have anybody,” Dashawnique told Jamaica. “Just let me have him.”

Jamaica's eyes watered and she felt two inches tall. Although she was not sure, she felt as though the crowd's glances now fell scornfully on her. She wished that she could disappear.

Crying heavily, Dashawnique approached a confused Jamaica.

“We're real people, not toys,” Dashawnique told her softly. Her trembling hand reached out to Jamaica, wanting to touch her, wanting to caress her face. It never made it. Dashawnique's hand moved to her quivering lip, where it continued to tremble in unison.

“You're beautiful,” she said softly to Jamaica. “Just let me and Tameer get back together. If you leave us alone, we'll be together.”

Jamaica's mouth fell open. She wanted to comfort the pitiful creature that stood in front of her, but didn't know how.

Dashawnique's face fell into her hands again, and again, she began to sob. “Please…please…”