Unbeweaveable (24 page)

“This is your family.”

I shook my head. “I still can't believe it. And we all look alike. Granted, Gloria's a little—”

“Hippoish?”

“I was going to say statuesque, but still, it feels good to see myself in my family. No offense—”

She flicked her hand. “None taken.”

“Did you see how Paul, I mean, my father, kept looking at me? It's like he thinks I'm not real or something.”

She shrugged. “I wasn't paying much attention. I sort of blanked out when a pile of grease slid down my throat. I mean seriously, is she going to fry everything?”

I laughed. “Probably. I like her, though. She's so different from Beverly—”

“Mama,” Renee corrected.

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, well, she's so different from her. She's more real. And she likes me.”

“I think she more than likes you, Mariah. She loves you. That reminds me, I need to call Mama so she knows we made it here safely.”

“Don't call her.”

“Mariah, will you cut it out? I'm not in the mood for your drama. I'm calling her, all right?” She dug in her purse and retrieved her cell phone. I snatched it from her.

“I said no.”

“Are you serious? Give me my cell phone back!” I hid it behind my back, and she pushed me on the bed and pried the phone from my fingers.

“You need to grow up, Mariah. I'm tired of you making me feel bad for the relationship that Mama and I have. I'm not going to keep apologizing about it.”

I sat up. “This trip is about me! It's not about her.”

“It isn't? Mariah, this trip has everything to do with Mama. I saw your face when you were looking through those pictures. You were shocked that Mama was happy. She had a whole other life before you were born. Maybe if you could see her
whole
life, and not just the life that involved you, you would understand her.”

“I'm done understanding her. I want to be free from her.”

“You'll never be free from her. She's a part of your history. She's a part of you. If you don't get that now, then you'll never get it.”

“I get it, all right. I get the fact that no matter what, you want to try to make Beverly a victim in all this. But she's no victim.”

“And you are?”

“Yes! My mother, my flesh and blood, denied me love from my father! Do you know he told me that he got arrested because he stood outside her house and screamed for her to take him back? What does that say about her? What kind of coldhearted person does that?”

“You don't have all the answers, Mariah. You're just barely learning the questions. But this victim card you keep throwing around is getting old. Sooner or later you are going to have to take responsibility for your life and stop blaming Mama for everything that went wrong—”

“She is the reason everything went wrong.”

“So Mama's the reason that you can't keep a man?”

“In a way, yes.”

“And Mama's the reason that you lost your job?”

“No, but…”

“And Mama's the reason you're broke?”

“Okay, some of that is my fault—”

“No. No, not some of it. All of it. You can't keep blaming her for everything. She's not perfect by any means, but she's not the devil incarnate, either. You're wasting the purpose of coming here if you're going to keep blaming Mama for your life. How could she be responsible for the mistakes in your life, when you tried so hard to keep her out of it?”

“I don't know. But somehow, she is.”

Renee shook her head. “She loves you.”

“In my head, I know that. But try telling that to my heart.”

Heather

The next day I woke up with a crick in my neck and with Renee doubled over in pain as she sat on the toilet.

“What's wrong?” I asked, looking like a stroke victim because I couldn't move my neck as I spoke.

“I have a bad case of the runs. It's all that grease! I don't think I can eat any more of her food.”

“Oh, come on, Renee, it's not that bad—”

“Not that bad? My stomach is cramping and I've spent the last three hours on the toilet. If another thing is fried on my plate, I'm leaving. I'm serious.”

“What? You can't leave.”

“Why not? This trip isn't about me. You don't need me.”

“But I do.”

I couldn't believe what I just said; I needed my sister. For the first time in a long time, I had come to depend on her. Her opinions, her questions, her reasoning—all of it I needed. But most of all, I needed her by my side in all this. I was tired of doing everything alone.

Renee sat up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I need you. I can't deal with Gloria by myself. And honestly, I want someone from
my
side of the family with me when I meet Paul's daughter. I can't do that alone. I need you. Please stay.”

She groaned. “Of course the one time you need me is when I'm dying from grease overkill.”

“Will you stay?”

“Of course I will. How could I not?”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“Now get out so I can wipe my butt in peace.”

“No joke, it smells like something died in here.”

“Something did.”

I left her in the bathroom and walked down the hall to the smell of bacon cooking.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, baby. Come give me some sugar.” I walked over and planted a kiss on Gloria's smooth cheek.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Famished.”

“I hope that means hungry, because I fixed you girls a world-class breakfast.” I watched in horror as she put several slices of bacon in a vat of grease in a deep fryer.

“You cook your bacon like that?”

“How else you cook bacon? Sit down, it's almost ready.” She sniffed the air. “Smells like your sister is out of the bathroom. Let her know it's a can of Lysol under the sink.”

I laughed. “I'll let her know.” Renee was out of the bathroom when I walked back in, and I held my nose as I grabbed the can of Lysol and sprayed the room. Soon it was baby powder fresh.

“Done,” I said, walking back in the kitchen. “Now what?”

“Now you can sit down and let me feed you.”

“Good morning,” Renee said, smiling weakly.

“Morning,” Gloria and I chimed.

“Coffee?” Gloria asked.

“No. I'm not hungry this morning. I think I'll just munch on some saltines—”

“Nonsense! Not after this big breakfast I slaved over.”

She filled a plate with fried eggs, bacon, and a bread-like creation with powdered sugar sprinkled over it. She slid the plate to Renee.

“What's this?” she asked.

“A funnel cake. It's like a pancake, only better.”

“I think I had this at a carnival once. Isn't it—”

“Deep-fried gold is what it is. Try some,” she said, turning her back to fix another plate of food.

“Is she crazy?” Renee whispered.

I just shook my head as I took my plate. “Thanks. It looks delicious.”

“It is. Let's dig in, girls.”

“Somebody help me.”

“What was that?” Gloria asked.

“Oh, I just said I'm going to need help eating all this food.”

“Don't worry, whatever you don't eat, I'll finish off. I'll just take me another pill.”

“You sure you should do that?” I asked.

“It'll be fine. I can handle it.”

I nodded and ate. Surprisingly, the food was good. If you didn't mind your heart skipping a few beats.

“Is Paul, I mean, is my father up yet?”

“Girl, your daddy been up and is already at work.”

“Oh.”

“Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to talk to him after work. He really wanted to stay, but he lost some of his workers so he's short-staffed. He would have taken off if he knew you were coming. But don't you worry, because his shop is closed on Sunday, so he'll be here the whole time. Your sister Misty is coming tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Just got off the phone with her. Charles can't come—that's her husband—but she coming down with her four-year-old son Tyrese. We call him T-bone.”

“That's cute.”

“Yep, I plan on cooking us a big dinner and I need to go to the store to pick up some things. You girls mind driving me?”

“I'll have to sit that one out,” Renee said. “I need some rest. But you two can go. It'll be fun.”

“That's what I thought. Well, you take all the rest you need. Me and Mariah will be just fine. Yes, ma'am, we will be just fine.”

I smiled and threw a dirty look at Renee.

“Sure, Gloria. We can hang out today.”

* * *

“You ready?” Gloria called out.

She was standing near the front door in a matching purple track suit and gold glitter tennis shoes. A shiny gold baseball cap was on her head and underneath the hat was that same pink sponge roller in her bangs. I had to work hard not to laugh.

“Yes, I'm ready.”

She grabbed her keys and locked the door as I waited for her on the porch, the heat making my tank top stick to my skin. We walked down the concrete steps to the car and got in.

“Fancy car,” she said, her hand running over the leather interior. “What did you say you did again?”

“Um…I'm currently in between positions.”

“You mean you don't have a job?”

“No.”

“Then how can you afford this car?”

“I can't. My sister bought me this car.”

She whistled. “She sure does love you.”

“So where to?” I asked, buckling my seat belt.

“I want to visit my friend first. She's close by.”

“That's fine.” I started the ignition. “Where does she live?”

“Right there,” she said pointing to the yellow house next door.

“She lives next door? Why didn't we just walk over there?”

“I'm not walking in this heat. No, ma'am. Go on, drive over there.”

I shook my head and backed out of the driveway. Two seconds later I was unbuckling my seat belt.

“We're here,” I chimed, unlocking the door.

“See? That didn't take long.”

We climbed out of the car and knocked on the screen door. Feet shuffled and the door opened to a young woman peering down at us.

“Gloria, is that her?”

“Yes, ma'am. My grandbaby raised from the dead. Ain't she pretty?”

“She's gorgeous. Y'all come in, the old man's asleep.”

We walked into the home to the scent of antiseptic and BENGAY. A man lay sleeping in an overstuffed arm chair, snoring loudly.

“Come on, let's go sit in the kitchen. I made some iced tea.” We walked past the living room and sat down at a chipped-up red vinyl breakfast table.

“This is Mariah, Heather. Heather, Mariah.”

We shook hands. Her handshake was firm, her eyes warm.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her blue eyes sparkling. “Gloria was too excited to meet you.”

“Wait a minute, so you two are friends?”

Gloria and Heather looked at each other. “Yes. Going on five years. Why?”

“No reason. I just thought that you would have somebody, you know, closer to your age.”

They laughed.

“People look at us weird. When I'm wearing my scrubs I think people think I'm her nurse,” Heather said. “Gloria's been more a friend to me than anyone I know.”

“Age ain't nothing but a number. That's what they say, right? Yes, ma'am, we don't let a silly thing like race or age say we can't be friends. Right, Heather?”

“Right.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and poured it into three glasses. I took a sip and crunched on a mouthful of sugar. “Wow, that's sweet.”

I watched as Gloria drained her entire glass. “I know. She makes it extra sweet for me.”

“You sure you should be drinking this stuff?”

“I know, I know. Paul always telling me to watch what I eat. But this is what I
drink
. So, it don't count.” She laughed. “Don't worry. If I start feeling sick I'll just take another pill.”

“Gloria, you know the doctor said—”

“I know what the doctor said, Heather. So why keep worrying about everything? It's my life and I'm gonna live it the way I want.” She held out her glass for a refill and Heather poured her more iced tea.

“So, isn't she beautiful, Heather? I told you she would be.”

“I never denied that she would be beautiful,” Heather said, sitting down.

“You guys don't have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Compliment me all the time.” I was used to the compliments with my weave, my hair was always beautiful. But now when the compliments were directed toward me, I felt uncomfortable.

“Girl, you better get used to us complimenting you, as pretty as you are. And I don't want to hear you shrug off another compliment. You better take 'em as long as they coming, you hear?”

I nodded.

“Look at her skin, Heather. Her skin is so dark and pretty—”

I laughed.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing. It's just that…never mind.”

“What, you can't be cute 'cause you dark?”

“Sure you can, but your life will be harder. Society likes their women light-skinned with long hair.”

Heather and Gloria shared a glance and burst out laughing.

“So do you think I have an easier life than you because I'm white?”

“I didn't mean it like that—”

“I think you did. You seem to think that lighter skin and longer hair guarantees a better life. A different life maybe, but not better.”

“I hate when people say that. I'm telling you that having darker skin means your life is harder.”

“Look at me,” Gloria said. “I'm dark as night, and I never once thought that my life would be different if I was a couple of shades lighter. No, ma'am, I would still be me.”

“No, you wouldn't. You would be somebody else. Didn't you get made fun of at school?”

“Sure. But everybody does.”

“But wouldn't you agree that some people get it harder than others?”

“I guess. But after a while you have to figure out what's true. Am I dark-skinned? Yes. But am I ugly? No. Is my hair nappy? Yes. But is it beautiful? Yes. Your problem is that you take what people say about you and make it true when it's not.”

“But I feel like it is the truth.”

“Then that's your problem. You need to find your own truth and stop letting people decide what's beautiful for you. We all different. Yes, ma'am, God made all of us different. It makes me mad that you give someone else the power to tell you that you ugly. Girl, you know what people would give to have skin like yours?”

“It's true,” Heather said. “You glow.”

I touched my cheek.
I did?

“You see what I'm saying, Heather? This is what I'm talking about. The media got you all twisted up saying thin is in, and fat is out, that being dark is ugly and light is right. It's not healthy. If I had a nickel for every time I thought about something I don't have, then I would go buy Microsoft. You got a lot of things going for you. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

“It's hard to see that, the way I grew up. Beverly—”

“Mama,” Gloria corrected.

“Beverly was light-skinned with nice hair. So is Renee. I went to an all-white school. Sometimes, when you hear that you're ugly long enough, you start to believe it.”

“Girl, you better stop thinking like that. And quick. It don't matter why you feel ugly. It just matter that you feel ugly. And it ain't true.”

“When I wore my weave I felt pretty. I felt that people stood at attention when I walked into a room. Don't get me wrong, I'm starting to really like my hair, but it's not the same.”

“
You
not the same. Girl, where's your confidence? Nobody looking at you because of your weave. They standing at attention because you command it when you walk in the room. You think you lost that. But I still see it. Don't you, Heather?”

“I do. This is my first time seeing you and I think your hair complements your face well,” Heather said.

“You don't count.”

“Why not?”

I sighed. “White people are always intrigued by dark skin. They think it's so exotic.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“She might not,” Gloria said, “but I would. You see how you just immediately dismissed what she said? She made a valid point, and she told you the truth. But you trained yourself to listen to the bad, so no good will soak in. That's a shame.”

“I don't train myself to listen to the bad. That's not what I'm doing.”

“Oh, it isn't?” She took a sip of her iced tea. “Sounds like it to me. Don't it, Heather?”

“Sure do.”

“With all due respect, neither of you know me well enough to start judging or giving me unwarranted advice. I know that I have good qualities.”

Gloria sat her glass down. “Name 'em.”

“Name my qualities?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…” I thought for a moment and said, “I'm really smart—”

“Nice try. I'm talking about physical qualities.”

I sat in silence.

“If you want I'll start,” Gloria said.

“Fine.”

“I like my big lips. I like that my hair is white as snow. Shows people how smart I am. And dark as I am, I never been afraid of color. That's why my house is green. Yes, ma'am, if God created the color, then I figure it go with everybody.”