Waiting to Exhale (14 page)

So don't be worried about me. I'm going up to Sedona for a few days, and I'll call you as soon as I get back. I mean it, I'm fine. A little shook up, but I'm fine." Robin was at work, so she called her at home and basically left her the same message.

Over the next four days, Bernadine did not leave the house. She read six books, none of which she could remember. She did not bathe, because she thought about how each and every time she and John had made love he'd made her shower first and sometimes afterward. She was sick of being clean. And the house. She'd kept it spotless for years, but for these four days, whatever she picked up, she left wherever she felt like leaving it. Newspapers were everywhere. Food that she'd decided not to eat after all filled the counters, alongside the box of Pop-Tarts John had left out. She watched TV and played the stereo at the same time. She even spent hours playing Nintendo. The phone had been ringing off the hook, but she didn't dare answer it. Not yet. She didn't feel like talking to anybody. Didn't feel like explaining this shit. And what was there to explain? She had taken the last of her Xanax, and although she was entitled to another refill, she didn't feel like going to get it.

On Friday morning, Bernadine sprang up in bed and realized she'd been in the house for five days, had not bathed, had not brushed her teeth or combed her hair, had hardly eaten, and this bedroom smelled like a pigsty, and so did she. "I won't let you reduce me to this," she said out loud, and got up.

The first thing she did was call AAA and have them come and tow the car away. Then she brushed her teeth, took a long shower, washed and conditioned her hair, and pulled it into a ponytail. She put on some clothes and fixed herself two soft-boiled eggs, grits, bacon, and toast. She ate all of it. When she walked back into the bedroom, she emptied the overflowing ashtray, threw the cigarette pack in the trash, but changed her mind and retrieved it. When she saw John's jewelry box sitting on the dresser, she was mad that she'd forgotten to put it with the rest of his stuff.

She spent all day cleaning because the housekeeper came only twice a month. When she finally dragged two giant trash bags into the garage, she looked around and saw so much junk-most of it John's-that Bernadine had a brainstorm. She dropped both bags into the trash container, ran back to the house, got the number for the newspaper, and called the classified section. "I'd like to place an ad in tomorrow's paper for a garage sale," she said. "Yes, I have a credit card." She gave them her Visa number, address, and phone number, and told the man how she wanted the ad to read: "Fantastic Estate Sale: Saturday Only. Eight to one. Bargains Galore! Scottsdale! Everything: $1.00. Come see for yourself!" The man asked if she really meant to say a dollar, and Bernadine said yes, and he said that he might just stop by himself. After she hung up, she dialed the number for Merry Maids, and told them she wanted to change her schedule to every week.

The ceiling fan was spinning quietly, and as Bernadine sat on the stool, she remembered what she'd forgotten to do. She had meant to call Savannah and tell her that maybe it wasn't such a good idea for her to stay with them, but now she was glad she hadn't called. She could use the company, especially the company of a good friend. Bernadine loved Gloria, and Robin too, but Savannah was the one person who would understand how she was feeling. She wouldn't have to apologize for it. She was one of those glass-is-half-full people. Always was. Yeah, she thought, Savannah would definitely cheer her up. Bernadine grinned and looked at the calendar. She'll be here about the twenty-sixth. Hallelujah.

The message light on the answering machine was blinking like crazy, so Bernadine pressed Play. As it rewound, she knew most of the messages were probably from Gloria and Robin. And she was right. Robin volunteered to come and get the kids, and said she hated to say it, but she was glad the bastard was gone. "I know this may not be the best time to tell you, but girl, guess what? I met somebody. He's so nice. And the complete opposite of Russell, that's for sure. He's not much in the looks department, he's a little on the chubby side, and unfortunately he's a Gemini, but so far he's treating me the way a woman should be treated. So call me."

Bernadine chuckled. Robin with a man who wasn't completely photographable? Please. And Gloria: "I still don't believe this, but I'm glad to hear you're all right. And don't lie to me, Bernie. This isn't something you take lightly, so let me know if you want me to come over there. By the way, you know you missed the Black Worn- en's Achievement Awards luncheon. I'll tell you all about it. Anyway, the first advisory board meeting for Sisters' Nite Out isn't until sometime next month. I know you'll be able to make that. You can bring your girlfriend. She is still coming, isn't she? Call me as soon as you can."

Bernadine had forgotten all about the luncheon. Thank God the meeting was a long ways off. Sometimes all the petty gossip that went on made her sick: who's making more money than whom, and who's got a bigger house. But Black Women on the Move did take care of business, which was why she was still a member.

She made herself a cappuccino, and while she steamed the milk, she couldn't understand why she felt so relieved. She felt lighter, almost graceful. But then, when she really thought about it, she did understand. She was free. Free to do anything she pleased, the way she pleased. Once this mess was all resolved, she'd be able to start her catering business, or anything else she wanted. John had always made it sound like such a shaky idea, but now she didn't have to consult John, did she? Bernadine was tingling when the phone rang, and without thinking, she answered it on the first ring. "You're back?" her mother said.

"Yep," Bernadine said. "I was just about to call you."

"Did you have a good time?"

"I had a lovely time."

"Good. And what time were you planning on picking these kids up?"

"I was about to come get 'em now."

"Well, they've been begging for pizza all day, so I might as well take 'em. I'll meet you back at the house. You've got your key, don't you?"

"it's on my chain with the rest of my keys, Ma. I'll be there in a half hour, but I can't stay long."

"What you fixing to do now?"

"We're having a garage sale in the morning."

"You just don't know what to do with yourself, do you?"

"Ma, please. There's so much stuff in the garage we don't use, I figured this would be a good way to get rid of some of it."

"Knock yourself right on out, then. Anyway, I washed Onika's hair and French-braided it, so you won't have to be worrying about that for at least another week."

"Thank you, Ma. I'll see you in a few minutes," she said, and went to get the keys to the Cherokee.

After she brought the kids home, Bernadine had them help her get things ready for the next day.

"Ma, why are we having a garage sale?" John junior asked. "Because your daddy doesn't want any of this stuff anymore." "Not even his golf clubs?" Onika asked. "Nope."

"What about these tennis rackets?" "Put those out here too," Bernadine said. "Are we just selling Daddy's stuff?" Onika asked. "Yes."

"Why come?"

"
How come. Because he asked me to." "He did?" John junior said.

"Yes, he did. He said he doesn't want it anymore. And all it's doing is collecting dust."

"Who gets to keep the money?" he asked. "We do," Bernadine said.

"Good," he said. "Is Daddy going to help sell it too?" "No," she said.

"Is he on another trip?" Onika asked.

"I guess you could say that," Bernadine said, and left it at that. For now.

It was 7:00 a
. M
. Bernadine looked out at the driveway. She had set up a card table and put all of John's jewelry on it. She took the cover off his old Ford. The kids had taken turns bringing all one hundred and ten bottles of vintage wine out of the wine cellar and broken six or seven of them, but Bernadine told them not to worry about it. She got his Rossignol skis and his Salomon ski boots and poles and laid them down in the driveway. She took his eight-hundred-dollar mountain bike and put it out there too. She got his power tools, most of which had never been used, and set them next to the skis. She sorted through the winter storage closet, which was also in the garage, and took all his good wool suits and cashmere coats, which he hadn't worn since they lived in Philadelphia, and laid them side by side on a king- size sheet. When it seemed like she had everything he cherished, everything he would miss, out on the pavement, she sat down in one of the card-table chairs, smoked a cigarette, and waited.

Folks started arriving about seven-thirty. They acted as if they'd won the lottery or something. Some squealed. Some thought surely Bernadine was off her rocker, especially when a man handed her four quarters for John's antique car and she handed him the pink slip and he drove it away. By ten minutes after nine, Bernadine had made a hundred and sixty-eight dollars, and the driveway was empty, except for the card table, which wasn't for sale. The kids were so excited that they asked if they could have another one next week. Did Daddy have anything else he wanted to sell? She told them no, that this about covered everything. Bernadine had a smile on her face a mile wide. When the kids dragged the table back into the garage, she told them to go on in the house, divide up the money, and put it in their banks. She was standing on a puddle of old oil, in the space where the Ford used to be. Now the kids would have some room to play. As she wiped her feet on the doormat, she said out loud: "Since you want to start a new life, motherfucker, see what starting from scratch feels like." She pushed the garage-door button, but this time Bernadine watched it close.

Chapter
6

Gloria hardly slept a wink. The last time she looked at the clock, it had said 5:36. It was after ten when she woke up. She checked Tank's room, saw that he wasn't home yet, and since she still hadn't heard from Bernadine or Robin, decided to do something she hadn't done in a while: go to church. She got there late and had to sit in the back. She dozed off in no time. The sermon was boring, because the guest minister couldn't preach. Gloria dreamed she was in church, and a woman she didn't know had to nudge her to tell her the service wa s o ver. It was on the drive home that she decided not to tell Tarik about David.

The garage door had come off the hinges again, which meant it wouldn't open, so Gloria parked in front of the house. Tarik's saxophone was hanging over the corner of the downstairs bathroom door. His dirty sneakers were lying on their sides. She went upstairs to change her clothes, heard him in his bathroom, and came back downstairs and started dinner. Last night, after David left, she had poured the spaghetti sauce down the garbage disposal, broken the French bread into bite-size pieces, and pushed it down there too. That was all she could manage. The salad was still sitting in the bowl on the counter, the lettuce dark green and soggy. She dumped it down the drain now, then took the thawed-out liver from the refrigerator and seasoned it. She was flouring the last piece when Tarik entered the doorway. He was wearing green sweat pants and a white turtleneck. He held the Sunday paper under his arm.

"I'm sorry, Ma," he said.

"You don't have to be sorry," Gloria said, and dropped a piece of liver into the skillet. "It's over. Done. Finished."

"Was he mad?"

"No, he wasn't mad. Just disappointed. He'll get over it."

"Did he spend the night?"

Gloria gave him a piercing look. "No, he did not."

"Good," and he sat down at the table, opened the paper, took out the sports section, and started reading.

"Did anybody call?" she asked him now.

"Yep."

Gloria stopped moving. "Bernadine?"

"Nope. But Miss Robin called and said she went by Miss Bernadine's and nobody was home. She said she was driving down to Tucson to spend the day with her parents. That lady from your women's group called, but I forgot her name 'cause she was talking so fast I couldn't hardly write everything down. She said some meeting about some sisters is being postponed until April fifth, and she said she hopes you wanna chair some exhibit committee again this year and to start thinking about a theme for something. I forget. Oh. And Phillip called and said he thinks he's got the stomach flu and may not be in on Tuesday. Depending."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"So how was your night at Bryan's?"

"I didn't spend the night at Bryan's."

Gloria dropped a piece of liver on the floor and left it there. "You didn't what?"

"I spent the night at Terrence's."

"You asked me if you could spend the night with Bryan."

"No, I didn't, Ma. I said I was at Bryan's, but I wanted to spend the night with Terrence."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm crazy or something?"

"No, Ma. You're just not remembering right."

"Look, boy. You said Bryan, or my name ain't Gloria." She bent over to pick up the liver and, when she did, got a sharp pain in her chest. Gas, she thought. "Come here," she said, ushering him with her index finger.

Tarik walked in front of her and looked down.

"Do I look like a fool?"

"No."

"I was a teenager myself not too long ago. What's Terrence's sister's name?"