Waiting to Exhale (41 page)

Maybe now she'd have somebody to have coffee with, at least talk to. Even though Gloria's other neighbors were friendly when she met them at the mailbox, they weren't all that neighborly. They said hello and usually waved from their cars when they saw her out in the yard (although sometimes they didn't), but not once had any of them invited her over for a drink, or dinner; then again, neither had she. The truth be known, she didn't feel she had all that much in common with them. All of them were white. And most of the women were housewives. The height of their excitement seemed to be going to the K Mart or the malls or the Price Club, or cleaning their houses all day.

Gloria couldn't tell if these new people had any kids. She hadn't seen the movers unload any children's furnishings or toys or bicycles. Maybe they had a teenager. Or maybe their kids were grown. This was the smallest house in this subdivision, the only one-story, two- bedroom on her street. Still, it was a very nice house, only five years old. Except that the people who lived in it before put an atrocious dirty-brown carpet in there and had the nerve to put some loud orange tile in the foyer and the kitchen. Gloria knew this because she'd peered in every single window right after that family moved out. She also knew that this new family had gotten a deal on the house, had paid only about $95,000 for it, because like everybody else in the neighborhood, she always read the realtor's listings that were insid e t he tube below the For Sale sign. The house had been on the market almost nine months. Gloria was so used to that sign being there, she hadn't noticed when the Sold sign replaced it.

Finally, she closed the miniblinds, got up from the chair, and went downstairs to make herself a western omelet. Then she'd get ready to go down to the shop. Lord knows, she didn't feel like facing those folks today.

The shop was empty. Which was strange: Phillip was always there before her. Desiree was invariably late, and Joseph didn't take appointments before ten. Cindy had to register for court-reporting school today, so Gloria knew she wouldn't be in until noonish. She went over to the machine to check the messages, and that's when she saw the note from Desiree, saying she'd quit. Gloria's head jerked up, and she looked over at Desiree's station. It was spotless. No ponytails anywhere. When did she decide to do this? But Gloria was glad the heffa was gone.

The machine beeped. "Gloria, this is Phillip. I didn't want to tell you like this, but I've got some bad news, girlfriend. I'm sick. I've got a rash. It's called shingles. It's a virus. Like the chicken pox. Only it's not. I'll be out of action for at least a month, maybe longer. Don't worry about me. I'm okay. I hope this don't mess things up down at the shop. I'm staying with a friend, so you can't call me. I'll call you. Love you, sweetheart."

Shingles? She'd never heard of anything called shingles before. And he'd be out at least a month? What was she going to do, with two stylists gone? Gloria reached inside her purse and got out one of her blood pressure pills. As she went for some water, Gloria prayed this didn't mean Phillip had AIDS. She wished, too, that she could call him. She wanted Phillip to be straight with her. Tell her the truth about this shingles. Maybe she could ask somebody. But who? She turned on the ceiling fans and the stereo. There was a sudden chill. A void. The shop was empty. It was all wrong.

Bernadine was early. "Hey, girl," she said from the front door. She was wearing a red baseball cap, which meant her hair was probabl
y a
bird' s nest underneath. It was. Bernadine had canceled her last two appointments, so it was no wonder she was trying to hide it. But she looked fresh, downright spry, like she was excited about something, and Gloria couldn't wait to hear what it was.

A few of Joseph's and Cindy's customers had already arrived and were pouring some of Gloria's weak coffee, stirring in what she thought was entirely too much of her creamer. She wanted to tell them to ease up on the sugar, but Phillip wouldn't approve.

"So," Bernadine said, and hopped up in Gloria's chair. "What's been going on, girlfriend?"

"You tell me," Gloria said.

"Girl, I've been having so much fun, I can't even believe it. You see my hair, don't you?"

"Yeah, I see it," Gloria said. "I can't believe how fast this mess grows. Tell me you got your settlement."

"I wish. Every week it's something else. It seems like my lawyer is subpoenaing the world. I'm almost ready to say forget the whole thing. Take some money and run. I don't mean that shit. But it's taking forever to get the records for everything she's asking for. And sometimes these people send the wrong shit. Anyway, I'm not worrying about it anymore. It's out of my hands."

"What about the house?"

"I had the realtors put the sign up yesterday."

"You did?"

"Yep."

"Has John been late with any more payments?"

"I haven't gotten any notices, so I assume he's making them. I think my lawyer scared him to death when she told him his ass could go to jail."

The three customers who'd gotten their coffee looked up when they heard the word "jail." They were totally involved in this conversation, and when Bernadine realized they were listening, she lowered her voice.

"Anyway, girl, I've met the nicest man."

"I know one thing, you're about the only one I know who's not having any problems in that department, I swear."

"He's a tenderoni."

"You mean he's younger than you are," Gloria said.

"Very much so."

"How much younger?" Gloria asked. The three customers were all ears again.

"Ten years."

"You mean he's only twenty-six?"

"You don't have to say it so loud, Gloria. Damn."

One of the customers, a woman maybe in her late fifties, was grinning from ear to ear, flipping through Ebony. It was pretty obvious she wasn't reading it.

"What are you doing, Bernie? You've already got two kids; what you want with another one?"

"He's very much a man." She added, "I'm just playing."

"Does he know you're playing?"

"Well, you know, that's the problem. He's serious as cancer. I told him I was too old for him, but he said he didn't care how old I was. The kids like him too."

"You mean he's met the kids?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"You better watch yourself. You shouldn't be letting the kids meet every man you decide to go out with. What are they supposed to think?"

"You act like I've been breaking the Guinness Book of Records or something. What they think is that he's a friend of mine, which is true, and that he's nice. Can I help it if he wants to take them to the park and the zoo and the movies and kite flying? Their daddy never spent any time with them, so why should I deprive them? We even went to church together, girl."

"What does he do?"

"He's got a normal job. He's an airplane mechanic."

"That's good," the older lady said, and got Bernadine and Gloria's attention. "I'd go ahead and enjoy myself if I was you, baby. These younger men treat you better, they got more energy, they ain't set in their ways, and they ain't half as stingy." She giggled and went back to pretending she was reading her magazine. She had a look on her face as if she hadn't said a word.

Bernadine and Gloria looked at each other in the mirror and cracked up. "Come on back to the sink/' Gloria said. "What's his name?"

Bernadine waited until she got to the rear of the shop, knowing the folks up front couldn't hear her without straining, and said, "Vincent. Vincent Gresham."

"Lean back," Gloria said, and put a little more pressure on Bernadine's head than she should have.

"I met him at the bank a couple of weeks ago. We were standing in the same line, and he started talking to me about something, I can't even remember what it was. Anyway, all I was thinking was that this young man was as cute as a button, and to make a long story short, he asked me for my phone number and I gave it to him. And then he called and took me out to dinner and so on and so on and so on."

"And?" Gloria said, massaging the thick shampoo into her scalp.

"That's it."

"So what's he like?"

"What's he like? Just like any other grown man, Gloria. Damn. The way I figured it, if this 4baby' was bold enough to ask me for my number, then I wanted to see what a 'baby' could do. He's turned me out, girl. Hey, where's Phillip and Desiree today?"

The customers looked up, waiting to see what Gloria was going to say. "He's sick," she said, and let it go at that. "And Desiree quit."

"What's wrong with him?" Bernadine asked.

"I don't know. But he'll be out for a while."

"When did Desiree quit?"

"This morning, I guess. And I'm glad she's gone."

"Will you be able to replace her?"

"Who knows?" Gloria said.

Joseph and Cindy came in one after the other and said their hellos.

"You talked to Robin lately?"

"Not since she was in here last week, getting a fill. Why?" Gloria started rinsing her out.

"That girl's going to get herself killed one day, I swear she is."

"What's she doing now?" Gloria asked.

"Guess."

"No, she isn't?"

Joseph was ushering the older woman to the sink next to theirs. You could tell she was happy to be within earshot. When she sat down and leaned back, she closed her eyes.

"The kids spent the night over there last Friday. Vincent and I went to a movie, and, girl, I almost had a heart attack when Russell answered the door."

"No, he didn't."

"Yes, he did."

"What about his . . . you know?"

"Check this out. They're separated."

"But they just got married a few months ago!"

"She put his ass out, girl."

"You're lying, Bernie."

"I just said he answered her door, didn't I?"

"I heard you," Gloria said, and started putting the conditioner in.

"Can you believe it?"

"I can believe anything Robin does. That girl just don't have a drop of sense and no pride whatsoever. Why don't you talk to her, Bernie?"

"And say what? 4Why don't you stop being such a damn fool and leave that parasite alone?' She's about as dense as they come. I love her to death, but you should've seen her. She wasn't the least bit embarrassed. As a matter of fact, she was just as happy as a little lark. Like she got lucky or something. I can't talk to her, Gloria. She's past the point of no return, if you ask me. But she ought to stop."

"You don't think she let him move back in, do you?"

"I'm scared to ask," Bernadine said. "But Robin doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. She'll tell it, and when she does, I'll act like I don't care one way or the other. This is her life, not mine."

"Come on," Gloria said, pushing Bernadine out of the chair. "Let me get you under the dryer."

"Better than the soaps, huh?" Bernadine said to the lady at the next sink.

Tarik was practicing his saxophone when Gloria got home. He'd been playing it a lot more regularly, and Gloria hadn't heard him play so much in ages. Now that he was a senior, he seemed to have gotte
n m
ore serious about everything. His report card had improved almost a Hundred percent. Gloria told him five hundred different ways how proud she was of him. That she knew he could do it. He hadn't said another word about the gang business and had stopped seeing that white girl. For some reason, all the girls he brought home seemed to have the same thing in common: they had long hair and light skin and were pretty. She asked him if these traits were a prerequisite, and Tarik said no. He just knew what he liked.

Gloria didn't want to remind him that all he was doing was picking girls who looked white. What was this obsession all about? And where'd he get it? What was wrong with black girls with dark skin and short, nappy hair? Didn't he think they were pretty too? But Tarik kept telling her: he knew what he liked.

His horn stopped. Gloria was disappointed. She loved hearing him play. She had taken the pie out of the oven and was ironing his shirt. He was getting his senior pictures taken tomorrow. Tarik came in and sat down at the kitchen table. "Can I talk to you about something, Ma?"

Gloria was thinking: Please don't let it be some bullshit. We've been on a roll, Tarik; don't mess it up now. "I'm listening," she said, and sprayed starch on the sleeve.

"Remember I was telling you about Up With People?"

"Yeah."

"Did you read all the stuff I gave you?" he asked.

"Yes, I did."

"What'd you think?"

"Well, it seems like a good opportunity for a young person, no doubt about that."

"I want to apply."

"Tarik." She sighed and put the iron down. "I thought we'd already decided you were going to ASU."

"First of all, I don't think I'm ready for college yet, Ma. I don't have a clue about what I want to do with my life. But," he said, "when I do go, I want to go to Morehouse."