Waiting to Exhale (46 page)

"Well, I'll put it this way. I fell in love with Kenneth because he was his own man. He was smart and witty and vital, and I knew one day he was going to make a difference in people's lives. He was honest and charming and sexy, and he respected me. Wasn't intimidated by me in the least. Shit, that was enough."

"So what happened?" Robin asked.

"Don't ask."

"I think it's a lot of stupid men out here too," Gloria said. This shocked everybody.

"Speak, Dr. Ruth, speak!" Bernadine said.

"I'm serious. A lot of them are stupid. They don't know what they want and don't know how to treat a woman."

"Can I get a witness?" Savannah said.

"You got a point," Bernadine said. "That asshole I was married to sure didn't. Speaking of assholes, I should call him." She got up and went to the phone.

"Are you crazy, girl!" Savannah said, and snatched it away from her. "You don't have anything to say to him tonight that can't wait until you're sober."

"Well, let's call the bitch!" she said.

"Kathleen?" Gloria asked.

"Yeah."

"Hand me the phone," Robin said. "I'll call the whore."

Savannah handed the phone to Robin, and Bernadine-to everybody's surprise-knew her number by heart.

Robin's heart was pounding with excitement. This was so much fun. And she thought it was going to be a regular old hen party! This was the lick! When she heard a Shirley Temple voice answer, she hadn't thought about what she'd say, so she hung up.

"What happened?" Bernadine asked. "Give me the damn phone."

"No, give me the phone," Savannah said, and took it. "What's the number again?" Bernadine rattled it off. Savannah dialed, and the woman answered on the first ring. But Savannah hung up.

"What happened?" Bernadine said.

"This is childish and stupid."

"Thank you," Gloria said.

"Well, fuck it!" Bernadine said. "Put some more music on! It's a party over here!"

"Where's the pizza?" Savannah asked.

Gloria got up to take the two pizzas out of the oven. "I need some help!" she yelled. Bernadine came into the kitchen. "Get some plates from up there," Gloria said, pointing with her head, "and the hot sauce."

"Hot sauce? On pizza?"

"You're right. Never mind."

Gloria and Bernadine walked back into the living room. Now Savannah and Robin were playing Isaac Hayes' "By the Time I Get to Phoenix."

"Well, we're already here, Isaac," Gloria said, giggling.

"Hey!" Savannah said. "If you were an instrument, which one would you be? Come on. Robin?"

Robin let her eyes roll up inside her head. This little quirk was beginning to get on Savannah's nerves. "A soprano saxophone."

"Why?"

"I don't know right now. Go to the next person."

"Bernadine?"

"An upright bass."

"Why?"

"Because they're always in the background, but they carry the whole beat."

"What about you, Gloria?"

"A flute." "And?"

"Because it's pretty and soft."

"I'd be a harp," Savannah said. "For the same reasons Gloria wants to be a flute."

"Now that we've got that over with, let's eat the pizza, shall we?" Bernadine said. Everybody picked up a slice.

"Is there some more champagne in the refrigerator?" Robin asked.

"Yep. Go get it," Savannah said.

"And then let's sing 'Happy Birthday.' "

"You don't have to sing 'Happy Birthday,' " Gloria said.

Everybody looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Seriously. This is nice. Just like this."

"And bring the cake too, girl," Bernadine said, and reached inside her purse for the little package of candles. Robin came back with the bottle and the box, which she set on the coffee table. Bernadine put candles on the cake. "Can we dim these lights?" she asked.

"Wait!" Savannah said. "I've got a song already picked out."

"We're getting ready to sing 'Happy Birthday,' Savannah," Bernadine said.

"I know, but let's be unorthodox here. Tradition can be boring. Break the rules. Here we go," she said. She put the record on, and Bernadine lit the candles. It was Stevie Wonder's birthday song to Dr. Martin Luther King. All four of them started singing along with Stevie, clapping, then they all stood up and started dancing. When the song was over, the three women screamed "Happy birthday" at the top of their lungs. Gloria had tears in her eyes. It took two tries before she blew out all the candles.

"Thank you, you guys," she said.

"Time for the presents," Robin said, and lifted the packages off the chair. "Before you say it, we know we didn't have to, but we did. So shut up and open 'em."

Gloria was laughing again. She picked up one and opened it.

Her mouth dropped open. Savannah had given her a sexy orange nightgown."

"I hope it fits," she said. "If you were my size, I could've given you a whole drawerful of this shit. I damn near own Victoria's Secret."

"Don't tell me you don't wear it?" Bernadine said.

"Some of it, but not the real drop-dead shit. I'm waiting for a reason."

"Girl, you better wear that shit. You can't wait on a man, or you'll never get a chance to wear it. Wear it for yourself! I sleep in silk nightly," Bernadine said.

"Yeah, well, you've got it like that," Robin said. "Open mine."

Her box was small. Gloria knew it was some kind of jewelry. She wanted to burst into laughter when she saw the same earrings Tarik had given her. Robin obviously didn't know her very well, either, but she pretended she loved them. Robin looked pleased. Then Gloria opened Bernadine's box. She knew it was going to be something expensive. It was one of those big black Coach purses she loved. "Thank you you guys for being so good to me. Really."

"I hope the party's not over now," Robin said. "I'm just getting worked up here."

"Hey, why don't you all spend the night?" Gloria said. "As a matter of fact, I don't think any of you should be driving, with all this champagne in your system."

"She's right," Robin said. "So let's get sloppy drunk!"

"Where's my glass?" Savannah asked.

Robin gave everybody a refill. For the next hour, they played old records and got so drunk they couldn't laugh anymore. By the time Robin managed to get Smokey Robinson's "Tracks of My Tears" on, they all had their heads down. "I told you I didn't want to cry," Savannah said. "I'm so sick of this shit, I don't know what to do. Can somebody tell me what we're doing wrong?"

"What are you talking about now?" Bernadine asked.

"I want to know why I'm thirty-six years old and still single. This shit is not right. What ever happened to the good old days?"

"What good old days?" Gloria wanted to know.

"You know. When a man saw you in a crowd, smiled at you, flirted, and came over and talked to you. Not one has asked me fo
r m
y phone number since I've been here. Why not? There's nothing wrong with me. Shit, I'm smart, I'm attractive, I'm educated, and my pussy's good, if I do say so myself. What happened to all the aggressive men? The ones that aren't scared to talk to you? Where the fuck are they hiding?"

"They're not hiding. They're just scared to make a damn commitment," Robin said.

"They're with white women," Bernadine said.

"Or gay," Gloria said.

"Or married," Savannah said. "But you know what? They're not all with white girls, they're not all homosexuals, they're not all married, either. When you get right down to it, we're talking five, maybe ten percent. What about the rest?"

"They're ugly."

"Stupid."

"In prison."

"Unemployed."

"Crackheads."

"Short."

"Liars."

"Unreliable."

"Irresponsible."

"Too possessive."

"Dogs."

"Shallow."

"Boring."

"Stuck in the sixties."

"Arrogant."

"Childish."

"Wimps."

"Too goddamn old and set in their ways."

"Can't fuck."

"Stop!" Savannah said.

"Well, shit, you asked," Robin said.

Savannah reached inside her purse in slow motion. She was trying to find some Kleenex, because something was in her eye. She wasn't successful. Robin handed her a handkerchief. "Here, girl," she said.

"And stop crying," Bernadine said. "This is too pathetic."

"I'm not crying. Something's in my damn eye. Shit, I can't help it if I'm sick of being by myself, doing everything by myself, and I don't know what to . . . Oh oh," she said, and struggled to get up.

"Get her to the bathroom," Gloria said. All of them helped Savannah up, dragged her to the bathroom, and as soon as she got inside the door, she threw up all over the floor.

"That champagne'll do it every time," Robin said. "Who's gonna clean this mess up?"

"I will," Gloria said.

"Not on your birthday," Bernadine grumbled. "Get me some old rags, and lay her down on the couch."

Bernadine cleaned the floor on her hands and knees. By the time she finished, she couldn't get up, let alone stand, so she crawled back into the living room. Savannah had long since passed out on the couch. Gloria went to the laundry room to empty the pail. She'd planned to get Savannah a blanket, but she was moving so slow by the time she dropped the pail in the utility sink, she had to stand there for a few minutes to get her bearings. She forgot what she was getting ready to do next.

Robin and Bernadine heard a key in the front door. A burglar with his own key. Now, that was a good one, Bernadine thought, and wanted to laugh, but she'd lost the ability. Robin's eyes were half closed, but she could tell it was Tarik, who was shocked to see his mother's friends sprawled out on the living room floor and one- unconscious-hanging over the edge of the couch. The room was a total disaster. Albums and tapes were everywhere. At least five empty bottles of champagne were on the coffee table, as well as plates of dried-up, half-eaten slices of pizza. "Hi," he said, with some reservations.

"Hi, Tarik," Robin and Bernadine mumbled.

"You're getting taller by the day," Bernadine whispered, and let her head drop.

Tarik could see they were all toasted. "So you guys did it up, I see."

"You only turn thirty-eight once," Robin muttered.

He looked at the cake. It hadn't been cut. "Where's my mother?"

Bernadine and Robin looked at each other. "Isn't she in this room with us?" Bernadine said.

Tarik realized this was a waste of time. "Well, good night," he said, and on his way toward the stairs, he saw his mother feeling her way through the kitchen. Tarik started laughing. He could see she was drunk too. He tried to wipe the smirk off his face, but Gloria didn't even see him. "Yo, Ma. You all right?" he said.

Gloria waved her hand toward the floor and said, "Un hun."

Tarik ran on upstairs. Gloria finally remembered what she was supposed to do. Once she found the linen closet, she fell inside it and grabbed some blankets. When she got back to the living room, somebody had dimmed the lights-at least they looked dim. Robin and Bernadine were on the floor, dead to the world. Gloria dropped a few folded blankets on top of her friends and headed for the stairs. She stopped at the foot and looked up. At first it looked like an escalator, but then the steps stopped moving. She blinked, grabbed hold of the banister, and looked up again. Not tonight, she thought, and found herself an empty spot near the front door. She made a pillow out of a stack of albums, pulled her dress up over her shoulders like a blanket, and went to sleep. Gloria didn't feel the cold tile against her legs and thighs or the spider crawling over her right foot. She didn't hear Smokey Robinson, either, still singing his heart out.

Chapter
22

Bernadine was watching Married with Children when she heard John's Porsche pull up. As usual, he was right on time. He still wouldn't come into the house, which was fine with her. He also hadn't said a word about the For Sale sign. The house had been on the market for two months now, and not a single realtor had been by to show it.

A gust of wind blew in the front door right after Onika, who was wearing a dress Bernadine had never seen before. "Guess what, Mama? Daddy and Kathleen got married!"

John junior walked in, carrying both of their backpacks, and close
d t
he door. Bernadine kept pressing the button on the remote to turn down the volume on the TV. "What did you say?" But she had heard her daughter loud and clear. She tossed the remote on the coffee table, then watched it slide to the edge, where half of it hung over. She waited for it to fall off. But it didn't.