Who Asked You? (30 page)

I
’m engaged.

Mindy divorced me after a year of counseling that did more for me than it did her. I discovered how screwed up I really am. For starters, I am an Uncle Tom. But not because I want to be, and not because I reject blackness. Growing up, I wanted our neighborhood to be clean and safe and beautiful. But it wasn’t. It felt hostile, which is why I chose to escape. This is when I started living a lie. I fabricated a faux world, one in which I insulated myself from anything and everybody that reminded me of where I came from. Unfortunately, this included my parents. I believe it was my way of punishing them because they seemed more concerned, preoccupied, and worried about Trinetta and Dexter than me. They were the fuckups. I take that back. They were fucking up. My sister and brother were just as smart if not smarter than me, and it angered me how easy it was for them to be seduced by the lure of the streets. They gave their power away and let the streets win. To me, it was cowardly, how they took the easy way out, which turned out to be a whole lot harder on them. I was angry at them for not following the example I was trying to set. As the oldest, I spent six years in college to become a medical practitioner because I wanted to make people feel better. I wanted my parents to be proud of me. I wanted them to express it with even half of the energy they showed in their concern for my sister and brother. Dad did. But Mother didn’t. She seemed more critical of my personal choices and my accomplishments took a backseat. It hurt not to be celebrated for doing what they wanted for us: to get a college education and become a success. I wanted this for my sister and brother, too. I wanted us to be happy and proud. I didn’t want us to disappoint our parents but especially ourselves.

Now that we have the first African-American president, I couldn’t be prouder. I voted for him, and not because he is black, but because he represents what integrity looks like on us. He is living proof of the slogan “Yes We Can.” I’m hopeful that youngsters growing up where I came from will understand that they have more power than they think. They can change the world. They can follow in his footsteps. They can renounce poverty and failure if they’re willing to swim through all the muck until they reach clear water.

I’ve been trying to change things about myself that have alienated and hurt the people I care about most. My mother has been fed up with me forever. Sometimes I don’t think she likes me. I’m sure she thinks I’m elitist, but that’s not true. It has cost a lot for me to pretend others don’t see my skin color when in fact they do. I don’t blend in and I finally get it. I’ve been trying to prove my worth to strangers. My mother’s acceptance is far more important to me, especially now that she’s getting up in age and I’m all she has left. I want her to know that she can count on me.

And there’s Mindy. Who could blame her for wanting out? I was controlling, but the most accurate term is
control freak
. I wore her out. After she divorced me, I was determined not to jump into a new relationship just to avoid being by myself. It has taken four years of living alone for me to realize I didn’t know what to do with silence. It was uncomfortable spending so much time with myself. This is also when a number of things started becoming obvious to me very quickly. I was not that likable. Nor was I all that interesting. In fact, I often bored myself. Many of the things I’d always thought were important turned out to be quite superficial. I cared about how things looked on paper, including me. I believe I was fortunate to have been given this wake-up call but only because I knew it was time to wake up.

After dropping Margaret off months ago, Mindy told me how nice it was to see my goodness return, that I was warm again, and I felt much like the man she fell in love with. I don’t know what possessed me to ask her to marry me again but I did and she shocked me and said yes. She said she had never stopped loving me. She had just stopped liking me.

She agreed to let me tell Margaret, who’s now in second grade, so I decided to take her to Pier 39 at Fisherman’s Wharf, one of her favorite places, to break the news, hoping she’ll be happy that we’re going to be a family again.

As we walk toward the sea lions, we lean against the wooden fence to watch them. “You know Dad still loves your mother, right?”

“If you say so, Dad,” she says as she takes a big bite of the bright blue cotton candy.

Without notice, she turns to walk up toward the street, and I seem to be following her until she sits on a bench and begins to feed the pigeons from a bag. I don’t feed them, because I think they’re disgusting.

“How would you feel if I told you your mom and I are going to get married again?”

“Really? Can I come to the wedding? Please?”

“Of course you can, if we have a wedding.”

“Please, Dad! I didn’t get to go to the first one!”

“That’s because you weren’t born yet.”

“Well, I’m born this time!”

“So does this make you happy?”

“Yes indeedy! I like having you for my dad. So are you going to live with us or do we have to go back to that other crib?”

Crib? “No.”

“Can we move to the hood, Dad, please?”

The hood? What is going on here? “What do you know about the ‘hood’?”

“I want to live with my homies.”

“And who might they be?”

“People that look like me. It’s why I don’t like my school. There are no black people there.”

“And that bothers you?”

“I just said so, Dad. Duh.”

“Well, I found us a very cool home and it’s up in the Berkeley Hills, where all different races of people live, and I’m pretty sure you’ll have lots of homies in your new school. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

She tosses the entire contents of the bag to the pigeons and gives me a hug and immediately stands up straight.

“Can we have a baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Margaret.”

“Please? I’m tired of pretending Baby Alive is real.”

“I thought you liked playing with her?”

“She has gotten on my nerves. At first I was happy she could drink a bottle and pee and I could feed her and she would poop, but Baby Alive still doesn’t have any teeth and it’s because she’s not ever going to grow up.”

I am laughing. “Well, we can ask Mom how she feels about adding to our family, how’s that?”

“That sounds good to me.”

“So, let me ask you something silly. Where’d you learn the terms
hood
and
homies
?”

“From my cousins. Ricky and Luther.”

“Do you talk to them on the phone?”

“Yes indeedy! They’re my boys!”

“I’m not sure if I like this language.”

“Oh, Dad, take a chill pill! They make me laugh. Last time when I was there Grandma BJ took us to Disneyland!”

“You mean you’ve been down there?”

“Yes indeedy! I’m going to spend a whole week with Grandma BJ this summer.”

“But your mother never got my permission for you to do this.”

“But you’re not her dad, Dad.”

“I know. And you’re right. And it’s fine.”

“Now that you’re getting married again, you can drive down with us! We’re going to Palm Tree Springs because Cousin Luther is being released from high school with many honors. Mom said I can also celebrate my black roots while we’re there.”

“Your what?”

“My black roots. The part of me I don’t know. But I’m going to find them in Los Angeles.”

“Good for you, Margaret. Good for you.”

“Mom said she hopes President Obama will help you find your black roots since your Uncle Tom is finally leaving. Who is he?”

“A stranger.”

“Hello, Mom.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me. Quentin.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Mom.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ve never liked me calling you ‘Mother.’”

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

“But what would you prefer that I call you?”

“What you’ve been calling me, Quentin.”

“But you don’t find it annoying anymore?”

“No, what would be annoying is if you suddenly started calling me ‘Mom.’”

“So, is it true that Margaret’s going to be spending a little time with you and the boys, then?”

“Yes, she is. She’s a little pistol. We Skype, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know you Skype.”

“Did you know she could sing?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You might as well know now that this won’t be the first time she’s been down here.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Mindy’s brought her down here quite a few times. She’s not afraid of the ghetto like some people.”

“I don’t fear the ghetto, it has just always made me feel uncomfortable. But that’s changing, Mother.”

“Sure sure sure. Everybody understands this about you, Quentin, so don’t even worry about it. Besides, the ghetto is doing just fine without you.”

“Mindy and I are remarrying and moving to the Berkeley Hills, where I’ve bought a house with a three-bridge view. And ever since I moved my practice, business has been booming, so it wasn’t race after all, and it should definitely thrive in the East Bay, so all this is to say that I’d like to invite you and the boys up for a long weekend once we get settled, and this time, I mean it. I’d also like to know if there’s anything I can do for you, and for Luther’s graduation?”

“Lord have mercy! I love good news. Before I congratulate you for getting lucky twice, I just want you to know that I don’t need anything and you can call Luther and ask him what he might want for graduation. And thank you, son. Okay, now. Congratulations! I knew Miss Mindy truly loved you and she’s been struggling over it for quite a while, but whatever you did to come around, keep doing it.”

“I’m trying to learn how to be more open-minded.”

“Why start now?”

“Because sometimes I feel cut off from my own family and I know it’s my own doing.”

“Well, I still love you, Quentin, even if your mind stays closed forever,” she says with a chuckle.

“That’s nice to know, Mother. And I love you, too.”

H
ello! Anybody home?”

“Your voice sure sounds familiar!”

“Well, yours sure doesn’t!” I say to the Kobe Bryant clone standing behind the brand-new front door who must be Luther, the little boy who had a crush on me seven or eight years ago.

“Nurse Kim! You came back into my life,” he says in a voice so deep it sounds like he’s faking it. But of course he’s not.

“Where’s your grandma?”

“She went to get her oil changed.”

“Why couldn’t you do it for her?”

“Because she won’t let me drive her car.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wrecked it. Twice.”

“Did you kill anybody?”

“No.”

“Did she have insurance?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t know what the problem is, Evel Knievel. Can I come in or what?”

“Of course. My bad. I was not expecting to see you when I opened the door, Nurse Kim.”

“You can drop the ‘Nurse Kim,’ sugar.”

“You’re not a nurse anymore?”

“In many ways, yes. But I’ve been a licensed physical therapist about four years now.”

After I finally get inside, I am shocked at what I see. That 1960s beige shag carpet is gone and now it looks like I’m standing on oak or what looks like oak. And I know that can’t be a real leather couch? As I get closer and sit down I realize it is not pleather and it’s a pretty-ass navy blue. I didn’t even know this couch came in navy blue when I saw it in Jennifer Convertibles. The cocktail table is cherry red. Even the rug underneath it is the kind you see in Macy’s Home. I wonder who picked this out? Even the frames and glass on all those old family pictures on the wall are new, and hell, so is the wall! That is a real flat-screen TV, isn’t it? And you mean to tell me Miss Betty finally broke down and got rid of that lazy-ass La-Z-Boy and got a modern recliner, and she had the nerve to get white leather! I’m thinking maybe she won one of those before-and-after rooms from HGTV, because Miss Betty did not have any decorating skills. Hey! I can see back into the kitchen and I know a new refrigerator when I see one, and that floor is cork, and it’s not even necessary for me to walk back there to check to see if all the appliances been replaced. When you get rid of old shit and replace it with new shit, it means a whole lot of shit has happened. I’m wondering if maybe Miss Betty hit the lottery, but probably not, or she would’ve bought a whole new house in a different neighborhood, but whatever happened, God has done His magic in here.

“Hold on a minute. Who did the remodeling and decorating, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Well, it’s a long story, but our neighbor across the street, the one who lives next to Ms. Tammy, Mr. Heaven, did all of the remodeling inside and outside the house and he even helped Grandma get the apartment over the garage turned into a legal dwelling, so she rents it out to a guitarist who should find another profession, but also, do you remember my uncle Quentin?”

“You mean the one who only married white women?”

“Yes, him.”

“What number is he up to?”

“He’s still on five. They say the second time’s a charm.”

“Get out! So he finally slowed his roll?”

“Well, he remarried his wife. Anyway, since he didn’t have to pay any more child support or alimony, he gave Grandma a wad and—wal-la!”

“No shit? Guilt is a bitch, ain’t it? Forgive me for swearing.”

“It’s fine. You’re a full-fledged adult.”

“Did he see the light or something?”

“What kind of light?”

“Never mind, sweetie.”

“Anyway, he’s been calling us a lot. Talking to Ricky and me about college and sports and cars, and he even invited us to come up to the Bay Area. He and Grandma were on the outs for a minute there, but seems like things are smoothing out.”

“Listen at you. Something had to happen that made him start acting like a son and finally help his damn mama out.”

He shrugs those wide shoulders. Damn, if I was twenty or thirty years younger. “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Why not? And I know you’re not gay.”

“Because my buddies and I made a pact in our junior year to write off girls so we could maintain our focus. We wanted to do well on the SATs, plus I’ve got so many AP classes I didn’t want to get sidetracked.”

“What’s a ‘AP’ class?”

“Advanced Placement. It’s an honors class.”

I raise my hand up to get a high five and he gives me one. It hurts but I don’t say anything.

“Well, you’re still beautiful, Nurse Kim.”

“What did I just tell you?”

“Miss Kim.”

“Thank you. Anyway, what I do is put professional athletes back together again. I help them heal. And from what I understand, you might be headed the same way one day, too.”

“Where’d you get that information?”

“Well, you know Derrick Graves, who jumped twenty-five feet in the long jump?”

“He’s my boy. He’s probably going to London in 2012.”

“He’s my nephew and he’s been telling me what you’ve been doing out on that football field, and that you’ve also been nominated for valedictorian. Ask me why am I not surprised? No, don’t.”

“I’m one of eleven. We have to write an essay to be considered, and I don’t know if it’s that important to me.”

“Write it.”

“I’ve got time to decide.”

“Did you pick a college yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you know what a big deal it is to be able to
choose
what college you want to go to instead of praying they accept you?”

“My grandma’s sure excited. She has a box she keeps of all the letters I get. When I get home from school, she plays the voice messages back for me and jumps up and down, even on her bad knee. She’s funny.”

“She’s proud. And so am I. Damn, you musta took after your daddy, ’cause you sure in hell are tall, Luther.”

“I wouldn’t know. But it’s no big deal. Anyway, Miss Kim, if you want to wait for me after I’m out of college I’ll save myself for you, since I don’t see a wedding ring.”

He cracks up.

“If this is your way of asking if I ever got married, the answer is no. Did I ever have any kids? The answer is no. I did the traveling nurse thing quite a few years but missed home, and then my granny took sick and I came home until she passed, and now, here I am, pushing forty, and I have to admit, I like coming and going as I please and not having any responsibilities except for myself.”

“You just haven’t met the right guy.”

“You watch too much television. In all honesty, you and Ricky are the only children I ever liked. How is he doing?”

“Good. He’s a sophomore. Still swimming but mostly diving.”

“Did he ever get off that horrible medication?”

He nods.

“Is he heading to college, too?”

“Not sure if he’s cut out for it, but he’s got lots of talents, so he’s going to be fine. We talk.”

“Good. And how’s your grandma doing these days?”

“She’s fine. Finally retired. She comes to all my games and is pretty active in our Neighborhood Watch, and now they have a beautification project she and Miss Tammy are operating. Those two keep it going around here.”

“And what about Omar and your aunts Arlene and Venetia?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Does your grandma have a beer or some cheap wine in the fridge?”

“I believe there’s something back there. What’s in that box?”

“Take a wild guess, Harry.”

“Get out!”

“It’s a token gift for graduating with such class and for being our Harry Potter and such a good kid and for falling in love with me when you were a little tyke and making us all so very proud.”

He laughs all the way to the kitchen, and by the time he fills me in on all the mess my favorite person of all time has caused, I finish my second glass of decent white wine and decide it’s time to pay her ass a visit.

Of course I pass right by Miss Betty, so I honk and she hits those brakes like this is an emergency. I back up. We roll down our windows. “I thought that looked like you, Nurse Kim! Where you going? Turn that car back around and come and talk to me. How are you? Was Luther at home?”

“Hold on, Miss Thang! I just stopped by to drop off a graduation present for Luther since I couldn’t call, because for one thing you don’t have a land line and stupid me forgot to take my cell phone out of my jeans pocket when I washed them, but anyway, I did not expect Luther to answer the door. I can’t believe how tall and handsome he is, and I know you’re one proud granny. You look good, Miss Betty. You doing all right, then?”

“I’m doing fine. No complaints.”

“Good. I want to take you to lunch or dinner. How’s that sound?”

“You’re still something else, Nurse Kim. Either one would be nice.”

“Gotta run. Talk soon.”

“I want to buy a house,” I say to Arlene, who’s trying to act like she doesn’t remember me but I know she damn well does because she never liked me. She always thought I was a slutty nurse and she was right, but hey, I did my job and I couldn’t help it if I was hot and sexy, and since then I’ve been all over the goddamn world, which is why I’m going to use my yes-I-work-for-the-NFL voice instead of my more comfortable ghetto one. Of course I’m not stupid, and if you got any damn sense you pay attention and watch what rich people do with their money, which is exactly what I did when I was caring for so many of ’em over the years, and I invested my money, too, which is why I’ve got enough for a down payment on something even though I didn’t come in here to buy anything, and if I was interested I damn sure wouldn’t come to Arlene.

“Did Betty Jean send you here to harass me?”

I look at her like she’s crazy.

“Why on earth would she want to harass you and what would make you think she could get me to do it? How are you, Arlene?”

“I’m fine. Kim, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“What kind of house are you in the market for?”

“Not the kind you’ve built for yourself.”

She gets up and closes her door so hard the blinds make noise. I cross my legs. I can tell she still hates me. All I can say is it’s not my fault I’m still hot and sexy and I can’t help it if time is not being nice to her. As my granny always said, “A nasty attitude can make you ugly.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing here so we can get this over with? I’ve got real buyers waiting for me to show them real homes.”

“Who fucked you over when you were a child, Arlene? Would you tell me that?”

“What in the world are you talking about? You don’t know me well enough to come strolling into my office talking about something you have no idea about.”

“Somebody did something to make you so unlikable and so judgmental and so goddamn mean. Who was it?”

She doesn’t say anything, which is a surprise to me.

“I mean, people aren’t born bitches, Arlene. But you don’t seem to be able to recognize your own symptoms, and I thought you got a degree in psychology or some shit like that.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know what abuse looks like. And I know a lot of women who act just like you. Don’t like no-damn-body. You get your rocks off pointing out everybody else’s flaws and weaknesses but you don’t bother taking a few damn minutes to look at your own. That’s why Omar was so fucked up.”

“Omar was not fucked up.”

“Oh, yes he was. You pulled some shit on him you only see on Dr. Phil. Feeding him to comfort yourself. And then when he was finally able to see through the shit, he bailed, and he tried to tell you who he really was and you turned against your own goddamn son for trying to be honest with his own goddamn mama.”

“Where did you get your information?”

“The
L.A. Times
. What fucking difference do it, I mean, does it make? You done pushed your son away. Do you have any idea how hard it must have been for him to know this about hisself all these years and didn’t have nobody to tell it to? And look at what happened when he told your cold insensitive ass.”

“You don’t have to call me names.”

“I’m sorry,
Arlene
. And to find out you haven’t spoken to your own sister because she knew your son was gay before you did and she didn’t bother telling you. Can’t you see why she didn’t tell you?”

She just nods, and I might be hallucinating or something, because those look like tears rolling down her face.

“I don’t like being this way.”

“And what way is that? Can you put a name on it for me?”

“Mean and judgmental and impatient and intolerant.”

“Then stop it, Arlene.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You can start by twisting your mouth to say you’re sorry, and then accepting that you aren’t always right and that just because people can’t be who you want them to be doesn’t mean something is wrong with
them.
”

“His name was Monroe.”

“And who was he?”

“My first cousin.”

“And what did he do to you?”

“Too many things.”

“Have you ever told anybody?”

She shakes her head no.

“Well, you just told me. And you don’t even like me.”

“I do now.”

“I’m glad. Now. Can you show me what you got in the four- to five-hundred-thousand-dollar range with a view?”