A Day Late and a Dollar Short (44 page)

That was nice of her. I have my eye on something that has Mama's name all over it. It's a bunch of gold grapes sitting in a black lacquer dish. She loves this kind of stuff. I look at the price tag. I can actually afford it. I take it off the shelf, and as I pass another one, filled with lotions, a scent catches me. That's when the woman comes back over. "That's Fig Leaf, isn't it wonderful?"

"It certainly is."

"It comes in a lotion, shower gel, and aromatic mist. There's also a candle."

I look at the price. Reasonable again. "I'll take the lotion, shower gel, and the candle."

"I'll wrap those right up for you. Are you new to the area?"

"No. I live about forty minutes from here."

"So do I."

"I live way out in Palmdale."

"So do I!"

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Where? What street or avenue?"

"Well, I live right up on the hill."

"Quartz Hill? It's nice up there. What street? I know a few people up there. Their kids go to school with my daughter."

"Well, right now I live in Goode Hill Estates."

"Oh, then you live in the upscale part of Quartz Hill for real. I know that's a gated community."

"I'm not exacdy upscale by a long stretch, honey, and if I don't find a partner soon, I'll be moving into an apartment."

"A partner for what?"

"My shop."

"You mean this is your shop?"

"Yes. It surprises a lot of people. I don't even mention it to the white folks. Don't wanna scare them off!" She starts laughing, and I find myself joining her, even though my brain is clicking like ticker tape.

"Why do you need to find a partner?"

"Because I'm going through a divorce and I have to buy my husband out and I can't afford to run the shop alone. Know anybody?"

"I wish I could say me," I hear myself say. "But I'm probably going to be going through one, too, and right now I don't have anything to invest, but can we talk? I mean, can you give me a general idea how much it would take to become your partner? No, wait; don't tell me. I don't want to know right this minute. May I have your card? My name is Janelle Porter, I mean Janelle Price. I don't know if I'll get anything out of my divorce, but I'll get my name back at least."

"You always get something out of it, honey," she says. "But it's usually not enough to jump up and down about, believe me."

"And your name is?"

"Orange Blossom. And, yes, it's my real name. My mama was tripping, like so many others. But here's my card," she says as we take my things over to the counter and she wraps them in layers of orange-and-gold tissue paper and even puts some kind of litde twigs with buds on the end inside the bag. I look at her card. Her last name is Snipes. Of course I wouldn't dare ask if she's any relation to Wesley. She doesn't look like she could be. Oh, who cares? She walks around the counter and gives me my bag. "You'll be hearing from me soon, Orange Blossom. Do you have a deadline or anything?"

"It's June now. I'll be okay until about October, November on the outside. By then I might have to start sending some of this stuff back."

I scrunch up my shoulders. "Okay. Give me a general idea of how much we're talking about? Just an approximate, vague idea?"

"Between sixty to seventy and you're in like Flynn."

My shoulders drop and I turn back to look at her. "Thousand?"

"Yes. It's a lot for most folks," she says.

"It is." However, I feel like saying that cliche, "I'll be back," but I don't. "Well, I hope we can talk more about this real soon."

"Whenever you're ready. In the meantime, do come back. Let's have lunch or dinner or something. Do you work out?"

"I do, although I haven't in weeks, but I'm dying to get back to the gym."

"Then let's do it. Regardless of what happens. Just so you know, my lawyer and accountant will be happy to show you our profit-and-loss statements for the last five years."

"You've been here for five years?"

"Been in business for five, but in this space three and a half years. We outgrew our other store. Business is good. I love what I do, which is another reason why I don't want to give it up. This store was my first baby."

"Did you ever have a second?"

"Nope. Probably too late for that now."

"You look like you're about my age."

"Which would be?"

"Thirty-five."

"Try forty-five."

"I want to go to your gym," I say, and we both laugh. I'm one step away from jumping up and down and kicking up my heels when I get outside. Just the thought of actually doing something like this is enough to get my adrenaline going. I do have about twenty to twenty-five thousand in stock, thanks to old Georgie Porgie, and depending on what kind of settlement I get, who knows? But I'm not going to take this too far. Not right now. Even still. I mean, what are the odds of me running into an opportunity like this? And why today of all days? I feel like running back down to Zina and giving her a big hug.

I don't feel like going home. It's only sixish, and I decide to do something I've never done before. Eat out alone. Which is exactly what I do. I go to an Italian restaurant and have lasagna and salad. Afterwards, I do one more thing I've never done before: go see a movie all by myself. In fact, I watch two. By the time I get home, I fall asleep so hard, I assume I'm dreaming when I hear the phone ring. But I'm not. The clock says three-forty-five. Something's wrong. I'm afraid to pick it up, but I know I should. "Hello," I say with so much fear and hesitation that it probably sounds more like a question.

"Ma, this is Shanice and they took Granny away in an ambulance to the hospital and I'm scared!"

"Shanice, slow down! Where are you?"

"At the hospital."

"How'd you get there?"

"I drove."

"Drove what?"

"Granny's car?"

"You did what?"

"They took her, and Miss Loretta was looking for Auntie Paris's number in London, and . . ."

"Where is Miss Loretta right now?"

"She's standing over there, outside that curtain where they have Granny. I'm scared, Mom. What if something happens to Granny? Can you please come now? Please?"

"Yes I will, baby. You just stay right there with Miss Loretta, you hear me? Can you ask her to come to the phone?"

"Miss Loretta, my mom wants to talk to you."

My heart is beating so hard I can't stand it. I'm already out of the bed. Standing up. Walking around. Wondering how fast can I get to Vegas at this time of night. There're no flights out of Burbank at this hour, and that's the closest. . ."

"Hello, dear."

"Miss Loretta, how is Mama?"

"I don't know right now, sweetheart. I don't know."

"Okay, look, do me a favor. Get Shanice out of there, please. I don't want her there if anything happens, do you understand?"

"Yes I do."

"Thank you. I'll be on the first plane out of here. Keep her with you, please. Miss Loretta."

"I will."

"Thank you. What hospital are you at?"

"Sunrise. And the doctor's name is Dr. Glover. Here's the number. . . ."

I write it down and get up and put my clothes on so fast that it seems as if the clock hasn't even moved. It'll take me fifty minutes to get to Burbank Airport, and what did I do with that piece of paper I just wrote the number down on? There it is. I run downstairs and push the garage-door opener and get in my car and start the engine. I decide to call the hospital now. I ask for Dr. Glover, and he comes on the line.

"Hello, Dr. Glover. My name is Janelle Price and I'm Viola Price's daughter and I'm on my way to Burbank Airport because I'm trying to get there as soon as I can, and I wonder if you can tell me how my mother's doing? I mean, I know she's in ICU, but can you tell how long she might have to be in there this time?"

There's total silence on the other end, so I back the car all the way out of the garage, thinking that maybe I've been disconnected or I'm just not getting a good signal, but then I hear a man's voice say, "I'm sorry, but your mother didn't survive."

"What? Wait a minute. Let me back up a little more." And I do. I back this car all the way out into the fucking street. "Now, could you repeat that, and please speak a little louder?"

"I said your mother didn't survive. She's passed on."

I heard him the first time. But. I was hoping that in between that sentence and the next, maybe she might've been strong enough to fool them by taking one more breath. Mama's good at that. Not giving up. I wonder if they checked her carefully, because she could be napping. These asthma attacks wear her out. She's told me that a million times. She could just be asleep. Somebody should check. I open my mouth to tell the doctor this, but no sound comes out. Absolutely nothing. And then I pound the steering wheel with my fists until I have no energy left. The phone falls to the floor of the passenger's side and my head drops against the steering wheel. But I have to wait. Right here. In this driveway. In this car. Until I can move. Until I can figure out how to get through this thick loud silence.

Chapter 30

One Entrance to Another

"Its moving right now, Cecil, put your hands here and feel," Brenda say.

She's next to me, laying on her back. At first, I'm scared-I ain't felt no baby move inside nobody's stomach in thirty-five years-but the next thang I know she taking my hand and putting it against her warm smooth skin and my fingers is spread out wide as they can go and she slides it around and then I feel a little hump and it gets higher and then moves right under my hand and I jump. "Hey!"

Brenda laughs. "Wait, I think he's over here now."

"He?"

"He or she. It can't be but one or the other, Cecil."

And, sure enough, here he come again! This feels weird. I can't even imagine what it must be like for Brenda, being that its swimming around inside her and all. "Seem like it would kinda hurt," I say.

"It feels good, to be honest with you. But it sure don't hurt. Sometimes it tickles. Praise God."

I slide my hand around her big belly some more and wait and wait and don't nothing happen for the next five or ten minutes.

"She sleep. Show's over," Brenda say, but don't move my hand. "I'm sleep, too," she says, and I just lay right here listening to her breathe till it sound like a light whisde, and then I roll over and do the same until that alarm clock whisde a litde louder and I know it's 3:30 a. M., rime to get up and go to work.

I don't know why I took this job. Sometime I stand here for hours and just walk back and forth from one entrance to another, watching for anythang that don't look right. I help people out when they can't find the bathroom or they drunk and can't remember where they parked they car or can't remember what casino they in. That kinda stuff. Don't nothing exciting ever happen in here. That's why I ain't got no gun, just this uniform. But anybody looking at me should know I couldn't catch 'em if I had to. I mean, I'm still walking every day and starting to enjoy lifting a few of them barbells, but I couldn't do no sprinting if you paid me. I'm only bench-pressing a hundred pounds. I seen girls in there lift more than that. The way I figure it, something is better than nothing.

Is that my name I hear over the paging system? Naw. Who in the world would be paging me? I start staring at the roulette wheel for the hundredth time and try to guess a number which don't come up. In all the months I been working here, I only got one number right. It's hard to win when you gamble. I done finally figured that out. I done lost too much of they money and mine, and it ain't even fun no more. Matter of fact, I'm seriously thanking about trying to reopen one of the Shacks, depending on how much we get for the house.

"Would Cecil Price please report to the security office? Cecil Price to the security office."

I heard it that time. That was my name. I ain't never heard it announced that loud before. It kinda make you feel important. Like everybody should stop doing what they doing and look around to see who Cecil Price is. I hope they ain't fixing to tell me that the IRS is taking my check. I hope that ain't what this is about.

I open the glass door and see Billy, the head guy, sitting behind a desk. "Somebody was paging me?"

"Yeah, Cecil, you got a call from a Loretta. She asked you to call her as soon as you came in. Here's her number."

"Did she say what it was about?"

"Nope. She just said it was important and to calJ as soon as you can. She didn't sound too happy, if that's any help to you."

It's Viola. I know it is. I can't thank of no other reason why that woman would be calling me at my job. When was the last time Loretta called me anywhere? I look down and he still holding that pink message slip. I thought I took it from him already. "Thanks, Billy."

"Hope everything's all right, Cecil."

"Me, too."

"You can use that phone over there if you want to, or go on into that empty office, if you think you might need some privacy."

"I thank I will." I don't know why I don't turn the light on, and by the time I press the last digit of that telephone number, something tell me that Viola's gone. And if she is, it's my fault. I shouldn'ta sent them damn divorce papers over there the way I did. I shoulda known they would upset her, and when she get real upset she can work herself right into a attack. I pray to God that that ain't what's happened. Please let me be wrong.

"Hello," I hear Loretta's litde voice say. She sound dred, and I can tell it ain't 'cause I woke her up.

"Loretta, this Cecil. Have something happened to Viola?"

When she don't say nothing, that's how I know. "Where is she?"

"At Sunrise. They said she didn't help them this rime, Cecil."

"What you mean?"

"The paramedics said they'd been out here before and Vy always did what they asked her to, but this rime, they said, she didn't help them. That she didn't fight that hard."

"She didn't fight that hard," I say, and right then is when I feel my whole body sink in this chair and drop over this desk. I wanna sit up straight and talk to Loretta, I do, but I can't find the strength. I wonder if this is how Viola felt. Like she wanted to, but couldn't. This my wife she talking about. My wife of almost thirty-nine years. The woman who had my babies. The woman who raised 'em. The woman who tried to help me to be a better man but I was just too damn hardheaded and too lazy and, later on, just too proud to listen. Didn't wanna admit that she knew what was best for me, when I knew all along she did. This is the same woman who snatched my heart right out my chest and put it on top a hers and then pressed down hard. So hard it felt soft. I loved Viola more than she ever knew. But I never knew how to show a woman how much you loved her. Nobody ever showed me how to be tender. Nobody ever taught me how to relax, and then, just surrender. Is it too late to ask, "How you do that, Vy?" I wanted to take you to Paris, but back then we didn't have no France money, and later on, when we did get a few extra dollars, we had kids and then a house note and then the Shacks, and nobody had no time to do nothing but work. I'm so sorry, Vy. I didn't mean to mess up all your dreams. I swear, I didn't.