Authors: Tonya Kappes
She goes on about
our karma, and our lots in life. I believe in anything that’ll bring me good
luck. Hence the Buddha. Because God knows, after losing my family, and living
with Aunt Grace, I need it.
With little time to spare, I thank Addy
for the early bird special and jog home.
By the time I
got to work and got my beaded jewelry on, the television crew is set up in the
middle of the boutique. Beatrice looks fantastic in a black cap-sleeved mini dress
and red high heels. Her chic short hair makes my beaded chandelier earrings
even more beautiful.
“Wow! You look
great.” I run my hand down the seam of her dress to straighten out the silver
beading along the front of it. “Great choice of shoes too.”
“Are you
nervous?” she whispers. “All my friends and family are watching.”
“I wasn’t until
now,” I say and bite the bottom of my lip. “You’re going to do fantastic.”
“Okay we’re
ready.” The makeup lady motions for us with her blush brush. I shake hands with
Sheila Gray, the morning news anchor and become a little star-struck.
I ramble on
about the boutique and my role. I introduce her to Beatrice. Beatrice perks up
and flashes me a grin before she takes them on a quick tour of the boutique.
“We are on in
five, four, three… Stop! Go to commercial.” The camera man screams looking at
me. “What is on her knuckle?”
He grabs my
hand. He motions for the makeup lady who begins to blot it with some thick
gooey stuff.
“It completely
stands out on the camera.” He whines.
I want to put
him in time-out for acting like a three year-old.
“I … it’s a
mosquito bite.” I sputter, lying through my teeth.
“That’s the
biggest mosquito bite I’ve ever seen. Cover it up and let’s get going.” He hides
behind the camera as I apologize.
“Five, four,
three, two ….” The camera man points to us.
“Good morning,
Tri-State. I’m here at the new Gucci boutique with regional manager Hallie
Mediate.” Sheila Gray lets her on-camera persona take over. It puts us all at
ease. “Can you tell us a little bit about what you’re wearing?”
I’m dying to
tell her about my jewelry, but I hold back. “I’m getting ready for fall in this
Gucci tweed trench.” I look down and the sleeve hits perfectly at my wrist,
showing off the bracelet.
“Nice bracelet.”
Sheila points to my wrist. “Gucci?”
“No.” I fumble
with a couple of the beads. “I made it.”
“I love the
color.” She admires it a little more. “It’s gorgeous, and it shows the orange
in your trench.”
I take the
bracelet off, and hand it to her. “I made it, and I’d like to give it to you.”
“I couldn’t.”
Sheila puts her hand up to her chest.
“Yes. Please
take it as a thank you.” I put it on her wrist. “A perfect fit. You have to
take it.”
My confidence
takes a leap through the roof, and I’m ready to take on the world.
Chapter Twenty
After the interview, I can’t concentrate
on work. All of this bead talk has thrown me for a loop. I’m doing the job I’ve
always dreamed of and now I can’t keep my head in it.
What is it about the beads? Do they
relax me? Why do they call my name?
With my head full of jumble, I decide to
take my lunch break early and stop by Aunt Grace’s.
“Aunt Grace, I brought lunch.” I gulped
my sandwich down before I get to her apartment because there’s no way I’ll be
able to eat in there. I had to do it for years with no option, but now that I
have the option,
I
prefer my food without roaches at the table.
She greets me by pulling my hand to her
eyes. She inspects my knuckle from the top and all sides. Without a word, she
drags me down the hall and right into someone else’s apartment.
“Inas, you hear me?” Aunt Grace hollers
into the dimly lit room.
“Aunt Grace, you can’t do this
!” Has she
totally lost her mind?
“Just
because you are the landlord doesn’t give you the right to barge in.”
I jump when I hear a woman’s voice. “I’ve
been expecting you.” The gypsy standing near the small table with a crystal
ball flicks on a light.
The apartment is clean. Unlike Aunt Grace’s
pad, Inas doesn’t have a bug one, or one that I see, anyway. The window
treatments create heavy shadows in the dark, airy space. Oriental rugs adorn
the floors. One little table sits in the middle of the room. No other furniture
in sight, just large pillows flung all over.
“Let me see, please.” My hand is in Inas’
before I can protest.
She inspect my red swollen knuckle
before her gaze trails up my arm, around my neck and up to my eyes.
I jerk as our eyes meet but stay silence,
not sure if I’m scared or in shock.
Her hands run down my arm and back to my
knuckle. I watch as she rubs around it.
“Okay, hi.” My voice is flat with fear.
“I’m Grace’s niece, and it is
so
nice to meet you.”
Slowly I pull my hand away and turn to
leave this crazy place. Aunt Grace puts her arm out to stop me. Inas goes
around me to shut the door.
I’m trapped!
“Listen, I don’t know what this is, but
I need to get back to work.” Or at least get back to the land of the sane.
Aunt Grace guides me back into the depths
of Inas’ apartment. Leaving isn’t an option.
“I’ll go to the doctor.” I protest, and
make a cross on my chest. “A real doctor, I promise.”
“Now, dear child.” Before my eyes adjust
to what’s going on, Inas slaps a wet sticky paste all over my knuckles. “Let
that dry on your way home.” She hands me a potato. “Cut this potato in half and
rub the ointment off.” She’s so close to my face, I can hear the slight clink
of her ear rings. “This is the part where you need to listen closely.” Her warm
breath grazes my ear. “You need to bury the potato in your back yard,
tonight
!”
Her eyes pierce a pit deep in my soul and her words sting my ears.
What if I don’t do it? Then what?
I grab the potato, and take Aunt Grace
by the hand. “Let’s go.”
I give her the look she knows not to
cross.
“I came here to tell you I was on the
morning news, and they’re going to be airing it again tonight, not so you could
perform some witchcraft spell thingy.” I point to my knuckle with all the
goobly glop on it. “How the hell am I supposed to go back to work with shit on
my knuckle?”
“Such a pretty girl with an ugly mouth.”
Aunt Grace shakes her head, and goes about her business as if the voodoo thing
hadn’t happen.
“Aunt Grace, I don’t want some woman
touching my body. I will go to a real doctor.” I need her to understand she
isn’t in control of my life anymore. Even though I know I still let her have
her way almost all the time.
I wipe some of the mystery goo off my
hand.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Aunt
Grace’s spine-chilling voice causes me to stop and take note.
I look at my knuckle and the goo has
become hard, like plaster, only it moves with my hand and doesn’t crack.
She turns on the noon news like nothing
out of the ordinary has happened. I wonder how she does this. She can be frail
and old one minute and in the blink of an eye, hunt down witch doctors.
I watch Aunt Grace smiling at the
television with pride. “I love that Sheila Gray’s jewelry. She always wears the
prettiest stuff.”
I look a little closer and can’t help
but put the events of the day behind me and grin ear to ear. Sheila Gray is
wearing my bracelet.
Chapter
Twenty-one
After work, I take the potato out of my
car. All scenarios play in my head. All the what-ifs.
What if I take the junk off my knuckle
with a wet paper towel? What will happen? I didn’t. I had to stare at it all
afternoon at work.
What if I don’t bury the potato tonight,
at all?
What if I eat it instead?
What if I do bury the potato and the red
lumpy thing on my knuckle does go away?
I take the knife out of the drawer and
cut it in half, like Inas’ insisted.
“Here goes nothing.” I take half of the
potato and rub it all over my knuckle. The potato is like a sponge and soaks up
the dry goop.
“Ah!” I gasp, staring at my hand. My
knuckle is back to olive. Like the rest of my body.
I grab a big spoon out of the kitchen
drawer and race out the back door where I find Wilson reading the paper.
“What are you doing with a potato and
spoon?” He bends the paper down to get a better view. “You should probably cook
it first.”
I know he already thinks I’m a nut job, and
this will just prove it.
I hold up my perfect knuckle in front of
his face.
“What?” Wilson squints, looking for
something that isn’t there.
“Funny. I don’t know.” I inspect it a
bit more closely in the sunlight. “My aunt’s voodoo tenant decided to perform
some sort of healing ritual. My knuckle was red rashy and now it’s gone.”
I dig a hole near the fence.
“What’s with the potato? And why are you
digging a hole with a spoon?” Wilson’s shadow is cast on the hole from standing
in the rays.
“I have to bury this potato today.” I
put the potato in the just-big-enough hole.
Wilson lifts his eyebrows and smiles.
“Strange.”
I shake my head, and walk back into the
house. I can’t believe I buried a potato and used a spoon, but I really can’t
believe I told Wilson.
It’s time to put
this day to rest.
I give myself plenty of time to stop by
Aunt Grace’s before going to the airport to pick up Lucy, Georgia, and
Prudence. I need to remind her I’m going out of town for the weekend.
Uncle Jimmy isn’t on the stoop, and no
one’s on the street. That isn’t a good sign. It usually means Aunt Grace kicked
him out, or he’s on a drunken binge.
I look up at Aunt Grace’s window to make
sure she doesn’t confuse me with the whistling woman, because the last think I
need to day is a concussion. It’s shut tight.
“Aunt Grace?” I knock on the door.
Nervously, I knock louder, and put my
ear to the door. If anything does happen to Aunt Grace, I don’t know what I’ll
do.
“Who is it?” Aunt Grace sounds distant.
“Me, Hallie,” I yell in the crease of
the door, relieved she is okay.
The hallway echoes the clinking of the
locks as Aunt Grace unlocks all eight that she claims she needs to keep her
safe. If this isn’t a sure sign she needs to move, I don’t know what is.
“Hallie.” She opens the door with her
arms stretched out before her.
I’m stunned. I don’t know if she
realizes her teeth are out, and her wig is perched atop her head ratted like a
bird’s nest. I can tell by her slow walk that she isn’t her spry self.
“You want something to eat?” She stirs
the pot on the hot plate. “Tomato soup.”
I sit down and look at the hot plate. I’m
pretty sure tomato soup is red, not brown.
“I’m full, thanks.” I turn my head in
the direction of a whining sound coming from behind her bedroom door.
“You need to eat.” Aunt Grace scans up
and down my body.
“No, Aunt Grace.
You
look like
you need to eat.”
“I do eat.” She looks in the direction
of her bedroom. “Just lost all my muscle, that’s all.”
She’s not going to discuss it with me
and maybe she’s right, but I’m sad to see her getting older by the day.
“Who’s in there, Uncle Jimmy?” I amuse
myself at the thought of her having him locked away or tied up for bad
behavior.
“Crazy fool, don’t know where he is.”
She opens the door and a little pink poodle runs out, straight towards my
Prada sandals. “Got me a dog to keep me company.”
I throw my feet up in the air, just in
case the little booger wants to either pee or try to chew my toes.
He jumps up, trying to bite my feet.
Aunt Grace cries out in amusement. “Get down, little buddy.”
It looks like the same dog the whistling
lady had, except this one is white.
“Aunt Grace, where’d you get the dog?” I
ask.
He’s sweet. No sign of peeing or chewing
once I put my feet back down.
“Found him on the street.” She’s
avoiding eye contact. She picks up the dog and heads towards the door. “Now
don’t get any funny notions about it. Just put it out of your head.”
I follow her up the stairs to the
building’s roof. She let the dog down and to run around and do his business. I
probably would’ve taken in the view of the city, but I’m concerned. Why didn’t
she take the dog outside?