Authors: Terry McMillan
“Just taking it easy, baby. You looking like a thoroughbred woman now. Ain’t that something? Skinny as a bean pole, but he must be eating what’s left on your plate. Who is this? One of the New York Giants?” He gave out a howl, and his bowlegs swayed.
“Uncle Jake, this is Franklin.”
“How do, son. Cigar?”
“Fine, sir. Sure, why not?” Franklin took the cigar, and I walked through the house, then up to my old bedroom. Marguerite still hadn’t changed the eyelet bedspread and matching curtains. The walls were the same pale yellow, and my bed was stuffed with animals. The first one that caught my eye was that elephant Bookie had won for me at the state fair when I was a teenager. God, does time fly. And on my dresser were the awards I’d won in talent shows. There wasn’t a speck of dust on anything. I went back downstairs, and Daddy was bringing the luggage in.
Marguerite was in the kitchen. Franklin was sitting on the couch next to Uncle Jake.
“You like the blues, don’t you, son?”
“Yes, I do, sir.”
“Who in particular?”
“Muddy Waters for one. B.B. King, Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland…most of ’em, really.”
“Good to hear it. Listen to this one. Tell me if you know who this is.”
Uncle Jake put on Slim Greer and leaned back on the sofa. Daddy walked in.
“What you drinking, son?”
“Nothing, Pops. I mean Daddy.”
“You can call me Pops—don’t make me no never mind. So you ain’t drinking nothin’? Hell, it’s Christmas.”
“I had a little too much on the way here.”
“Your head bad?”
“That’s putting it mildly. A cup of hot coffee would sure be nice.”
“Margie!” he yelled. “Put on a pot of coffee, honey!”
“You ever hearda Blind Lemon Jefferson or Mississippi John Hurt?” Uncle Jake asked.
“Afraid not.”
“What about Sun House or Albert King?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, boy, I’ma give you a education while you here. Colored folks should know all about the blues, you know.”
Franklin laughed. I plugged in the fake Christmas tree, and boy, it felt good being home.
“Zora?” Marguerite yelled from the kitchen, so I went in. She must’ve cooked earlier, because all kinds of pots and pans and roasters were on the stove.
“So how’ve you been, Marguerite?”
“So-so. You hungry?”
“A little. What’ve you got here?”
“Some collard greens, ham, corn bread, macaroni and cheese, candied yams, and some potato salad in the refrigerator. It’s your Daddy I’m worried about. His arthritis acting up something terrible. Always in pain, but he won’t admit it. You need to tell him something about hisself, honey.”
“What can I say?”
“He’s
your
Daddy. Think of something.”
“Has he been to the doctor?”
“Yeah, but the wrong one. All he do is give him these pain pills that don’t do nothin’ but make him sleepy.”
“I’ll talk to him. You mind if I have a slice of ham?”
“That’s what it’s here for, chile. So. How’s the singing coming? Anything exciting?”
“Well, not really. My voice classes are coming along, and by April, my coach is helping me get a demo tape together.”
“What’s a demo tape?”
“It’s a tape of me singing a few popular songs and some of my own that I’d send to record producers, and if they like what they hear, I might be able to get a record contract.”
“Really? Well, it sounds like something
is
happening. Just take it like you find it, baby.”
“You sound like Daddy,” I said.
“I’m his better half, chile.”
“Where’s Aunt Lucille?”
“Home. She done caught Jake with another one of them floozies at some motel, and you know when she put him out, where do he come?”
“He’s still doing that?”
“He’s here, ain’t he?” She took a tray with the coffee on it into the living room. We sat there for over an hour, listening to Uncle Jake talk about the blues.
Finally, we ate dinner. By eleven o’clock, Franklin and I were both exhausted and went upstairs to sleep. Marguerite followed us.
“Your room is down here, Franklin.”
Marguerite pushed open the extra-bedroom door, and Franklin looked back at me and winked. “Good night, baby,” he said. Then he turned to Marguerite. “Is it all right if I give her a good night kiss?”
“It ain’t my business. If y’all was married, I’d put you in the same room. Maybe next time when you come, it’ll be like that. What you think?”
“We’re working on it,” he said. Marguerite said good night and went into her and Daddy’s room and closed the door. Daddy came upstairs and watched Franklin press his lips against mine. Then Franklin turned and started walking toward his room. He didn’t see Daddy.
“Where you going, son?”
“To sleep, Pops.”
“Why ain’t you sleeping in Zora’s room—with her?”
“Miss Margie told me to sleep in here.”
“I swear, she’s behind the times, ain’t she? Where you sleep when you at home, son?”
“With Zora, Pops.”
“Then that’s who you gon’ sleep with here. Hell, this is the eighties, and both of y’all damn near middle age,” he said, slapping his thigh. That’s his favorite thing to do, slap his thigh. “I don’t know where Margie’s brain is sometimes. Now, y’all go on, and sleep tight.”
Franklin hunched up his shoulders and walked toward my room with me. “Good night, Pops.”
“Looks like it might be one now, huh?” Daddy winked at Franklin, then closed his door.
Franklin wanted to do it, but I couldn’t. My Daddy was only two doors away, and we—or I should say
I—have a tendency to get loud. Franklin does more shivering and shaking than anything. I would’ve been embarrassed as all hell or felt so restrained that I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it. So instead I considered another alternative—one that always makes him make promises he could never keep.
* * *
When I woke up, Franklin was gone. I went downstairs and saw him standing on a ladder on the front porch.
“What are you doing?” I asked. It was colder in Toledo than it was in New York, but he didn’t have anything on but a T-shirt and his jeans.
“Fixing this light.”
“Why?”
“’Cause it’s broken, that’s why.”
“Did Daddy put you up to this?”
“Naw. It just look like he ain’t able to do some of the things that need to be done around here, so I’ma make myself useful. When I’m through doing this, I’ma build him some shelves in the garage, and that toolshed in the back is gon’ look like brand-new when I finish with it. I feel good, baby,” he said.
I just smiled.
For the next few days, Franklin fixed everything around the house he could find. He and Daddy laughed, drank, and played poker with Marguerite and Uncle Jake, while I watched. Aunt Lucille finally came over when she heard I was here, and I guess she felt sorry for Uncle Jake, because she let him go home with her. I even went to church, but Franklin hadn’t brought the one suit he owned, so he stayed home. Daddy insisted on staying home to keep him company. They were both drunk when we got back, and laughing like two friends reminiscing about old times.
On Christmas morning, we exchanged gifts, and
there were two envelopes under the tree, for me and Franklin. Daddy had given us each five hundred dollars. Daddy definitely liked Franklin.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said.
“I feel the same way, Pops. You’ve been too generous already,” Franklin said.
Daddy just took a puff off his brand-new pipe I’d bought him, and blew out a big cloud of smoke. At one minute after midnight last night, he had convinced me that it was officially Christmas and opened his boxes. Marguerite, who was a copycat, had opened hers too. She was wearing her new kimono now.
“Looka here, son,” Daddy said. “It’s my money, and if I wanna spend it on you and my baby, that’s what I do. Understand?”
Franklin grinned at Daddy, and Daddy smiled back—that gold tooth just shining.
“What’d you get Zora for Christmas, Franklin?” Marguerite asked.
“That’s none of your business, Margie,” Daddy said.
“She’ll get it when we get home,” Franklin answered.
Daddy slapped his thigh and blew out more smoke.
* * *
Marguerite didn’t go to the airport with us, because she was waiting for her new washer and dryer to be delivered from Sears. Once we got inside the terminal, Daddy looked Franklin in the eye. “You take care of my daughter, son. I mean that. You’ve got the best there is, and don’t ever forget it.”
“I won’t, Pops. Believe me, I won’t.”
“And you remember what we talked about, you hear?”
“I will.”
“And you keep singing, baby. Something gon’ happen. Good things always come to people who work at it. You take care of him,” he said, pointing at Franklin.
“He’s a good man, and I want some grandbabies what look just like him.”
“I will, Daddy. And what did you promise me?”
“That I’ll go to the doctor. Margie got the biggest mouth in Toledo, don’t she? Happy New Year, you two.” Daddy kissed me on the forehead and shook Franklin’s hand hard.
We said the same to him and boarded the plane. By the time we were airborne, it occurred to me that Franklin hadn’t had a drop to drink before we left, hadn’t stopped at the bar like he’d done on the way here, and when the hostess came by, he didn’t even order one.
“So did you have a decent time?” I asked.
“It was the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time,” he said. “In a long, long time. Thank you, baby.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. And thank you for coming with me, Franklin.”
“Your Pops is all right. A wise man,” he said, then leaned back in his seat and looked out at the clouds.
“What makes you say that?”
“A lotta things. We had a real good man-to-man talk, something I been hoping to do with my own Pops, but this was the next-best thing.”
I pushed my seat back so that it was even with his.
“What’d he say?”
“He just told me to go ahead and be a man. That just because I get laid off from time to time, that that ain’t no reason to feel like less than one. I needed somebody to tell me that, baby—another man. He told me about how hard it was for him when he was just getting started, and he told me to believe in myself first and don’t never give up. Don’t even think about it, no matter how bad things get. I like your Pops, Zora, and wish like hell mine could be more like him. You tired?”
“Sort of.”
“Then put your head here, baby,” he said, tapping his shoulder. He lifted his arm up so it went behind my neck, and his hand landed on my arm. He stroked it, the way you would a crying baby.
“Aren’t you scared, Franklin?”
“Of what?”
“Nothing,” I said, and pressed my head against his shoulder.
“So what you wanna do?” I asked.
“Anything but stay home, Franklin.”
“Well, all the best shows and concerts is already sold out, and I ain’t spending no seventy-five dollars to go nowhere and dance—I’m telling you that right now.”
“Why not? We can afford to splurge at least one day out of the year. Where’s the newspaper?”
“Call some of your girlfriends. One of ’em should know where a decent party is. Try Portia—she’s like Rona Barrett when it comes to what’s happening, ain’t she?”
“You don’t like Portia, do you?”
“Did I say I didn’t like her?”
“No, but you always make such sarcastic remarks about her.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. Call her.”
“I will, in a minute. Let me look through the paper first.”
“Ain’t Marie supposed to be stopping by on New Year’s?”
“That’s what she said, but you never can tell about Marie. She might have forgotten.”
“Call her up to remind her.”
“Why? Do you want to see her that bad?”
“I just thought she was an all right lady, and I dug her style. Besides, she’s funny as hell, and she is a friend of yours, ain’t she?”
“Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were staring at her boobs that night.”
My face felt hot. Shit, who wouldn’t stare at ’em when they looking you dead in the face? I ain’t used to seeing Zora act jealous. I love it. Every once in a while, when we’re walking down the street and she notice my eyes on some young girl’s ass, she’ll say, “Like what you see?” “What’s that?” I ask, and the whole time I’m trying to keep the grin off my face. “If you want it, why don’t you go on over there and try to get it?” I play dumb. “I don’t know what you talking about, baby.” This is when she usually hiss and start walking faster than me. Hell, I ain’t thinking about no young girls. Any man in his right mind’ll look at a eighteen-year-old ass when it’s squeezed into something tight. It’s called lust, and why women always think just ’cause we looking means we want it, I don’t know. The woman I want is walking on my side. All this shit is a test. If she loves you, she’ll get pissed off, which almost always guarantee you gon’ get some super-deluxe loving that night—’cause she’ll fuck you like she got something to prove. But if she don’t act concerned one way or another, a man gets to wondering what the real deal is.
“I wasn’t staring at Marie’s breasts, Zora. They was begging everybody in the whole damn place to look!” I started laughing, and to my surprise, she thought the shit was funny too.
She was leaning over the kitchen counter, flipping through the paper, and I walked up behind her and pushed Tarzan against that sweet round ass of hers. “Franklin, get away from me. I’m not kidding.”
“I just wanna feel you, baby. But if you want me to wait till Marie gets over here, fine with me.”
She turned around and slapped me. Not hard, but hard enough.
“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How about a game of Scrabble when you finish?”
“Then get the board ready. Look, here’s something at the Savoy, and it’s only fifty dollars.”
“Apiece?”
“Yeah. And the Savoy is
really
nice, Franklin. Let’s go there.”
“Zora, fifty fuckin’ dollars? Gimme a break. Call Claudette, too, and anybody else you can think of. At least
try
to find out if something free is happening.”
She picked up the phone and dialed. I guess it was Claudette who she called first, ’cause I heard her congratulate her on her new baby. How could anybody name a kid George in this day and age is what I wanna know. Zora told her all about her voice classes and that demo tape she supposed to start working on, and she just kept running her mouth, while I’m sitting there listening if she was really trying to find out if something was happening on New Year’s or not. Finally, I cleared my throat a few times. “Girl, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be out to see you and the baby within the next few weeks. Promise.
Or
you can bring him and Chanelle over here. I bet she’s big now. She is! Well, kiss little George for me, and Happy New Year’s to you and Allen both, honey.”