Playing the Hand You're Dealt (3 page)

Read Playing the Hand You're Dealt Online

Authors: Trice Hickman

I loved Ms. Gerti. She was a good woman. She reminded me a lot of my mother. Only Ms. Gerti would curse you out quicker than a heartbeat and worse than a sailor. She lived in the guesthouse off the flower garden behind the main house. She had been a loyal employee, nursemaid, babysitter, chef, housekeeper, chauffeur, confidante, and psychologist to the Baldwin family for over thirty years.
“Hey, Ms. Gerti!” I beamed as we embraced in a big hug.
“Let me take a look at you!” Ms. Gerti exclaimed as she stared at my hair. “Well, I'll be.” She smiled, pausing to inspect me as Samantha and CJ had just done. “Emily, you're just beautiful, I tell ya.”
I smiled appreciatively, giving my thanks for her approval. “Don't tell me you're cooking fried chicken?” I asked, inhaling the mouthwatering scent that could put KFC to utter shame.
“Sure am, with collard greens, macaroni and cheese, cornbread, and sweet potato pie for dessert.”
“Southern staples, my favorites!” I tossed my healthy eating habit out the window and gave her a kiss on her cheek for throwing in the sweet potato pie.
“I'm so sorry to hear about your mother,” Ms. Gerti said as she patted my shoulder. “I know you two were really close.There's no hurt in this world like the kind that comes when you lose your mama.You just keep your head up, you hear?”
I nodded because her words were so true. The hurt was indescribable. She could see the sadness in my eyes, so she cut the conversation short, giving me a small reprieve. “You all go on upstairs and clean up, dinner will be ready in a minute.”
Samantha, CJ, and I lugged my bags up the stairs and headed to the end of the long hallway, entering my temporary living quarters. I walked over to the other side of the room and looked out of the window, admiring the backyard. It was nothing less than spectacular, especially for the city. Brenda had done an amazing job of turning it into a miniature Garden of Eden. I glanced toward the other side of the room, where I spotted a large wicker basket sitting atop the mahogany dresser. “For me?” I smiled as I looked back at Samantha, walking over to inspect it.
“It's your welcome gift. I put it together myself,” she said with a devilish grin before turning to her son. “CJ, go to your room and play while I catch up with Emily.”
“But I wanna stay with Auntie Emee, too . . .
pleeeaaase,
” he begged as he walked over and latched on around my leg.
“Sweet Pea, listen to your mother,” I told him gently but firmly. I had to be direct with him, reestablishing our rules of behavior, otherwise he'd end up running all over me like he did Samantha. CJ looked at me with doubting eyes at first, but then decided to obey. “I'll read you a new bedtime story tonight,” I said, blowing him a kiss before he ran off to his room.
Samantha flopped down on the bed. “My son loves him some Emily Snow. You should've heard him before you got here. Every five minutes it was, ‘When is Auntie Emee gonna be here? Is she here yet? How much longer till she gets here?' I'm telling you, he almost drove me crazy.”
“Well, I love my godson, too. I'll start grammar lessons with him first thing next week,” I said, taking the basket of goodies from the dresser as I headed over to join Samantha on the other side of the queen-sized bed.
“Damn, give yourself a break,” she said. “Just chill.You need to relax and unwind.”
I shrugged my shoulders and untied the turquoise bow on my custom made gift. “Teaching helps me to relax and unwind.”
“I don't know how you can sit in a classroom full of screaming kids every day and say that it relaxes you.You're weird, you know that, right?”
I laughed. “Speaking of work, when are you headed back to New York? I know your customers must be in desperate need of lipstick and moisturizer,” I teased.
Samantha had taken so much time off from her job, I was surprised she still had one. She was a senior account manager for Lancôme, and even though a career in sales afforded her flexibility, she stretched the boundaries worse than a rubber band.
I remembered when she showed up at my door the morning after I called with the news that my mother had slipped away during the middle of the night. She must have packed her things and rushed straight to the airport at the crack of dawn.
“You just got back from a two-week vacation last month,” I'd told her. “Are you sure they're going to let you take more time off?”
She held my hand in hers. “I left a voice message for my director and told her that I had a family emergency. If she can't deal, then she can kiss my ass.”
That was my best friend. She made decisions on a whim, consequences to the wind. But truthfully, I wished I was more like her in that regard—having an air of daring and unpredictability. Samantha was fearless and bold, and I loved that about her.
“I've gotta check into the office this Monday,” Samantha said. “But I'll try to make it back here again next weekend. I know by then you'll be ready to get up out of here, 'cause, girl, my mother is a damn trip!”
“Oh, Samantha, don't say that,” I said softly. Samantha's mother was a very touchy subject.
“Hmph, it's the truth,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Hey, I have a better idea. Instead of me coming back here, why don't you join me in New York next Friday? We can have a girls' weekend out on the town!”
Part of me wanted to urge Samantha to come home and spend time with her precious little boy, or better yet, take him back to New York with her instead of planning a weekend of partying with me. But truthfully, CJ was better off with the arrangement here.
Samantha lived in a tiny but fabulous apartment in Manhattan, and CJ lived here in this big, beautiful home with his grandparents. Samantha said it was because the city was no place to raise a child, but I knew that wasn't really it. I loved Samantha to death, but honestly, she was about as equipped to raise a child as Lil' Kim was to sing in a gospel choir—she'd even admit to that. And Carl . . . oh my goodness! I wouldn't trust him to raise a pack of wolves for fear he might corrupt them. Samantha referred to him as her “baby daddy” just to get on her mother's nerves.
She and Carl were constantly involved in what her mother reviled as uncivilized ghetto drama. Regretfully, I had to agree. And even though Samantha was moving back here next month, she had no plans for CJ to live with her.
“I think I'll pass,” I said. “I'm not really up for painting the Big Apple a new shade of red.”
“Come on, Emily.You need to have a little fun.”
“Exploring the city and hanging out with CJ and Ms. Gerti is all the fun I need.”
“You call that fun?” Samantha said, shaking her head like I was pathetic. Then her eyes began to glow with mischief. “Take a look inside your gift basket.”
I appreciated my best friend's thoughtfulness. “Samantha, this was so sweet of you.” I smiled as I examined the goodies inside. She had gotten me two books by my favorite authors, a box of herbal tea, my favorite body-care products, snack bars, and fruit. As I dug deeper into the basket I discovered what had been at the root of her devilish grin. I held up a large vibrator. “Good Lord!” I gasped. The thing had to be twelve inches long and three inches in width. It looked like a weapon!
Samantha laughed. “That should tide you over for a while. And when you're ready, I know some fine brothers I can introduce you to.”
I put the foot-long monster back inside the basket, letting it reclaim its place among the flavored condoms, nipple clips, and Ben Wa balls she'd included as part of my gift. “Samantha,” I sighed, “at least let me unpack before you start trying to hook me up.”
“Girl, don't front, 'cause I know your coochie is suffering from a serious drought.” She laughed.
I had to laugh right along with her because she was right. “That may be true, but I'm not bringing men into your parents' home. Especially since they're being gracious enough to let me stay here until my place is ready.”
“How long will it be before you can move in?”
“Well, my contractor should've finished last month. When I talked to him two weeks ago, he said it would take another month or so. Now he's not returning my phone calls,” I said with mild frustration. “I'm going by my house first thing Monday morning to inspect the progress for myself.”
Samantha shook her head. “These shady-ass contractors will tell you anything. As much as you're paying him, you should already be in there by now.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I know what you can do to speed things up.”
“What's that?” I asked, eager to hear any suggestion that might help.
“Take Daddy with you and tell the contractor that your attorney wants to see if they're doing the work according to the timeline in your contract. That'll get his attention.”
The thought made me so uncomfortable I began to sweat. “Excuse me for a minute,” I said. I got up and made my way over to the bathroom on the other side of the room. I picked up a face cloth from the chrome towel bar by the sink, ran it under cold water, and patted my face with it. The cool dampness felt good against my warm skin. A minute later I walked out, feeling like I could breathe again.
At that moment, I realized just how difficult this was going to be. In the past, I could get away with my secret desires because I knew I'd never be in a situation that would test me on a daily basis. But now the safe rules I'd lived by for so long were about to change.
Samantha looked at me with concern. “How're you doing? I mean, how're you holding up? I know you still miss your mom.”
“I'm okay. I have my moments, though. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, panicking because I think I've forgotten to give her her medicine, but then I remember that she's gone.”
Samantha leaned over and gave me a long, comforting hug. “It's gonna be all right. It'll take time, but everything's gonna be all right.”
I hugged her back tightly, praying that her words would ring true.
Dinner was outstanding. Brenda briefly breezed through as we finished up our small feast. She gave me two impeccable air-kisses and raved about my hair. “Emily, this look is so much more becoming on you. You were long overdue to let your real beauty shine,” she told me as she ran her hand over my head as though I were a show pony. She gave CJ an apple-shaped eraser that she'd picked up from the museum and then chatted with us for ten minutes before heading off to her sorority's board meeting. Ed was still at the office, or as Brenda had said, and I quote, “Out doing only God knows what.” I wondered about the meaning behind her comment.
After we ate, I gave CJ a bath, read him a bedtime story, and had him tucked in by eight-thirty. I turned out his light and then headed back downstairs to join Samantha and Ms. Gerti.The three of us sat around the kitchen table. They drank coffee and I sipped tea as we reminisced about the good old days. We were in mid-laughter when the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” Ms. Gerti asked, looking at her watch.
Samantha rushed off to the door to see who it was. When we heard a deep voice and the sound of huffing and bickering, Ms. Gerti looked at me and rolled her eyes. A minute later Samantha came back into the kitchen with Carl in tow.
Ms. Gerti didn't crack her mouth to speak. She simply stood up, walked over to the sink, and started washing out her coffee cup. Samantha and Carl looked mismatched standing next to each other. She was elegant in her yellow linen sundress and gorgeous designer sandals, while he was thugged out in his oversized Lakers jersey and sagging jeans that were in danger of falling to the floor at any minute. I knew that as hot as it was outside, his feet were probably roasting in his loosely laced Timberlands.
“Hello, Carl,” I said, trying to sound pleasant.
“What up, ma?” He nodded in my direction.
Ms. Gerti sucked her teeth loudly and continued to rinse her cup. She and Carl didn't even try to pretend to be cordial to one another. I attempted to counter the tension. “How've you been?” I asked him.

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