Holidaze (8 page)

“No matter what happens between me and you, Lynn Marie, that’s my baby you’re carrying and I intend to stay right here.” How sweet. Too bad he doesn’t feel the same way now.

“Are you sure she’s yours?” my mom says, catching him completely off guard. What little color is left in my dad’s face drains at my mom’s venomous retort. I know she’s only playing with his head, but wouldn’t it be something if my mom had somebody on the side like he did? It would serve his ass right after all he put her through.

“You’re just saying that because you’re angry,” my dad says, again trying to touch my mother’s stomach, but she’s not having it. The other couples in the restaurant look on as they wait to see how this dramatic scene will end.

“You’re damned right I’m angry, Carter. I hate you for making me believe you loved me when the only person you really love is yourself. How could I be so stupid?”

“Lynn Marie, please calm down. It’s not good for the baby
,”
he says, talking to her quietly, which pisses my mom off even more.

“Shut the hell up, talking to me like you’re my daddy, you short-ass punk
,”
my mom yells, scaring his trick even more. The girl’s trembling and looks frozen in place. She hasn’t even seen a small fraction of how live my mom can get, especially where my dad is concerned. “I hate you with every bone in my body.”

I read about a curse in the spirit book that talks about using the word “hate” in conjunction with the phrase “bones in the body.” It’s supposed to weaken whoever the intended victim is. That’s why Mama always warns against using such strong words haphazardly. There’s a lot of power in the spoken word, especially when an angry sistah with ashe spits them out.

“You don’t mean that,” my dad says, looking around at all the eyes focused on the three of them. Even the restaurant manager’s into the holiday soap opera they’ve created.

“The hell I don’t. If I weren’t in so much pain I’d kick both of your asses right where you stand.” Before my dad can respond, Mama walks in through the front door with Daddy right behind her. If it has anything to do with her children—grandchildren included—Mama doesn’t need a phone call to tell her something’s wrong: she just knows it. And when I was in my mother’s womb, Mama and I were even more connected than we are now. She could always communicate with me like no one else, and she could tell when I was in distress, like now.

“Get away from my daughter,” Mama says to my dad and the girl who looks like she’s seen a ghost. Daddy rushes over to my mother lying on the floor, while Mama looks around the place, her green eyes shining brightly. I wonder what she sees through those things?

“You’re going to be okay, baby. We’re here now,” Daddy says to my mom, kissing her on her forehead and nodding at my dad to greet him; unlike Mama, who ignores my father’s presence altogether. Mama kneels down next to her daughter and husband and touches my mom’s belly, instantly calming my mom and me down. My mother’s breathing returns to normal and her cramps dissipate, shocking everyone present. No wonder the people in the neighborhood are both afraid of, and respectful of, Mama’s powers. After seeing her work, who wouldn’t be?

“Mama, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” my mom says, allowing Mama to embrace her. The paramedics arrive but they’re sent away.

“I know, baby, I know,”
Mama says.
“You can get up now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

As Mama speaks, I’m forced out of my dream and back to the silent apartment I fell asleep in. I’m just glad I’m in the same place and not wandering around outside somewhere, sleepwalking.

“Damn, what the hell was that?” I ask aloud in the quiet living room. I can hear my neighbor’s television downstairs, but nothing’s on in here. I guess I never got a chance to turn on the television. My entire body is dripping with sweat and I feel like I’ve been asleep for hours. My church clothes are glued to my body and my hair is completely sweated out. I should change into my sweats and a shirt anyway, so I might as well get up.

I grab my phone from underneath my pillow and check the time. I wasn’t even out for a full hour, and there’s still more tea left in my mug. I also notice I’ve missed a phone call from Jeremy. I guess he’s really worried about me, but he’ll have to wait until tomorrow for a return call. I need more sleep, and I want to get back into my dream world. It’s been so long since I had a normal one that I forgot just how much I need them to sleep well.

Without getting up from the couch, I reach down and grab my weekend bag and find my nightclothes inside. Unlike at Mama’s house, I don’t have to go in the bathroom to change. I miss this freedom every time I leave my mom’s house.

“I hope I can’t overdose on this stuff. Well, here goes nothing,” I say before swallowing the rest of my herbal remedy. There’s still another serving in the pot on the stove, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary for tonight. Maybe seeing more of my mom’s relationship path will help me to deal with both of my dudes. Lord knows, I don’t want to repeat my mom’s mistakes in love.

“It wasn’t all that bad, was it?”
my mom asks, invading my thoughts before I drift off again.
“And no, you can’t overdose. Had you taken the entire portion I made for you, you’d still be asleep.”

“It was all bad from what I saw,”
I think back to her, readjusting myself on the couch and returning my phone to its spot under my pillow.

“Jayd, there’s always pain in love. Mind you, your daddy caused me more pain than necessary. But ultimately I should’ve known better, especially as many times as Mama warned me. All I can say is, learn from my mistakes, baby. True love takes time to develop, and you can’t give up. Luckily you’re young and you have a lot of time to fall in and out of love. Sweet dreams, baby.”

From my mom’s lips to God’s ears, and I hope she’s listening. I need more sweetness in my life these days, and that can start with me getting some more sleep. I’ll worry about the love part later.

A
fter finishing the rest of my tea last night, I returned to my slumber and straight into another dream that I can’t recall at the moment. I again had no control over when I fell asleep, which is unusual when I’m as tired as I was last night. I admit I’ve never lost this much sleep before. But still, there was something in that tea that made me literally lose my head.

Other than my first wicked dream, I slept better than I have since this whole curse thing started. Seeing my mom and dad at each other’s throats at the Christmas before my birth and again on Valentine’s Day, where she almost went into premature labor because she was so pissed off, was a bit much to handle. But at least I witnessed for myself how it all went down. To have been married once upon a time, my parents sure did—and still do—hate each other. I guess familiarity truly does breed contempt. And my parents are the poster couple for the truth of that theory.

What’s really bugged out is that my dad had the nerve to give his wife and his mistress the same gift, even if it was for two different holidays. Maybe the jewelry store he purchased the necklaces from had a two-for-one special going on, or maybe they had the same sale for both Christmas and Valentine’s Day, since those are the most popular holidays to give gifts of love, supposedly. When I think about it, there’s really not much difference between the two holidays. They both make you think love is what it’s all about, when that’s the biggest load of bull ever sold legally to the masses.

If my parents, grandparents, friends, and personal experiences have taught me anything, it’s that love is a shot in the dark. And the person who does the most loving is usually the one who gets their heart broken. All I know is that I’m tired of being in the line of fire, and more than that, I’m sick of watching everyone go down because of this thing called love. All of this drama is messing with my health and my money, since I still can’t do anyone’s hair until I get my own issues in check. At this point I could care less about the love shit. I just need my finances straight and I’ll be as happy as any girl I’ve ever seen when a dude says he loves her.

It’s been a quiet morning around here. Shawntrese is pissed that I can’t do her hair today. I told her I wasn’t feeling well and should be back on the job by next weekend. For both our sakes I hope I told the truth. I miss working and making money. There are only three weeks until Valentine’s Day, and I know sistahs will be getting their hair done at Netta’s and around the way that entire week. Sleep or no sleep, a sistah’s got to get in on that money.

“She’s got her own thing, that’s why I love her,”
Ne-Yo sings, announcing a phone call. I’ve put everyone on this “Miss Independent” ring because being independent is one of my anthems, no matter whose name pops up on the caller ID. I pick up the slim cell and flip it open to find Jeremy’s name in the window.

“Good morning,” I say, cozying back into my spot on the comfortable couch that doubles as my weekend bed. I forgot to turn the heater on when I came in last night and it’s chilly.

“Good morning, stranger.” I see Jeremy has early morning jokes for a sistah. I take off the scarf that’s wrapped around my head and scratch my oily scalp. I need to hook my own hair up today in a real way. And my nails could use some love, too. Since I can’t work on anyone else I might as well work on myself.

“Now you’re getting it. I knew that tea would do you some good. Being sweet to others starts with being sweet to yourself. Enjoy your day, baby, and I’ll check in with you later.”

“Mom, can you ring a mental doorbell or something before you come in?”
Sometimes my mom has bad timing.

“No, not anymore,”
she says, leaving as quickly as she appeared. But she’s right. I need to take care of Jayd first and foremost. I’m looking forward to chilling all day today.

“Jayd, are you there?” Jeremy asks. I’m glad he can’t see me because I completely zoned out while my mom was talking to me. I’ve been so off lately that even regular shit takes more effort to focus on.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that. I dropped the phone,” I say, trying to play it off. I didn’t plan on talking to him until much later. I wanted to call and check on Rah and Nigel. I haven’t spoken to Rah since he followed me home last night, and there are no messages from him on my phone either. I wonder if he’s talked to Nigel since he stormed off after the memorial service yesterday. I need to get Jeremy off the phone so I can get my day started. From doing my hair to checking in on my friends, he just wouldn’t understand, nor do I feel like explaining it to him.

“So what’s on your agenda this morning, Lady J?” I hear footsteps walking up the stairs, which are on the other side of the living room wall I’m lying up against. We can hear each other’s thoughts, the walls are so thin in this building.

“I missed you at school the past couple of days. Thought I’d come and check up on you personally just to make sure you’re still alive,” Jeremy says. I can hear his laugh both through the cell and through the front door. No, this fool didn’t do a pop-up on me. What the hell?

“Where are you?” I ask, rising from the couch and looking through the peephole in the front door to see Jeremy’s blue eyeball staring back at me. He’s so crazy.

“You can’t answer a question with a question, Miss Jackson,” he says, backing away from the door and letting me open it, allowing him and the cold air in. We simultaneously hang up our phones.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” I say, tightening my mom’s thick, red Victoria’s Secret robe around my body. With my Pink sweat pants and tank top on, and my mom’s house slippers to match, I could be one of the catalogue models for the company.

“Yes, it is, and a very cute one, I might add,” he says, kissing me on the cheek before taking his coat off and hanging it on the rack next to the door. Jeremy looks around my mom’s apartment as if he’s expecting to see someone else in the room with me. Little does he know my mom’s always wherever I am, just like my ancestors.

“What’s that in your hand?” I ask while resecuring the front locks. My mom likes to keep it like Fort Knox in here and I can’t blame her, as many times as we’ve been broken into. It’s just another fact of life in the hood.

“Breakfast. I thought you might be hungry,” he says, placing the two paper bags full of food on the coffee table. “Sourdough breakfast sandwich, no bacon, right?”

“Jack in the Box. Oh Jeremy, you shouldn’t have,” I say sarcastically, joining him on the small couch, ready to dig into our fast-food feast. Sitting this close to Jeremy brings back nostalgic memories of the first time he came over here. And like then, Jeremy smells like fresh Irish Spring and good enough to eat. From the wet curls framing the back of his neck, I’d say he just got out of the shower—just how I like him.

“Only the best for a lady,” he says, making me smile. Jeremy can be so silly sometimes. “And here’s your orange juice and hash browns.”

“Wow, a value meal. You must’ve really missed me, huh?” I bite into one of the hot potatoes, ready for my egg-and-cheese sandwich. I haven’t had anything to eat since dinner at the church yesterday, and even then I didn’t eat a lot. I’m so hungry I could eat both our value meals.

“I did miss you, girl. Where have you been hiding out?” Jeremy takes his food out of his bag and I notice he got the same thing for himself, just doubled. He then unwraps both of his sandwiches and smashes them together before digging in. Damn, dudes can eat.

“I wish I were hiding,” I say, devouring my own breakfast. All that dreaming I did last night contributed to my hunger and I didn’t even realize it. “I’ve been having some sleep issues since the shooting.” Jeremy puts his mega sandwich down and lifts my chin with his right index finger. He looks deep into my eyes and I catch my reflection in his pretty blues. Man, I really need to do my hair.

“Physically you look fine to me, as always.” Jeremy resumes eating his breakfast but not before I can smack some of the food out of his hands.

“Physically? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, only hearing half of his comment. Flattery will get Jeremy nowhere this morning.

“All I’m saying is that I know a great psychiatrist if you need one. He’s a friend of the family,” Jeremy says, as serious as a heart attack. What is it with white folks and their shrinks? I like to watch
Frasier
reruns as much as anybody else, but I’ll be damned if I do a live reenactment of the television show myself. Dr. Whitmore’s alternative medicine is more than enough for a sistah to handle.

“No, I’m good. But thank you for the referral.” We continue eating in silence. I guess our appetites have gotten the best of us both, or so I think.

“I didn’t mean anything by that, you know. I’m just saying that tragedy can be hard to get through sometimes. And I know I don’t always say the right things, but I do want to help you in my own way, if you let me.”

“That’s so sweet, Jeremy. But really, I’ve got this one on my own.” He doesn’t need to know that as a priestess in training, I never walk alone. My ancestors and orisha are always with me, whether anyone else can see them or not. Sometimes I feel alone, but I never forget who I am or why I’m here. No shrink needs to tell me shit I already know.

“You don’t always have to be so big and bad, you know.” This reminds me of one the first conversations we had. Jeremy told me to break down some of the emotional walls I put around my heart and let him in. I see where that’s gotten me, and I’m not so sure I want to keep going down this path. Between him and Rah I’m surprised I’m still standing up as it is. “You always have your guard up.”

“Jeremy, it’s not that simple.” If he only knew how off about me he really is. If I’d had my guard up all along, Misty would have never been able to get to me and I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. But I know Jeremy’s not talking about that. Even with him, if I’d stayed on point and kept Jeremy at a distance, I wouldn’t have been hurt by ex-trick Tania having his lovechild, no matter how far away she might be now.

“Well, then make it that simple,” he says, sounding a lot like Rah did yesterday concerning his rationale about our relationship. Both Rah and Jeremy can be sweethearts when they want to be, especially on days when I’m feeling down, like I have been lately. But it’s how they react every other day of the year that concerns me.

“Jeremy, some things you’ll just never understand.” I pick up the remote control and turn on the television to drown out some of the silence in between Jeremy’s reasoning. Maybe Snoop Dogg and his family drama will distract me from the soap opera we’ve got going on right here. It doesn’t look like Jeremy agrees with my attempted diversion.

“Why can’t I understand? Because I’m white and you’re black?” he asks, devouring the last bite of his sandwich before moving on to the hash browns still on the table. “No shit, Jayd.”

“Uh, no, but thank you for reminding me,” I say, taking a sip of my orange juice. I forget how salty this food is when I haven’t eaten it for a while, just like this conversation. Whenever Jeremy and I talk about race it’s not a good thing. I wish I could afford the luxury of being curious about other cultures when it’s convenient and in denial when it’s uncomfortable. But as a sistah, I never have that comfort.

“I don’t think you ever forget.” And he’s damn right. “Sounds like you have some race issues to deal with, Miss Jackson.”

“Say what?” Ignoring my shock, Jeremy picks up the television remote and begins flipping through the channels like I’m arguing with myself all of a sudden. This fool is tripping if he thinks he can throw out an ignorant comment like that and keep eating his food like he didn’t just say the stupidest thing ever. “Did you just call me a racist?”

“No. You came to that conclusion all on your own.” Jeremy finishes the last of his orange juice and sits back likes he’s got the itis, but we both know that’s not the case.

“You can’t be serious. I tell you something is more complicated than you make it out to be and you jump to the conclusion that I’m a racist. What the hell type of reasoning is that?” I’m so vexed that I’ve lost my appetite for the time being. Maybe it’ll come back once Jeremy leaves, which will be sooner than later if he keeps going on like this.

“Look, Jayd, you can’t sleep because your friend was murdered and your other friend got caught in the crossfire because he’s messing with another friend of yours who happens to be the girlfriend of a gangster. Am I missing anything here?” Jeremy’s smart-ass smirk is about to get slapped off of his pretty face if he keeps messing with me.

“What’s your point?” He’s got the gist of the details without the depth, as usual. That’s usually how the black gossip floats to the white side of campus. I didn’t have to tell Jeremy much of anything about why I’ve been absent from school, with Nigel getting shot and being out for a week. When the star quarterback misses even one game it’s everyone’s business why he’s not present. And in Jeremy’s eyes, Nigel’s business coincides with my business, making it indirectly his business. I would be flattered but I have enough faulty daddies in my life to deal with. The last thing I need is another one.

“My point is that you think I don’t understand because I’m white, when race isn’t the issue here at all. I understand all too well, and have for a long time, that you might want to consider a different crew to hang out with. And by the way, Maggie and her gangster boyfriend shouldn’t be your fall-back option.”