The Meltdown (2 page)

Chance

The rich, white hip-hop kid of the crew, Chance is Jayd’s drama homie and Nellie’s boyfriend, if you let him tell it. He used to have a crush on Jayd and now has turned his attention to Nellie for the time being. Chance’s dreams of being black come true when he discovers he was adopted. His biological mother is half black, and his birth name is Chase.

Bryan

The youngest of Mama’s children and Jayd’s favorite uncle, Bryan is a DJ by night and works at the local grocery store during the day. He’s also an acquaintance of both Rah and KJ from playing ball around the hood. Bryan often gives Jayd helpful advice about her problems with boys and hating girls alike. Out of all of Jayd’s uncles, Bryan gives her grandparents the least amount of trouble.

Jay

Jay is more like an older brother to Jayd than her cousin. He lives with Mama, but his mother (Mama’s youngest daughter, Anne) left him when he was a baby and never returned. He doesn’t know his father and attends Compton High. He and Jayd often cook together and help Mama around the house.

M
y mom always keeps an ink pen and pad in her glove compartment in case she needs to write something down while in the car. Now that I’m the main driver for her aging Mazda Protegé, I use the tools to write about anything significant that may have happened in my day before I forget, no matter where I am, which in this case is in the parking lot of Ralphs grocery store in the Ladera Center. We’re not too far from Rah’s house, which is also the scene of my latest chick fight with Rah’s ex girlfriend, Sandy. I can’t believe she let me inside of her mind—after she manhandled me—and that I got her to give up their daughter, Rahima, and finally move out of Rah’s house. He owes me big-time for handling his baby mama drama for him.

I’ve been using my mom’s powers like crazy, learning how to master them but still not able to control my dreams, which is where my true power lies. It’s crazy, I know, but not crazier than Mama going off on the boys earlier this afternoon. Now, that was some serious drama. She and Netta left to cool Mama’s head and on Mother’s Day, too. It’s bad enough she has to live with my trifling uncles every day of the week, but the one day of the year they should be grateful to her, one of them screwed it up instead.

Rah had to run inside the market for diapers on our way to pick up Nigel and he took Rahima with him. Nigel’s going to spend the night at the hospital with Mickey, and his dad will pick him up in the morning. And since Rah’s car is already there, I really just have to drop him and his daughter off, say hi to Mickey and my goddaughter, and call it a night. This has been one of the longest days of my life and as such calls for a good night’s sleep. Even with school in the morning, it’s the last month before summer and I couldn’t be happier. We all need a break from the madness that is Drama High before I snap.

W
hen we finally arrive at Nigel’s house, Mrs. Esop is enjoying the sunset from her garden view on the front porch. Great. Another tough broad to deal with, but I actually respect this one, even if I don’t feel like socializing today. I just want to bless my godchild one more time and go home.

“Jayd, it’s lovely to see you, my dear,” Mrs. Esop says, rising from the patio chair to hug me. “And look at this little princess. Rahima looks more and more like you every day, Raheem.” And she’s right. Rah couldn’t deny his namesake if he tried, not that he ever would. After all the hell he’s been through, first trying to find his daughter the first time Sandy ran off and then again after he did find her. Rah loves his daughter with all he’s got and then some.

Mrs. Esop squeezes Rahima’s cheeks gently, making the little girl smile and hide behind her daddy. She can play that shy role all she wants, but I know Rahima’s a natural-born ham and deserves all the attention she can get.

“Thank you and happy Mother’s Day,” Rah says, handing Mrs. Esop a box of Godiva chocolates he just purchased on our pit stop. From the look on her face, she’s very pleased. What girl doesn’t love chocolates?

“Oh, baby, you didn’t have to do that, but I’m so glad you
did,” Mrs. Esop says, taking the gold box and hugging her play-son. Since Rah’s mom isn’t around—even on her own holiday—Mrs. Esop’s always here for him. “Rah, there are some fresh cookies on the counter. Why don’t you give Rahima one while you wake up my son, who’s asleep on the living room couch,” Mrs. Esop says, reclaiming her seat. “Jayd, how are you enjoying this lovely Sunday?” She expertly excuses Rah from our conversation.

I’m too tired for this, but it doesn’t look like I have much of a say in the matter.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Jayd,” Rah says, taking the not-so-subtle hint and heading through the front door hand in hand with his toddler.

“Jayd, aren’t you glad that wasn’t you in labor this morning?” Mrs. Esop asks, sipping her ice tea and gesturing for me to sit in the chair across from hers. It must be nice to pass the time in luxury. If she only knew I shared some of the pain with Mickey, she’d eat her words.

“Yes, ma’am. But Mickey handled it like a pro.” I don’t know why I just lied. But I feel obligated to stand up for my girl, because I know where this conversation is going. It can head in only one direction if Mrs. Esop’s talking about her son’s girlfriend.

“You look a little troubled, Jayd. Everything okay?”

I had checked myself in the visor mirror when I got in the car but haven’t had a chance to fully recoup from my run-in at Rah’s. I hate it when a trick pulls my hair. It messes up the entire flow of my usually smooth ponytail.

“Sandy moved back to her grandparents’ house. I helped her pack,” I say, still unable to process the thought. Is Sandy really gone for good? I know Mrs. Esop knows I’m lying about helping Sandy. Everyone knows we aren’t friends, but I’m not going to tell Mrs. Esop I was in another fight. She thinks I’m growing into a nice young lady and I’m trying. But
bitches are everywhere, and sometimes they have to be dealt with properly.

“Ah,” Mrs. Esop says, taking one of the freshly cut pink roses from the clear vase on the table, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. “Girls like Sandy are never gone for good, Jayd. Mark my words—that girl will be back.” Mrs. Esop looks at me, her brown eyes narrowing at the truth in her words. I know she’s not fully aware of my powers, but she knows Mama and our lineage, so I know she knows more than she’s saying.

“Nigel will be out in a second,” Rah says, stepping back onto the front porch with Rahima, who’s happily munching on a cookie. “Jayd, you ready to roll?”

“Yes. It’s getting late, and I know Mickey’s wondering where we are,” I say as I rise from my seat, suddenly feeling light-headed. I lean back and steady myself on the glass table before nearly falling back into my chair. What the hell?

“Jayd, are you okay?” Rah asks, letting go of his daughter’s hand and grabbing me by the arm, helping me catch my balance. Mrs. Esop rises and takes my other arm with an equally concerned look on her face.

“Sit down,” Mrs. Esop says, directing me to reclaim my seat, but I can’t. The pounding in my head creeps from the back of my skull all the way to the front, dulling all other sounds around me. It feels like a brain freeze but much more painful. I look up at Mrs. Esop, who now appears to be Maman, my great-grandmother. I try to scream at the sudden visual transformation, with no success. Before I can let out a sound, Maman’s gone and so is the pounding, but I still feel woozy. Between my lack of sleep, inadvertently sharing Mickey’s labor, and dealing with Sandy’s crazy ass, I’m completely wiped out.

“What’s going on?” Nigel says, stepping out of the open front door looking as exhausted as I feel.

“Jayd’s not feeling well. Nigel, get her some water,” Mrs. Esops says, now forcing me to sit down.

I allow her to push me back into the chair. Maybe I do need to chill for a spell. Nigel walks back into the house, and Rahima follows, undoubtedly going back for another cookie, completely oblivious to my issues: if life were only that simple for us all.

“I’m fine, really. I probably just need some rest.” What was that? I’ve never seen Maman so clearly outside of my dreams before. It was as if she took over Mrs. Esop’s body for a moment, but I know that can’t be.

“There’s no probably about it, girl,” Rah says, feeling my forehead like Mama does when she hears me make the slightest sniffle. “You need to chill.”

“Maybe we should drop you off at home, Jayd. Mickey will understand,” Nigel says, placing a cool glass of water down on the table in front of me. I pick up the crystal cup with both hands and bring it to my lips, sipping slowly at first and then swallowing the rest in two large gulps.

“Thirsty, baby?” Rah asks, smiling down at me.

But it’s no joke. I feel like I ate a block of salt for dinner, and Mama doesn’t cook with that much sodium. “Yes, I am.” I hand Rah the glass, and he passes it to Nigel. “Can I have some more, please?” They all look at me, amazed. It was a tall glass, but, damn, can’t a sistah quench her thirst?

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong. I’m taking you home now.” Rah uses both hands to check my temperature, annoying me. I gently swat his hands away from my face and attempt to again rise from the table. Mrs. Esop looks at me and then at Rah, and I know what she’s thinking—literally. Without trying, I can hear her thoughts clearly.

“Mrs. Esop, I can assure you I’m not pregnant with Rah’s baby—or anyone else’s for that matter,” I say, steadying myself
before letting go of the glass table. “I’m a virgin and plan on staying that way for a long time.”

“Jayd, how did you know that’s what I was thinking?” Mrs. Esop’s look of concern has turned into one of fear. She obviously knows I repeated her thoughts verbatim—all without focusing on her mind cooling and allowing me in like I usually do with my mom’s powers. It was as if she threw the thought my way and I unintentionally caught it. I have to get my mom’s powers on lock and fast before they get ahead of me, but I’ll worry about that later.

“It was written all over your face,” I say, taking the cool drink from Nigel’s hands, swallowing it down quickly and returning the empty glass to him. Now that I’m hydrated, I feel like a new woman. “We should get going if we’re going to make it before visiting hours are over. We only have an hour left,” I say, glancing at Rah’s wristwatch.

“The only place you’re going is home,” Rah says, helping me off the porch and down the driveway where we’re parked. “Don’t worry about the car situation. We’ll work it out.”

“Yeah, man. Drive her home. Mom, can I take your car?” Nigel asks.

I know his mom wants to say no, but under the circumstances, she reluctantly nods her head. I wouldn’t want to give up the Jaguar, either.

“You guys don’t have to do that. I can make it home,” I say, and I can. “Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs. Esop. I’ll see you next weekend for the debutante meeting. The water was just what I needed to feel better.”

Nigel and Rah look at each other and reluctantly follow me to my car, retrieving Rahima’s car seat and letting me go on my way.

“Feel better, Jayd,” Mrs. Esop says, staring at me strangely.
I know she’s tripping about sharing her thoughts with me, but what can I say? I didn’t do it on purpose, and I doubt I can do it again—at least not voluntarily. I have a lot to learn about my mom’s gift of sight and will read up on it more, but not tonight. I just want to wash Sandy’s fingerprints out of my hair, watch my Sunday-night television shows, and pass out on my mom’s couch—no scary visions or crazy broads.

R
ah and Nigel must’ve texted and called me fifty times on the way from Nigel’s hood in Lafayette Square to my mom’s apartment in Inglewood. It’s not a long drive because both areas are off of Crenshaw Boulevard, and it doesn’t require much thought to get here. I understand their concern and sent them a message as soon as I pulled in a few minutes ago. I’m glad to have my mom’s space to park in so I don’t have to worry about walking down the block by myself late at night. Making it to the front door and up the stairs from the sunken carport is challenging enough.

“Hey, girl,” my mom says, surprising me as I open the multi-locked front door. What’s she doing here so late? Usually she’d be with her man, Karl, especially after spending the day with us at Mama’s house. Maybe he had dinner plans with his mom for the special day.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, closing the door behind me. From the looks of it, my mom came home to restock her clothes. She took the jar of quarters from her dresser and put them in one of the three laundry baskets on the living room floor. I guess she’s finally run out of clean clothes. Although knowing my mom, she probably ran out weeks ago and just bought new
ones to wear for the time being, which I’m sure got a little expensive.

I plop down next to my mom on the cozy couch, putting my purse on the coffee table and removing my sandals. I pick up my spirit notebook from the end table and flip through the pages. I should write down today’s events, but I’m too tired to relive the drama. Besides, my notes are in the car, and there’s no way I’m going back downstairs this evening.

“It’s unprostitutional!” my mom says, shouting at the television in front of us. Tiger Woods and his hoes have been all over the news for months, and personally I’m tired of the shit. If his wife wants to deal with his trifling behavior, who am I to question who and what he does?

“Mom, is that even a word?” I ask, flipping through my spirit notes and trying to concentrate on the task at hand. I have a lot of work to catch up on, not to mention the personal things I want to focus on even if I still can’t think straight. But with my mom yelling at the television and sitting on the small couch that doubles as my bed, I doubt I’ll get to sleep anytime soon.

“It is if I say it is,” my mom says, reaching for the pretty gift basket my cousin Jay gave her for Mother’s Day and pulling out a bottle of lotion. I feel for him not having either of his parents around. Even if Jay’s mom, my aunt Anne, did call earlier, it’s rare for her to talk to Jay or Mama. Mama’s always silent about what happened between her and her youngest daughter, but I know she thinks about Anne a lot and so does Jay.