Holidaze (17 page)

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” I say to the car in front of me. The driver can’t hear me, but I know he heard my loud horn. It’s too early to have road rage, but Crenshaw Boulevard’s always packed, no matter what time of day it is. I turn my iPod up and try to focus on the road ahead, almost to Lafayette Square, one of the most exclusive neighborhoods for wealthy folks who still want to live near the hood.

Nigel’s still not allowed to have any friends over—with his parents’ knowledge—who got him caught up, me included. Rah’s exempt because he’s practically family, but I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Esop aren’t too happy with him, either. I know Nigel’s having me come over this early because his mom and dad are steady churchgoers, even if he says it’s because the game party he and his family are going to is in the Hollywood Hills and they have to leave early. I’m not tripping. As long as I get paid the same money, I’m not sweating the small stuff.

Now that I know Mickey’s baby is going to be my spiritual godchild, I’ve got to intervene in their tattered relationship. When Nigel called me this morning to ask me to braid his hair, I thought it would be the perfect way to get inside his head and see what he’s really thinking about, since he didn’t let me in last night. I don’t care what he’s going through. He can’t just leave our girl and her baby out in the cold.

Brothers always think that when they’re going through some madness the whole world should stop and pay homage. Whatever. Nigel’s going to find out the world doesn’t revolve around him, and that the baby takes precedence over everything now, funky attitudes included.

“What’s up, Nigel,” I say, entering the foyer of his classic home. If his parents weren’t mad at me for the role they think I played in Mickey trapping their son, I might be able to kick it over here more often, which I wouldn’t mind. I never really got to try out the game room. And it looks like it’s complete, from what I can see through the open door to my right. I can hear someone fumbling around in the kitchen. Maybe it’s the maid. I know his mom isn’t the cleaning or cooking type.

“Jayd, thank you for coming over on such short notice. I’ve been meaning to get this head dealt with. I’m just glad it’s you braiding it and not some stranger,” Nigel says, leading me up the stairs to his private fortress.

“Me too,” I say, thankful I can help. If Mama hadn’t given me the psychic clearance to braid again it would be a stranger up in his head, and that’s never a good thing when someone’s trying to heal. And the dream-sharing with my friends really took a toll on me, but it was interesting, to say the least. I should’ve just stayed here, had I known he’d want me to come right back.

“Hey, Nigel,” Tasha says, surprising us both—or so I think. Nigel doesn’t look nearly as shocked as I think he should.

“Hey, girl,” he says casually.

“I picked up your favorite snacks and the movies for tonight after the game. I’ll be right back,” she says, smiling at me as she walks out of the room without directly acknowledging me. Oh no, this trick isn’t back in Nigel’s life. What the hell’s going on around here?

“I know what you’re going to say,” Nigel begins, but not before I can smack him in the head with my comb.

“Damn right you know what I’m thinking, because you should be thinking the same thing. What is your ex-girlfriend doing here when you have a pregnant girlfriend at home, crushed?”

“My mom called Tasha when I got shot, and she’s been here almost every night, no drama included.”

“Oh no, Nigel. Mickey is sprung on your ass and thinks you feel the same way about her.”

“I did, until her man came after me and Rah with a gun. Besides, I don’t even know if the baby’s mine, and when that nigga gets out, I don’t want to be anywhere around.” I’m glad Nickey Shantae can’t hear this.

“Well, you should have thought about that before, Nigel,” I say, smacking him in the head harder than usual. “Have you lost your damn mind? Mickey’s hard enough to deal with as it is, and now you’re going to drop this shit on her?”

“Man, forget her. She wasn’t thinking about me when she got us into this mess. Why should I care about what she’s going through?” Tasha walks back into the room with a tray full of snacks, like she’s been serving him all his life. I refuse to discuss this in front of her ass.

“How many braids do you want?” I ask, pulling his hair back hard.

“Ouch, girl,” Nigel says.

“Is it your shoulder, baby?” Tasha asks, almost throwing the tray down on the table to rush to his side. What the hell?

“Baby?” They both look at me and I look at Nigel, who knows he’s stepped over the line now. They’re back sleeping together. I can feel it.

“I’m okay, Tasha. Would you mind getting my medicine from the kitchen? I think it’s time for another dose.” Tasha looks from Nigel to me and then back at Nigel, like she wants to say or do something but he won’t let her. I wish the trick would step to me. It’ll be the last time she steps in those shoes if she does.

When Tasha leaves the room Nigel begins his begging fest. We’re cool, but I’m not his boy and he can’t expect me to hold this information for him.

“You know you’re tripping, right?”

“Come on, Jayd. I know you understand.”

“The hell I do. I’m not your boy, lest you forget. And as I recall, Mickey didn’t hold a gun to your head when y’all first met. So man up and take responsibility for your shit,” I say, packing up my hair tools. “I can’t braid in this environment. You’ll have to come to me if you want your crown kept, no hussies allowed.” I storm out of his room, down the stairs and out the front door. I’m so glad I have access to a car now, I don’t know what to do.

Putting the key into the lock, my head starts pounding like another headache from hell. And with it comes the vision of Mickey’s daughter talking to me through Mickey’s dream. As her godmother I’m supposed to help her destiny manifest, and part of that destiny is making sure Nigel and Mickey stay together. I don’t know how, but I’ve got to keep my friends together for the sake of their unborn child. But heffas sure can make that task more difficult than it already is.

Y
esterday was a quiet day once I got back to Compton and I caught up on my homework last night. This new semester has taken off regardless of our personal issues. Work still has to get done and I’m the only one who can do what I do. For a Monday it wasn’t bad at all. My sleep has been improving and I’m glad for it. I took my bath and I’m ready to hit the sack. Thank God one school day is already behind me. Maybe the rest of the week will be just as quiet as today was, and it all starts with a good night’s sleep.

“I’m so glad we had a daughter,” the woman says, opening the baby blanket and revealing a pink-cheeked newborn child. “She’s the best gift we could’ve asked for.”

“I agree,” the father says. He looks eerily familiar, and for some reason I feel I know this little girl, and not just because I’m her nanny in this vision. “I’m especially glad that she has your eyes. Here, darling, why don’t you take little Judy and wash her up.” Maman’s lover passes the baby to me, and I instinctively take her in my arms. I can’t believe my ancestors had to do this shit on a regular basis. If I had to care for someone’s child and household for next to nothing I think I’d go crazy.

“And could you please run my bath water and fix my husband’s evening drink. I’m just too tired to move,” the woman says. What the hell has she done all day except order me—or whoever I’m supposed to be—around all day? “And would you be a dear and iron my laundry after you’re done collecting the clothes from the line? And don’t forget to wash the baby’s diapers twice. I just hate it when they don’t get completely clean. And don’t forget we have to prepare the place settings for our guests. You know my Christmas Eve dinner is always to die for, and this year will be no exception.” If she says “and” to me one more time I’m going to forget about why I’m really in this dream state and go after her, ghetto style, and whip her ass.

“Girl, do you hear my wife talking to you?” They both look at me as if I’ve forgotten to get dressed before coming outside. I look from Maman’s lover’s face to his wife’s, almost forgetting to speak.

“Yes ma’am,” I reluctantly whisper. They both look relieved that I’ve remembered my “place” and resume flattering each other’s egos. I look down at the squirming infant in my arms and notice her eyes opening. At this age babies tend to sleep most of the day away, and this one’s no exception. I walk out of the large bedroom and into the hallway. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see a young black girl looking back at me, but she looks like one of her parents belongs more to this family than her other side, which is obviously black.

“Shhh, I’m going to get you changed and all cleaned up in just a second. Don’t boss me like your mama does.” The little girl opens her eyes and looks up at me in recognition and I immediately recognize her as well. This baby is Jeremy’s grandmother, which means Maman’s lover is Jeremy’s great-grandfather. I remember seeing a family collage of pictures from his mother’s side of the family in one of the rooms in their massive home. It’s time to wake up from this dream, and now.

“Is there a problem?” I look up at Maman’s lover and feel ashamed for my great-grandmother. I wonder if she knew about his family and, more importantly, about his treatment of other black women who weren’t her.

“Jayd, can you give me a ride to work again? I need to catch a few more minutes of sleep before going in,” Bryan says, waking me from my bizarre dream. At least I stayed in one place for this one. But Mama’s still going to have to hear about it and provide some clarification on the subject. Jeremy’s folks on his mother’s side were definitely racist. This brings a whole new dimension to me and Jeremy’s relationship, and he doesn’t even know about it.

“You coming up with gas money?” I whisper, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes before I throw back my blankets and allow the morning chill to fully wake me up.

“Hell no, I’m not giving you any gas money. It’s around the corner.” I make my way out of my small bed and glance at Mama’s bed, which is empty. Ever since this shit with my sleepwalking started, Mama’s been up and out pretty early. I guess she’s out back praying for some extra protection and I’m glad for it. I’ll wait to tell her about my dream later, when we’re at Netta’s. It’s her personal day to get her crown worked on, so she’ll be in a good space to share her wisdom this afternoon.

“My time is worth something, fool.” I grab my Apple Bottoms jeans and matching purple hoodie from the hook on the back of the bedroom door and make my way into the warm hallway. The heater’s on full blast, warming the narrow space between Mama’s room and the bathroom. If Daddy’s door were open, he, Jay, and Bryan would get some good heat in there, too. But I’m glad they keep their door closed for the most part, because they all have gas at night and it can drift into our room, which isn’t pleasant at all.

“Don’t talk back to your elders, little girl,” Bryan says, opening the door and snatching the scarf off of my freshly cornrowed head. When I left Nigel’s house Sunday I came home and braided my own hair.

“Cut it out,” I say, slapping his hand and snatching my scarf back. Daddy turns over in his sleep and Bryan and I scowl at each other for almost waking him up. “You’ve got thirty minutes, Bryan. And I want my five dollars.” He should know by now how I roll. I don’t work for free, and he’s not going to milk rides from me every morning no matter how much I love him.

“Fine. You can add it to my hair tab. By the way, when can you hook me up? My braids need repair.”

“They need a whole lot more than that, my brotha,” I say, putting my clothes down on the overstuffed hamper in the bathroom before pushing him out of the way to claim my toiletries and other necessities from their bedroom closet. Next year I’m asking Santa for my own room—I don’t care whose house it’s in. And a dresser would be nice too, because my stuff being housed in these large garbage bags is getting really old. From my vision of the day she moved out, my mom had to do the same thing. I think it’s time to break this tradition once and for all.

“Exactly. So pencil me in for one of these days, preferably in the evening. My lady likes it neat.” Bryan can be so silly sometimes. He climbs back into his bottom bunk bed and goes back to sleep. I look up and see my cousin Jay is still knocked out, too. Between them and Daddy it looks like a slumber party up in here.

I thought when I got a car and subsequently started waking up later, all of the boys would be up and at it, but I see that’s not a part of their daily routine. Some days they’re up and out. Other days they choose to sleep in as late as possible. It must be nice. Having to drive thirty miles one-way to school doesn’t afford me that option. Speaking of which, I’d better get a move on before I’m late.

I’m glad it’s Tuesday and an early day at that. Thank God for teacher’s meetings. Before I can get too happy Nigel comes around the corner, wiping the smile right off of my face. The first half of the day flew by. Now it’s going in slow motion. We haven’t spoken since I abruptly left his crib on Sunday when his ex-girlfriend interrupted our hair session. Now his do looks unloved and I feel a little bad for my boy.

“Jayd, please braid my hair. I can’t stand it anymore,” Nigel says, scratching his head like he’s got lice. I feel bad for his hair, but I’m still not feeling his actions. Even if Mickey’s not my favorite girl right now, in the long run she’s still one of my best friends and I can’t pretend like I don’t know any better.

“Nigel, it’s just hair. You’ll live.” As the words escape my mouth I feel like I’ve just violated a sacred oath me and my ancestors took eons ago; to do hair to the best of our abilities. I’m also reminded of how just a few weeks ago we were all in a situation where we might not have lived and one of us didn’t. Maybe I should stop being so hard on my friend and at least hook his crown up. Maybe it’ll help him act better if I work on his head.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” I say, leading him to the lunch area. I would tell Nigel to come check me at Netta’s later, but I know she has a lot of make-up work for me to do since I’ve been pretty much out of commission for the past couple of weeks. Maybe one day my friends will come to the shop where I have more tools to hook them up. I wonder if Nigel would let me do a head-cleansing on him. Probably not. As close as Rah and I are, he still won’t let me do anything like that. And I would never even approach Jeremy with something like that.

“Chica, I thought I was next?” Maggie says, walking past us on her way to her crew across the lunch quad. I guess she took her braids down over the weekend. Even if her hair is thick, cornrows still don’t last long in her hair.

“I got you, girl. I can hook you up after school.” I’ve already got three braids in Nigel’s head and we still have over twenty minutes left in the lunch period. I can finish his hair and then hook Maggie up real quick after school, before I got to go to work. That’s forty dollars I could leave with. Thank goodness, too, because a sistah’s bank account is on low these days. I have a lot of money to make up for. Too bad we don’t get sick days in my chosen profession.

“Okay, that sounds good. Later, you two,” she says, sashaying her way across the grass. Mickey passes by Maggie on her way over to where Nigel and I are posted up. They roll their eyes at each other, which is their normal mutual greeting. How is it that I can get along with people from different backgrounds when some of my friends damn near hate each other for that very reason alone?

“So what’s going on here?” Mickey asks, more antagonistic than necessary. What’s gotten into her? “I can’t come see you, but you can sit in between Jayd’s legs and let her all up in your head?”

“I don’t see how the two are related,” Nigel says, cocking his head to the side so I can continue my job while he responds to his girl. I’m not even going to dignify her drama with a response because I know this ain’t really about me.

“They’re related because now that I’m not on campus anymore y’all think I’m not watching you, but I know what’s really going on.”

“Please do enlighten us. What’s really going on?” Nigel can be a smart-ass when pushed, just like the rest of us. I bet Mickey never thought she’d see the day Nigel turned on her. She’s used to having boys under her thumb—but not my boy. I tried to warn her about the brothas from Westingle. They can be true players when they want to be.

“You’re cheating on me with who I thought was my best friend,” Mickey says. I look up from Nigel’s scalp and see that she’s dead serious. This girl must be high to think I’d do something like that.

“What the hell gave you that impression?” I ask, offended by her accusation. I know she’s extra emotional because of her baby growing in her womb and all, but now she’s lost her damned mind.

“People talk, Jayd, and they’re talking about the two of you.” She looks back at KJ, Shae, and the rest of South Central who are watching the dramatic scene unfold. Now I understand.

“If by people you mean Misty and her crew, I thought you knew better than to listen to anything they have to say,” I say, continuing my work and choosing to make light of my girl’s tirade.

“It was your choice not to attend school with the rest of us. Don’t get mad if you’re lonely on the lower campus.” Nigel’s still bitter from Mickey’s decision to give in to the administration’s pressure for her to attend the continuation school across the football field. Even if she can visit during lunch and after school, it’s still not the same as being here with the rest of us. I wish she’d never made that decision, just like I wish Nellie would stop tripping.

“This isn’t over.” Mickey turns around and walks back toward the parking lot as the warning bell rings. The lunch period is just about over and she has to get back to the lower campus. I can’t wait for this school day to end. I’m going to have to ask Mama and Netta how to navigate my way through this mess, since none of my friends are seeing straight.

As I turn the corner near Netta’s Never Nappy Beauty Shop, I notice the Christmas tree and lights are still shining brightly for all to see. I’m with
Chelsea Lately
on this one: if your Christmas gear is still out and you need to wear sun block, you are way behind. It’s definitely time for Netta to take down the tree if nothing else. That’s a fire hazard. Maybe that’s one of the many tasks she has set aside for her only assistant—better known as me—to do. I didn’t realize how much she’s come to depend on me until I was gone for a couple of weeks. It feels good to be back at our home away from home.

“There’s our girl,” Netta says, scrubbing away at Mama’s hair in the washbowl. Mama slightly lifts her head to give me a wink before relaxing back in the chair. I walk over to the closets lining one of the walls and put my things away, ready to get to work. Maybe this will take my mind off of my school issues, especially where Mickey’s concerned. If she keeps talking crazy to me like she did today, I’m going to end up smacking her whether she’s carrying my godchild or not.

I haven’t told Mama about me and my friends sharing dreams last weekend, and I’m not sure I want to just yet. I’ll wait and see how she’s feeling first before I divulge all of my confessions this afternoon.

“So how are your dreams coming along, little Miss?” Mama asks as Netta sits her head up straight while wrapping a towel around her wet tresses. Mama always looks refreshed after Netta washes her hair, even if her eyes tell how tired she really is. With Valentine’s Day around the corner Mama has literally been burning the midnight oil.