I Left My Back Door Open (30 page)

“No, I'm just saying that because we
do
live in a homophobic society, you should cut T a little slack. You should be able to understand why she's not jumping for joy because her mother's a lesbian.”

“Now she's saying that she wants to go live with her father.”

“That's just talk. T's just saying that to upset you. She knows she can't rely on her daddy.”

“Well, in all fairness, he always paid child support, even if it wasn't always exactly on time. And he's never missed her birthday or Christmas.”

“Yeah, but you're the one who's been there, twenty-four-seven, three hundred sixty-five days a year. There's no comparison.”

“That's true,” Sharon agreed, slouching down in the other plump chair. “But now that T's older, I have half a mind to let her go to New York and live with her daddy, if he'll take her. Let him share some of the load. And it might be good for T. Sometimes you don't realize what you have until you get away from it.”

“Yeah, but Tyeesha still needs the protectiveness that only you can give her as a mother. You really don't know what kind of father Victor would be at this point.”

“That's true, but a part of me would like to teach T a lesson by lettting her find out.”

“I think I hear her coming down the stairs.”

Tyeesha walked into the living room with her mouth poked out. “I don't appreciate you all talking about me behind my back.”

“Good, now I can say it to your face,” Sharon said, rising and squaring off with her daughter. “Tyeesha, I am sick of your bullshit! Excuse my choice of words, but I can't think of a better way to put it.”

“Well, I'm sick of yours, too.”

“What are you sick of, T?” Sharon demanded with her hands on her hips. “Let's go on and get real! What are you
really
sick of?”

“Your bullshit.”

“What is my bullshit? And don't you use that language with me. I'm still your mother.”

“You used that language with
me
,” T protested, folding her arms.

“The girl has a point.”

“Dee Dee, nobody asked you. This is all about my being with a woman, isn't it, Tyeesha?” T glared back in silence. “But you know what, T, I'm not going to grovel for your approval. I'm not going to even go there. I have paid my dues. I carried you for nine months. I went through a long hard labor and that was just the beginning. I've been there for you when you were sick. I put food in your mouth and clothes on your back. I have sacrificed to keep you in good schools. I've put your needs ahead of my own. You haven't wanted for anything.”

“Nobody asked you to do all that. You could've gotten an abortion or put me up for adoption.”

“But I didn't!” Sharon shouted. I admired her restraint. I'd known parents to slap a child for saying less. “I married your damn father, who I wasn't really all that in love with, if you really wanna know the damn truth, just so I could give the baby I was carrying a daddy.”

“Well, it didn't work out anyway.”

“I'm sure you blame that on me, too. Well, let me refresh your memory. I never walked out on your father. He walked out on me.”

“You mean
us
.”

“He didn't leave you, he left me.”

“Either way, I was still
left
without a father. All the time I've been growing up, I've wished Daddy would come back or you'd get me a new father,” Tyeesha confided. “Now that you're a lesbian, I'll never have a chance to grow up with a father. I've run out of time. At least before you came out, I had a shot at having a father. Now I don't even have hope.”

I noticed Sharon's face soften. “I'm sorry that I dashed your hopes. In fact, I didn't even know what your hopes were. I was willing to try and make the marriage work, for your sake. But Victor's the one who said that because you were a girl, you'd be okay without a father. You didn't have to have a male role model.”

“Well, I'm gonna tell my dad, that's whack. There were times I could've really used a dad,” Tyeesha added softly.

“T, did you figure that you might as well hurry and grow up now and get it over with, since your hopes were never gonna be realized?” I asked gently. “So that you could put your disappointment behind you?”

“Yeah, I s'pose,” T nodded. She slumped down onto the couch, as if the wind had been taken out of her sails.

“I know the feeling,” Sharon said quietly.

“You know
what
feeling?” T asked.

“I know what it feels like to rush through the motions of a marriage, without really feeling what you're doing. I guess I'm what they call a late bloomer.”

“Mom, it's not that I don't want you to be happy,” Tyeesha said with a hint of compassion in her voice. “It's just that it's been hecka hard with us both blooming at the same time.”

“I'm sorry it's been hard for you,” Sharon said, her voice choked with emotion. “I never wanted to cause you pain. Tyeesha, you will always be my heart.”

T sighed. “I don't wanna strip anymore,” she mumbled.

“I know I should quit while I'm ahead,” Sharon said, cautiously. “But I'll ask anyway. Why not?”

“Because it doesn't really make sense to me anymore.”

“How come?” I pushed.

“I guess because it's too superficial. And, even though in a way I hate to admit it, I am a pretty deep person. I mean I have a superficial side. But let's face it, I've got it going on in the brain department.”

Sharon and I nodded and smiled.

“It just seems to me that it's smarter to keep my clothes on at this point,” T continued. “Even when I had sex with Malik, looking back, I don't feel that it was really that meaningful. So, why would taking my clothes off in front of a bunch of horny strangers amount to anything?”

“That's my heart talking,” Sharon said proudly through her tears.

The next week, I arrived early enough to my belly dance class to stake out a central spot on the dance floor. I carefully laid out my veil and brass finger cymbals before checking my stance in the wall mirror. I practiced rotating my hips and shoulders in a figure eight while the other students drifted in.

“We have a new student,” Jade announced from the back as I made snake arms. “This is Tyeesha.”

I spun around in disbelief. It was T! She was wearing a black leotard with a shiny purple sarong tied around her waist. She flashed me a big grin.

“Dee Dee already knows Tyeesha quite well.” Jade winked.

“Yeah, I most certainly do.”

“Is she your daughter?” a petite young woman asked.

“She's my goddaughter.”

“How nice.” An older woman smiled.

“Mom and I wanted to surprise you.” T beamed. “She dropped me off and gave me the money to take the class.”

“Well, you really did surprise me. I had no idea, whatsoever.”

“Well, welcome to the world of belly,” the older woman proclaimed. “It's encouraging to see a young person take an interest in such an ancient dance form.”

“I think you'll like belly dancing,” a large, pleasant woman joined in. “Even if you never perform, it's a good workout. It's called the ultimate in feminine fitness.”

“I definitely plan to perform,” Tyeesha announced, placing a hand on her hip and walking toward me. “I'm not like Dee Dee. I'm gonna strut my stuff.”

“Class, let's face the front mirrors and get grounded,” Jade instructed. “I'm going to say this especially for the benefit of our new student, but also as a reminder to everyone. We all need to be mindful that belly dancers are not posers. The belly dancer's body is simply a vehicle for her spiritual expression. We don't strut our stuff so much as we reveal our souls. Like I often say, you can make the same movements in a temple as in a strip joint. It's a dancer's intentions that make all the difference.”

I caught T's eye and winked.

There was something indeed touching about Tyeesha's first awkward attempts to rotate her weight from foot to foot and isolate the large muscles of her hips. She reminded me of myself when I was new. I cringed a bit when I heard T struggling to play a smooth left, right, left pattern with her finger cymbals. It brought back memories. I half expected T to burst into tears after getting swallowed by her veil a few times. I remembered my early frustration, trying to toreador my own. I felt proud that T's undulations appeared natural and fluid on her first try. And the girl could shimmy almost as good as her godmother.

I was spending Thanksgiving with Sharon. I knew that Sarita always had my name in the pot, but I felt like I owed it to Sharon to spend this Thanksgiving with her. I would've spent the holiday with Skylar, but he hemmed and hawed. He finally said spending Thanksgiving with me might be too much, too soon for Brianna. Allison had gotten a room at a Hyde Park bed and breakfast. I called my sister and brother and wished them and their families a Happy Thanksgiving. I'd see them all at Christmas at my brother's.

Sharon's girlfriend Michelle and her son Ryan and Aunt Ivy also had places at the table. Michelle and Ryan planned to call it an early night because they were attending a late dinner in nearby Evanston with her parents. I was glad that Michelle was leaving early and dropping Sharon's aunt off on her way. I would be able to hang out with my best friend without feeling like I was intruding.

Thanksgiving dinner with lesbians was no big deal for me, of course. I was worldly. However, I knew it was somewhat of a step for Aunt Ivy. But she'd invited herself, and she knew the deal. Sharon thought that it would be good for me to be there to provide balance, anyway. I promised to do my heterosexual best.

Tyeesha was spending Thanksgiving with her father and his family in New York for her yearly visit. T was particularly close to her grandmother and a couple of her cousins.

Michelle was an attractive, fortyish, brown-skinned woman with a stylishly cut perm. She was full-figured in a womanly way. Michelle struck me as warm, and I liked her from the get-go. She immediately gave me a look that said, “I hope we hit it off.” I didn't interpret it as needy. I felt flattered. I thought it was an acknowledgment that Michelle and I both cared a lot about Sharon, and it would be nice if we liked each other.

Michelle's outgoing son looked like she'd spit him out. They definitely favored each other, except his body type was more slender. Ryan sported a recent haircut, a missing front tooth, big brown eyes and a devilish smile.

He stood in the center of the room and held court. Sharon was in the kitchen, and the rest of us adults were sitting on the denim living room furniture. Ryan excitedly showed us a couple of bullet casings he'd gotten from a friend who found them near a shooting range.

Michelle fussed, “Can you believe he traded his ski cap for them?”

“Uhmp,” Aunt Ivy, said, shaking her head disapprovingly and folding her arms against her tailored dark suit. “As cold as it's been lately.”

“I know you were fit to be tied,” I said.

“You got that right,” Michelle replied.

“He's lucky. Some mothers would've torn his tail up,” Aunt Ivy said, raising her eyebrows.

Ryan shot his mother a worried look.

“He's getting that cap back after the holidays, or else it's coming out of his allowance.”

“Boy, you better be thankful that your mama didn't say, ‘Or else it's coming outta his behind,'” Aunt Ivy said, sternly.

Ryan blew through the bullet casing again. The piercing sound was about to get on my next to last nerve when his mother told him to stop.

“I never even let Ryan play with guns,” Michelle said. “But I've discovered that he can make a gun out of anything—an umbrella, a banana, you name it. I took him to see the
Nutcracker
last year and I asked him which he liked most, the beautiful music, or scenery, or costumes or dancing.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Tell them what you said, son.”

Ryan smiled, as if he'd been called on to answer this question before. “I said, the part when they shot the gun,” he said, slapping his hand against his chest dramatically and crumpling to the floor.

“I didn't even remember them shooting a gun in the
Nutcracker
,” Michelle acknowledged. “But I guess boys will be boys, as they say.” She drew her son close to her and affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Well, at least he's
all boy
,” Ivy declared. “You don't have to worry about him being a sissy.”

There was a minute of awkward silence. Then Michelle said she'd better go help Sharon with the turkey.

I couldn't think of anything diplomatic to say, so I asked Ryan to let me hold the bullet casings. At least it prevented him from blowing through them again.

Sharon and Michelle returned with drinks and appetizers.

“Here,” Sharon said, handing Ryan a glass of juice. “Don't spill anything, boy, or you'll have to answer to Triple V,” she teased.

“Triple V stands for Triple Virgo,” Ryan explained.

“I know what Virgo is, but I don't know what triple Virgo is,” Ivy confessed.

“It means that her sun, moon and rising sign are all in Virgo,” I said.

“Yeah,” Sharon added. “You can't leave a crumb around with Michelle. Virgos think it's their job to tidy up the world.”

“The world needs more of us.” Michelle pouted.

“Is Triple Virgo the highest?” Ryan asked.

“That's cute.” I smiled. “He's thinks it's like a deck of cards.”

“Yes, son, triple Virgo is the highest.” Michelle smiled.

“No, it isn't,” Sharon countered. “Capricorn is the highest, because we climb to the highest point.”

“I'm a Capricorn, so I'm number one, too!” Ryan announced proudly. “Right, funky goat?”