Mama (26 page)

"Did I tell you I've been thinking about ways I can start my own business after I finish school?"

"No," Freda said sadly. This wasn't the first time Delbert had done a complete about-face to prove to her that he loved her and didn't want to lose her. But even though she was six weeks pregnant, it was still too late for that now.

When Mildred had gotten back to the Valley, she moved in with Doll and Little Richard. The girl renting her house said she'd leave, but Mildred had already spent the two months' rent she'd paid her in advance. And to Mildred's surprise, Doll was still doing quite well for herself. She had taken two leaves of absence, one from Richard and the other from college. She had gotten a full-time job driving a truck for UPS. Doll had told Mildred that she needed to make some real money, and this job paid very well. Not only that, but she got a chance to meet all kinds of people.

Doll had bought herself a white convertible Volkswagen, and always wore short shorts and tight T-shirts whenever she went out.

"You must thank you Marilyn Monroe or somebody," Mildred told her. "You need to stop prancing your behind around here half naked or you gon' get more than you bargained for."

Mildred decided there was some kind of trend going on with the Peacock girls. Freda was leaving Delbert, thank the Lord, Doll had quit Richard for the umpteenth time, and now, here was Angel with her suitcases.

"You finally came to your senses, huh?"

"You could say that, Mama. But if Willie calls over here looking for me, don't tell him I'm here."

"What happened? He didn't hit you or nothing, did he?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just over."

"This is kind of sudden, ain't it? Just last week y'all was over here acting like two lovebirds. What happened between then and now, girl?"

"I met someone else."

"And...?"

"Willie found out about it."

I knew it. I knew it, Mildred thought. That girl was not to be trusted. Something always told me she was sneaky, and would grow up to be the kind of woman that would take your damn husband and not thank twice about it.

"Is he married?"

"No, he's not married. What would make you ask that?"

"I'm gon' tell you something. I know all y'all young girls is moving in with these boys like it ain't nothin'. But as far as I'm concerned, it's just like being married. You sleeping with him every night. Splitting the bills. But out of all the men I ever went with, and that includes my husbands, I ain't never snuck behind they back to be with no other man. Well, just once, but I had my reasons."

The phone rang, and Angel jumped. Mildred went to answer it.

"Don't tell Willie I'm here, Mama. I know it's him."

Mildred picked up the telephone. It was Willie, all right. "No," Mildred said, "I haven't seen Angel. Did I know what? No. White? No, I didn't. I can understand that," she said, looking down at Angel who was pulling piling up out of the carpet. Mildred didn't know how many times or how many ways to tell Willie she was sorry, but finally she said her clothes were on rinse and she had to put the softener in. She hung up the phone and looked at Angel, who was scraping the polish off her fingernails.

"This boy is white?"

"I don't need a lecture, Mama. Yes, he's white."

"White?" Mildred asked again, "Well, I'll be damned. I hope he got some money."

"Mama, what a tacky thing to say."

"Well, shit. If you gon' be going around with a white boy, at least get one with some money. It's enough poor-ass niggahs around here to choose from."

"Well, he's not poor."

"Do he have any money? Answer that question."

"I know you've got something to say, so go ahead and say it. Let's get this over with."

"Do you really like him or is this just some fling?"

"I love him."

"Love him? Damn, how long you been seeing him?"

"Six months."

"You sneaky little cunt, you. Why didn't you just move out of that boy's apartment and come on home, instead of creeping like some little whore?"

"At first it wasn't anything. He was in my French class."

"Yeah, so he parlay-voo-frangais'd your behind, then, huh?" Mildred said, laughing. "When can I meet him?"

"You really want to meet him?"

"Why not? Anythang gotta be better than that skunk you been living with."

Angel sighed with relief and smiled. "I'll bring him over this weekend." She thought Mildred was going to fall over when she found out. Maybe even disown her. But Mildred never ceased to amaze Angel. Now all Angel had to deal with was the rest of the family. She knew Doll would find it thrilling—so long as he was handsome—especially when she saw that Mercedes he drove. Bootsey would think it fit right in with the whole Hollywood syndrome that she swore they lived by anyway. But Freda, she was going to be a problem. Even though she wasn't a so-called militant any more, Angel knew Freda wasn't going to accept this. And Money, she'd tell him in a letter.

Mildred was happier about Freda getting away from Delbert than she was about her going to graduate school and moving all the way to New York, and that's exactly what she told her when Freda got to LA, plus a few extras.

"Why didn't you learn everythang the first time around and come out of there able to get a regular job? You gon' be going to college the rest of your life if you keep this up. What you need to be doing is looking for a damn husband. Writing for newspapers and thangs sound glamorous and everythang, but when you gon' slow your ass down?"

"Mama," Freda said, "how many times do I have to tell you. When I meet the right man you'll be the first to know about it." She didn't want Mildred to know that she had every intention of coming back to Delbert.

"And no husband means no babies," Mildred added.

"Mama, you've got enough grandbabies now, so get off my case, would you!"

"Watch your mouth, I done told you that a million times."

"You just don't seem to understand what it means to be black and female and be accepted to these schools, do you, Mama? They don't let just anybody in! I can have a baby any time," Freda said. She hadn't told a soul that she had had an abortion. She had told Delbert she had a yeast infection and couldn't make love for two weeks. "I could've been married at least three times by now, if you want to know the truth."

Mildred decided to skip the subject. This wasn't worth arguing about.

"What you gon' do again? Write for some newspaper or go on TV and be like Lisa Davenport on Channel 7?"

"I don't wanna be an anchorwoman, Mama, that much I do know."

"What's wrong with sitting in front of millions of people every single day and making all that money? You tell me."

"Mama, those people are puppets. Most of them don't even write the news, they just sit there and read it. I want to use my brains."

"What you dranking?"

"Tequila."

"You still dranking that shit? Yuk. Don't know how you can drank that mess."

The night before Freda was leaving, Doll and Angel sat up with her, talking and sipping tequila long after Mildred and Little Richard had gone to sleep.

"What about this guy Tony Mama's been telling me about, Doll? Is this serious, or what? I mean, the way she rants and raves about how handsome and respectable he is, I swear," Freda said.

"I'm gon' marry him," Doll said.

Angel was quiet. She still hadn't told Freda that Ethan was white. She figured she would wait a little longer.

"You love him?" Freda asked.

"He loves me to death, that's for damn sure."

"But that's not what I asked you. Do you love him?"

"Well, shit. I don't know. All I know is he's got a good job at a men's shop where's he's the manager and most likely will get promoted to buyer. He drives a Datsun and takes me all kinds of fancy places, not like old dead-ass Richard."

"Can he fuck?"

"Freda!" Angel said, who would never dream of asking anybody a question like that. Besides, it was none of Freda's business.

"Girl, you so damn nosy," Doll said, "you sound just like your mama. Of course he can fuck. You think I'ma marry somebody who can't?"

"No telling. You sound like you're more hard-up than anything."

"Mama likes him."

"Mama's not gonna marry him or fuck him either, is she? And at a weak moment, Mama would marry damn near anybody."

"I'ma tell her if you don't shut up. Dig this. We're planning the wedding for the end of September. I know it's right around the corner, but I can't get married without my big sis being there. Can you fly back for it?"

"That's next month! Damn, I'll just be getting to New York. Where am I supposed to get all this money?"

"If you can pay one way, we'll sport you the other half. I mean, shucks," Doll said, putting her arms around Freda's shoulders. "We gon' party hard, girl."

"I'll see what I can do."

In the morning, Mildred refused to ride to the bus station with them because she said she was too tired, too busy, something. Truth was, she was tired of saying goodby to her kids. It had become too much of a ritual and she still couldn't get used to it. She didn't know how to show them she would miss them. "Write me," she said, pushing Freda out the door. "Now get on out of here. You make me sick sometimes with all this kissing and hugging." Freda kissed her on the forehead anyway and Mildred sucked in her lip and lowered her eyes as if she was embarrassed. Mildred couldn't stand all this mushiness. But no sooner had the door closed behind Freda than she sat down and cried as if her daughter had just died. Little Richard stood there staring at her for a few minutes. "What's wrong, Granny, you getting sick again?"

"Naw, Granny ain't sick. Granny just keep losing all her kids. You the only baby Granny got left now."

And as if he knew what would comfort her, Little Richard handed her a glass of VO. "Here, Granny, here's your drink," he said in his proper five-year-old voice. Mildred looked at him and took it from his small hands, trying to stop her hand from trembling. "Thank you, baby," she said, and took a long swallow.

Freda's new landlady, Mrs. Flowers, was a nice old woman, pushing seventy. Freda was a friend of her granddaughter's, and Mrs. Flowers had agreed to let her stay with her in Queens until she could find bousing closer to school. Freda never knew a room could be so small, and why did she pick this olive green for the walls? She tried not to think about California or Delbert because it would only depress her.

As Freda learned quickly, it was easy to get depressed in New York. It took her three subways and a bus just to get to campus, and all her classes were at night. She had heard so many stories about people getting mugged and raped and killed that during the first week, she came straight home from school, after picking up a pint of Courvoisier, since most of the stores, as she learned even quicker, didn't sell her brand of tequila. Freda thought nothing of drinking the entire bottle before going to bed, which was the only way she was able to get to sleep. She felt like shit in the morning, and that was one reason why she liked tequila—it didn't give her a hangover.

As it turned out, she was too late to be included in the internship program, but Freda's adviser had told her she would have enough to do during her first semester as it was, without working. She had gotten a fellowship, which was a nice way of saying loan. And her adviser was right. She spent the first few weeks running around New York, getting lost, covering stories that her professors had picked and racing to get assignments in on time.

Before Freda knew it, it was time to fly back out to LA for Doll's wedding. Thank God, she thought. No subways for four days, no Mrs. Flowers asking if she was okay when she stumbled into the house at midnight after stopping off at a bar with a few other students, no library, no editing, and no fieldwork.

Mildred had moved back into her house and had painted the entire inside. She spruced up the back yard, too. Bought new lawn chairs and special lights to hang around the bar, and re-covered the bar stools.

Doll was a gorgeous bride. Freda and Mildred had stocked up on film to capture the girl in white, but by the time the ceremony began, they were both so high and shook up by the reality of the baby in the family getting married that neither of them could see through the view finder.

The weather couldn't have been more perfect for an outdoor wedding. Doll and Tony stood between the two giant banana trees, while a girl sang a Billie Holiday song. Angel stood beside her sister. By the time Doll said "I do," the birds were singing like crazy and Freda had put the camera down because she couldn't stop crying. Mildred stood up the whole time in front of the patio window, and after the bride and groom kissed, she slipped away to the bathroom. The thought of all of her kids belonging to somebody else hit her and made her feel like she was breaking into a million pieces. Finally, she wiped the smudged mascara from under her eyes and forced herself to join in.

The reception was loud and rowdy, but also elegant and civilized in a manner characteristic of most black folks when they've got something to celebrate. By eleven o'clock, Mildred and Freda had passed their champagne limit and had slid off into the bedroom, where they fell asleep on Mildred's bed, side by side.

Not even two months after she'd been married, Doll started calling Freda to complain that Tony was already getting on her nerves.

"But you just got married, girl! Give the man a chance to really get on your nerves," Freda said, but Doll wouldn't let her get in another word. She said Tony was smothering her to death. She couldn't move two feet, and there he was, breathing all in her face. He always wanted to kiss and hug and screw her all the time. And the money. The little bit he made selling those clothes was a joke. Said he was spending half his check in the store and on that damn Datsun. And jealous? Doll said she couldn't leave the house for more than fifteen minutes and Tony was asking her where she'd been.

Finally, Freda butted in.

"Look, Doll, give this thing a chance. Everything takes some getting used to."