Mattie's Call (19 page)

The compliment made her pause. “Thanks.”

She grabbed her keys and headed out. She had enough time to sit in the parking lot and meditate before going in.

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G
abrielle plugged in the auxiliary cord, turned on her MP3 player, and listened to her favorite Earth, Wind & Fire jams. Purchasing a new car was number two on her to-do list. She was grateful for the use of her father's old car and even happier Joshua equipped it with a somewhat modern sound system for Mattie when she was alive, but she wanted a newer system like the one in the Mercedes. “All those years of being the other woman and I didn't have flea sense to save anything.”

She shook away the memories of trips, jewelry, and luxurious hotel rooms. Her Target stint hadn't been long and she wasn't making a lot of money, but the joy she derived in going to work, meeting the customers, and contributing to the store's success gave her a measure of satisfaction. Her dad's words came back to her: “honest work for honest pay is the only way to go.” She smiled at the memory of her father and stopped at the next light. A burst of bright pink hair grabbed her attention as she drove on. Alongside the street, the young woman paced back and forth on her cell phone, her red shirt and khaki pants familiar to Gabrielle. The tan mini-van's hood was open as smoke formed mini clouds. She drove her car in front of the van, parked, and got out to help. Katisha's pace slowed when she recognized Gabrielle. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded with the other person on the line.

“Mama, I don't know what happened to it—”

Gabrielle heard yelling on the other end, then silence. Katisha redialed the number with no luck. She crammed the phone in her pocket.

“Katisha, let me help you.”

“I don't need your help!”

“It's obvious you do. I can take you back home if you need to go.”

Katisha's tears came faster. “I can't pay you. I got to get—” She couldn't finish her sentence as she looked toward the van.

“Listen, I can call a wrecker to tow the van and I can take you home. You don't need to be in the middle of the—”

Loud moaning interrupted Gabrielle. Her gaze shifted to the child in the middle seat. Only now had she noticed the accessible lift that had been lowered on the open door. She followed Katisha to the side door and watched her get in. She unraveled paper towels from a roll and wiped the boy's face. He rocked back and forth in his seat as Katisha wiped the last of the drool trailing his chin. She seemed oblivious to Gabrielle's presence as she readjusted his seat belt and his small glasses. Gabrielle took in the fresh scent of his outfit and the care Katisha had taken with his appearance.

“Look in the bag and give me his ointment,” Katisha said to Gabrielle, pointing to a diaper bag in the front seat.

She gave her the ointment and watched as Katisha rubbed the side of his ear. Her nurturing way as she soothed him wasn't lost on Gabrielle; this side of Katisha made her feel guilty for speaking negatively about her.

“Did you mean it when you said you'd give us a ride?” she asked, wiping her face.

“Of course, Katisha. I didn't realize…I mean, I didn't know you had a child with—”

“Cerebral palsy. Kirby is four. No one knows except Herb, and the only reason he knows is because his granddaughter attends the same learning center.”

Gabrielle remained silent, happy the mystery had been solved. She, as well as the other employees, wondered why Katisha was able to keep a job with her attitude. Martha in produce had quipped, “I don't care what she's got going on; they wouldn't let me work if I came in acting like that!”

“Do what you need to do to get him in my car. I'll call the wrecker and get the two of you home.”

“Thank you, Gabrielle.”

She scrolled her contacts and found the family wrecker. She knew Mr. Manfield wouldn't charge her anything, but she'd give him $80 for coming out. The retiree didn't come around as much since her parents' died, but she loved him and his wife, Ameila, like surrogate parents. Katisha lifted Kirby from the seat, gathered his wheelchair, and walked him to the car. Gabrielle nodded and paced as she explained what was going on to Mr. Manfield.

“Hold on, Mr. Manfield. Katisha, you'll need to give me your keys. Mr. Manfield is towing the van to his son-in-law's shop.”

“I can't afford to get it fixed. Mama's already mad it broke down. She just had it fixed last week.”

“We'll take care of it for you. Give me your keys and sit in the car with Kirby.”

Thirty minutes later, Gabrielle found herself engaged in conversation with a calmer Katisha.

“Where to?”

“Yamacraw Village.”

Gabrielle maintained her composure. She'd just read an article in the paper citing a lower crime rate in the notorious housing project. It'd had its fair share of news coverage surrounding thefts, murders, rapes, and mayhem. Daniel had mentored a young man from there years ago. Whenever he took him home, he never allowed them to ride with him. He made them say a prayer for his safety and asked them to watch over Mattie until he returned.

“How long have you been living at Yamacraw?”

“Since my parents divorced about twelve years ago. After Daddy left, Mama wasn't the same anymore. Living with Mama helps me take care of Kirby and her.” She looked at him in the booster seat and smiled. “You think less of me 'cause I live in the ‘Craw?”

“Of course not. I'm not here to judge you.”

She looked out the window, then redirected her gaze at Gabrielle. “I bet you and your husband have a big, fancy house out in the suburbs, don't you?”

“I've never been married.”

“You got kids?”

“No.”

Surprise covered Katisha's face. “Ms. Gabrielle, I thought for sure you were married with kids. I figured that Target check was your Victoria's Secret money. A lot of ladies your age get out the house 'cause they're bored and have nothing else to do.”

“My age?”

“I didn't mean anything by it. You look real good. I just figured you were around my mom's age, that's all.”

“I wasn't offended. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“I am old enough to be your mother. I'm forty-nine.”

“I was guessing forty. Mama's forty-four. She married my daddy right out of high school. Had me at nineteen.”

“Wow!”

She eyed Kirby again. “Kirby's Daddy was my high school sweetheart, too. We were both going to college just before I got pregnant. After I had the baby and he was diagnosed with CP, Kirby, Sr. denied being the father and left. He said his sperm didn't produce retards.”

Gabrielle cringed at the word ‘retards.' “Did you take out child support?”

“Look, if a man doesn't want to claim his own flesh and blood, I'm not going to force him.”

“But the money could help you and your son, Katisha.”

“You sound like Mama.” Katisha pointed right. “I'm on the next street over.”

Gabrielle turned on the street and parked alongside the curb.

“Our unit is on the end with the ramp.”

Katisha placed Kirby in his wheelchair; Gabrielle carried the diaper bag. Katisha tapped on the door and yelled, “Open up, Mama!”

“Whatchu doing back here? I told you to call Lois and have her pick you up!” The door flung open and a small woman stopped her tirade at the sight of Gabrielle. She pulled the housecoat she was wearing tighter and smashed out her cigarette in the ashtray she held. She fussed with the blue sponge rollers in her hair. “Who is she?” She held her stance at the front door.

“This is my coworker, Ms. Gabrielle. She gave me a ride home.”

“You gonna miss pay. They wouldn't let you come in late?” The scent of alcohol lingered after she spoke.

“Mama, it's hot. Let us in.”

She stepped aside as they entered the small apartment. Gabrielle was knocked off her feet by the surroundings. With the exception of a Jack Daniel's bottle and a highball glass on the coffee table, the space was immaculate. The smell of beans, neck bones, and cornbread wafted throughout the apartment. Katisha parked Kirby's wheelchair near the sofa.

“Have a seat, Ms. Gabrielle, while I talk to Mama in private.”

Gabrielle took stock of Kirby, who'd fallen asleep. She wanted to pick him up, but she was never good with children. They either spat up on her clothes or pulled her earrings. There was something different about Kirby, though, and he warmed her heart. Ten minutes later, both reemerged from the bedroom: Katisha in a headscarf, T-shirt and jeans; her mother clothed in a Chevron maxi dress. She'd taken the rollers from her hair, revealing a halo of fluffy curls. Katisha disappeared with Kirby as her mother took a seat across from Gabrielle.

“I'm Rowena. What do I owe you for bringing Tish home and towing the van?” She reached inside her bra and produced a thick wad of bills from her bosom. “My boyfriend, Larry, just had it fixed last week and the doggone thing is down again,” she slurred. She scratched her pimply face and licked her thumb.

“You don't owe me anything.” Gabrielle wanted Rowena to stop peeling off bills. Her chipped, yellowing nails smelled of cigarette smoke as she counted twenties.

“Nothing in life is free. This is part of my rent money, but I can't let you drive all the way over here and not give you something.” She pressed the wet bills in Gabrielle's hands.

“Katisha has been doing a good job at work and I want to make sure she keeps working.”

Rowena poured Jack Daniel's in the high ball and took a swig. After a brief moment of silence, she said, “You might not believe this, but I used to be a retail manager. Had two stores back in the day.” She held up two fingers as her red eyes danced at the memory. “I keep telling Tish jobs are hard to come by and she better do a good job at Target. She's had an attitude ever since Kirby Sr. left. I keep telling her another man will accept her and the baby, but she won't listen.”

Gabrielle gave her the money back. “Consider this a gift.” She eyed her watch and stood. “I have to get to work myself since I'm covering for Katisha. The man who towed her van should have it done in a few days. If Katisha needs a ride, I can pick her up since we've been working together.”

“Beloved, you are an angel. Do you want me to scoop up some of these beans and cornbread for you in a Tupperware bowl? I haven't had time to cook the okra yet, but you're welcome to it.”

Beloved? Okay, Iyanla.
“No. I have some lunch in the car. It was nice meeting you, Rowena.”

Rowena staggered a bit and regained her footing. “I wish you didn't have to go. I miss having company with ladies. All my friends are like the wind, Girl. They've blown away. You seem real nice.”

“So do you.”

“Tish! Your friend is leaving. Come say goodbye to her.”

Katisha practically ran from the bedroom. Her eyes were downcast as she walked Gabrielle to the car.

“This is between the two of us, right?”

“Katisha, I would never tell anyone at work what happened today.”

“I know I get on people's nerves, but I'm dealing with a lot. Between trying to keep Mama sober and taking care of Kirby, I don't have a life. Target is all I got.”

“Do you want me to talk to Herb? He is an understanding man, especially since he knows about Kirby.”

“Tell him I need a little time to get my transportation together.”

“I can pick you up.”

Katisha grew silent. “I can't pay you back right now.”

“You don't have to pay me back. Consider it a favor.”

“Nothing in life is free.”

“My generosity is.” As Gabrielle turned to leave, a thought popped in her mind. She faced Katisha again. “On second thought, you can do something for me, Katisha.”

“What?”

“Let's work on that hair and those nails.”

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