Sweet Tea: A Novel (3 page)

I wondered if Mama could ever picture me famous? I had no desire to become an actress like CeCe, but I didn’t want to be known as the girl with middle-child syndrome either. After seeing myself in that coat I
could
envision being famous. For what? I still wasn’t sure. Only I knew I’d better find out before CeCe left or it might be too late.
              I slid the mink off and replaced it with the rabbit. Then CeCe tried on the mid-length silver one. The three of us exchanged coats, running back and forth to the bathroom mirror, giggling while Mama applauded.

“It’s a Christmas present from God!” she said.

“How did God get these coats to you?” CeCe asked.

Mama shrugged. “They were lying on the ground and God’s voice said, ‘Merry Christmas!’”

CeCe stared at Mama, then at me. We knew those coats didn’t come from God, but we didn’t want to argue. We liked seeing Mama this happy. Even though I secretly feared she wandered into someone’s house and stole them, CeCe and I wore the coats and fed Bubbles Clayton and Miss Ruth more delicious gossip.

A few months later, we found out Mama told one of the men from the nursing home where she worked that her car needed repair. He was always giving Mama money because he liked her, and said he had no family to give it to anyway. Only, when he gave her money to fix her car, her mind thought he said,
Buy some furs
. Even so, I figured she bought the coats used from an estate sale because they weren’t new. But they sure were pretty.

Monica Bradshaw’s jaw dropped like a fat squirrel from an oak tree the day I sauntered into homeroom wearing my new coat.

“Well look at you, Miss Trailer Queen, all wrapped up in a fur coat. Did your little brother catch it live and skin it for you too?” Luke had gone from a baseball-playing typical young boy to a back-woods hick since we’d moved to the trailer park, but insulting him like she did made my chest tight and face burn. 

At first, I felt a spike of anger ready to thrust from my fist into Monica’s button nose. Instead, I fluttered my lashes and held my head high. “No, Monica. Only your daddy would accomplish such a task by hand. I got this as a gift.”

Monica’s face reddened. I could almost see smoke whistling from her ears as her mind spun fast trying to outwit me. Regardless of her standing as Landon’s golden girl, my wit sparked of amber and sapphire. Monica’s smoldered like a windblown matchstick. I shared a subtle grin of satisfaction on my way out the door to the hallway.

Had my daddy lived he would have spoiled me the same as Monica’s daddy, probably even more. I missed our old house. I missed the hidden corners and secret places I’d disappear to when I yearned for privacy. I missed the peach tree that sprawled across our front lawn. It stood so tall that in full summer, I could reach outside my bedroom window and grab a peach right from the branch.

After Mama ran out of Daddy’s insurance money, we had no choice but to leave our beautiful home and move to Woodlane Trailer Park, the other side of Landon. It was painful for everyone. Becoming the only male in the house and changing schools hurt Luke even more. Luke wanted to escape from school, but I saw school as an escape. I was lucky to remain in the same high school. Even though Monica graced the hallways of Landon High, I refused to let her ruin my only happiness. School helped me in many ways. Not only because I loved to learn, but because of Mattéo Santoro.

A
rare find in Landon, Georgia, Mattéo Santoro’s curly black hair and olive skin thrust my heart into a frenzy. Yankees rarely settled in Landon. Matt’s New York City accent reminded me of Daddy. Born and raised in Brooklyn, Daddy spoke like a New Yorker until his dying day. Maybe Matt’s unique dialect and infinite night-sky eyes attracted me to him the way Mama was drawn to Daddy. Fortunately, Matt was totally into me.

After homeroom, I rushed to my locker, hung up my coat, and grabbed my books. Matt caught my eye as he swaggered down the hallway in his tight black t-shirt, blue jeans and hi-top sneakers. Knees slightly bent as if he just hopped off of a horse, both hands buried deep inside his pockets, he had
cool
written all over him.

“Yo,
O-Liveuh!
C’mere,” he said, using his eyes as a lasso.

I slammed my locker door shut, brushed my bangs to the side of my face, and smiled. Mama said a girl blessed with good teeth shouldn’t waste a smile. Though she lacked a fine set of pearly whites, she used her other assets to her advantage.

Like the time she was caught speeding.

“Take note, girls,” she said as she hiked up her skirt just above the knee and tilted her heart-shaped face toward the officer.

“What’s the hurry, ma’am?” he said.

“I’m sorry, Officer, I didn’t mean to be going so fast. I’ll be sure to slow down.”

Mama fluttered her lashes like two butterflies grazing a field of lilies. Feeling embarrassed as Mama capitalized on her sexual qualities, I sank down into the bottom of my seat; however, I did take note that she never did get that speeding ticket.

“Hey, Matt,” I said. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I got tickets!” He pulled one hand from his pocket and waved two tickets in the air.

“Tickets for what?”

“For the Battle of the North and South Rock Show in Atlanta.”

              “Get out. You’re teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing.” He held the tickets in front of my face.

I reached for them. “Let me see.”

He hid them behind his back, coaxing me to wrap my arms around his waist, and I leaned into him. I whispered in his ear. “And who are you taking to that show?” Being only an inch or so shorter, I grabbed the tickets from his hand.

“I’m taking you, dummy.” Matt swung his arm around my neck and pecked my cheek.

“Woo-hoo!” I danced around, waving the tickets in the air. “When is it?”

“Saturday. And my parents are going away for the weekend.” He grinned. “We can go back to my house afterwards.”

“O . . . kay,” I said, but my excitement was also mixed with anxiety even though Matt had my heart wrapped around his finger.

The bell rang. I handed the tickets back to Matt. “Gotta go, see ya later.” I hurried off.

I knew the plans he had in mind, and even though I’d imagined them over and over again, I wasn’t sure if I was ready. Not even sure if I really wanted to go that far with Matt, but I was definitely curious.

My last boyfriend made a few attempts. However, each time he did, the fear of his mama walking in on us would force his six-foot-frame off me. Actually, she saved me from suffocating. I wasn’t exactly having a good time, but I knew it would not be like that with Matt; at least I hoped it wouldn’t. In my fantasies, Matt would take me in his arms in the same romatic style that the lovers in the soap operas I watched did with one another.

Most girls in our school had already done it
.
Even though I came close, I was still afraid. Mama said, “First time you do it, it hurts more than it feels good. You’d better make sure it’s with your husband, ’cause nobody else will have the patience to stick around after your screams ruin their moment of pleasure.” I figured she just said that so I’d remain a virgin. Though I found it hard to believe she had been one before she married Daddy.

“Oh stop,” CeCe hollered when she heard Mama and me talking. She hated when we spoke about sexual issues. It was like the whole subject grossed her out. I wondered about that sometimes.

During one of Jonzetta Davies’ overnight parties, a bunch of girls talked about who had and hadn’t done it. Jonzie said, “I got drunk the first time, didn’t feel a thing.”

“Same for me,” Jonzie’s cousin said.

Just like CeCe, Bessa Watson left the room that night, her typical reaction when our discussions turned toward sex. On her way out, she left us with a message from her granny. “My granny told me sex out of wedlock is the worst thing you could do to ruin a marriage!”

Although Jonzie and Bessa were my best friends, listening to the both of them was like viewing life through a pair of bifocals. Jonzie was nearsighted, Bessa, farsighted. The two made me dizzy, yet somehow balanced.

After class, the day Matt showed me the tickets, I went to the cafeteria and joined the lunch line. Jonzie snuck up behind me and wrapped her hand over my eyes, “Guess who.”

I spotted her immediately through the open gap between her ring finger and pinky. Not to mention her voice was most annoying. Originally raised in Arkansas, Jonzie’s southern drawl sounded close to a foreign language, making it harder for me to detach myself from my own.

Always stepping in my personal space, her freckled ankle, which exposed a tattoo of a small candle burning at both ends, appeared beside mine. Her pants were rolled up just enough to see the bottom flame. The candle symbolized Jonzie and her twin brother, Michael, who died of leukemia in eighth grade. Like most twins, she and Mike were as close as a pair of skates. Before he died, he told Jonzie to keep the fire burning. I guess she took him close to literal.

“I forgot my lunch money,” she whispered to me. “Can you lend me some?”

“
Me
, lend you money?” I said. “Huh, that’s a joke. I only got enough money to toss in a fountain or buy an ice cream sandwich. I’ll split an ice cream with you.”

“Sure. Who needs the extra calories anyway.”

Bessa strolled over with her perfect posture and a salad on her tray. She sat down across from me. “You have plans for the weekend?”

“Matt got tickets for the Battle of the North and South Rock Show in Atlanta,” I replied, licking ice cream from my fingers. “We’re going back to his house afterward. His parents are going away for the weekend.” I grinned sheepishly.

Bessa raised her left eyebrow higher than it already sat on her forehead and placed the palm of her hand under her creamy white, zit-free chin. “If you go back to his house, you know
it’s
gonna happen. Don’cha?”

“I haven’t decided on that, yet.” I took another bite from my ice cream and cocked my head to the side preparing to listen to a speech from Mother Theresa, a.k.a. Bessa. We’d been friends since the first grade. She lives with her granny, who used to be my Sunday school teacher. I had fond memories from those days, especially singing hymns. I remember once raising my hand after a song, asking, “How can God’s hands be so big they can carry the whole world?”

Bessa’s granny answered, “They’re so big you can’t see them. Kind of like the ocean caring for the sea creatures—even the ones buried deep near the ocean floor—the ones too afraid to reveal themselves to the light of day.”

I thought of Mama, and how she revealed herself a little more than I would have liked. All the same, she was my Mama and God held her in her in his hands, and I needed to participate in His spiritual ecosystem. Regardless how much she made me want to crawl under a rock.

As far as Bessa . . . with constant reminders of moral values from her granny, I don’t think Johnny Depp could’ve persuaded her into bed, and she was crazy mad for him.

Bessa continued with her speech. “I’ve told you before. If you do it before you get married it’ll ruin your wedding night, and the rest of your marriage will be tarnished!”

I giggled. “If you don’t stop wearing those baggy jumpsuits and talking like an old spinster, you’ll never know ‘cause you’ll never find a husband.”

“No! No! No!” Jonzie interrupted. “If you
don’t
do it before you get married it’ll ruin your wedding night.”

Bessa’s hand slipped from beneath her chin. “That makes no sense.”

Jonzie leaned forward. “Listen up. Would you want to go waterskiing with someone who never water-skied?”

“Huh?” I looked at her like she had two skis on her head. “What in the world does that have to do with anything?”

“Remember the first time we went skiing with my cousin Hank?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember how good he was, and how miserable we made him because we couldn’t get up on those skis?”

“Yeah.” I began picking at the mascara on my eyelashes, watching the flakes fall to the cafeteria table. I blew them off.

“Hank didn’t have any fun that day. He spent the whole day turning the boat around and setting us up on the skis over and over again.”

“Yeah,” I said, impatiently, wondering where she was going with this?

“It’s the same thing with sex,” Jonzie said.

“Hush,” Bessa whispered. The mere word threw her into a state of fear.

Jonzie rolled her eyes, cupped her mouth with her hands, and lowered her voice. “If a guy spends his wedding night trying get you up on skis the whole time and you fall off, it’s gonna ruin the entire night. However, if you come as a skilled skier you’ll glide across the lake of love in harmony.”

Bessa placed the back of her right hand against her forehead like she felt faint. “Glide across the lake of love in harmony! What ancient romance novels have you been reading?” She folded her hands, set them on the table, stared deep into Jonzie’s eyes and shook her head. “Your virginity is a gift you give to your husband on your wedding night. He’ll hold you in the highest esteem if you save it for him. If you give it away before you get married you’ll have nothing to give him, and he’ll always wonder
who
got
his
wedding gift.”

“You’ve been living with your Granny for way too long,” Jonzie tossed her hand in the air as to swat a fly. She turned toward me again. “Olivia, listen to someone who knows. The first time is
not
fun, but it’s
got
to be done so you can
get
to the fun. Ha! I rhymed.” She held her chin high, stole an olive from Bessa’s plate, and popped it into her mouth.

I guess Mama was telling the truth on that one.
But I didn’t share much of what Mama said, even with Bessa, who knew Daddy before he died. After we moved to Woodlane, I stopped having friends inside my home, so they rarely saw her anyway. Bessa was too proper to say anything negative about Mama, and only asked about her occasionally. Jonzie already knew Mama was slightly unusual, and left it at that.

* * *

After school, I hopped the front steps and let myself inside. CeCe and Luke weren’t home yet. I grabbed a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator, propped my feet up and put my drink down on the coffee table. I dug the remote out from in between the cushions, turned on MTV and watched a Queen video. When it was over, I clicked on the channels then stopped at an afternoon talk show. The host had white hair and huge eye glasses. He was talking with a psychiatrist.

The doctor sat in a chair across from him. They talked about things that sounded like Mama. I took my feet off the coffee table, leaned toward the TV, and listened. First, the doctor used the word
mania
. He said it caused high levels of energy and sleeplessness.
That’s Mama,
I thought. It was like every so often, someone plugged her in and recharged her battery.

Then he said
schizophrenia,
which can include hallucinations. That sounded like Mama, too.
So maybe she was hallucinating when she buried the turkey. Not to mention the time she went on about seeing Daddy in the meat department at Kroegers.

Lack of emotion.

Sometimes I felt as if Mama didn’t feel anything at all.

Disorganized thoughts, difficulty concentrating, mania, depression, schizophrenia . . . everything the doctor said sounded like Mama.

Just as the doctor on the television was about to give a phone number to call for help, I heard sounds from the bedroom. I didn’t see Mama or CeCe’s car, and Luke was still at school. My heart pounded and panic clamped down on my throat. I grabbed the cordless phone and dialed 911. I whispered for the Landon Police Department.

“Emergency, can I help you?” A female voice said.

“I think someone’s in my house.”

“Where do you live, ma’am?”

“Three Stargazer Court, Woodlane Trailer Park . . . in Landon.”

“We’ll send someone right out.”

I hung up, ran outside, and hid behind a car parked across the street where I could see the front and back door of the trailer. Why would someone want to rob my house? I wondered, panting from fear. The big houses were across the main highway, over where Monica Bradshaw lived. Maybe the thief was lost or desperate.

All of the sudden, the back door opened and an elderly man with disheveled silver and black hair placed his foot on the top stair. He looked more like a salesman than a thief, dressed in a dark gray suit with a white wrinkled shirt. His tie hung out of his top pocket and his hands were empty.