The Other Half of My Heart (12 page)

Keira zoomed toward the coffee table and snatched up a magazine. She plopped into one of the cream-cushioned wicker chairs and started flipping pages.
Essence
. She was always begging Mama for a subscription so she could look at the fashions, but Mama said the content was “too mature” for girls their age. Keira tried to use her learning disability to
convince Mama she wouldn’t bother trying to read the articles, but Mama hadn’t been swayed.

Grandmother Johnson picked up a pen and started writing in a visitors’ log.

The wicker chairs, leafy palm plants and gauze-curtained windows reminded Minni of Gigi’s Caribbean-inspired living room. A ceiling fan created a light breeze, and she thought she smelled coconut. She sniffed the large white candle in the center of the coffee table. Definitely coconut.

“Tch.”
Grandmother Johnson shook a finger at her. “No canine behavior.” She hung her purse from the crook in her arm and clasped her white gloves in front of her as if she were the Queen of England.

Minni sat in the chair next to her sister. A container of seashells sat on the glass-topped table between them. She picked out the shells one at a time, noticing each one’s unique beauty. How she would love to be walking barefoot along the beach, letting the water lick her toes and the sea breeze tickle her face.

Grandmother Johnson pulled out their applications and flipped through them once more. She cleared her throat. She yanked a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbed it against her upper lip. “Where in the world…?” she muttered. “Hel-lo!” No wonder their grandmother had said earlier that her patience couldn’t get much thinner. She hardly had any to stretch.

Minni looked into the container again. When she saw it, it took her breath away. The shell spiraled into a perfect circle—starting at the outer edge as pearly white and
turning browner and browner, curling into a near-black center. It was just like her family—white, brown and black all swirled into one round whole. She pushed it into her skirt pocket, feeling a little guilty about taking it, but on the other hand, hadn’t someone taken the shell from the beach? There were so many in the dish, no one would notice if one went missing.

“The nerve of these people.” Grandmother Johnson plunked her purse on the counter. She reached over and rattled the doorknob on the divider door.

“Can I help you?” a woman said.

So much for making a good first impression.

Grandmother Johnson pulled back her hand as if she’d been bitten by a snapping turtle. “I should hope so. We’ve been waiting for quite some time.”

Their grandmother was as sour as the buttermilk she drank. Didn’t matter who she was talking to.

Whom
, Minni heard Grandmother Johnson say in her head.
It doesn’t matter to
whom
I’m talking
.

“I apologize. We were in a meeting.”

“Well, I guess that’s understandable, but perhaps next time you could leave a sign.” She shoved the used tissue into her purse. “I’ve brought my granddaughters’ applications for the Miss Black Pearl Preteen pageant.”

“The deadline for the Miss Black Pearl National Achievement
Program
has already—”

Keira looked up with alarm.

Another woman entered the area behind the counter.

“Dr. Hogg-Graff,” Grandmother Johnson said, reaching
to shake the president’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Dr. Hogg-Graff didn’t look anything like a pig—or a goat, for that matter. She was tall and beautiful, with mahogany-brown skin and shiny black hair that flipped and curled down to her shoulders and lay across her forehead in solid bangs. She wore a red pantsuit with a black pearl stickpin in the lapel. “Have we met?”

“Why, yes, at the Black and Silver Tea last month. I made a contribution—a
significant
contribution.” Grandmother Johnson gripped her gloves.

“Well, we certainly appreciate your support.”

“And I spoke to you on the phone last week about my granddaughters coming from Washington State to participate in the pageant.”

“Program,”
the first woman said. “A pageant is focused on externals. We, on the other hand, seek to inspire our girls to become young women of
character.”
She sounded as if she were reading from a Black Pearls of America brochure.

Grandmother Johnson muttered, “Of course, of course,” then focused again on the president. “You said they could have an extension on the applications, as long as I brought them in no later than today.” She held out the folder.

Dr. Hogg-Graff took it and looked through their paperwork.

Grandmother Johnson gestured around the room. “What a lovely old home you’ve acquired for your offices. On the state historic registry, I assume. I’m working to get mine on as well. But what a lot of red tape. They don’t make it easy.”

“Grandmother Johnson’s house a historic monument?” Keira whispered. “Maybe if they want to preserve old
smells.”

Minni giggled.

“I suppose they don’t want just
anyone
getting the designation,” Grandmother Johnson said.

“No. I suppose not.”

An awkward pause filled the space between them.

Dr. Hogg-Graff smiled at Keira. “So, is this Keira or…” She looked at the papers again. “Minerva?”

Minni winced.

“I’m Keira, ma’am.” Keira rose and walked to the counter. She shook the woman’s hand.

“And where is your other granddaughter?”

Minni wanted to shrink to the size of a snail and crawl into one of these shells. The woman could see her sitting right there.

Keira turned and gestured. “This is Minni, ma’am.”

Dr. Hogg-Graff stared blankly. “This is…?”

“Minerva,”
Grandmother Johnson corrected. “My namesake.” Her lips curled into a proud smile.

Minni sat on her hands, afraid to move or speak.

Grandmother Johnson’s lips flattened and her eyes bugged a little. “What do you say to Dr. Hogg-Graff?”

“How do you do?”

Grandmother Johnson’s eyes bugged more. She held her hand below the level of the counter and waved her over.

“Ma’am,” Minni added. She walked lightly across the room and stood beside Keira.

Dr. Hogg-Graff’s eyes darted back and forth between them. “Are they…sisters?”

Minni found the shell in her pocket and traced its circular form with her finger.

Grandmother Johnson cocked her head at the woman. “Most certainly.”

“Biological?”

“As opposed to zoological?” Grandmother Johnson said curtly.

Dr. Hogg-Graff glanced up, then looked back at the applications, as if searching for some clue to explain what she saw standing before her.

“We’re twins,” Keira said proudly.

“Twins?” the other woman exclaimed. “I’ve seen everything now.”

Keira locked arms with Minni. They stood like links in a chain.

Grandmother Johnson puffed out her large chest and crossed her arms. “In fact, they are fourth cousins to the venerable Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., himself.”

Keira made a sound like a whale coming up for air.
“Phuh!”

Minni stared at their grandmother. Was it possible? Why hadn’t she ever told them this before?

Wait a second
. The King name came from Daddy’s side of the family. Grandmother Johnson was at it again, doing anything she could to impress.

“Is that so?” Dr. Hogg-Graff didn’t sound too convinced. “Amazing! That means we’ve got descendants of Frederick
Douglass, Thurgood Marshall, Madam C. J. Walker, and now Dr.
King
in this year’s competition.” She looked at the other woman and rolled her eyes.

“As well as sharing my name, this one”—Grandmother Johnson pulled Minni to her side—“was given Dr. King’s initials to honor his memory. She’s a very bright girl.”

“I can see that,” Dr. Hogg-Graff said, studying Minni’s face.
“Very
bright.”

“If you look on her application, you’ll see she has an A-plus average. You’re looking at a future Dr. King right here.”

Dr. Hogg-Graff’s lips scrunched as if she was trying to decide what to say next. “So, I take it their mother is white?”

“Their mother is just as black as you,” Grandmother Johnson said sharply. “Furthermore, she is an alumna of the Black Pearls. I mentioned that at the Black and Silver Tea.”

“Oh, yes. I must have forgotten.”

“Our father is white,” Keira said, lifting her chin.

“Is that a fact? I didn’t know Martin Luther King had white cousins.” Dr. Hogg-Graff’s eyes slid over to Grandmother Johnson.

Minni pulled in her lips to keep from smiling. So much for what their grandmother would likely say was only a “little white lie” about their relation to Minni’s hero. Clearly Dr. Hogg-Graff hadn’t believed her anyway.

“Of course he does. Most of us do,” Grandmother Johnson snapped. She pulled her checkbook out of her purse. “Now, as for the sponsorship fee, shall I make the check to Black Pearls of America, Inc.?”

“Yes.” Dr. Hogg-Graff continued to scan the applications. “Based on what I’m reading here, I see no reason why your granddaughters wouldn’t be allowed to participate. Deirdre will get the girls their opening-number outfits before you leave. The sponsorship fee covers those as well.”

Dr. Hogg-Graff looked up again. She gave them a tight smile. “I apologize if I’ve offended with my inquiries into the girls’ relatedness and background, but with all the blended families these days, I had to ask. This is a program for
black
girls, after all, and we feel very strongly about our mission in that regard.”

Keira put her fist on her hip. “My sister
is
black.”

Grandmother Johnson cut Keira a look, then turned to Dr. Hogg-Graff. “Of course. I understand fully.” She smiled ingratiatingly. “But surely you know our people run the gamut when it comes to skin color and other features.”

Minni’s blood rushed to her head, leaving the rest of her body shaky and weak. From the heat in her cheeks, she could tell she had turned as pink as one of Grandmother Johnson’s roses. Mama had promised that people would be able to see her blackness down here in North Carolina.

The woman’s gaze roamed over Minni’s face, but she never looked directly into Minni’s eyes—eyes that had never felt so blue.

G
randmother Johnson took them for lunch at a fifties-type diner. “In celebration of being officially entered into the Miss Black Pearl Preteen of America pageant. Excuse me,
program.”
Their grandmother obviously hadn’t appreciated the woman at the office correcting her.

Minni ordered a cheeseburger, onion rings and a chocolate malt with whipped cream. They hadn’t even been there twenty-four hours and already Grandmother Johnson’s culinary abilities had her starving. Had the woman’s mother taught her
nothing
about cooking?

Grandmother Johnson butted in. “You may have the burger with
out
cheese, and the malt—but hold the whipped cream. Scratch the onion rings. Too much artery-clogging fat.”

Minni clenched her teeth.

“I’ll have the Healthy Heart Special,” Grandmother Johnson said, pointing to the menu. “But substitute tuna for the cottage cheese, and no tomatoes. They give me indigestion.”

The waitress pinched her lips together. She kept her eyes on her pencil as she wrote on her pad.

Keira was allowed to order her French dip sandwich, but the fries became a side salad. The waitress picked up their menus and walked away without a word.

Minni excused herself to go to the bathroom. She wanted to call Mama in privacy, plus as soon as they had scooted into their seats, Grandmother Johnson had commented on a man talking loudly on his cell phone two booths away. “And people call all this gadgetry
progress
. Those things should be outlawed in public places.”

Grandmother Johnson wasn’t big on technology or electronics. That was clear. They hadn’t yet found a single television in her house, and they knew she didn’t have a computer. She took pride in the fact that “her children” (as she called her students) never used calculators. Minni had once heard her tell Mama, “Children need to know how to use their
brains
, not just punch buttons. We must always remain smarter than our technology.”

Minni stepped into a stall and pushed the button she’d programmed to speed-dial home. Someone came into the bathroom. “Skinny?”

The phone on the other end of the line started to ring. “I’m in here,” Minni replied.

“Are you okay?”

Minni thought for a moment. “Yeah.”

The answering machine kicked in.

Keira turned on the water in the sink. “Why did you leave me alone with Payne-in-the-Butt? She started harping on the grades thing again.”

“Mama? It’s me.” Minni glanced at her watch. Nine a.m. Mama was definitely up. She was a morning person, like Minni. They often shared the sunrise over a hot cup of cinnamon spice tea. “I’m just calling to let you know we’re entered. We took in the applications.” She fingered the shell in her pocket.

Pick up, Mama. Please. I need to hear your voice
.