Waiting to Exhale (20 page)

"Would you put that thing down for a minute?" she said.

He flipped it over in his lap. Bernadine turned around and looked at the two of them sitting there. "I have to tell you guys something, and it's very important." Now he was fumbling with a Ninja Turtle. His face was ashy, and Onika's braids were coming loose. "Do you guys have any idea what a divorce is?"

"Jenna's mom and dad got one," Onika said.

"It's when you don't live together anymore," John junior said proudly, and dropped his turtle on the seat. For nine years old, this boy was too sure of himself, she thought.

"That's right, John. But do you understand why?"

"'Cause you hate each other."

"That's not true. Who told you that?"

"Zachary told me his mom hated his dad and his dad hated his mom and that's why they got a divorce. There's eight kids in my class who are divorced. And Zachary said everybody is getting divorced because everybody's moms and dads hate each other."

"That's not true. Don't listen to Zachary. What it really means is that sometimes a mom and dad don't love each other like they used to, and living together is kind of hard."

"Are you and Daddy getting a divorce?" he asked.

Bernadine wanted to light a cigarette, but she was trying not to smoke in the car when the kids were in it, so she bit her bottom lip and said, "Yes."

"Yippee!" yelled Onika, which completely startled Bernadine. "I can't wait to tell Jenna!"

"You mean Daddy isn't going to live with us anymore?" John junior asked.

"I don't think so."

"Don't you love Daddy anymore?" he asked.

Bernadine wanted to say, Hell no, and I haven't for a long time, but she knew better. "Well, it's a little more complicated than that. Sometimes people still love each other, but they just don't like being around each other as much as they used to. They get on each other's nerves, and then they're always sad or mad and they fight all the time, and it's just better for everybody if they don't live together anymore."

"Where does Daddy live now?" Onika wanted to know.

"Are you getting a new husband?" John asked.

"I think he still lives in Scottsdale, and no, I don't plan on getting another husband anytime soon."

"Will we get to live with Daddy sometimes, like Jenna does?" Onika asked.

"We haven't worked it all out yet, but you'll get to spend quite a bit of time with your daddy. Weekends, and probably some holidays too."

"Is that all you wanted to tell us?" John said, easing his Game Boy over and pushing the button to turn it on.

"No. I also want you to know that your daddy still and always will love you guys."

"When will we get to see him?" he asked.

"Saturday."

"Are we going to move?" he asked.

"What would make you ask that?"

"Zachary and his mom had to move into an apartment."

"Well, I don't think we're going to have to move."

"But I wanna move," Onika said.

"Why?"

" 'Cause it would be fun to live somewhere else, huh, JJ?"

"Yeah. Can we move too, Ma? Please?" he begged.

"Look, you guys. It's not that simple."

"Did you say we get to go with Daddy this Saturday?" John asked.

"Yes."

"Yippee!" Onika said.

"But what about my basketball game?"

"Your daddy can take you," she said, and thought: For once in his life.

"Is Daddy getting a new wife?" John asked.

That struck a sour note with Bernadine, and she didn't know how to answer it, but she blurted out, "No. It's too soon for him to get another wife, but he may have a friend."

"You mean a girlfriend," Onika said.

"Daddy can't have a girlfriend, dummy," he said.

"Yes he can," Onika said. "And I already know who it is."

Bernadine did not want to hear this. "Who wants McDonald's?"

"I do. Who?" he asked Onika.

"Kathleen. I want a Happy Meal, Mama."

"How do you know that, Miss Know-It-All?" he asked.

Bernadine lit a cigarette and started the car up.

"Because."

"Because why?"

"What do you two want in your Happy Meals?"

"McNuggets and a Sprite," John said.

"Cheeseburger and a Coke," Onika said. "Because I saw her kiss Daddy on the lips. So there."

Bernadine swung the car around and out onto the street so fast that she ran over the curb. She turned the radio up to blast because she did not want them to hear her crying. She almost choked in the process.

She was sitting in her mother's living room, and the kids were outside. Bernadine had just told Geneva everything that had happened up to today. The only thing that surprised Geneva was that her daughter had chopped off all her hair. "I never trusted him in the first place," she said.

"How can you say that, Ma?"

"I've been watching how he operates for a long time. And how he managed to turn you into this sappy woman while he did whatever in God's name he pleased. You've been living like a single parent all these years, so his being gone now shouldn't cause you that much more hardship. All I wanna know is if you're gonna get what's coming to you, so you and these kids won't have to be scrimping and scraping to get by while he lives like Donald Trump."

"I told you. My lawyer's taking care of it."

"Well, John better not ever call this house again, 'cause I'll tell him exactly where to go."

"He hasn't done anything to you, Ma."

"He's hurt you, and it's the same as hurting me. Look at you. You're a mess. A new hairstyle and a little extra makeup can't hide it, either. Your eyes look sad. And I betcha you've got at least three or four hundred dollars' worth of clothes on your back, and you still look downright haggardly. No man is worth going through these kinds of changes for. No man."

"Well, regardless, it'll probably be over soon."

"You don't know how long this mess might take. Everything takes longer than you think." Geneva reached into Onika's Happy Meal box, got a cold french fry, and put it in her mouth. "And please don't let him talk you out of anything. He's good for that, you know. And you're just as gullible as the day is long."

"Ma, give me a break, would you?"

"I will. I don't know how you've tolerated him as long as you have. He is one overbearing son of a bitch. And to think he left you for a white woman!"

"You don't have to remind me, Ma."

"I betcha she don't know what she's getting herself into."

"She'll find out soon enough."

"Anyway, baby, I know this isn't an easy thing to go through. So when these brats get on your nerves and you need to get out, get away, or just need to be by yourself, pick up that phone and call your mother, and I'll take 'em off your hands. Do you understand me?"

"Thank you, Ma. And they're not brats."

"John junior is, but that's not the point I was getting ready to make. Please don't try to be Superwoman. You're doing too much as it is, working full time-that job uses up too much of your energy, and I don't know how women do it. Go to work, come home and cook and clean, and still tend to the children. And then there's your husband's needs you gotta think about. When do you have time for yourself? Shit, I was lucky, 'cause your daddy worked nights and was there for you all when you got home from school. When I got off that bus, he knew I was tired as a dog, and half the time cooked your dinner. You remember, don't you?"

"Yes, Ma, I remember."

"But in this day and age, women do too much."

"You get used to it."

"Yeah, and have a heart attack before you're forty? It's not worth it. You young people just don't know how to enjoy life. Always in a hurry to do everything and get everywhere. You need to slow down. Relax. When was the last time you and John actually went up to that condo in Sedona that you just had to have?"

"I don't remember."

"See there. You lied to me about that weekend. I'm not stupid. I knew you weren't going up there for no romantic weekend. You looked like you'd been through the wringer then, but I didn't wanna say nothing. I don't like to interfere."

"Well, I'm about to make some changes in my life."

"I would hope so," she said, and tried to find another fry in the bottom of the box. "Like what, for starters?"

"I don't know yet," Bernadine said. "But whatever I do, it's going to make the kids' and my life better."

"You should get out and walk. I get more exercise than you, and you'd be surprised at what exercising can do for your mind."

"I know, Ma. I've heard."

"And once this is all over, I hope you quit smoking again."

"I will."

"That's all I have to say," she said, and popped the last shriveled french fry into her mouth.

The kids spotted their toys on the dining room table as soon as they walked in the front door. They were so thrilled that they dashed off to their rooms before Bernadine could make them say thank you. "Savannah?"

"I'm out here," she yelled from the patio.

When Bernadine peeked around the door, Savannah was reaching for the handle. "Girl," Bernadine sighed, and hugged Savannah hard. Harder than she'd hugged anybody in a long time. "What are you doing sitting out here in the dark?"

"Thinking," Savannah said, and sat back down. "Just thinking."

Bernadine pulled a lounge chair next to hers and nestled into it.

They both lit cigarettes and smoked in silence. Finally, Savannah exhaled. "Are you scared?"

And Bernadine said, "Yes."

"Me too," Savannah said, and put her cigarette out. She cocked her head to the side and looked out into the darkness. "You know what I want to know?"

"What?" Bernadine asked.

"How are you supposed to know if you're doing the right thing? I mean, how the hell do you know?"

"Girl, you're asking the wrong person," Bernadine said. "I'm trying to figure out how you go about repairing your life after it's been totally ruptured."

Savannah lit another cigarette, took two consecutive drags, and passed it to Bernadine. "I don't know," Savannah said. "I really don't know."

When Bernadine handed back the cigarette, Savannah looked over at her. "I like your hair," she said.

"Thanks," Bernadine said, and got up. "You thirsty?"

"I guess."

Bernadine went inside and brought back a large bottle of Perrier and two goblets. She set them down on the cement. It was so quiet they could hear the sizzle when Bernadine filled their glasses. They kicked their shoes off, leaned all the way back in their lounge chairs, and sipped. For a while, all they did was stare up at the black sky. Later, they listened to the crickets chirp, watched the lightning bugs glow, and heard the coyotes howl. By the time they finished filling each other in on every single detail of all the recent events in their lives, it was daylight.

Chapter
9

I'm not as desperate as I thought I was. Michael is trying. And failing in a big way. He can't fuck, and as his teacher, I can only call him learning disabled. I had to remind myself that he's not the last man on earth. It'd be different if I was completely over the hill and what have you, but I'm not, am I? I mean, Michael is a very nice man and will probably make some woman who doesn't have many physical needs a very happy woman. I wish I could pretend to be one of them.

Maybe I'm a fool. But what am I supposed to do if I can't get i
t u
p for him? Life is too short to fake it. And Michael's an even bigger fool than I am. That's what I'm thinking right now. He's lying here next to me, asleep. This is the ninth time we've slept together, and that's about all it boils down to, too. I have never in my life seen a man come so fast. And he's consistent. He also hasn't lost a single pound. As a matter of fact, I think he's put on a few. A week ago, he was taking a bath, and when I looked at him, I realized that under no circumstances would I want to have this man's baby. Who in their right mind would want to walk around for nine months knowing you're going to have a weird-looking baby? Not me. I don't know why I had to get myself all worked up and bothered for nothing.

Me and my big mouth. Me who trusts everybody. Me who doesn't listen. My mother told me a long time ago that a woman should never tell a man the whole truth. She said some things you keep to yourself, because they'll use it against you later. She said a woman should never tell a man how many times she's been in love, how many men she's slept with, and under no circumstances should you give him any details about your past relationships. Well, I forgot.

Now I'm trying to figure out the nicest way to tell Michael that this isn't working out. I want him to get lost. But I also don't want to hurt his feelings, because this fool is definitely in love: gone, hooked. I think Michael's the one who's desperate, which is understandable. He admitted that he's an "easygoing" kind of guy, and since his last divorce, he's been burned a few times, but "That's the breaks," he said. "I'll keep trying until I get it right." When you get down to it, he's a sucker. A chump. He's spent more time and money on me in six weeks than all the men I've known put together. Why doesn't that thrill me? He's taken me to the best resorts, restaurants, and what have you, places you need a reservation or a membership to get in. He gave me the money to pay my personal charges on my company's American Express bill and lent me twenty-two hundred dollars to stop the IRS from putting a tax lien on me. He even offered to pay off my student loan, but I didn't want to be indebted to him forever, so I said no. And regardless of what happens, I plan on paying him back. But Michael doesn't get it. Eighty thousand dollars a year, a house in Paradise Valley, and a 300E can't turn him into a knight.