Read Waiting to Exhale Online

Authors: Terry McMillan

Tags: #African American Studies, #Arizona, #Social Science, #Phoenix (Ariz.), #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #African American women, #Female friendship, #Ethnic Studies, #African American, #Fiction, #African American men, #Love Stories

Waiting to Exhale (26 page)

BOOK: Waiting to Exhale
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The first thing Robin did when she got home was call Michael. He wasn't home yet, so she left a message on his machine. "That was real cute, what you did tonight," she said. "I thought you were a much more considerate person, Michael. But I guess I was wrong. By the way, this is Robin, in case you're having a hard time keeping track of your women." Click.

She called Russell next. At the number he had given her. When a woman answered the phone, Robin didn't think much of it. She thought it was his buddy's wife, since that's where Russell told her he was staying. "Is Russell there?" she asked.

"Who's calling him?"

"Robin."

"Look. Why don't you get a fucking life? Don't call my damn house anymore, you got that?"

By the time the voice registered as that of the woman who used to call and harass her, the woman had hung up. He lied to me again, Robin thought. She felt as if she'd been stung twice in one night. She hated this feeling and sat there on the couch for a few minutes with her hand resting on the phone. She was trying to think of somebody else she could call. But she couldn't think of anybody. Because there was nobody.

Gloria lucked out. She had missed only fifteen minutes of Cagney & Lacey, and she took off her clothes during the program. She popped herself some microwave popcorn and got in bed and waited for Tarik. She didn't know why she bothered going out with the girls. It was a waste of time, because nobody ever showed an interest in her. Only rarely did anyone ask her to dance, let alone what her name was. It was clear to her that as good as Robin and Savannah looked, they should at least catch somebody's eye, but even they hadn't. What's the problem? Gloria wondered, as she turned out the light. Why are we all out here by ourselves? Are we just going to have to learn how to live the rest of our lives alone or make do with inferiors like Russell and John and maybe even the Michaels of the world? When she heard the front door close, Gloria looked over at the clock. It was ten to ten. She didn't feel like getting up or yelling through the door. He wasn't that late. So Gloria closed her eyes and tried to think of something worth dreaming about.

Bernadine didn't get home until after midnight. She'd had a good time, better than she'd had in years. She couldn't believe the attention she had gotten after her girlfriends left, particularly from Herbert. He walked her to her car and asked if she'd be all right driving home. Bernadine told him she was fine; she'd only had two glasses of wine. "I'd like to see you again," he said. Bernadine blushed and, to her own surprise, told him it could probably be arranged. He stood there in the parking lot with his hands in his pockets, and he smiled as she backed out.

On the long, dark drive up to her house, she was thinking: I'm gonna give him some; just because. Just because she wanted him. And just because she hadn't had any in what all of a sudden felt like centuries. The fact that Herbert was married didn't bother her. As a matter of fact, Bernadine thought, as she turned the Cherokee into her driveway and pressed the Genie, she was glad he was married, because this way she wouldn't have to worry about what to do with him after she was finished.

Chapter
11

Waiting to Exhale (1992)<br/>FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION

It was Monday, Gloria's day off. She was listening to Take 6f had just put away nine bags of groceries, and was about to tackle the kitchen drawers, when Tarik walked in and scared the living daylights out of her.

"What are you doing home?"

"The school sent me home."

"I know you don't mean expelled," she said, and closed one drawer, then snatched open another one.

"Sort of."

"There's no such thing as you 'sort of been expelled. What happened, Tarik? And tell the truth, because I'm gonna find out anyway."

"They accused me of being in a gang."

"A gang? You mean as in the Crips and the Bloods?"

"Yeah."

"What would give them that impression?"

"Because me and some of my friends started a club, not a gang, and we wore white handkerchiefs in our back pockets, and so they called us down and told us to stop wearing 'em."

"Wait a minute. Hold it. Back up. First of all, who is this 'we'?"

"Me, Bryan, and Terrence, and a few other guys you don't know."

"And they're expelled too."

He nodded yes.

"When they first asked you about the handkerchiefs, why didn't you tell me about this club?"

"Because it wasn't a big deal."

"But when they asked you to stop wearing them, why didn't you?"

"Because we weren't doing anything wrong. This is about the First Amendment, Ma. Freedom of expression."

Gloria's eyes got as big as saucers. "The first who?" She looked at Tarik and saw that he was serious. "How many days?"

"Three."

"And who should I call?"

"About what?"

"About this. You think I'm just supposed to take your word about this? I know you've got a piece of paper, something."

"I did have it in my backpack."

"Find it, Tarik. Now. Before I slap you into next year."

"Ma, I didn't do anything wrong, I swear it."

He reached inside his backpack and handed her a form that described what his offense was and that if she had any questions, she should contact Mr. Dailey.

"So tell me something, Tarik. What does your club do? When do you meet? What's the purpose of it? I've never heard you talk about any club until this minute."

"We don't do anything but dress alike. And sometimes we meet under a tree at lunch and just eat together. Other guys don't like that, so they reported us to the principal."

"And that's it?"

"That's it, Ma. Go ahead and call. They'll tell you that we haven't done anything. It's just because we're black and Hispanic-that's what the real deal is."

"Don't start that shit."

"It's true. We're outnumbered everywhere-not just in school but in this entire state. Do you realize that we comprise less than three percent of the population? Do you know how many Mormons are in this state, how many Klansmen who disguise themselves, and I go to school with their kids? They hate us. Why do you think we can't get Dr. King's birthday made into a holiday, like other states?"

"Look. I know most of this stuff already, but it ain't got nothing to do with the price of butter. You've been kicked out of school, which means you'll get F's for three days. If you think you're gonna sit around this house all day by yourself, you're wrong, buster. As soon as I find out exactly what's going on, I'll figure out how to handle you. For now, don't even twist your mouth to ask if you can use the car or go any further than that sidewalk out front-for the next three weeks. Do I make myself clear?"

He responded by walking away, going upstairs to his room, and slamming the door. Gloria opened the cabinet, got her bottle of blood pressure medication, and took a pill with some water. Then she yanked out the silverware drawer, grabbed a handful of teaspoons, and dropped them on the countertop. She snatched up the salad forks, dinner forks, and then the knives. By the time she slung the tablespoons on top, at least thirty pieces of silverware had crashed to the floor. It was times like this when she understood how parents could really hurt their children. Also, at times like this, she wished Tarik had a father who lived under the same roof. She was tired of dealing with all this puberty and growing-up shit by herself. She should've had a man in this house a long time ago. Somebody who executed authority much better than she did.

The Love Boat was on. Gloria was watching a repeat, for the zillionth time, when Savannah called to ask if she wanted to go to a party with her and Robin. Gloria flatly said no. "What about Bernie? Is she going?"

"No," Savannah said. "That girl's been busy. I mean hanging out tough. It seems like every time I call her at home, the baby-sitter answers. I don't know what she's up to these days."

"I bet it's that Herbert man. She better watch her step, that's all I can say."

"So is everything going all right with you?"

"Yeah. Except that son of mine got expelled from school for being in a gang. I had to go down and talk to the principal-a real die-hard racist-and I had to cuss him out after he said he wasn't letting any of the boys back in for three days. Tarik is grounded for waiting so long to tell me about this mess. It could've been avoided. Other than that, I'm just watching TV. And I'm tired."

"I imagine so, standing on your feet all day long. Oh, and guess what? I'm now on the advisory board of Black Women on the Move."

"Good. Did you meet Etta Mae?"

"Yep. I'm going to a school for unwed teenagers in a few weeks, to talk to them about my job. Etta Mae said they need to see as many black role models as they can. I never thought of myself as a 'role model,' but anyway, I'm looking forward to getting involved. I think this is a good group. I wish we'd had something like it in Denver."

"I'm glad to hear this, Savannah. I know we're all busy with our own lives and everything, but I swear, some of these kids out here are just lost, and they need any kind of motivation they can get. If we can help point them in the right direction, then we're doing something. So thanks."

"Thank you for telling me about it. Well, anyway, I've gotta go. I'll probably see you sometime next week."

Gloria was surprised when the phone rang again. She had finally broken down and gotten Tarik his own phone, because she was sick of the girls calling every five minutes and tired of being his answering service. She wondered who this could be, since her phone hardly ever rang on a Friday night. For a minute, her heart started pounding hard; it probably had something to do with Tarik-but then she remembered he was grounded and up in his room. "Hello."

"Gloria, this is Bernie. What you doing?"

"Watching TV. How're you?"

"So-so."

"Is something wrong?"

"Girl, I'm so pissed off, I don't know whether I'm coming or going. One minute I feel like I've got everything under control, and two minutes later, I can't think straight. I'm smoking like it's going out of style. You won't believe what John has gone and done now."

"What?"

"I got a notice from the bank, saying the mortgage payment is past due."

"You mean he didn't pay it?"

"Apparently not, so I called the motherfucker, and he said he did pay it, that it must be some kind of mistake. He was lying through his teeth, Gloria, but my lawyer said that right now there's nothing we can do about it."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing, except wait to see if he does it again."

"That's a shame."

"I know, and I can't be sitting in this house worrying about whether or not he's going to be making the payments or if I'm going to come home one day and find out it's being foreclosed. I can't afford these damn payments by myself. I don't know what to do."

"Well, what about the settlement? How's that going?"

"Girl, it's crazy. They're still trying to get all John's assets figured out, and until that time, I'm in limbo."

"What about your lawyer? Can't she do something to speed this up?"

"She's doing everything she can, but John's lawyer is just as sneaky and conniving as he is. He's not cooperating, because he's looking out for John's best interests."

"Well, shit. How long before you get divorced?"

"I don't know, and at this point, I don't care."

That's when Gloria heard her crying. Gloria couldn't stand it. "Bernie, are you okay?" She could tell Bernadine was trying to regroup but wasn't able to. "You want some company, girl?"

"I do and I don't. I don't want to depress you."

"You're not depressing me. And don't worry about me. Where's the kids?"

"They're here, driving me fucking bananas too."

"Let me comb my hair real quick, and I'll be over in about a half hour."

"You really don't have to, Gloria."

"I know I don't have to, but I'm on my way. Turn on The Love Boat; it'll take your mind off some of this stuff. See you in a few minutes."

She hung up the phone and sank into the chair. Why does life have to be so damn complicated? "Because it is," she said. Well, why couldn't God have made it easier? Because then we probably wouldn't appreciate it, she thought, and went upstairs and knocked on Tarik's door.

"Yes?" he said.

"I'm running over to Bernadine's house. I'll be back in an hour or so. If my phone rings, answer it. It'll be me, and you better pick it up. Understand?"

"Yes," he said, through the door.

When Gloria pulled up in the circular driveway, Bernadine's house looked like Christmas. Every light in the house was on. Gloria turned off the ignition and got out of the car, then rang the bell. Bernadine opened the door, and Gloria gave her a strong hug.

"Thanks, girl," Bernadine said, and moved so Gloria could come on in. Gloria walked into the middle of the great room and looked around. This place was a mess. She walked toward the kitchen, like she always did when she came over, and there was a trail of ants marching from behind the light switch down into the sink basin. "Where's the Raid? Did you know you've got ants?"

BOOK: Waiting to Exhale
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