Waiting to Exhale (47 page)

"Kathleen and Daddy got married!" Onika yelled again, as if she'd rehearsed it.

"So when did all this happen?"

"Today," John junior said.

"Today? And where were you guys?"

"We were right there," he said. "It was totally boring."

"When he picked you guys up on Friday, he didn't say anything about getting married this weekend, and if he had, I would've at least packed something dressy for you to wear."

"He didn't even tell us until yesterday," John junior said.

"And when'd you get that dress?" she asked Onika. Of course she knew John had bought it, but she was trying to change the subject. The scroungy bastard. The only reason he did it this way was to fuck with her, to keep rocking her world. But it wasn't going to work.

"Kathleen taked us shopping yesterday. She pickted this one out. Isn't it pretty, Mama?"

Bernadine wanted to get the scissors and cut every single stitch of that dress off her daughter. "It's very nice," she said. "And, Onika, you know how to talk. It's took, not taked, and picked, not pickted."

"She buyed me three dresses, but Daddy told me to leave them at their new house."

What new house? Bernadine wanted to ask.

"She bought me Megaman Two and Rescue Rangers," John junior said.

Bernadine wanted to say: You know whose money she's spending, don't you? From the beginning, she had promised herself never to say anything nasty about Kathleen or their daddy in front of the kids. So far she'd kept her promise, but it was getting harder and harder. "Well, that was nice of her to be so generous," Bernadine said, and sat down on the couch. A cigarette would be perfect about now, she thought. "What does their new house look like?"

"It's big. Way bigger than ours," Onika said.

"I like our house better," John junior said.

"So was it a nice wedding?"

"I told you, it was boring," John junior said.

"I was the flower girl," Onika said.

"Where was it?"

"I don't know what you call it, but it wasn't a church," he said.

"How many people were there?"

"Let me think," he said, and started going over in his head how many people had been in the room. "Six, I think. Seven, if you count the minister."

Onika threw in this: "Daddy said now Kathleen can spend more time with us too."

"Oh, he did, did he?"

"Yep. So now we have two mamas."

"No we don't," John junior said.

"We do too!" she screamed.

"We don't!" he yelled.

"And guess what else, Mama?"

"Why don't you shut up!" he said. But Onika refused to pay him any attention. She liked the idea of being the bearer of good news, which was why she had dashed out of the car to beat John junior to the house.

"Kathleen's having a baby!" she said. "And we're gonna have a brand-new baby sister or brother in seven months!"

"I'm really glad to hear all this," Bernadine said, and lunged up from the couch. "This is the best goddamn news I've had all day. It's just great! And I hope your sorry-ass daddy is happy with that white whore!" Her voice cracked, and her hands were trembling. She stormed out of the room, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Bernadine wished she had a Xanax in the house. No she didn't, she thought, after she fell across the bed. She lay there, listening to the wind rattling the windows, but the kids were talking so loud, she could hear them too.

"See what you did, you little bitch!" John junior said. "You made her cry."

"I did not!"

"You did too!"

"I did not!"

Bernadine heard John junior slap Onika. "That's for having such a big mouth! You think she's supposed to be happy knowing that white lady is having a baby with our daddy?" She didn't hear Onika respond. She must be in shock, Bernadine thought, and started laughing. Served her ass right. She needed to be slapped. Onika ran her damn mouth too much sometimes. Said the first thing that came to her mind. And he called her a bitch! Now Bernadine was grinning. It was good to know her son was on her side.

"If you go near her room," Bernadine heard him say, "I'll slap you again, only harder."

Bernadine got up, cracked the door, and peeked through it.

John junior was pacing around the couch as if he had a lot on his mind. "Now sit your little ass down on this couch, and say, 4I talk too much,' five hundred times. And don't even think about getting up until I tell you to!"

Onika started to oblige.

Bernadine covered her mouth to stop from laughing out loud. She had closed the door before Onika made it to fifty-six.

It was raining. Bernadine was lying in bed under crisp white sheets and a forest-green comforter. The French doors to the patio were open. A cool breeze rushed in through the screens. It was falling so hard, and the raindrops were so big, it sounded as if somebody was pounding a million nails into the skylight in her bathroom. She could see the water in the pool splattering. This was unusual weather for October. She was even more surprised when she heard thunder. The monsoon season had long since passed. When she looked out the window, she saw lavender-and-yellow lightning bolt across the Superstition Mountains. The "wash" behind the house, which was usually a big dry gully, was now a gushing river. Her flower beds were drenched. The patio was flooded.

She remembered Onika once saying that when it rained like this, it was really God crying. Today it made sense to her. The ceiling fan spun slowly. The lamp was on, but a gray haze filled the room. Bernadine had a book in her lap, a book she hadn't opened. Two fat pillows lay beside her. She'd been trying not to think about John and Kathleen all week long. The idea that he was married to somebody else bothered her. It wasn't that she still loved him. Because she didn't. It wasn't that she was jealous. She wasn't. It was just ... it was just that he'd always been her husband and now he was somebody else's. And here she was, on a rainy day, all by herself. Bernadine wished somebody were here to console her.

She thought about James. James James James. Whenever she felt lonely, she thought about James, and that night. Whenever she felt disenchanted, she thought about James. And that night. Whenever she felt ugly and old, she thought about James. And that night. And whenever she needed to remind herself how good a man could make her feel, she thought about James and that night.

Bernadine closed her eyes. She let her mind drift backward until she could smell his cologne, feel his chest against her back, feel the heat from his hand, hear his laughter and every word he'd said. Her pillow became his shoulders, his chest, the side of his neck, his mouth. She dug her face so deeply into it that, the feathers flattened.

She was almost ready to call out his name, when she heard a little knock on her door. Bernadine sat up, ran her hands across her face, blinked extra hard, and said, "Come in."

Onika was hiding something behind her back. "What you got back there?"

"Guess?" Onika said, grinning. Her hair was sticking out like black wire, making her face look too small for her head.

"I can't even begin to guess," Bernadine said.

"You have to try, Mama. Please?"

"Okay, okay. The newspaper?"

"Nope."

"My purse?"

"Nope."

"A picture you made me?"

"Nope."

"What color is it?"

Onika looked up toward the ceiling. "Some are white and some are brown."

"Is it candy?"

"Nope."

"I give up. Just tell Mama what it is, please?"

"It's the mail!" she said, and flung her arms around the front of her body, causing six or seven envelopes to fly all over the floor. Onika said she was sorry and started picking them up. Then she handed them to Bernadine. It was easy to tell which ones were bills. She hurled those to the floor. One was a letter. Addressed to her. From the Ritz-Carlton. Why would they be writing me? she wondered. Bernadine opened it as fast as she could. Another envelope was inside. The letter wasn't from the hotel. It was from James. The mind is a powerful thing, she thought.

"Mama, is 'freak' a bad word?" Onika asked.

Dear Bernadine: I guess you don't like to write or call, huh? I don't want to think you threw my business card away, and since your number's unlisted, I couldn't call, and you never told me where you worked. (I still have your card. But what was I supposed to do with it? And I had to change my number, because that asshole Herbert wouldn't stop bugging me.) "No," Bernadine said. 4 4 4 Freak' is not a bad word."

I've waited as long as I could to contact you, and since you never gave me your address or anything, it took me the longest time to think about trying the hotel. I know you probably thought that night was just something frivolous, but like I told you before I left, it meant more to me than that. Much more.

"Elizabeth said it was a bad word."

"It's not a nice word, but it's not a bad word."

"Can I say it?"

Paragraph. I buried my wife back in August, and for her sake, I'm glad she's not suffering anymore. I've also sold the house, and just about everything in it. I don't need all the memories, and definitely don't need the space.

"No, you can't say it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not a nice word."

I want to see you again, Bernadine, and not for another one-nighter, either. If there's any truth to what's known as a Vsoul mate," then you're as close to it as I've ever come. I've tried to forget you, believe me, I've tried. But I can't. That alone tells me something. I'm not interested in playing games, or starting something I can't finish. I play for keeps, and I'm no t s ome dude just out to have a good time. (Oh, Lord. He wants to see me again!) "What does it mean?"

"What does what mean?" Bernadine asked.

"Freak."

"It means weird."

Paragraph. I know youre thinking that Vm probably grieving and feeling sorry for myself \ and there may be some truth to that. But I knew I was in love with you long before we ever turned the key to that hotel room. Vm not asking you to make me any promises or any kind of commitment. All Vm asking is if youd be willing to explore this relationship further. (Explore? I like that word. And love. That one sounds good too. Shit. The man was serious.) "You let me say 'weird/ so why can't I say 'freak,' Mama?"

"Because I said so, that's why."

Paragraph. I'll be waiting to hear from you. Here's my number again, just in case. I hope you and your kids are doing fine. I really hope I get the chance to meet them at some point. Love, James. P
. S
. If there's any thing you need, call me first.

"Damn," she said out loud, and took a deep breath.

"You just said a bad word, Mama."

"I'm sorry."

"Mama, what are you reading?"

"A letter."

"From who?"

"A friend."

"Can I try to read it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a letter to me, that's why."

"Were you taking another nap, Mama?"

"Yes, I was."

"Why come you're smiling like that?"

"It's 'how come.' "

"How come you're smiling like that?"

"Because I feel good."

"You look weird," she said.

"So do you," Bernadine said, and pulled Onika's nose between her fingers.

"Can I take a nap with you?" she asked.

"I'm getting up in a few minutes," Bernadine said. She had energy now, but she patted the empty side of the bed. "Come on, jump in."

Onika plunged into the bed beside her mother and snuggled up so close that Bernadine's book fell to the floor. "God stopped crying," Onika said, looking outside at a scarlet sun.

The monsoons were weird like that, Bernadine thought, as she kissed the letter, folded it, and put it in the drawer of her night stand. She inhaled the scent of rain and looked out at the turquoise sky. Now there was a double rainbow. She put her arms around her daughter and squeezed. "I don't know," she said. "I don't think those were God's tears at all. I do believe they're just His way of making sure everything He made keeps growing."

As soon as Onika fell asleep, Bernadine called Savannah and read her every single word of the letter.

"Girl, that's beautiful," Savannah said. "I could almost cry."

"I know, girl," Bernadine said. "It's deep, huh?"

"Did you call him?"

"Not yet. I just got the damn letter."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Ask him if he can get here by fax or Federal Express."

"This is some scary shit, Savannah."

"Everything worth doing in life is scary, Bernie. You know that. What do you have to lose? You're always telling me that shit."

"Yeah, but it was only one night, Savannah."

"So what? I've read about people who fell in love at first sight, and some of them have been happily married for a million years. What do your instincts tell you?"