A Day Late and a Dollar Short (38 page)

"Bless you. I do, Vy. You've got such good taste."

"So do you, Loretta. What you talking about? I just don't like ruffles as much as you do, that's all. Come on around this corner and see how big my bedroom is."

"I'm coming," she says. "Boy oh boy, these ceilings are so high. And you've even got a little backyard out there. This is just perfect. I wish I had a daughter like you."

"I feel blessed to have all my kids, even when they make me mad," I say. "I can't wait to put my new bedroom set in here, and I'm still gon' have plenty of room. When I start taking that class to get my day-care license, and if I get a job that won't mess up my Social Security checks, I might buy one of them loveseats or a chaise lounge, like Marlene Dietrich used to lay on, remember those?"

"Of course I do. You're still thinking about working at a day care, Vy?"

"I don't know, Loretta. I can't hardly add two and two no more, I don't know what kinda class I'ma take, but I'ma learn how to do something. That much I do know." I sneeze again.

"Bless you."

"Thanks. Okay, Loretta, get the camera and hurry up and take my picture. I gotta get outta here, 'cause this paint is starting to get to me, I ain't lying."

"It could also be the new carpet, you know. I read somewhere that people with asthma shouldn't be around new carpet, because something they treat it with can trigger an attack." She reaches in her big purse and gets out the Polaroid. "Lean against that wall there. It'll look more professional with a white background."

And I do. I smile, showing off my new teeth, and turn a little to the side, showing off my new body. I'm wearing those leggings all the young girls wear and a black cotton T-shirt.

"Say 'pizza'!"

"Pizza. I know that, Loretta. That's why I ain't moving in till next week. So let's go. Plus, I gotta stop and get some gas, and pick up my prednisone and theophylline prescriptions, 'cause I'm all outta both of 'em, and then get Shanice. She only got a half-day of school today. Will you take another one, just in case?"

"Okay, Vy," she says, "say 'pizza' again!"

"I wanna say 'cheese'!" And the flash goes off.

"The first one came out really nice. You look so much younger," Loretta says, and starts putting her shoes back on. I made her take 'em off when she came in here. I took mine off, too. But when I move in, I ain't making nobody take off they shoes, except if they look too dirty. "Is Cecil helping you move?"

"I wouldn't ask Cecil to help me move if he paid me. I'm starting a new life, Loretta, and he ain't nowhere in it. Simple as that."

"Well, I just wondered, Vy."

"I know, Lo. I didn't mean to get testy about it."

And then she looks like she just saw something that excited her, but she couldn't have, 'cause we just walking over to my garage. I love it when I press my Genie and that door starts going up and I see my new car sitting inside it. Now I know what living good feels like. My teeth ain't even hardly hurting me no more, and I done lost nineteen pounds. It don't get no better than this. Lord knows it don't.

"Vy, guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm already packed," Loretta says, blushing like a litde girl-wrinkles and all.

"I'm right behind you," I say.

"You mean you started already, too?"

"Finished. When would I have time to pack when I move? And how in the world would I be able to find anything? You know how much junk I got?"

"Yes, I do."

"Shut up, Loretta. See you later."

She starts laughing, waves to me, walks over to her white Cadillac, and gets in. Loretta know she don't need that big old car, but her husband left it to her, and she said she'll drive it till whoever dies first.

It's hot as hell out here. I know that much. But I don't care. I got air conditioning in my car. And I got air conditioning in my new condominium. Hot damn! I pull straight into a handicapped space when I get to the pharmacy and put my card on the dashboard so the police can see it while I run in and get my medicine. I love having this handicapped sign, 'cause you always get a parking space. When I pull into the gas station, I forgot I just used most of my cash, and I ain't cashed my check yet, so I hurry up and put five dollars of unleaded in, 'cause I can't tolerate the smell of this gas and it's hard holding my breath when I'm filling up, but sometimes when I plug my nose up people look at me like I'm crazy. I'ma just have to look crazy again today.

Shanice is standing at the curb outside Hyde Park Junior High School talking to some boy with little braids in his hair. He sure is cute. No wonder she like it here. This is one of them Magnet schools they made so that all kids could get a good education and not just white ones. I feel like honking this horn, but I don't wanna embarrass her. She swings her head around, and when she sees me, she tells this boy something and runs over to the car.

"Hi, Granny," she says, and gives me a kiss on my cheek.

"Hi, baby. Who was that boy?"

"Gerard. He's in my science class. We've been doing our final project together on the senses."

"And which ones would you be dealing with?"

"Taste and smell."

"I betcha."

"Granny! Stop it. Wait a minute. Where are we going?"

"We splurging. We going to the Mirage to eat lunch at their buffet, and then we going home and start packing. Get Granny one pill outta each bot- de and then hand me that Pepsi tolling under your foot, would you? And get my spray outta my purse while you at it, please? Between that paint and them gas fumes, I swear."

"Granny?" She hands me my pills, opens that warm soda, and gives me my inhaler.

"Yeah," I say, after swallowing them and taking a puff, but I start coughing, 'cause my chest been feeling tight and this is what happens when it starts opening up. I take another pufF, just to make sure.

"You all right, Granny?"

"Yep. I'm okay now, baby. Here, you can put it back."

She drops the inhaler in my purse. "Would you be mad at me if I told you I don't wanna go home when I get back from camp?"

"No, I wouldn't be mad. But why don't you wanna go home? George done been arrested. And your mama's there all by herself."

"That's true, but Mama said they can't keep him in jail unless I let them examine me and do that stupid interview, which I am not doing. Period."

"Why not? If that's what it's gon' take to put that son-of-a-bitch where he belong-in San Quentin somewhere-why won't you?"

" 'Cause I can't. I just can't. I want to forget about this whole thing, and every time I look around here comes another reminder."

"Maybe you just need a litde more time to think about it. Those social- service people I been talking to seem real nice. They trying to protect you, Shanice. They got your best interest at heart, you know."

"I've heard. But I'm not interested. As you always say, Granny, 'they're a day late and a dollar short.' "

"But it ain't they fault."

"I can't go back to that house. And I'm not setting one foot in there ever again in life. So, if Mama wants me to come home, then she's gonna have to find us another place to live."

"Then you need to take that up with her."

"I will."

And we don't say another word about it. I stop by the bank and cash my Social Security check and then drive till we pull into the Mirage, and I let 'em valet-park my car, and we go in and eat steak and crab and lobster, and we licking our fingers when I see some hones on a big screen in another room running around a track. Now, I know the Kentucky Derby was dam n n ear a month ago and I know I ain't got no business doing this, but for some reason I feel lucky, so, without even realizing what the hell I'm doing, I grab Shanice by the arm and the next thing I know we standing in this big old curved room with giant screens all around us and all kinds of races is going on.

"Granny, what are we doing in here?"

"I wanna bet on a horse."

"Which one?"

"Hell, I don't know," I say, looking up. "Let me go ask somebody."

And that's exactly what I do. I walk over to some old black fella who look friendly with a wrinkled-up newspaper in front of him that turns out to be a racing form. "Excuse me, honey, but what racetrack is this?" I say, pointing to that screen.

"That's Hollywood Park."

"What would I do if I wanted to bet on a horse?"

"Which one?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you need to know which one. Or how many. And if you wanna bet on one to win, place, or show."

"I know that means first, second, and third place."

"That's right."

"Which horse you betting on?"

"These two right here," he says, and shows me the ones he's circled: "Moneychaser" and "Imflyin."

"Thank you," I say.

"Good luck," he says. "And if you're gonna bet on this race, you've got three minutes to do it."

"Shit," I say to Shanice. "I mean, shoot. Sorry, baby. Reach in Granny's purse and hand me my wallet."

She do, and I run over to the window where you place your bets, and when they ask me which horse, I hear myself say, "I wanna put five dollars on all of 'em to win, place, or show."

The man just looks at me like I'm crazy. "That's fifteen dollars each."

"It is? I mean, I knew that." But hell if I did. This just sucked up almost all my little check, but for some reason I don't even understand myself right now, I don't really give a damn. Maybe this is how Cecil been feeling all these years.

"That was for all of them?"

"That's right."

"Whatever you say," he says, and hands me my tickets.

I hold 'em in my hand real tight and order me and Shanice a Shirley Temple, and when that race starts my heart is pounding so fast, and I hear people screaming and hollering, getting louder and louder as the horses get closer to the finish line, and then a whole bunch of moaning and groaning when the race is over. All except me. My horses won. I sit and wait and then don't know what the hell I'm looking at when all them numbers start scrambling up and down like they do at a train station, so I walk back over to that same man and ask him how much did I win? He just look at my tickets and start laughing and shaking his head at the same time. "Beginner's luck," he says.

"How much?" I ask.

"Wait a minute," he says. "Watch that screen over there. It'll tell us in a minute. But you won some money today, sweetness, that you did."

I just stand there holding Shanice's hand real right, and then, when I see the numbers finally stop, I look back at the man and ask him again: "How much did I win?"

"Well," he says, going through my slips, "somewhere in the neighborhood of about eight or nine hundred dollars."

"I know you lying," I say.

"Go on over to the cashier, and they'll tell you," he says, "and congratulations. You wanna be my bookie?"

I just laugh and take my tickets over there, and, sure enough, they count out $898 and they put it all in my hand and I can't hardly control myself all the way outside. When that valet boy brings me my car I give him a five-dollar tip, and when we get in I give Shanice a brand-new crisp one- hundred-dollar bill. We laugh all the way home.

When we pull in the driveway, some white man in a beige suit is getting out a white Saturn in front of my house, but I ain't got a clue who he is. "Can I help you?" I say.

"Are you Viola Price?" he asks.

"Yes I am, why?"

"I have something for you," he says, and walks over and hands me a envelope.

"What's this?"

"I'm not sure. But could you sign here for me, please."

"Okay," I say, and sign on the line next to my name.

"Did I win something?"

"Could be a trip or something," he says, and gets back in his car and drives off.

It's kinda obvious that this ain't no trip or no Clearing House Sweepstakes kinda win. After I get in the house, I sit on the couch and even without my glasses I can see this envelope is from Family Court. I open it. It's divorce papers from Cecil. "Shanice! Get Granny's spray, would you?"

"Where's your purse?" she asks.

Shit. "I left it in the car. But it should be one by my bed. Hurry up."

My chest is getting tight again. Shit. I ain't in the mood for this right now. Cecil want a divorce, huh? Well, good-goddamn-riddance. You just beat me to the punch, buster. Save me a whole lotta money. You can have a divorce all right.

"Here, Granny."

After two puffs, I feel better.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Look in the second kitchen drawer on the left and get your granny a pen and then go in my bedroom and pull out that night-table drawer and get me some envelopes, the writing tablet with the birds on the front, and one twenty-nine-cent stamp. And see if we got any messages on the machine while you in there. Paris been in London for damn near a week and I ain't heard a word from that huzzy. I asked her to buy me one of them Princess Di hats. She could call some-damn-body."

"Okay, Granny. You sure you're all right?" "Yeah, I'm just wheezing. Too much excitement. Fresh paint and gas kinda gets to me. I just need to sit here and relax, do a breathing treatment, and I'll be fine. Damnit! I missed my stories today! Would you turn on Oprah for me? Wait a minute. On second thought, I don't feel like listening to her ass today. Put it 011 BET."

"Okay, Granny."

"And could you run and get the mail?"

"Okay, Granny."

I hear Paris s voice: "Hi, Mama. Hi, Shanice. I'm having an amazing time over here. And don't worry. I got your hat. Shanice. I got you something cute, too. Hope everybody's doing fine. I'll be home in a couple of days. It's been a very fruitful trip. All around. Call Dingus at his friend Jason's house if you feel like it, Mama. I left you that number, remember? Anyway, I love you. Call you when I get home."

When Shanice comes out with what I asked her to get, I pick up them papers and sign 'em so fast it makes me laugh out loud.

"What's so funny, Granny?" Shanice asks, after coming in with the mail and slamming that screen door.

"What's 'a fruitful trip' mean, and how many times have I asked you not to slam that door?"