Can't Stop the Shine (6 page)

 

Kalia got out of her last class early and figured she'd go home to practice instead of waiting for an available piano at school. All the way home she couldn't get the idea of her father sleeping in the guest bedroom out of her mind. As she approached the kitchen door, she heard her parents loud and clear. They were yelling. She thought about going around the front, but she knew they'd see her, so she just stayed in the kitchen, listening.

“Elaine, I'm not spending any more money on a car,” said Ronald.

“Look, Ron, Mari is going to need her own transportation sooner than later.”

“Well, those girls need to get jobs, then, like I had to when I was their age.”

“But their lives are different than ours, and we can afford it,” said Elaine.

“I can afford it, is what you mean.”

“No, us, okay? Everything I do with these girls is a j-o-b, too—a labor of love, true, but it's hard work. You think I want to be hauling them around for the rest of my life? I need a break.”

“You're not even driving them really anymore. Kalia's getting her and Mari everywhere they have to go. And what? My money is supposed to finance your break?” asked Ronald.

“That's right, or you can switch places with me. I can be the breadwinner and you can be the caretaker.”

“You don't know the first thing about running a seafood restaurant,” said Ronald, walking out of the kitchen and through the living room toward the front door. Elaine was in hot pursuit.

“Oh, I'd sell those joints,” she declared, slamming her fist down on top of the piano, “then I'd open my own yoga studio. We'd live well off that. Plus, we'd eat better because I'd be a lot more knowledgeable about nutrition, and I'd probably be able to get you to come in and take a few classes to work on that pouch. Maybe you'd even learn to meditate.”

In her going on and on about her quest to change her husband, Elaine hadn't noticed that Ronald was frozen. He hadn't moved an inch since she said that she would sell the Fish Frys. He was just staring at his wife of nearly twenty years like she was someone he didn't know.

“You…you…you would sell the Frys,” he stammered. “After all of the work that you know that I've put into growing this business? I've worked harder on the Frys than I've worked on anything in my entire life.”

“Including this marriage? Or your daughters?”

“I did this for you and the girls. That's why I'm out there nearly killing myself, so you and Mari and Kalia can have everything you need. I don't know why you want to do that yoga thing anyway. I got this. I'm the provider, and I'm providing.”

“Well, how come Mari can't have a car then, Mr. Provider?” Elaine reasoned.

“Don't try to twist things around. I said everything they need, not want,” said Ronald. “Both Mari and Kalia don't need a car. They might want one, but they sure don't need one.”

“Ron, sometimes it's just nice to spoil your children from time to time.”

Kalia couldn't believe that her mother was saying that she and her sister should be given anything. She always thought that it was her father who was the giving one. She wondered at that moment how her parents paid for the piano and whose idea it was to get it in the first place. Probably her mother's, she thought.

“I'm not buying Mari a car 'cause she's got one—the one Kalia has. They can share,” said Ron.

“And that's just it, huh? You're the man, so you're gonna put your foot down and I'm supposed to obey?”

“That's about the size of it.”

“All right then, I'll buy her a car. I ain't getting any younger, and you're probably going to work yourself to death and not even get a chance to enjoy any of what you've been working so hard for, anyway,” Kalia heard Elaine say, and she knew the conversation was over. She didn't hear any more voices after that, just her mother walking up the front steps and her daddy starting his car.

“They are so predictable,” Kalia said out loud as she went up the back steps to her room. Sitting on her bed, Kalia realized she was initially relieved that this argument between her parents was a short one, but she was also concerned about the frequency of the disagreements and how they never seemed to stay on the subject of that particular argument. Every time Ronald and Elaine got into it, the same two problems came up. Ronald wanted to continue to expand his seafood restaurants, which took most of his time and most of the money that he was making off the three restaurants he already had open, so he wasn't home much, and he appeared overly thrifty to his family.

Ronald was also dead set against Elaine opening a yoga studio at all, and he expressed this to her as often as he could. Kalia had been hearing them arguing frequently in the past six months about the Fish Frys, the yoga studio, money and spending time at home and with her and her sister, and now her sister was noticing, too.

Lying down on the bed, she tried to shake the thought of her parents separating and breaking up their family. Kalia ended up falling into a fitful afternoon nap. Her dreams were filled with terrifying images of her mother and father as old people, living separate lives, lonely, wishing they'd stayed together. When she woke, there were tears on her pillow.

Mari was fuming. She'd had another run-in with Randy. He was just on point, and she must have had on her invisible costume, because as much as she raised her hand, Mr. Wills only seemed to see Randy's. It was more than she could take, so she began blurting out her answers without waiting to be called on. That behavior only got her a short speech on rudeness from Mr. Wills in front of the class. Smarting from a public lecture, Mari sunk into her seat and didn't even attempt to participate for the rest of the class.

Spotting Asha on the way to her locker, she was trying to decide if she was in the mood to be bothered.

“What's happening, Mari?” said Asha.

“There's this guy in my Early World Lit class, and he's a real know-it-all,” said Mari, opening her locker. “Do you have any of those types in any of your classes?”

“Uh, yeah…this is private school, silly. Everybody is a know-it-all. You should know that. You've been here just as long as me,” said Asha.

“Well, I don't care about everybody else. This dude is really getting on my last nerve. I mean, he's answering like every question better than me.”

“Well, maybe that means you need to study harder.”

“Okay, so you're not hearing me. He's outshining me, all right? I'm sick of them having everything and knowing everything. Can a black person have something? Damn.”

“What do you mean?”

“These people have money,” said Mari.

“I know. My family has money, too,” said Asha.

“Yeah, but not like they have money. Their great-great-great-grandparents were rolling in it. Can you say the same?”

“Well, no, but why does it matter?”

“The things that we're concerned about, they never even think about,” said Mari. “Like, I'm afraid to ask my parents for a new car, but more than one of these lucky rich kids will come out of class on their sixteenth birthday to a brand-new BMW or Mercedes sitting in front of the school with a big red bow on top.

“And they have no idea what chores are because they never have to do any,” continued Mari. “Their maids, which look like my grandmama, do everything for them. Some of the kids running around here, like Randy, have buildings on this campus named after their relatives. Their parents are like important government officials and CEOs of big companies. They just get all of these privileges like going to Italy and skiing in Switzerland during the holidays. Shoot, we just go to Louisiana where my mother's people are from.”

“Okay, so what does all of this have to do with Randy? It sounds like your problem isn't really with him, but with wealthy people,” said Asha.

“Whatever,” said Mari, slamming her locker door. “He just thinks he can come in and run the class, and I'm not having it. These rich white people get to have everything and do everything. It's just not fair.”

“You've just got to learn how to beat them at their own game.”

“Maybe.”

“Like the way I'm going to run circles around you at the track,” said Asha, and crossed her eyes.

Mari was in a much better mood by the end of track practice. She didn't even let the fact that Asha beat her in the 200 dampen her spirits. But she did get annoyed after waiting outside the gym for thirty minutes for her father to pick her up.

“Your dad's not here, again, huh?” asked Asha, sitting beside Mari on the front steps of the gym.

“Yeah, and I can't find my mother or my girls, either. I've called them all,” said Mari. “I don't know how he keeps forgetting to pick me up. This is the third time in like two weeks.”

“Your girls? You mean those characters who were up here a couple of weeks ago?” asked Asha, lacing up her sneakers.

“Don't go there, Asha,” Mari warned. No one had really brought up Shauntae and Colby's visit since it occurred, and she really didn't want to hear anything about it.

“Look, you want my mother to take you home?” asked Asha, trying to make peace. “There she is. I'll ask her.”

Asha jogged to her mother's Lincoln Navigator. After a few nods, she turned around and motioned Mari to the car.

“Mama, this is Mari,” said Asha, fastening her seat belt.

“Hello, Mrs. Wright,” said Mari.

“It's nice to finally meet you, Mari. And listen, sweetie, Mrs. Wright was my mother. Just call me Roxie, baby. Everybody does,” she said.

“Yes, ma'am,” said Mari.

“No ma'ams, either. I know this is the Deep South and all, but we're New Yorkers, and I just don't need to get down like that, so it's just Roxie,” said Roxie.

“
Okay…
Roxie,” said Mari. “Thanks for taking me home. I kinda don't know where my family is. I guess I'm like an abandoned child.”

“They want you. They just want a short break,” joked Asha.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” said Mari.

“Mari, Asha tells me that you're giving her quite a challenge on the track,” said Roxanne.

“Umm…yes,” said Mari, reaching around the headrest in front of her and nudging Asha in the back of the head.

“
What?
I did beat you today. Twice,” said Asha, pulling down the visor and sneering at Mari in the mirror. Mari stuck out her tongue at Asha.

“It's not nice to brag,” said Roxie, nonetheless smiling proudly at her daughter. After a day of wrestling with Randy and her father forgetting to pick her up, the last thing Mari wanted to deal with was Asha's teasing. She began to rethink her decision to let Roxie take her home.

“Mari, I've got to stop by home for a minute, then I'll take you home. You wanna call your parents? You can use my cell,” said Roxie. “As a matter of fact, why don't you tell your folks that you're going to have dinner with us tonight? I'm making my famous turkey burgers.”

Hmm, a night with the Wrights, thought Mari. “Well…I don't know, Mrs. Wri—I mean, Roxie. I have homework and—”

“Yeah, Mama, you know midterms are coming up, and she's probably got a lot of studying to do,” Asha broke in, narrowing her eyes at Mari in the visor mirror.

“Well, she's gotta eat, doesn't she? She might as well do it at our house,” said Roxie. “Plus, you never bring anybody home. I don't even know who your friends are. Do you even have any?”

Asha glared at Roxie. “Yes, I have friends. Fine. Mari, do you want to come over for dinner?”

“Uh, well,” stammered Mari, feeling caught in the middle of a mother-daughter battle, the kind she knew all too well.

“Great, it's settled,” piped Roxie. “We're gonna have beauty night at the Wrights—I love it when I rhyme—and you are going to love my turkey burgers, Mari. They are off the chain.”

After Mari left a message for her father on his cell phone that she'd been invited to have dinner at Asha's house, she began to pay attention to the neighborhood through which they were driving to get to Asha's house. She realized they were in the Cascades area of Southwest Atlanta where prominent black families had lived for decades. The houses were humongous, Mari thought. Her place could be the guesthouse behind the two- and three-story all-brick homes she was seeing with their balconies, bay windows, wraparound decks, manicured grounds, oversized pools and winding driveways.

The ride to the Wrights was filled with get-to-know-you conversation, spearheaded by Roxie, which Mari thoroughly enjoyed. She liked Roxanne Wright and her Farrah Fawcett hair. The cut was so precise that when she bent her head, the wings stayed in place. Roxie wore her feathered do like she'd invented it. Her makeup was flawless, almost like she'd had her face done by a professional makeup artist. Mari wondered how many shades of eye shadow it took to blend that smoky sunset look Roxie had going on on her lids, and the lipstick was a perfectly matching high-gloss color. She wore a cream designer suit—the kind that didn't come from a department store. Her meringue bag and shoes matched, and her three main pieces of jewelry consisted of a pair of dainty but substantial diamond studs, a thin platinum necklace with a heart-shaped diamond pendant and a diamond ring on her right ring finger that had more baguettes than Paris.

She was crisp in style, but her personality was entertaining. Somehow, she knew all about the hottest singers, and Mari was really impressed when she recognized the voice of rapper JD who was being interviewed on the radio about his recent signing to Fire Records.

“You sure know a lot about hip-hop, Mrs. Wri—Roxie,” said Mari, shaking her head, correcting herself.

“Well, you know, I gotta keep up with you young bucks,” said Roxie. “It's part of my business, staying up on the trends. I'm trying to get with Alicia Keys and Fantasia. I'm looking into getting them to promote my products.”

“Oh, what type of product do you…” Mari tried to ask.

“You've got the Wright Touch, baby,” Asha sang, and very well, Mari thought.

“The Wright Touch?” Mari exclaimed. “You're like Roxanne Wright of the Wright Touch? My girls wear your makeup, but it sure doesn't look like that on them. Your makeup is great. Asha, why didn't you ever tell me?”

“Baby, you never told your friend about the Wright Touch?” said Roxie, furrowing her brows. “I thought I asked you to tell all your friends.”

“My mama owns the Wright Touch line, Mari,” said Asha. “You know, the kind all the celebrities wear.”

“That is really cool, Roxie,” said Mari.

“Thank you, Mari. Now what do you think about my idea to approach Alicia Keys and Fantasia? I like to get the opinions of my target market.”

“I think it's a great idea. I really like Alicia Keys. She has really cool style. My girls like Fantasia. They're both really pretty and talented,” offered Mari.

“Geez…Ma, this is why I don't like to tell a whole lot of people what you do,” said Asha.

“Why? Why not?” asked Roxie.

“Because everybody gets all crazy about it, excited and asking me for products and stuff. You know how it is when I tell somebody.”

“And you know I don't mind giving your friends product either. I wanna know what they think. Stop being so silly,” said Roxie. “Mari, I'm going to hook you and your friends up when we get home. So what are you, a lip gloss girl?”

“Oh my gosh. How did you know?” asked Mari.

“That's my business, baby—Roxie is always Wright, right?” Roxie smiled, looking at Asha.

“Right,” replied Asha.

Asha groaned as they turned onto the long winding driveway to the Wrights' house.

“Wow, you've got a really nice crib. It is so big. You must have twenty-five rooms,” said Mari to Asha.

“About that,” answered Asha nonchalantly. As Roxie parked, she sang the lyrics to one of the most played songs on the radio, “Game Boy” by Ace, a rapper from Decatur, an Atlanta suburb.

Getting out of the car, Mari and Roxanne joined in for the chorus.

As they were all dancing up the walkway, Mari nearly tripped looking at her surroundings.

“Your lawn is really nice, too,” she said. “Is that what you call a yard this big? A lawn?”

“Thank you, Mari,” said Roxie. “We have a gardener who comes in once a week to maintain it. Can you imagine Asha out here pulling weeds?”

“Very funny, Mama. C'mon, Mari. I'll show you around,” said Asha, sauntering past dozens of sculpted bushes and shrubberies on the massive landscaped and manicured front lawn.

As soon as she entered the front entryway, Mari knew she was in a home that was different from hers. Everything seemed like it was in its right place. African art and artistic photos graced the walls and bookshelves, the rooms were spacious, and there were hardly any doors downstairs—Mari just turned a corner and she was in a different room. There were rounded adobe-styled entryways, and she could tell that Roxie or a wacky interior decorator had gone a little hog wild in the Southwestern motif.

The colors were coral and teal, and there were occasional reds, greens and yellows. Everything complemented everything else—the intricately handwoven rugs, the hardwood floors and the seat cushions in the wood lounger, the maple dining room set complete with an ornate set of china in a regal marble cabinet and the kitchen bar that was complemented with comfy colorful bar chairs.

“I'll be down in a few minutes, ladies. Asha, fix Mari something to drink and show her where we kick it,” Roxie shouted from the top of a wide spiral wooden staircase in the back of the kitchen.

“Your house is great,” Mari said to Asha.

“Okay, you've said that,” Asha reminded her. Mari immediately missed Roxie's presence.

“Well, it is,” she said, wondering why she was there in the first place. If her daddy had shown up on time, she wouldn't be stuck with Asha, whom she was beginning to wonder whether she could ever really like.

“It is nice, ain't it?” Asha admitted. “I do wish it was bigger. I wish we could have a real gym. That would be fabulous, then I'd have somewhere for Pierce to hook me up in the mornings. You know I gotta keep my edge over you,” she added, opening the door to the largest stainless steel refrigerator Mari had ever seen.