Cold As Ice (11 page)

“Yeah, Daddy. What's up?” I ask, stuffing the oversize black garbage bags into my mom's small car.

“What's up is you moving to your mama's house when you know it's not in your best interest. Your place is here, Tweet, and you know it.”

“Daddy, it's just time.” I close the trunk and then the passenger's door, ready to hit the road. I was excited until my grandfather came home. Although I'm grateful for Daddy's help, I don't need another guilt trip.

“Just be careful, Jayd. Sometimes we get more than we bargain for, even if we think it's the answer to our prayers.” Daddy hugs me tightly and then goes inside the house, closing the door behind him. I get in the car, press the clutch, and start the engine, finally leaving Mama's house. I still can't believe I'm moving out, but the packed car is a reality check. There's no going back now, nor do I want to.

 

“So you're really moving out of Mama's house for good?” Nigel asks, helping me take the last of the Hefty bags out of the backseat. I put all my small things in two large Macy's shopping bags in the front passenger's side. I had no idea how much this Protegé could hold, but I have to say, I got all my belongings moved in one trip, and with Nigel and Rah helping me get everything up the stairs, it hasn't been that bad. I had to pick up Nigel and Rah from Rah's house because they were working on Nigel's ride. Sandy borrowed Rah's ride again without asking, and Nellie and Mickey went to get a pedicure and plan on meeting us back at Rah's house afterward.

“I don't know about all that, but right now I need my space,” I say, pushing the last bag against the living room wall. I'll sort out all my shit later. Right now I need to get something in my stomach. I haven't eaten since lunch, and all this moving has made me hungry.

“Space for what?” Rah asks, bitter as ever. We're still barely speaking, but even when he's pissed at me, I know he'll come when I need him, even if I didn't ask him personally. Whether I like it or not, Nigel's always going to keep Rah up-to-date with my life. “It's not like you do anything but read and sleep anyway, unless the white boy has changed your usual routine.”

“Excuse me?” I ask with my hands on my hips, ready to defend my relationship with Jeremy against this fool. He's got it twisted if he thinks I'm going to let him belittle me and my man's vibe.

“Okay, you two,” Nigel says, lifting up his Adidas T-shirt and wiping the sweat from his brow. “We managed to get through an hour of moving peacefully. Can we keep it like that, or do I have to send you to your separate corners?” Rah glares at me, and we both decide to chill out for the time being. I know he's jealous, but damn. Green is not a good color on him.

“Thanks, you guys, for helping me out. I know you must be tired from the game tonight,” I say, eyeing the work ahead of me. You'd think with all the moving I've done in my life that I'd be used to packing and unpacking by now, but I truly hate the process. I've always wished for my own permanent space, but until then, my mother's living room will have to do.

“It's no problem, Jayd. You know you're our girl,” Nigel says, hugging me tight. Rah looks like he wants a hug, too, but doesn't budge from his angry stance.

“I'll meet y'all downstairs,” Rah says, rolling his eyes at Nigel's affection for me. He's always so damn territorial, which is ironic because he belongs to no one.

“Let me treat y'all to some In-N-Out or something,” I offer, grabbing my purse off the coatrack by the front door. I don't want to waste all my hard-earned money on fast food, but I have to repay them somehow. I'll go grocery shopping tomorrow and stock up on food for the week ahead.

“You don't need to pay us, girl. You know that,” Nigel says.

“I know that, but I can feed my boys, can't I?” Nigel looks like he wants to protest but doesn't, and I'm thankful. As much as they've done for me, it feels good to be able to treat them for a change, no matter how much of an ass Rah's being tonight.

“Thank you,” Nigel says, walking down the stairs ahead of me and toward the carport so I can lock up. When I make it to the car, Rah's blowing his steam off by smoking in my mom's ride. Oh no, he didn't.

“Hey, man, let me hit that,” Nigel says upon entering vehicle, but they're both in for a rude awakening.

“Oh no, y'all don't,” I say, getting in and starting the engine. “There will be no weed smoking up in here.”

“Are you serious?” Nigel says, hitting the blunt before passing it back to an already faded Rah.

“Hell yeah, I'm serious if for no other reason than this isn't my car. My mom doesn't condone smoking anything in her house or car; you know that,” I say, buckling my seat belt. “Not to mention the fact that we're minors, it's illegal, and I don't want my hair smelling like an ashtray. Now put it out and roll down the windows to let some fresh air in.” They both smile at me and respect my wishes. “Thank you. I know y'all can wait until you get home for that shit.”

“Sure thing, Miss Jackson,” Nigel says, smiling at my vehemence. I shift the gear into reverse and get a move on, ready to grub.

“No offense,” Rah says, and I know he didn't mean any. Everyone else might be cool with smoking in the car, but I'm not. I don't get why black men would want to give the cops another reason to stop them and lock their asses up when being black while driving is reason enough. My uncle Bryan smokes in his van all the time and anywhere else he can. I'm just waiting for us to get a phone call to come bail his ass out of the county jail. My other uncles are regular residents already, for possession and other petty shit they're constantly getting picked up on. I know most teenagers would go buck wild if they moved into their own place, which is basically what living with mom will be like, but this ain't that type of party. And the sooner I lay down the law, the better.

A
fter slamming down a cheeseburger, fries, and chocolate shake, I'm ready to go home and chill. When Nigel called to see if Mickey had eaten, she and Nellie were still caught up getting everything waxed and whatnot. It's close to ten, and rather than wait for them to show up at Rah's, I decided to head back to my mom's and call it a night. As usual, Friday night is lively on Larch Street, with so many cars parked on the tight block there's barely any room to drive. Luckily, I don't have to park my mom's car on the street, now that she spends all her free time at Karl's place. I don't remember the last time she spent a night in her own bed. If she keeps it up, I'm going to change the sheets and make it my own. I have a busy workday ahead of me tomorrow, and it's nights like these I could use a good sleep in an actual bed instead of on the couch.

As I approach the top of the stairs, I hear someone in the apartment. I hope it's my mom because I don't feel like fighting off an intruder this evening. My friends can really suck the energy out of me. I unlock the door with my pepper-spray key chain ready to spray, just in case.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, thankful it's her. I walk into the crowded living room and lock the door behind me. She kisses me on the cheek, noticing my most recent gift from Jeremy.

“Where did you get this from?” she asks, picking up the small cloth doll off the couch and eyeing it carefully. I guess she's looking for pins, but we don't fix voodoo dolls—anymore. Mama says that's not our style, and I'm glad for it. The last thing I want is a bunch of tortured-looking dolls all over the place, but this one is too cute.

“Jeremy gave it to me as a peace offering after he found out I was a priestess,” I say, wiping off the living room table before moving some of my stuff from the couch. It's been a while since anyone dusted up in here. My mom has never been much of a homemaker and doesn't apologize for it either. I hope Karl knows what he's getting into, now that they're engaged.

“Oh my,” she says, fingering the miniature yellow-and-white-checkered dress. “I used to have a doll like this on my shrine.” I can't imagine my mother ever having a shrine. She has trinkets here and there that are reminiscent of the religion, but no sacred space for the ancestors or orishas. Maybe I should change that because I'm going to be spending more time here.

“Oh no, you don't,” my mom says, responding aloud to my thought. “There are no shrines up in here. What if Karl comes in and sees them? I want to get the other ring on my finger before we go there,” my mom says, eyeing her emerald and diamond engagement ring before heading to her room to pack and unpack. “And all your shit needs to be out of my living room. You'll have to make space for it somewhere else, Jayd.”

“How about your closet and dresser? It's not like you're here all that much anyway,” I say, eyeing her messy room as I follow her inside. She's got designer clothes strewn across the bed and dirty laundry piled on the floor. The only time she comes home is when she needs to replenish her wardrobe, and I've noticed that certain things are missing. I think she's slowly but surely moving in with her fiancé, and I'm sure that's fine with him. Karl is sprung.

“True, but I'm not giving up my space just yet, little one. But I'll tell you what—you can have one drawer and some space at the back of the closet. That's where all my big-girl clothes are, and I don't plan on using them anytime soon. Although, if my man keeps taking me to all these good restaurants, I'm going to need them.” I hear that. Jeremy feeds me like a soon-to-be-roasted pig, too, and I love him for it.

“Thank you,” I say, walking over to the closet and pushing the hangers aside. I have a lot of work ahead of me. Good thing I came home early enough to get it done and can hopefully still get to bed early enough for some good sleep.

“You're welcome, but you know the grass ain't greener over here, Miss Jackson. Just because Mama ain't here doesn't mean you can get your party on. You'll have to buy your own groceries and keep the house clean,” she says. I don't see what's changing. I've always had to do those things.

“Okay,” I say, sorting through her supposed big-girl gear. It's only two sizes from where she is now. I can probably fit most of this stuff now and will surely try them on to see before moving them out. It's going to be great living here. Not only will I have peace from all my uncles, but I will also have my mom's wardrobe at my disposal on a daily basis. Happy birthday to me, for real. “So what's up for our birthday?” I ask, already knowing she and Mama have plans for us like they do every year.

“Well, this year I've got my man to celebrate with. He's an Aries, too, you know,” she says from the hallway where she's collecting toiletries from the hall closet. I miss watching my mom's beauty rituals.

“No, I didn't know, but that's cool. Is he coming with us?” My mom looks at me, and I already know there's no “us” this year. “Mama's going to have a fit if we don't celebrate with her.”

“I know, but she loves Karl. Hopefully, she won't be too pissed, not that your premature departure has helped any.” Now that's a low blow.

“Mom, she doesn't love Karl that much. Do you know Mama at all?” I ask. She can be unbelievable sometimes. I don't enjoy sharing my birthday with her every year, but what choice do I have, really?

You always have a choice, Jayd
, my mom says to me, her mind to mine. She places her nail polish, cotton balls, and other necessities in the side pocket of her duffel bag and zips it closed. I hope she can't tell that I've retained some of her old powers from my dream last night.

“Why are you talking to me telepathically when you're right in front of me?” I ask, watching my mom hurriedly stuff her belongings into the brown bag, ready to return to her second home. And Daddy thinks I'm the one moving too fast.

Because I want you to feel me, Jayd. You're going to be seventeen next week, and I'm going to be twenty-five again
, she says, eleven years shy of her real age. But no one would guess my mom's in her midthirties.
It's time we cut the cord and celebrate both our days individually, don't you think?

“I feel you, but you know how Mama feels about traditions.” I eye the flyy Prada shoes my mom kicks off and replaces with a pair of red Gucci stilettos, providing the perfect accent to her long black dress. With her ebony hair hanging down her back and green eyes blinging like the expensive rock on her ring finger, my mom's quite a sight to behold.

“Maybe we can start a new tradition, like brunch for our birthdays or something like that,” she says, checking her reflection in the closet mirror one last time. I guess she and Karl have planned a night out.

“Yeah, maybe, if Mama lets us live that long.” I follow my mom back into the living room. She's packed and ready to go. I guess she'll do her laundry another time. Before she leaves for the evening, my mom takes a small gold box out of her purse on the coffee table and hands it to me.

“Happy early birthday, baby,” my mom says, passing me the tiny box. Good things come in small packages. I tear into the gold wrapping, anxious for my surprise.

“My birthday's not until Wednesday, mom,” I say, taking out the tissue paper disguising my gift. Is it a new pair of earrings or maybe a ring? I open the package and find a thin black box inside.

“It's gold, but not for you to wear. I know it's not what you were expecting, but I thought it's the best gift a mother could give her daughter on her seventeenth birthday.”

“Condoms!?” I ask, shouting more than inquiring. “You bought me condoms for my birthday!?” I can't believe my mom sometimes, and now is definitely one of those times.

“Yes, little Miss Thang,” she says, zipping her Louis Vuitton duffel bag and suitcase before grabbing her purse and sweater from the coatrack. “Better safe than sorry. Ask your little friend Mickey. I'm sure she'll tell you the same thing.” She doesn't know Mickey very well, because in her world, Mickey's won the lotto by being pregnant and claiming Nigel as the daddy. Even if he doesn't go to the NFL, his family is loaded, and that's all Mickey needs—no prophylactics included.

“Mom, I don't need these,” I say, returning the condoms to their box, tissue paper and all. “That's all you got me for my birthday?”

“Like you said, your birthday's not until Wednesday, and depending on what I get for mine the day before, we'll see what else you get from me,” she says, smiling and kissing me on my cheek before ducking out. Even though it may sound selfish, she's actually hooking me up. Her men always give the best gifts, and she usually gets a shopping trip out of it, too. And that's where my bonus gifts come from.

“Be careful, Mom, and I love you,” I say after her. My mom's a lot to handle on a good day. I hope Karl's ready for the trip.

“Ditto,” she says from the bottom of the stairs. I lock the multiple bolts and chains on the front door and look at the mess I've made moving. I'd better get to work organizing this space if I'm going to make it to bed at a decent time. Tomorrow morning will be here before I know it, not to mention Mickey's shower on Sunday. I still haven't picked out an outfit for the backyard boogie at Nigel's house. I know my mom's closet can help me in that department, but I'll worry about that later. Right now I just need to make it to work tomorrow.

 

After my mom left last night, I claimed my space, took a hot steam bath, and went straight to bed. I hardly ever get to take baths uninterrupted at Mama's house. Now that I'm here, I think I'll take one every night just because I can. And I know whose ass has been in it, so there's no need to bleach down the tub every time before I get in. Mama says steam does wonders for our skin, and I believe her. When I take a hot bath without anything in it, my skin feels soft and smooth. And when we add Mama's magical ingredients for everything we can think of, everything feels fresh and clean and new, just like a head cleansing.

I got up early this morning, did Shawntrese's hair—which is luminous, thanks to Mama's magical hair line and my own skills—and headed straight to Netta's and worked all day long. Mama barely talked to me, and I was glad for it. All we ever seem to do nowadays is argue, and it was too busy a day for negative energy. I raked up almost a hundred dollars in tips and am due a birthday gift for myself. It'll have to wait until the actual day, and that's fine with me. Maybe by Wednesday I'll have a few more birthday bucks under my belt, and then I can really do some damage at the mall.

Jeremy and I finally got a chance to catch up this afternoon. He was very sympathetic, but I know he can't imagine what I'm going through, moving out of Mama's house. It's just like when I told Nellie and Mickey about it when we talked last night—their whole point was that I should've been living with my mother in the first place. No one understands how close Mama and I are or how painful this is for us both, but Jeremy did send me a text with a picture of a dozen roses attached. At least he's making an effort to feel me.

Jeremy and I also made plans to celebrate my birthday tonight. It's not a party like I wanted, but I'm sure I'll have just as much fun hanging out with my boo. I didn't have time to go grocery shopping like I'd planned. I have to shop for Mickey's party tomorrow anyway, so I'll have to get my food then, too.

As usual, Jeremy's right on time. I got home less than two hours ago and managed to do my hair, pick out a casual, yet sexy outfit from my mom's closet, and get a little studying done. I had a chance to look through my mom's spirit notebook and found out that when her powers were first developing, she didn't have any control over when she could use them, much like I'm experiencing with her powers and my own ability to jump in and out of my dreams. I'm going to have to put a lot of thought into controlling my sight if I plan on getting better at using my gifts. Once the AP exams are over, I'll have more time to focus on my personal prowess as a priestess. Right now I just want to enjoy being a fierce sistah who has a fine-ass boyfriend ready to take her out for a much needed night on the town.

“Come on in, Mr. Weiner,” I say, opening the door and stepping aside so Jeremy can get the full effect of my appearance. Jeremy moves behind me, reaching his arm high above my head and pushing the door shut. He then turns me around to face him, forcing my back up against the door. I have nowhere to go, nor do I want to move. He's wearing a different cologne tonight but smells as good as ever.

“You look nice,” he says, bending down and whispering into my ear. His breath is warm as he brushes his soft lips against the side of my neck. “And you taste even better.” I close my eyes and let him take over. We're in no rush.

“Is that right?” I inquire, barely audible. I lose all thought and reason once Jeremy and I get started. I stretch myself up to meet Jeremy's lips, giving him a proper kiss hello. After several minutes of making out, we come up for air.

“Don't we have reservations somewhere or something?” I ask between pecks. I don't want to stop, but we'd better go before we find use for my mother's odd birthday gift. Even if she meant well, I still can't believe she bought me condoms.

“Actually, we don't. I was thinking we can take a ride to Malibu, but it's up to you. But we do have one stop to make first, if the lady doesn't mind.” Jeremy smiles at me, his blue eyes shining in the living room light. It's the first day of spring, and love is definitely in the night air for me—and so is the chill. It's been cold and threatening to rain all week. Instead of my everyday jacket, I opt to wear one of my mother's warm wraps. The bright orange fabric goes well with my yellow dress, which is also compliments of my mom's closet.