Diary of an Ugly Duckling (36 page)

every day I worked the 7-a.m.-to-3-p.m. shift; didn’t

come back until I was back to nights.

He’s avoiding me, Petra. He’s avoiding me right

when we have so much to talk about . . .

I know I should have told him about the skin

lightening. I don’t know why I didn’t.

Okay, so that’s not true: I
do
know why I didn’t tell

him. If he’d only let me
explain
! All I wanted was to

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look like you and Ma and Kiana . . . I might not have

done it at all if I’d known about Andrew Neill . . .

Speaking of my father—it’s weird to be saying that

and not mean Daddy—he has a niece here in New

York. I’m going to meet her this afternoon, just before I

go to work. Ma is jittery about it, but she won’t talk to

me, either. Just keeps fussing and mussing, critcizing

and complaining . . .

I think it’s her way of telling me she’s scared of

where all my discoveries might lead. I think she’s

worried I’m changing so much, I won’t love her

anymore.

Do you think Ma could need reassurance? Seems

impossible, doesn’t it?

Wish me luck,

Audra

Audra knew the woman before she entered the

diner.

It was the same little place near the prison where

she’d sat with Art months and months ago, a differ-

ent woman from the woman she was now, both in-

side and out. For one thing, she was almost half the

size she used to be. For another, her street clothes

were now designer jeans worn over Shamiyah-style

heels and a trendy little T-shirt covered by a form-

fitting jacket. And of course there was the hat, scarf

and gloves she wore to protect her skin from the

mottling effect Dr. Jamison had told her about.

Audra stared out of the window of the booth, ig-

noring the good smells of the place. Dieting was so

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Karyn Langhorne

much harder now than when she was locked in a

mirrorless room: there seemed to be temptations

everywhere. Audra tried to ignore the smell of fresh

bread and sizzling bacon fat and focused on the

window, watching the sidewalks fill with evening

foot traffic and the streets line with cabs as the sun

sank between the skyscrapers. She glanced down at

the piece of paper where she’d written the name

and the woman’s cell phone number, along with to-

day’s date and the time, both records of this appoint-

ment set by Audra with Art’s private-investigator

friend’s help.

Laine Neill. That was her name. Audra’s father’s

brother’s daughter. Her cousin on her father’s side.

Audra glanced up and out the window again as a

butterfly of nervousness soared upward from the pit

of her stomach. Outside, a woman crossed the street

and began walking up the block toward her.

She was around Audra’s age, with dark brown

skin, of medium height and on the chunky side—

carrying at least thirty to forty extra pounds, mainly

around the middle and in her butt and thighs—yet

she wore a fashionable pair of the same kind of low-

slung jeans Audra wore and a pair of spike-heeled

boots. She wore a tan suede jacket over a black tank

top. Her features were utterly unremarkable in any-

way: not unattractive, just not particularly striking

or memorable, but she walked with the easy grace of

a runway model, confidence speaking in every step.

Audra slid out of the booth as Laine Neill stepped

into the diner and looked around. She walked to-

ward Audra with a bright smile on her face and

open arms—and as Audra realized she was staring

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309

into a face very much like her own had been many

months ago, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Hey cuz,” she said, wrapping Audra in the

warmth of her hug. “Welcome to the family.”

“Audra! W—what are you doing?” Edith hissed as

Audra grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the

Goldilocks salon. “I’m in the middle of a process—”

and she jerked her arm free and waved her gloved

fingers at Audra.

“Get someone else to finish it for you.”

“But the client asked for
me
—”

“If the choices are have someone else finish it or

watch her hair fall out, I think she’ll let someone else

finish it!” Audra snapped. “I have to talk to you, right

now
! And either you come outside with me, or I’m go-

ing to start talking in front of this whole salon.”

Edith cut a fearful glance around her. It was a Fri-

day evening and there was a woman in every chair,

plus a few waiting in the little alcove toward the

shop’s front.

“All right, all right,” Edith grumbled, pulling her

gloves from her fingers. “I’m sorry, dear,” she called

in a bright voice toward her client. “Jasmine will fin-

ish you up and I’ll be back before it’s time to style!”

Then she followed Audra out onto the street.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at
work
?” she de-

manded as soon as they were on the sidewalk. This

side street was fairly quiet, but Audra could hear the

rumble of the subway in the distance.

“You know I’m not due on until eleven.”

“Well, I can’t believe you would come here on a

Friday, one of my busiest nights, and—”

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Karyn Langhorne

“And I can’t believe you would lie to me all these

years!” Audra snapped at her.

Edith’s face froze for a moment, as her brain ab-

sorbed the words. “Honestly, Audra!” she rolled her

eyes dramatically and shook her head. “I know you

like to have your little movie scenes, but there’s a

time and place for everything.” She turned back to-

ward the salon. “I am not about to stand out here in

the cold and—”

“You
are
, Ma. You are, because I’ve waited long

enough to hear your explanation. And I’m not wait-

ing anymore!”

Her mother blinked at her, her composure ripped

away like a cheap Halloween mask. Audra read fear

in her eyes now, even as she struggled for self-

control.

“There ain’t no reason to shout, Audra.”

“I just met my cousin, Ma. My cousin! She looks

just like me—just like I used to look. Do you have

any idea what that means to me? Do you have any

idea what it would have meant to know her—to

know the truth about myself—all these years?”

“Well, I didn’t know ’Drew had any family in

New York. Last I heard they were all still on St.

Croix—”

“Don’t change the subject, Ma,” Audra shot back.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him? Why didn’t you

tell me about my father! Why didn’t you tell me be-

fore I went on the
Ugly Duckling
? Before I—” she

gestured to herself. “Why did you wait until it was

too late?”

“Because I didn’t actually think you’d go through

with it, that’s why!” her mother shouted. “Right up

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311

to the very last minute, I was sure you’d back out. I

was sure you’d come running home like you always

did and I could save myself some shame—” And she

burst into tears, hard jagged sobs that had Audra

not been so determined to hear the story, it would

have been impossible to listen to.

“He was a good man . . . a good man,” her mother

cried. “Why do you have to look so much like him?

Why—”

Audra sighed, her anger draining from her with

every word her mother spoke. “I need to know how

it happened. I need to know . . .” She rubbed her

forehead. “How and where and when . . .”

But her mother just paced away from her and

sobbed, her face in her hands.

“Here, Ma—” Audra approached her gently and

led her to a spot at the edge of the curb. “Sit down . . .”

Her mother sat, but kept sobbing, her face hidden.

Audra stroked her shoulder gently, murmuring over

and over, “It’s okay, Ma. It’s okay . . .”

“I—I—was a young wife. Petra was just over a

year old. Your—her father was always gone—

always running the streets with buddies or . . .” she

hiccupped a little, “some woman or the other. I was

from the boonies . . . I didn’t know no one. I was so

lonely . . . so miserable . . . scared to death of this

big city. B—but I couldn’t go back.” She looked up at

Audra with wet, red eyes, her lips twisted with an-

guish. “There wasn’t nothing for me in North Car-

olina. Nothing at all . . .” she whispered. “I knew I

had to make it work here somehow for myself. For

my daughter . . .” She snuffled and wiped her face

with the long black smock she wore over her

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Karyn Langhorne

clothes. “I met Andrew at a soul food restaurant. I

was feeling low, wishing for home and I ended up

drowning my sorrows in a plate of fried chicken and

collard greens. Petra was sitting beside me, giving

me pure D hell and I just . . . started crying.” She

smiled through her tears. “I guess I’d just had it or

something . . . but he was sitting at a table nearby,

and he saw I was losin’ it. He distracted Petra while

I got myself together and then”—fresh tears formed

in her eyes—“he asked us both to the Central Park

Zoo. I almost said no. I was a married woman. True,

I was married to a man who acted like he wasn’t a

married man—James Marks wasn’t faithful to me a

single day we were together—but I knew I didn’t

have to act like him. But ’Drew was so kind . . . He

was so nice to me . . . and Petra had never been to

the zoo.” She sighed. “I said yes.”

Audra waited while she paused, smiling a little to

herself.

“I don’t want you to think I just fell into bed with

him, ’cause I didn’t. He and his brother were setting

up a Caribbean restaurant and he was working very

hard. But when he could, he would call or come

by and take me and Petra somewhere. Anywhere.

Sometimes we went to movies, or sightseeing in the

city. But most of the time I went with him to restau-

rant supply stores and to City Hall when he got the

paperwork for a restaurant license. I didn’t care. I

just . . .” She swallowed, pressing back her emotions

so that she had the breath to continue. “He talked all

the time about how important it was to ‘do your

own thing’—it was the seventies, you know. That’s

how people talked. And when I told him I liked to

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do hair, he encouraged me to get my cosmetology li-

cense. Even gave me the money to take the test.”

She paused again.

“I fell for him, mind, body and soul,” she whis-

pered. “And one thing led to another . . .” She

turned to Audra. “We had it planned. I was going to

get a divorce from James and we were going to get

married and raise Petra—and our own children—

together. I was going to open this salon”—she ges-

tured behind her—“and we were going to be happy.

And it would have happened, too, but . . .”

“He was killed,” Audra finished. “I read it in the

stuff the private investigator sent me. Hit by a car

over on Ninth Avenue. April fifth—”

“And you were born in December,” her mother

finished with a sad and heavy sigh. “I know I

should have left anyway . . . I should have divorced

James then and gone on.” She shook her head. “But

I was a different woman then. I didn’t have any

money. I had a cosmetology license but no experi-

ence using it. I wasn’t sure I could make it on my

own. And when I found out I was pregnant, I really

wasn’t sure who . . .” She let the sentence die with a

hard swallow. “It wasn’t until you were born that I

knew . . . and so did James. He’d suspected anyway.

Some of those no-good buddies of his had seen me

and Andrew together. But when you were born—”

“Because I was so much darker,” Audra finished.

“I always knew my coloring didn’t fit with the fam-

ily palette.”

“I don’t know why, but James’s suspicions made

me deny it that much more. Insist he was wrong and

you and Petra were full-blood sisters in every way.

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Karyn Langhorne

Stay with him even though . . .” She shrugged. “I

don’t know. Maybe I thought that’s what I deserved.

And when he finally walked out on me”—her face

swung toward Audra’s tear-streaked one in the dim

light—“I thought I’d paid my dues.”

“But he’s been gone for years, Ma. You could have

told me any time—”

“No.” Edith shook her head. “No. You were getting

older, smarter. At first we were all dealing with the

aftermath of James’s leaving, and I couldn’t add this

other burden to it. And then you were a teenager, a

teenager always on the verge of rebellion because

you were so different. I could see how you and Petra

needed each other, kept each other from getting into