Getting to Happy (24 page)

After everybody was gone, Joseph started sweeping up pounds of hair until it looked like he had enough for a bonfire. Gloria was sitting on the sofa, flipping through the pages of
Jet.
“Did you know that Bobby Brown is getting his own reality show?”

“Don’t get me started,” Joseph said.

“I wonder what he’s gonna be doing?”

“Being Bobby Brown, Glo, that’s what. I can’t wait for Whitney to kick his ass to the curb and get her life back. I swear.”

Gloria put the magazine down. “Okay, so I’m all ears,” she said and looked up, trying not to look suspicious or too anxious.

“All I can say is some of these white folks kill me how they do business.”

“I agree,” Gloria said, not sure what he was hinting at.

“They certainly don’t mind throwing you out on the street if you can’t pay your bills as long as they can still make a dollar.”

“I agree.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“About what?”

“About this?” he said and swirled his free hand in the air like those models do on game shows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe we should think about becoming partners. I mean, we’ve been together longer than some couples, and I think it could take some of the pressure off of you and make us both work a little harder to make the salon everything we’ve always dreamed of. It’s just a suggestion. I’m amenable to it if you’re amenable to it.” Joseph released his grip on the broom handle and let it fall inside the crease of his forearm.

“You know I appreciate what you’re saying and everything, but tell me something, what brought this on, Joseph?”

“Aren’t you a little nervous about the terms of the new lease?”

“I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet.”

“Well, I did. When I was trying to help sort through your mail. I figured it might warrant your immediate attention. I thought you read it and just didn’t know what to say or do.”

“About what? I know there’s always a slight increase.”

“Gloria, the bastards tripled the rent. Starting in September. Three short months from now.”

“I know you have got to be lying to me.” She marched straight to her office, spotted that manila envelope, opened it and scanned down until she saw the new monthly rent: $I5,000. Her mouth opened wide. She threw the lease on the floor, then picked it up and tossed it in the trash. Gloria flopped down in her chair and rocked back and forth. She didn’t know if this was a sign that it was time for her to bow out or if Joseph was going to be her new partner.

Grocery Shopping

“What do you mean GoGo can’t come out there?”

“Stop yelling in my ear, Sheila. And hold on a minute. I’m at the grocery store.”

I point to a rib-eye steak and nod a “that’s all” and mouth “Thank you” to the butcher. “It’s not a good time, Sheila.”

“When is it ever a good time? How do you think I ended up with a house full of kids?”

“I told you I was going through a divorce. It’s kind of a big deal. And a first for me.”

“People get divorced every day, Savannah. A hundred times a day. What makes you think yours is so special?”

“Did I say that?”

“You’re making it sound like this is so traumatic but the bottom line is you’re the one who wanted the stupid divorce, so you’re just getting what you wanted!”

“I wish it was that cut and dry.”

“You complicate everything, always have, and this is no exception. Men cheat. They lie. They love porn. They don’t respect you and don’t care if they hurt you. It’s the fucking breaks. Women divorce ’em ’cause we can’t tame ’em or train ’em or control ’em like we do household pets. End of story.”

“You should get your own talk show, Sheila. You’re just full of insight.”

“I know what I’m talking about. GoGo will not get on your nerves. He is very mature for his age.”

“Look, Sheila. Nobody told you to run out and buy GoGo a damn airline ticket without conferring with me first.”

“It’s all good, Sis. But. Let me just put this out there and you can take it any way you want to. We’re your goddamn family. You seem to go all out of your way for your silly-ass friends and what have you—and don’t even get me started on that little Hollywood-in-Phoenix job you’ve been working at forever: the one you kill yourself for just to come up with all these stories about problems that can’t be fixed. Mama shows ’em to me. After hundreds of ’em you still aren’t even on TV. So how are we supposed to see how well you’re aging since you don’t exactly break your neck coming to Pittsburgh—
where you were born and raised
in case you forgot. The only time we see you is when somebody dies or you just feel guilty and—”

“That is not true and you know it!”

“It is true. When was the last time you came home?”

“Two years ago. And nobody had died.”

“Yeah, but Mama had hip surgery.”

“Who died, Sheila?”

“You needed a reason. That’s my point.”

“I’m not
on
camera because I’m
behind
the camera, Sheila.”

“That’s what I just said!”

“But it’s by choice.”

“Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to be like Oprah?”

“I don’t.”

“Then something is wrong with you.”

“Look, can I call you back when I get home?”

“No. Pull the cart over and park it. We’re going to finish this.”

“I’ve been standing in the frozen food section for the past ten minutes and it’s cold as hell in this entire store and I’ve got on short sleeves.”

“Then push the cart over to the produce section. Fruit and vegetables aren’t cold.”

She has a lot of nerve, telling me what to do, but I find myself pushing the cart in that direction, tossing stuff into it I know I don’t need. Foods that scream, “You will see us on your waist and hips next week.” I park in front of the melons. “Okay, now make it snappy. I’m working on something and I need to get home to look over my notes.”

“What’s this one about? I liked that teen pregnancy one, I won’t lie. You outta come to Pittsburgh. These young girls here act like they never heard of birth control. They get excited about being pregnant. A diploma is not their ticket to financial freedom. A baby is income. I’m so glad I didn’t have any hot-in-the-ass daughters, ’cause I would’ve strangled her ass if she came in here bringing a baby at fourteen.”

“Is this where I should say thank you?”

“I guess so.”

“Thank you. Anyway, I just want you to know you’re being very inconsiderate and selfish about this whole thing, Sheila.”

“I think you got it backward, Sis.”

“Look. My life as I’ve known it and lived it for the past ten years has changed, Sheila. Can’t you try to understand how this might feel?”

“You know how many times me and Paul split up? How many hotels and motels I’ve dragged these kids to over the years? So don’t tell me anything about breaking up your life. Besides, you don’t have any kids. So the only person you have to worry about is Savannah.”

“So does having a hysterectomy and not being able to have children make me selfish?”

“I bet you don’t even know my kids’ names.”

“From the sound of it, you probably don’t either. Even on the back of their school pictures you put their nicknames!”

“It’s what everybody calls them.”

“What is GoGo’s real name, by the way?”

“JaQuan.”

“How on earth do you get GoGo out of JaQuan and why couldn’t you simply call all five of them by their real names?”

“Six. Because they like their nicknames. Everybody does. It tells you who they really are or what they’re like. GoGo used to run everywhere when he was little. Wouldn’t walk anywhere. And he hasn’t changed. So his name fits him to a tee. Now Bean Head—”

“I get it, Sheila. Anyway, this is just one more reason why I would feel weird having your son in my home for how long?”

“Two or three short weeks.”

“I don’t know him!”

“You can get to know him. First, you need to be under the same roof and then in the same room with him. Eat at the same table and look at each other. He can talk about anything. He was getting nothing but As until he started smoking that stuff. Anyway, he’s a nice young man who just needs to get away from these thugs for a minute so he can see there’s a better way to live. That’s all I’m asking, Savannah. This ain’t for me. It’s for GoGo.”

“What are you doing right now, Sheila?”

“Why?”

“I’m just curious. If you’re busy.”

“We getting ready to go to the drive-in.”

“The what?”

“The drive-in. We take the van. Just in case you forgot, I only got two kids left at home—well, if you wanna count Bisquit—since him and his wife are on and off from one week to the next. You know they got two kids now.”

“No, I didn’t. I also didn’t know they still had drive-ins.”

“They do here. We love going. As soon as the weather change from spring to summer, we there. I fry chicken and we take potato salad and baked beans and put our drinks in a cooler and we spray ourselves with Off! and get our lounge chairs and just chill. Just like we did when we were little kids. Remember?”

“I remember.” I sure wish I could go with them. I’m curious if they have them here in Phoenix. I would love to sit in my truck—well, it’s an SUV—and recline the seat, eat a hot dog with relish and mustard and some soft French fries and slurp it down with a Diet Pepsi. I’m going to look into this. “Anyway, Sheila, does GoGo really want to come out here or are you forcing him?”

“He’s excited. Unfortunately, he’s only been as far as Philly and New York City on a field trip. Boston doesn’t count. He has never been on a airplane, which is my fault, but you know paychecks can only go so far when you trying to clothe and feed six growing kids and a greedy-ass husband. GoGo is not a hoodlum. He will not steal from you. He is respectful. I’m telling you, he can fix anything that’s broke around your house and he knows how to give tune-ups—even on foreign cars.”

“Just give me a few days to figure this out, Sheila. Seriously. I’m not trying to be funny or anything. There are a lot of things I’m trying to do right now, and that’s making it hard for me to think.”

“Have you seen Isaac since he’s been gone?”

“Once.”

“And what happened?”

“We talked.”

“Do you still hate his guts?”

“I never hated him. He pissed me off. I just wish he had closed one door before he opened another one.”

“Most men do it this way. Because they don’t know what to do on their own. Anyway, don’t you miss him?”

“No.”

“Stop lying.”

“Well, it was a stupid question, Sheila. Of course I do, sometimes. But it seems logical to miss somebody you’ve lived with for ten years. Look, I’m going to have to go. Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Did you hear about Luther Vandross?”

“What about him?”

“He died.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“What’s today’s date?”

“It’s Friday, July first, 2005, Savannah.”

“It can’t be.” I cannot believe this date has slipped up on me like this, and even though I’m saddened to hear this about Luther, today is also the day my divorce is final. I cannot fucking believe this. Just like that. I’m not married anymore. And here I am in the grocery store. I don’t feel like sharing this with Sheila right now.

“Time flies for all of us. Anyway, sis, I just want you to be happy when you get right down to it. And if Isaac can’t make your lights come on anymore, somebody else just might.”

“Okay, so back to GoGo because I’m at the checkout and I need to get home.”

“Slow down, damn. Why are you in such a hurry all of a sudden? Anyway, I told you this is a non-refundable ticket and we don’t have the kind of money to be throwing it out the window so if you don’t want GoGo to come, maybe I will. I could use a break. Think about it and let me know. Send me an e-mail. Love you. Bye.”

The thought of Sheila coming out here made my heart race. I think I’d take GoGo—whoever he is—over her, which is pretty sad to admit. I suppose we’re a lot alike when it gets right down to it. We are our mother’s daughters. Right now I can’t believe I’m officially free to do anything I want. Go anywhere I want. With whom-ever I want. Or I can do nothing at all. And I don’t have to answer to anybody. I’ve been so busy thinking about my future and now it’s here.

My cart is full of all kinds of fattening stuff I should never have even considered buying. Who am I fooling? And what does Sheila know about what I do and don’t do at my job? I have worked hard over the years to produce shows I—and apparently my bosses—considered compelling and thought-provoking. She sounds a lot like Isaac. You can’t even think about solving problems if you pretend like they don’t exist. I just try to paint an accurate picture and put it out there. It’s not like my ratings are through the roof, but I did get an award. I’ve even been asked to speak to junior and high school kids about teen pregnancy in November. I didn’t feel like telling Sheila. In fact, I haven’t told anybody. What’s the point?

Sheila knows how to get under my skin. She also knows how to dish it out but she can’t take it. Family members are the only ones who seem to be good at this. She’s one of the main reasons I’ve sent Mama tickets to come out here to visit instead of going back there so much. The way Sheila’s been struggling for the past twenty-odd years breaks my heart. She has settled for so little, it’s like she never had any dreams.

My cell phone vibrates in my hand. It’s Isaac. “Hello,” I say like I’m a detective or something.

“Hey, Savannah. Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could do me a big favor.”

“I’ve already done it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know what today is?”

“Yeah, it’s July first.”

“And?”

“We are officially divorced. You couldn’t possibly have forgotten, Isaac.”

“Actually, I didn’t want to think about it. So, should I congratulate you?”

“Whatever. But since this obviously isn’t the reason you called, what’s going on?” I have to remind myself that he is not my husband and I am not his wife.

“Is there any way you could possibly lend me two or three—preferably, three—thousand dollars until I get the settlement?”