Getting to Happy (32 page)

Play Areas

Tarik and Gloria are sitting in two lawn chairs at the boat dock. Her son asked if she would meet him out here, and she agreed without thinking of how she might feel seeing that boat again. At first sight, she felt a pang in her stomach, then her chest. She fanned her face and shook out her hands and decided not to let it hold her hostage because her son’s heart is breaking. She came out here to listen, to find out if he has any ideas about how he’s going to mend it. Nickida has apparently admitted she made a mistake, that she does not want to break up her family.

Gloria does not want to pass judgment on her—again—but she is not feeling any love for her daughter-in-law. None whatsoever. She also doesn’t want to give her grown son any advice unless he asks for it. In all honesty, Gloria doesn’t really know what she’ll tell him to do if he does ask, because she’s not sure what she’d do if she were in his shoes.

“You want one of these Snapples?” she asks him.

“Thanks, Ma.” He pulls the bill of his red Diamondbacks cap down to shield his eyes from the sun.

She hands him a bottle and she takes a sip off hers. They look out at the lake, which is pretty calm for such a balmy afternoon. It’s almost five, and it’s monsoon season, so this means nothing. In fact, those thunderheads are growing taller above the mountains, which are less than fifteen miles from here. Again, Gloria and Tarik know this means nothing, that it could all change in a matter of minutes. Gloria could care less right now. She’s just waiting for Tarik to say something.

“Ma, would you mind picking Blaze and Diamond up from preschool tomorrow?”

“Of course I don’t mind. What about Stone and Brass?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Brass is spending a few weeks with his grandparents and Stone’s at overnight camp for two weeks.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“He’s at space camp down in Tucson.”

“Good Lord. He’s finally old enough, huh?”

“Yep. He wanted to go for the entire two weeks, too.”

“I remember when you first went to sleepaway camp. That’s what we called it back then. You didn’t want to come home when I went to get you. Do you remember that?”

He just nods his head yes, and Gloria sees a smile emerge on his face.

Gloria tugs on the hem of her denim capris, hoping to loosen them a little. She’s been trying to give her son as much time as he needs to say what he wants to say, but she also knows they won’t last too much longer out here before the weather breaks. “So, talk to me, Tarik. Tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand what has happened here.”

He takes a sip of the iced tea and twists the top back on. “What has happened in my house and in my bed is my wife saw fit to
entertain
her ex-husband when he came to pick up his son that I’ve been caring for and feeding for fifteen days out of each and every month for the past seven and a half years, and our four-year-old daughter happened to walk into her mommy and daddy’s bedroom. Then she told her daddy what she saw.”

“Oh my goodness,” Gloria says and covers her mouth. “Little Blazie saw
that
mess?”

“She didn’t know exactly what they were doing but she knew Luther wasn’t supposed to be under the covers in her daddy and mommy’s bed. Anyway, she’s fine.”

Gloria just sits there, wanting to ask a million questions but she will wait and listen. And while she does she begins to tap her feet against the asphalt.

“Ma, you don’t do this kind of stuff to someone you’re supposed to love. Do you?”

“Well, not ordinarily. But a lot of us are known for exercising poor judgment.”

“Poor judgment? Is that what you think this is?”

“You know, Tarik, it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s how you and Nickida want to handle it. I just want you to be happy. And my grandchildren.”

“You never liked her, did you?”

Shit. Now she’s going to have to lie. And Gloria is not good at it. She takes another sip of her Snapple. It’s getting warm. She doesn’t like it warm. “First of all, I do like a lot of things about Nickida. I have to admit she’s given me pause on some occasions, but I’m sure the feeling is mutual. I just think she’s strong-willed and somewhat of a worrier—”

“She’s a hypochondriac. I know that.”

“But that’s not a reason to not like somebody.”

“She’s also a bitch.”

Gloria is shocked to hear her son say this about his wife. She’s finally glad to know Tarik has some clue that Nickida is not an easy person to appreciate. “That’s not true,” Gloria says.

“It is true, Ma. And she’s a sneaky bitch.”

“You know, I don’t like hearing you call her that even if she’s not your favorite person right now, okay?”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m just angry as hell.”

“I know. What does Nickida have to say for herself?”

“She’s just been bawling her eyes out, trying to get me to believe she has no idea how Luther was able to coerce her into doing something like this. That she isn’t even attracted to him, and hasn’t been for years.”

“So how did he end up in your bed with her? Did she try to fight him off and it failed?”

In slow motion, he begins to shake his head. “She said the kids were playing video games and she went outside and smoked a joint with him and one thing led to another.”

“You mean as in a marijuana joint?”

He nods his head.

“Did that shock you?”

He shakes his head no.

“So you mean you knew she smoked it?”

He nods again.

“So does this mean she smokes this stuff on a regular basis?”

He nods his head up and down.

“Do you smoke it, too, Tarik?”

“Of course not, Ma. I’m an officer of the law.”

“But apparently that doesn’t matter to her, then, huh?”

“She told me she had quit.”

“Quit?” Gloria takes the last swallow of her drink, twists the cap back on tighter than necessary and sets it next to her right foot. Her sandals are under the chair. The first few sprinkles hit her red toenails. Ripples are forming in the water and most of the boaters are docking.

“Ma, you know it’s gonna be pouring in a few minutes. You see those thunderheads up there? See how dark they are? We should get going.”

Something told her coming out here wasn’t a good idea. She gets up and starts folding up her chair.

“Is Nickida at home with the kids?”

“Afraid not. She’s at her sister’s house, where she’ll be until we can be civil.”

“Then who’s watching the girls?”

“The neighbor’s oldest daughter. You know Regina, who lives two doors down?”

Gloria nods. Nice people.

Without any warning, thunder begins to roar. And as if someone snapped their fingers to make it happen, raindrops start falling like they’re being shot out of a BB gun. Gloria grabs her sandals, runs as fast as she can (which isn’t very fast), heads toward the parking lot and jumps inside Tarik’s SUV. He tosses both chairs in the back, over the kids’ car seats, and then hops in. Everybody’s running to their RVs and parked vehicles because those who live here know the combination of wind and lightning and rain can sometimes be a life-threatening cocktail.

“Can you call and see if it’s raining over by your house?” Gloria asks. Even though it’s pouring down here, it could be sunny on the other side of town.

Tarik calls the babysitter. “Hey, Regina, how’s everybody doing? That’s good. Is it storming over there? Oh, it just left? Well, we got it out here. I’m at Lake Pleasant. That’s good to hear. Tell the girls I’ll be home in about an hour. Thanks a lot. I appreciate it.” He hangs up.

“So everybody’s good?”

“Yep. They’re eating pizza and watching cartoons.”

“Have you said anything to the kids or have they asked where their mom is?”

“I just told them their mom was visiting their auntie for a few days.”

“Have you thought about what impact all of this might have on them, Tarik?” Gloria asks.

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Okay,” she says with a sigh. Gloria crosses her hands and lets them rest in her lap. What a mess. Treated his wife like she was Princess Di, and this is how she shows her gratitude and love? Gloria would really like to kick her ass. Or slap the shit out of her.

The sky is getting darker, and three flashes of lavender lightning just pierced through it. It is a spectacular light show but one Gloria would appreciate more seeing it from inside the comfort of her home. They sit tight waiting for it to stop. It could be a while.

“So, I’ve been hoping she would stop smoking that stuff but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anytime soon. She’s been jeopardizing our kids, not to mention putting me in a precarious position. I don’t know when she smokes it. But I think I know where she gets it, and apparently she’s been giving Luther something in kind. Something I thought was mine. This whole ordeal makes me sick, Ma.”

“I know, baby.”

“What would you do?”

“I don’t know what I’d do, to be honest. But sometimes it’s best not to make rash decisions, especially if you might end up regretting them later.”

“I don’t think I can trust her, Ma. In fact, I’m sure I can’t. I mean, she brought this motha—sorry, she brought another man into our bed. With the kids downstairs? Who does she think she is?”

Gloria keeps quiet.

“I want out.”

Gloria could ask a ton of questions, but she doesn’t want to press him. Tarik needs some breathing room. Right now, as the rain hits the roof of the truck like bullets, she will sit here for what will amount to another forty-five minutes, waiting for her son to let his heart admit how much this hurts, which he will not do. When the rain stops, it will be abrupt, and she will give him a big hug and get in her car and hope neither of them gets caught in the gushing silt rushing through one of the gullies.

The next afternoon, Gloria arrives at the Shelton Academy for Primary Education, registers at the front desk and gets a pass to enter the school. The hallway walls are plastered with drawings and paintings. When she sees a teacher holding a tiny girl’s hand—apparently taking her to the bathroom—Gloria asks her where the preschool classroom is and the teacher, who looks like she can’t be more than twenty-one, points two doors down.

As soon as she finds the room, it looks like Santa’s workshop of little black elves. There must be at least twenty of them. The walls are a potpourri of giant letters and numbers, animals in their natural habitat, the sun and the moon side by side and mountains observing them all. The children appear to be divided into groups, and everybody is busy and preoccupied. A small circle of children are peering up at a teacher as she tells them a story. Others are sitting at round tables, drawing or coloring. A few are curled up in fat-cushioned chairs, sound asleep. Diamond is one of them.

When Gloria spots Blaze, she’s standing in front of a pink-and-lavender sink full of plastic dishes in what appears to be a miniature kitchen. She is surrounded by four other little girls who are apparently preparing a meal on a pink stove with the tiniest plastic pots and pans Gloria has ever seen. One has a little spoon and is just stirring away. Another girl standing next to Blaze is talking to someone on the headset of an old white princess phone. Gloria forgot how big those things used to be. It’s almost as big as Blaze is.

“Gawa!” Blaze yells when she spots Gloria. “This is my gawa everybody!”

“Hi, Gawa!” they all seem to say at the same time.

“Hello there, everybody!” Gloria says. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re not guys,” the little one on the phone says. “We’re girls.” She has two thick braids that fall like ropes past her shoulders and those big black eyes show she doesn’t miss too much of anything. The others are nodding in agreement. Ms. Operator smiles, displaying eye teeth that look like tiny vampire fangs. Gloria laughs. The little girl laughs, too. They’re all as cute as they can be.

“I’m sorry,
girls.
What are you doing, Blazie?”

Blaze looks up at Gloria, as do the other girls, as if to ask, “What does it look like I’m doing?” but instead she says, “I’m washing dishes.”

The other girls nod, as if saying that’s right, that’s what she’s doing. “Well, I came to pick you and Diamond up, Blazie, but it looks like she’s still sleeping.”

“This is nap time for the little kids,” Ms. Operator says.

“Oh,” Gloria says. “And who are you talking to?”

“Her not talking to anybody,” a little chocolate-chip girl says. She looks like she’s already seen some things. Her clothes are old and her hair looks like it hasn’t been combed in days.

“I am, too!”

“Well, I was wondering, I would really like to get my hair done today.”

“We’re too little, Gawa,” Blazie says, still rubbing her dry dishes and putting them into the dish rack. She positions them as if they’re actually going to drain into her waterless sink.

“Well, I was hoping to get my makeup done, too, while I’m waiting.”

“I can do your makeup,” Ms. Chocolate Chip says, raising her hand to make sure she gets Gloria’s attention.

“I have to call upstairs to the big kids and see if they have any abailability to do your hair. Want me to?” Ms. Operator asks.