Ice (4 page)

My heart ticked like a time bomb as Saturday night drew closer. That night after we had done all our shopping, Mama made me put on the outfit we had bought so I could model for Daddy. First, she worked on my makeup. She sat me in front of her vanity table and stood behind me gazing at my face in the mirror. scrutinizing. She decided I needed a little eye shadow. I thought it was too much, but she claimed my eyes were my strongest feature and I should do all I could to make them stand out.

"You have a natural pout," she told me, and decided to enhance it by dabbing a sliver of lip gloss onto the center of my lower lip. She showed me a trick to prevent lipstick from getting on my teeth. I was to put my finger in my mouth and close my lips. When I withdrew my finger, it removed any excess color.

"Someone once told me a beautiful woman's face was like an artist's palette. The artist sees the picture there and brings it out. You got to do the same with your face. Ice. Make it a work of art. That's what I do." she said softly, but with deep feeling.

I remember looking up at her and thinking with surprise that she had more depth to her than I had ever imagined. Looking at myself in the mirror and at her behind me, standing there so proudly. I realized my mama had nothing but her good looks to rely on to give her meaning and purpose in life. Most of her girlfriends did look at her enviously and wanted to be in her company because her beauty had a way of spreading to them, embracing them, keeping them under wing. People, especially men, looked their way because Mama strolled along in the center. Maybe with the right management and some lucky breaks Mama could have been a model. As she sat there night after night, thumbing through those beauty magazines and gazing at the women who advertised beauty products or fashions, she had to be tantalized, taunted and frustrated knowing how much more beautiful and special she was.

It was funny how all this came to me in those moments before her vanity mirror. We had never had a real mother-daughter conversation about such things. Through the endless flow of complaints and moans she voiced in our small world. I was burdened with the task of understanding what she really meant and really felt. I had to read between all those crooked lines until I suddenly realized who she was.

Mama was a beautiful flower that had been plucked too early and placed in the confines of some vase where it finished blossoming and then battled time and age to keep from losing its special blush. Now she was looking at me and thinking I would complete her. I would do all that she had been unable to do and be all that she had dreamed she would be.

"Children are our true redemption." the minister told us all one Sunday. "We believe they will redeem us for failing to be all that we had hoped to be, that they will do what we dreamed we should do and be whom we thought we should be. That's a healthy thing. . .Go forth and multiply,'" he recited.

The burden of such responsibility was heavy and something I didn't want, but I didn't have the hardness in me to turn around and say. "All this is your world. Mama, not mine. I don't need to be in the spotlight. I don't mind being in the chorus. It's the music that matters most."

Of course. I kept my famously shut-tight mouth zipped.
"All right," she declared when we were finished. "Put on your dress. Let's show your father how blind he's been by treating you like a little
I was almost as nervous dressing for Daddy as I was to be dressing for Shawn on Saturday. Mama came into my room to make sure I had everything right. She had bought me a pair of shoes to complete the outfit and had given me her precious pieces of jewelry to wear: her pearl necklace on a gold chain with the matching pearl earrings..
"Turn down that music, Cameron Goodman." she cried from my doorway. "and get yourself ready for a real surprise."
I felt like I was a runway model when
I
crossed from my room to the living room. Daddy obeyed Mama's command, turning down his music, and then she brought me into the living room. When he looked up from his big cushioned chair, his eves did a dance of their own, enlarging, brightening, blinking and then suddenly narrowing with a kind of dark veil of sadness. I could see it clearly in his face. It was as if his thoughts were being scrolled over his forehead in big white letters:
My little girl is gone and in her place is this beautiful young woman who is sure to be plucked like her another and taken off to be planted in someone else's garden. All I will have are the memories.
"Well?" Mama demanded. "Don't just sit there acting mute too. Cameron Goodman. Say something. I spent a lot of time and energy on all this."
"She's... absolutely beautiful. Lena."
"You like the outfit?"
"Yeah," he said nodding emphatically.
"Good. You're going to need to remember that when you see the His smile froze, but he didn't show any anger or displeasure.
"She reminds me a lot of you, Lena. when I first set eyes on you."
Daddy said.
Mama absolutely glowed.
"Told you," she whispered and squeezed my hand. "She's prettier than
I
was, Cameron.
I
didn't know anything about hair and makeup then."
"You were a natural."
"There's no such thing. Every woman needs to have her good qualities highlighted," Mama insisted.
Daddy sat back, his smile warming again. Then he drew a serious expression from his thoughts.
"Where's this Shawn taking her?" he asked.
"How am
I
supposed to know? The man isn't here, is he? And when he comes.
I
don't want you treating him like one of your suspects or something.."
"I
don't have suspects," Daddy said. "Besides, there's nothing wrong in knowing your daughter's whereabouts when she goes out."
"I'm warning you." Mama replied.
"I
went through a lot of trouble to make this night special for her. Don't do anything to mess that up or I'll heave your precious old records out the window."
Daddy's face turned ashen for a moment and then he forced a laugh.
shook his head and put up his hands.
"Yes, boss." he said and gazed at me. "I want you to have a good time. honey. I do."
I didn't say anything. My heart was doing too many flip-flops and there was a lump in my throat big enough to choke a horse.
Mama returned to my room with me to watch me put my new things away. She mumbled about Daddy not appreciating her efforts enough but blamed it on his being a man.
"Men expect too much and appreciate too little." she lectured. "They think you go into your room, fiddle about for a while and then come out looking like a million dollars. If you're taking too long, they moan and groan, but if you didn't look your best, they'd be unhappy because they wouldn't get all the congratulatory slaps on the back from their jealous friends.
"Men tell you they don't want other men gawking at you, but believe me. Ice, that's exactly what they want. It's like everything else they own. They want to drive a fancy car so everyone ill look at them and be jealous. They want expensive watches and rings to draw green eves. It's the same with their women."
I guess my eyebrows were scrunched. She stopped talking and smirked.
"You don't believe me, do you? What? You don't think men think of women as another
possession? You still living in your books. Girl. Forget all that romantic slop. What I'm telling you is the truth, is reality, You're going to start learning about the real world now and you'll come back to me and say, 'Mama, you were right. Tell me more so I know how to deal with it all out there.'
"That's what you'll be doing." she said nodding to herself and hanging up my skirt and blouse. "And I'll have lots more to tell you, too, more than you could ever learn from books and music."
She turned to me and looked thoughtful, looked on the verge of a decision. She made it quickly.
"Your daddy isn't the only man I've been with. Ice. I can see in your face that the news surprises, even hurts you, but a daughter becomes a woman when she can sit with her mama and hear about her mama's love life without squirming and hating her for it."
She was quiet. Maybe she was waiting for me to say I was ready, but I wasn't and maybe never would be.
"Don't worry," she concluded. "I'll know when it's the right time to tell you more about the real world."
She started out and stopped in the doorway, smiling.
"I wish I could be invisible, like one of them tiny angels, and ride on your shoulder tomorrow night and whisper advice in your ear when you need it.
"But you'll be fine," she decided. "You're my daughter. You got to have inherited something more than my good looks. Just don't be afraid to have some fun," she advised. She looked any. "Don't be listening to those church choir songs in your head either. Last thing any man wants is to be holding hands with a saint or someone who's there to remind him he's headed for everlasting Hell just because he thinks you're pretty and wants to kiss you.
"If you got to sing anything, sing something lively." she said and left.
Poor Mama. I thought, She thinks this is all one big movie or musical.
And the irony was she thought she was getting me prepared for the real world.
Maybe there was no real world. Maybe it was all makeup and lights and curtains opening and closing.
And when you fell off the stage, that was when you were really dead or forgotten. No applause, no music, nothing but the silences so many people seemed to fear.

In my mind. Saturday morning began with a drumroll. The moment the light slipped in around my window curtains to caress my face and nudge my eyelids open, it started. I had dreamt I was in the circus and Mama was the ringmaster, snapping her whip at the lions and tigers and drawing the audience's attention to the small circle in the center where I stood spotlighted in my new outfit, all dressed up and ready for "The Greatest Date on Earth."

As if she had been aware of my dreams. Mama swept into my room almost immediately after I had woken and had started to rise.

Ice. You need to rest and do a beauty treatment," "What's that?"
"You'll see." she promised.
After breakfast. Mama set out her creams and

lotions. I never realized all that she had and did to herself before she ventured out in public. She had products to reduce tension, soften the skin, relax the eyes. She had creams for her hands, her feet. Later in the day she had me lie on the bed with slices of cucumber over my eyes.

Daddy was annoyed and disappointed because he received a phone call early in the day from his boss asking him to come in to work. He was supposed to be off, but his replacement had called in sick. Now he was worried because he wouldn't be home to greet Shawn when he arrived to pick me up. He wandered aloud if he shouldn't call to get someone to substitute for him so he could be here. Mama insisted it was unnecessary.

"I think I know the right things to say. Cameron, and besides, what's your being here going to do. huh?"

"I have enough experience to know what to look for in a soldier, Lena."
"Oh stop. You'll frighten the girl with that kind of talk and that's no way for her to be on a first date with someone. You need a can opener to get words out of her mouth as it is. If you keep up this talk, you'll put stress in her face," she added. "and ruin all my work.."
"She didn't need all that work to start with," Daddy muttered.
Mama glared at him for a long moment. I thought it was going to turn into one of their bad fights, her eyes heating and brightening with her riled temper. She looked ready to heave something at him. Daddy glanced at me and quickly walked away.
"See what I mean about men?" Mama said nodding in his direction.
Actually. I was hoping Daddy would meet Shawn and I was more disappointed than he was. but I was concerned about making any sort of comment about it because Mama would feel I didn't trust her enough to do and say all the right things. She was so excited all day and hovered over me with reports from her girlfriend Louella telling her when Shawn would arrive, what he looked like when he did, and how much he was looking forward to this date. too.
"He's very excited about meeting you." Mama came by to tell me late in the afternoon. I was lying on my bed with those cucumber slices over my eyes, feeling very silly. "Louella said he's more excited about you than he is about seeing his family.'
I took off the slices and sat up.
"How can that be. Mama?" I asked. "He doesn't know anything about me, not even what I look like,"
She shifted her eyes guiltily away. "Marna?"
"Well, I told Louella stuff about you and I gave her a picture to send him."
"What picture?" I asked.
"That one we took a month or so ago when we celebrated my birthday. I just cut me and your father out of the picture and sent you."
"I guess this is only a blind date for me then," I said.
"It doesn't matter. Ice. Any date with any new man is a blind date. No matter what people tell you about him. Believe me about that. If you hear about a man from another woman, it's half lies or
exaggerations, and if another man tells you about him, you got to color in green for jealousy. There's only one person who can tell you what you got to know about a man and that's you."
She smiled,
"Maybe I oughta be writing a newspaper column of advice for lovers. huh?"
I widened my eyes and she laughed.
Nothing I could recall in our recent history made Mama so young, bright and happy as my impending date. I was afraid to utter one negative comment or iota of hesitation.
Before Daddy left for work, he stopped by and just stood in my doorway.
"I hope you have a good time," he said. "but if for any reason you're not happy out there, you don't hesitate to demand to be taken home. Ice. You make it clear and sharp, just like the orders he's growing used to in the army. Men need to be made straight right off. That's all I'll say," he added. and that you're looking mighty pretty."
"Thank you. Daddy.'
He nodded, kissed me quickly on the cheek and left.
Mama came rushing in immediately afterward.
"What that man say to you. Ice? He say anything to make you afraid?"
"No Mama. He just wished me a good time."
"Umm," she said still full of suspicion.
I looked at the clock.
"Getting about that time," she said. I really did feel like someone preparing for an opening, a big performance. "You dress in my room, use my table and stuff." she told me.
She hovered over me, making sure I put on the makeup she wanted as she wanted it, fixing every strand of my hair and then fussing over my new outfit. When I was completely dressed and ready, she surprised me by bringing out her camera and taking a picture.
"I want one of you and Shawn, too," she said. "Oh Mama, it's going to embarrass him."
"Nonsense. Any man would want his picture taken with you. Ice," she said.
I wondered if she was right. Was I really as pretty as she was, and was it only because of my reputation of not talking very much that boys avoided pursuing me?
Exactly at seven, the door buzzer rang. I thought it stopped my heart. Then I heard the pounding in my tars. I tried to swallow, but couldn't.
Mama had gotten herself pretty dolled up, too, putting on her V- necked red dress and her pumps. She strutted from her room, glanced at me waiting in the living room, smiled and went to the door.
"Evening, ma'am." I heard a deep, strong voice say. "I'm Shawn Carter. Louella's brother,"
"Aren't you though?" Mama said. "And look how handsome in your uniform."
"Thank you. ma'am."
"Come right in. Ice is waiting for you in the living room, Shawn.."
I felt my whole body tighten, my ribs feeling as if they were closing like claws around my insides. Mama came in first and then stepped aside to let Shawn enter. He stood there with his hat in his hand, gaping at me. For a moment neither of us spoke. I gulped a view of him and digested it.
He was about my height with broad shoulders, almost as broad as Daddy's, but he was nowhere nearly as handsome. He looked almost bald because of how closely his hair had been cropped and how far up his forehead his hairline sat. The close haircut emphasized his large ears. All of his features were big except for his eves, which were small, beady ebony marbles. His lower lip was a little thicker than his upper and his jawbone was emphatic. His smile softened his initial appearance. however. It made him look younger.
"Hi," he said.
I was far from stuck-up, but a little voice inside me whispered: "No wonder he was so excited about taking you out. girl. You're probably the prettiest girl he's ever been able to date. Without the army uniform, he would be so ordinary you wouldn't give him a second look and maybe not even a first." Mama didn't really think he was so handsome. I concluded, unless she was bedazzled by a uniform. However. I was the first to agree that a book shouldn't be judged on its cover. It took time to learn if someone was truly handsome or beautiful inside.
Mama looked at me, her head bobbing, urging me to speak. "Hi," I said.
"You look very, very pretty," he said. "Much prettier than you are in that picture my sister sent me."
"Bad camera lighting," Mama said. "Ice is very photogenic most of the time."
"Oh, she don't look bad in the picture," he quickly corrected. She just looks a helluva lot better in person."
His smile widened and Mama laughed.
"Of course she does. Well, have a seat. Shawn and tell us a little about yourself before you two head on out. Unless you have a deadline to meet for dinner."
He nodded.
"Well. I was hoping we'd meet up with some of my buddies and all go to the Kit-Kat." he said.
"Oh. I don't believe I heard of that place." Mama said. "It's a restaurant that has a jazz band." he told her.
"Jazz? Well now. Ice will appreciate that. I'm sure. Her father and her are jazz-a-holics," Mama offered and laughed.
"Jazz-a-what?"
"Never mind. never mind. Well. I won't keep you then." she said. "Ice, you'll need my light coat." she told me. We had already decided I would. but Mama pretended it was a last-minute decision. "I'll just get it for you. Pardon me," she told Shawn.
"Yes. ma'am."
"Oh. I just love that polite talk, don't you. Ice?"
Shawn smiled and looked at me. Mama waited for me to say something and then sucked in her breath with disappointment and went for the coat.
"Your mother's real nice," Shawn said. I stood up.
"You know my sister?" he asked.
I shook my head and muttered. 'Not really."
He nodded. His struggle to find the right words, or any words, was clearly visible on his face, especially in his eyes. He didn't want to look at me unless he had something to say. He kept his gaze low, nodding slightly as if his head was on a spring.
"You're in the twelfth grade, a high-school senior?" he asked. I nodded.
"You look older," he said and then quickly added. 'not old, just older."
I stared at him, wondering how he could have ever thought I'd think he meant old.
"Here we are," Mama cried bringing me her coat. She held it out and Shawn practically lunged to take it from her and help me on with it. Mama stood by beaming her approval.
"Oh wait," she cried. 'Before you put that on her. I want a picture of you two."
I raised my eyes toward the ceiling.
"Fine with me." Shawn said. "Put me down for two copies. One goes right on my locker at the barracks."
Mama laughed and picked up her camera that she had placed on
a
table in the living room in anticipation.
"Just stand over there," she nodded a bit to our right. "Go on and put your arm around her. Shawn. She won't break," Mama advised.
I closed my eyes and bit down on my lower lip. His arm went over my shoulder and his big hand closed on my upper arm, pulling me closer to him.
"You can smile better than that. honey," Mama said. "Shawn here has a nice smile."
I forced my lips to turn and curl and she snapped the photo. "One more." she said. "Just in case."
When that was over. I stepped forward out of Shawn's embrace and reached again for Mama's coat. He hurried to help me on with it.
"Well, thank you. Mrs. Goodman," Shawn said. "I'll show her a good time."
"I'm sure you will. Shawn. Don't be too late now," Mama called as we headed for the door.
"No ma'am," Shawn replied, but what did that mean? What was too late? Daddy would have been more definite. I thought.
"Have a really good time. Ice. honey." Mama called before the door closed behind us.
"We will," Shawn promised. He looked at me. "Okay, let's go burn up the town. huh?"
I started for the elevator and he took my hand. He grabbed it so quickly and firmly, he startled me for a moment. Then he pushed the button for the elevator.
"You grow up here?" he asked as the door opened. I nodded.
"Me too. I didn't finish high school, though. I decided to take that program the army has where you finish your diploma while you're in the service. I got started late in school," he explained. '"My mother traveled around a lot with us before she settled in Philly. When I was fourteen, she took off with some computer salesman and left Louella and me. Louella had already gotten a good job so we were able to take care of ourselves," he continued.
As the elevator descended, he seemed determined not to let a moment of silence occur.
"I asked my sister how come your mother named you Ice and she said it was because you're a cool cat. Is that true?" he asked.
"No." I said and stepped into the lobby.
"Well. why'd she call you that then?"
I shrugged and he opened the front door. It was colder than I had expected. I closed the coat and held the collar tightly shut, waiting for him to direct me to his car. All I saw at the curb was a pickup truck with a cab over the back. I turned to him.
"I borrowed my friend Chipper's truck. My sister doesn't have a car and I haven't gotten around to getting2 one of my own vet."
We walked to the truck and he opened the door for me. When I got in. I smelled what
I
was sure was whiskey. The seat was torn in the middle and looked very ratty. I hoped there was nothing on it that would stain my new outfit. I saw a wrench on the floor and had to push it out of my way with my feet. He got in and started the engine.
"Here we go," he said. When he pulled from the curb, an empty beer can came rolling out from under the seat.
"Chipper ain't much of a housekeeper," he told me. "So, you ever hear of the Kit-Kat?"
I shook my head.
"They'll be checking IDs at the door." he said. "I'm only seventeen."
"That's all right. Don't worry. We know the guy doing it. He's a friend of miners brother. Besides, you look at least twenty. There's cigarettes in the glove compartment if you want one," he added nodding at it.
I shook my head.
"You don't smoke? That's good, I only smoke once in a while. Cigarettes, that is," he added laughing. "So. I bet you go out a lot. huh?"
I didn't know whether to tell him the truth or not. If I did, he would probably assume he was important and I knew instinctively that I didn't want him thinking that.
"A girl like you has to be popular. Not only are you good-looking but, from what Lauda tells me, you're a singer, too. Where did you do your singing so far?"
"Chorus," I said.
"Chorus? That's it?" He laughed. "Hell. I was in chorus, too. but I'd never call me a singer."
He kept talking, describing his experiences at boot camp, the new friends he had made, the drill instructor he hated, and where he hoped he would be stationed someday.
Finally, he turned to me and smiled.
"My sister warned me you don't talk much. Why is that, if you have such a nice voice?"
"I talk when I have something to say." I told him. He laughed.
"You'd fit right in at boot camp. My instructor is always shouting. 'Keep your hole closed unless I tell you to open it.' He gave Dickie Stieglitz KP for a week because he was mumbling complaints under his breath when we were in formation. The guy has radar for ears or something. He don't even have to be nearby to hear you.
"Hey, I'm going to get hoarse in the throat doing all the talking. Can't you tell me anything about yourself?"
"I like jazz," I offered.
"Great. Great. We're going to have a good old time of it. What's your drink?" he asked when we parked in a lot across from the nightclub. "Vodka? Gin? Beer?"
I shook my head.
"Bourbon, rye. what?"
"I don't drink." I said.
"Sure you don't," he replied with a laugh. "Hey, don't worry. I don't tell my sister about my dates, if that's what's troubling you. Your mother's not going to know anything from these lips," he promised.
I didn't say anything, so he opened his door and got out. Now that we were away from Mama's eyes, he didn't come around to open my door for me. Gone were the "Yes, ma'ams" and "No, ma'ams," too. I noticed.
When we stepped into the club, his friend checking IDs looked me over from head to toe, nodding with a smile so sly and licentious he made me feel naked.
"Nice," he told Shawn, "You're late," he continued. "Everyone got here already in your party,"
"We'll make up for it," Shawn told him and ushered me into the club.
Right off the entrance to the right was a long bar with tinsel over the mirrors that made it look like Christmas. The stools were all occupied and the bartender was so busy, he could barely raise his head. I noticed that the men were dressed well, jackets and ties, and most of the women were wearing expensivelooking clothes, too.
On a small stage, a five-piece jazz combo played a Duke Ellington number
I
recognized. Shawn led me down the aisle to a table in the front at which three other young men in army uniforms sat with three girls-- all looked years older than I was. The moment the men saw us, they started shouting and laughing, which I thought was impolite, considering people around them were enjoying the music. Of course, that drew a great deal of attention to us, especially to me.