Mama (33 page)

She sat the pail back down and picked up the brown and white envelopes and flipped through them. A letter from the IRS. Hadn't filed in so long, they'd probably caught up with her. Be just her luck. The trash and light bills. They'd have to wait. Some pamphlet about voting for a city councilman. But she wasn't registered to vote in Michigan. And that notice she knew was coming, telling her the real estate taxes were being reassessed. Her house note was going to be either higher or lower. Right now, Mildred didn't want to know. Last were her food stamp voucher and welfare check. She threw them all on the hall table and picked up her glass. They must thank I'm some kind of money tree, she thought. She took another long swallow. Thank God for liquor.

It was only eight-thirty and the bank wouldn't open until ten, so she decided to take a long bath. Her new bathroom was small and cozy, even if she wasn't crazy about the orange tiled floor. She poured almost a whole cup of yellow bubble bath into the water, untied her bathrobe, closed the door out of habit, and stood naked in front of the floor-length mirror. Her body looked like an old potato. An inch of gray had grown out of her cluster of otherwise red hair. The whites of her eyes looked like the faded pages of an old book.

A sharp pain darted across the lower part of Mildred's stomach. She arched forward to support herself against the mirror. She knew she should've eaten something this morning before she started drinking, but she hadn't been hungry. When the pain had passed, she opened the door and went to get her glass. She closed the door again, turned off the water, and sat the glass on the edge of the tub. The water was too hot, but she gritted her teeth and got in anyway. She sloshed her legs up and down to get used to it and then let her head fall back against the tiles. It was too damn quiet in here. Should've turned on the radio. She wondered what her kids were going to send her for her birthday. Bootsey had given her that microwave. Freda would send money. Mildred didn't know what Angel and Doll were thinking about. And Money, he always forgot. She soaked for at least ten minutes, then reached for the bar of soap, but decided against it. Mildred closed her eyes. What am I gon' do for my birthday? Didn't have any plans. Hadn't thought about who she'd spend it with. Damn sure didn't want to be alone. Last week she'd seen Spooky at the Shingle, but he looked so shriveled up and pale that the thought of him touching her made her nauseated. And Percy might get the wrong idea.

She took another sip and the doorbell rang. Now who in the hell could that be this time of morning? Mildred stepped onto the rug and grabbed the pink towel, then wrapped it around her and went to the front door. Curly stood there grinning. She had something in her hand, but Mildred couldn't see what it was.

"Open this door up, old nappy-headed woman. These mosquitoes is eating me up alive out here."

Mildred hid behind the door as she opened it. "Girl, what you doing out this time of morning?"

"I needed the exercise, and since you ain't invited nobody up here, I thought I'd come and see for myself." Curly lifted her cane up and limped past her as Mildred closed the door behind them. Curly's arm was still bent like it was in an invisible sling. She sat the brown bag on the floor.

"Come on back here, girl, I was in the tub." Mildred dragged the brown chair and pushed it against the wall outside the bathroom. Curly sat down and Mildred got back in the tub. "You want a drank?"

"Girl, I don't touch that stuff no more."

"Since when?"

"Since I joined the church."

"What's joining the church got to do with dranking?"

"I don't need it no more. And what you doing sipping this time of day?"

"You know what tomorrow is?"

"Of course I do. It's your forty-eighth birthday, Milly. I ain't forgot. After all these years I done known you, you thank I forgot? I got something for you in that bag. It ain't much, but I was thanking about you."

"You didn't have to do that, girl."

"I know I didn't
have
to."

"What is it?"

"I ain't telling you. Wait and see."

"Well, I'm going downtown when I get out of this tub. I'm gon' cash my check and pick up some thangs; pay some damn bills."

"This house sure is nice, Milly," Curly said, looking around at the neatness of everything. The gleam on the kitchen appliances, the tiles all intact in the kitchen, the blue carpet, and that fireplace! "The Lord sho' looks out for you, chile."

"If Doll don't hurry up and sell that damn house, he gon' have to."

"You'll never guess in a million years who I seen in church last Sunday, girl."

"Who?"

"Ernestine. She done sobered up, lost some weight, and finally got some teeth in her mouth after all these years. Her hair was fixed so nice."

"No shit. Faye Love told me she was messing around with one of your brothers."

"Which one?" Curly peeked her head through the crack of the door. Mildred's body was covered with lather.

"Zeke," she said, squeezing the washcloth over her to wash away the soap.

"Milly, you can't believe half the stuff you hear in this town. You know that. It's the devil that spreads evil words. Ernestine just seen the light like a lot of us. Everybody 'cept you."

"Look, Curly, don't come in here preaching just 'cause you done turned your soul over to God. I already done had enough of Georgia these past few months. Don't you come in here talking the same mess, please. It's too damn early."

"Milly, I'm not trying to preach to you. But look at what you doing. Dranking VO and it ain't even nine o'clock in the morning. If your soul is troubled, you need to turn it over to God. He'll make you worry-free."

"Aw, Curly, spare me, would you? My nerves is bad and I got so many thangs on my mind I'll do whatever I have to do to ease some of this pressure. I got bills coming out of my ass." Mildred stepped out of the tub, "You know, y'all niggahs kill me. As soon as something terrible happen, the first thang you do is go running to church like God is gon' hop down out the sky and save y'all ass. Well, I don't buy it. Ain't never bought it. It ain't that I don't believe in God, I just don't trust his judgment. If he supposed to be such a savior, why he let you have that damn stroke? Why he take Georgia's titties? Why he let Crook die so young?"

"Mildred, God ain't the one responsible for evil and tragedy. It's the devil. But God is the one that give us the strength to carry on. I can bear witness."

"Can we skip the subject, please, Curly?"

"All it is is the truth, Milly."

Mildred walked out the bathroom with the towel wrapped around her. "I swear, you so serious. I liked you a lot better before you started going to church."

"I'ma tell you something, girl, and then I'ma shut my mouth. Ever since I had this stroke, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to talk or stand up on my own two feet, and I have thanked God in heaven for every step I take and every word I'm able to speak. The devil sure done his work by me. Shelly most likely gon' spend the rest of her life in and out of prison, Chunky half crazy from them drugs, and last night, chile, some boy beat Big Man in the nose with a poolstick and he up in Mercy Hospital right now."

"Naw, Curly."

"Yeah, it broke and he hemorrhaged some."

"Damn."

"My husband don't even touch me no more, Milly, so you turn to whoever gon' make you feel the most glory and peace. And for me, right this minute, it's God. If it weren't for him, I don't know if I'd even have the strength to get up in the morning and face daylight."

"Well, more power to you, Curly." Mildred was looking through one of her plaid suitcases for some clean panties and a decent bra.

"Why don't you come on and go to church with me on Sunday? Jasper still preaching like ain't no tomorrow. The words be like music filling up your body."

Mildred eased into her underwear, put her robe back on, and went to the kitchen to get her bottle.

"Come on, Milly, do it for your sis'-n-law."

"I'll thank about it. Last time I went to church I got depressed."

"That's 'cause you didn't give yourself a chance to let God in. Once you let him in, it feel so good, Milly, you won't want to turn back."

"Look, chile, I'd love to sit here and chitchat with you all day, but I got thangs to do."

"Well, I just stopped by to drop your present off and to catch my breath. My pressure been going up like crazy. I'm trying everythang I can to relax. Oh well, it's in God's hands. Thank about Sunday now," Curly said as she walked to the door.

"I'll thank about it."

"Oh," Curly said, turning to peck Mildred on the cheek, "if I don't see you tomorrow, happy birthday, sis'-n-law."

"Thank you, Curly, and let me know how Big Man is doing, okay?"

Curly lifted her cane up in the air to say okay.

Mildred closed the door, in spite of the rising heat. She reached down and picked up the brown paper bag Curly had/left and opened it. It was a photograph inside a wooden frame. Mildred couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the faded picture of her, Curly, and Crook, standing outside the Red Shingle. Hell, that was ... at least ... thirty years ago. She was pregnant with Freda, she remembered, because the three of them had gone to the Shingle to celebrate. It was some band playing from out of town, imitating the Platters, and she and Crook had slow-danced in a blue corner. Damn, Mildred thought. Curly sure has a strained grin on her face, maybe because that ugly bandanna on her head was tied so tight under her chin she was probably choking. And Crook, with that devious smirk on his face. Like he. knew he was gon' be handsome forever. And me, not a blemish on my face. And happy and everythang. Damn, how time fly. She pressed the picture to her chest and in her reflection from the mantelpiece mirror she saw there was writing on the back. She turned it over. "We always was family. Remember us that way. Love, your sis'-in-law, Curly."

Mildred's tears came quickly as she walked up the carpeted stairs to her attic bedroom. She turned back to go get the bottle of VO and another pain shot through her stomach. She stood still until it passed, then grabbed the bottle and went back up the stairs. When she got to the top, she flopped down on her bed and wiped her eyes dry on the sheets. She unscrewed the top of the bottle and drank from it, then pulled the covers over her because her teeth were chattering. She drank some more. A lot happens in thirty years, she thought. Too much. She took another swig and rolled over on her back. And not enough. The beige ceiling sloped. Mildred took another sip from the bottle and the whiskey ran down the side of her mouth. What the hell, she thought, and rolled back over on her stomach to set it down, but it fell from her hands. What happened to all my strength? She closed her eyes as if she'd been hypnotized. Mildred slept hard, without stirring. When she woke up, Mildred was forty-eight years old and soaking wet from the waist down.

Twenty-three

O
N NEW YEARS DAY
, Buster died in his sleep. Mildred went numb. She sat in front of her picture window watching snowflakes all day long. She drank something, but didn't know if it was VO or part of that Scotch Curly'd given her for Christmas. Whatever it was, was going right through her. She got up from the brown chair and ran to the bathroom. The Christmas tree fell when her shoulder brushed against it. Mildred didn't turn to see it knock over her good gold lamp, and didn't hear the bulbs crack when they hit the brick on the fireplace. She sat down on the toilet as her bowels ran. She had prayed that Buster would live a lot longer. He wasn't that damn old. She got up to wash her face in cold water, and the phone rang. Mildred picked up the receiver like a zombie.

"Yeah," she said in a tired voice.

"Aunt Mildred," BooBoo said.

"Who is this?"

"BooBoo."

"I thought you was in jail."

"I got out right before Christmas. I hope you sitting down."

"It can't be nothing that bad."

"Mama had another stroke this morning. Her pressure been going up. They say there was a weak spot in her brain in the walls of her arteries and it swelled up like a bubble and busted. We had to rush her to the hospital."

"You say Curly had a bubble bust? She in the hospital?" The words were like a faint echo coming from the back of her throat.

"Aunt Mildred, I can't hear you."

"I didn't say nothing." Mildred said each word slowly, then louder and deliberately. "What hospital she in?"

"Mercy."

"That's what she gon' need." She spotted the toppled Christmas tree, and suddenly it seemed important that she tend to it. "Hold on a minute, would you?" Mildred dropped the phone and walked over to the spruce. Silver tinsel hung from drooping branches and some of it was spread over the royal-blue carpet like silver worms. She grabbed the tip of the tree and dragged it through the living room through the kitchen and out the side door. She kicked the red stand off the side porch, and the tree fell on its side in a snowdrift. Mildred pulled the aluminum door shut and wiped her hands. She went back to the phone but BooBoo had hung up.

She considered going to the hospital, but she felt so tired she sat back down in the chair by the window. Hours passed. She felt like she was suspended, floating. As though no blood was getting to her brain. She had felt like this before. Was it before or after Crook died? All Mildred knew was she hadn't had a drop of strength left in her. Had given up and given in. It had been easy to do. Hell, the kids had gotten on her nerves so bad she had snapped like a rubber band. Just like that. She couldn't remember much else. Except she felt nothing then and felt nothing now.

Finally, she got up in slow motion and walked to the closet. She pulled a coat out and put it on. The gloves Freda had given her were in the pockets. She opened the front door. It was dark outside. Funny, seemed like she'd just woke up a few minutes ago. The temperature had dropped to zero but Mildred couldn't feel it. She walked across the hard snow arid it crunched under her house shoes. Bootsey had let her use the Ford for the holidays. Mildred remembered that much. She opened the door, got in, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine growled, then whimpered. She turned the key to off then on again and pumped the accelerator viciously until the engine grumbled and spurted.