Pushing Upward (13 page)

Steven got whipped really bad that night; I knew he'd try to get back at me. The next night when our parents were out, I hid under my bed. But he found me—and chased me around the house until he caught hold of my hair and dragged me into his dark room, literally nailed me and my sweater to the door, and then left me there for what seemed like hours. He thought we were even, but I finally tore my sweater loose, ran after him kicking and screaming, pinching and clawing, and trying to gouge out as much skin from his arm as I could. To even the score, he locked me in the bathroom with his ball python. I busted the door off its hinges and ran around the house screaming profanities, grabbed the heaviest table lamp in the house so I
could
kill him.

He screamed back, “You'll never get me! And one day, you'll wish you never squealed a day in your life!”

I kept after him with the lamp. Bella came up from the basement to intervene. She took hold of me; led me downstairs to her room; and let me weep on her big, cushy breasts. She read the Bible to me and told me stories about her dead husband: How much abuse
he'd
taken from white co-workers at the factory. How they would throw beer cans at him from their cars after work and make fun of the way he walked. He'd had had polio when he was younger, which caused him to limp.

“You don't never have to worry about revenge,” she told me. “God does a much better job than you ever could. A few weeks after those men harassed my husband,” she explained, “they got drunk and slid off the road. Their truck lit up like a matchstick the minute they crashed in the ditch.

“Now, I don't wish no harm to nobody,” she said. “But we all get comin' to us what we put out. God takes care of everybody in
His
time, not
our
time. And you know what else?” She could go on and on about God. “He always provides signs along the path, if we listen with the right ears and see with the right eyes. Sometimes He shows 'em to us real fast”—she snapped her broad black fingers—“and sometimes He waits, sees how much faith you got. And if you think you're too busy or too good to listen to what He's tellin' you, believe me, child, the good Lord will find a way to remind you. You never know how God's signs are gonna come, neither. Sometimes He's real sneaky and speaks through the lips of strangers. Sometimes He speaks through
you.
”

Bella had died from a heart attack a year ago. I couldn't afford to go back for the funeral, but I thought about her a lot, prayed her soul would go to heaven and that God would take care of her when she got there. I'm sure He did. Since her death, I'd always prayed that someday an angel would fall from the sky and care for me like she did. Now I couldn't help but think,
I believe I've met that angel.

I was miles down the beach before I turned around and jogged back to Emma. I found her sleeping, snoring quite loudly, with her babushka pushed back on her head. Newspaper pages were scattered all around her chair. I picked up the papers and looked tenderly at her. The woman with her own secrets looked so vulnerable. I shook off the sand from my towel and gently laid it across her knees so her legs wouldn't burn. Then I took her towel and wrapped it around her pink shoulders. I was about to pull down her babushka to protect her nose, when her eyes opened.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“It's close to seven. We should get going.”

Her mouth opened wide in a yawn. “How far did you run today?”

I yawned, too. “Five miles. But I wasn't as tired as last week.”

“By next week, you'll be running six miles.”

We ate some grapes, and packed up our things. I bundled our picnic supplies into the trunk while Emma settled herself into the car with her sunglasses and her babushka. I climbed into my seat, and as I put the key in the ignition, she turned and smiled at me. “Thank you for our day at the beach. It was a lovely way to spend my birthday.”

I looked at her in shock. Emma just smiled. Without another word, she waved dismissively and settled more deeply into her seat. I made a mental note:
Buy Emma a card or make her a special meal.
It was the least I could do. We drove home in silence, happily exhausted from the ride, the sun, and the wind.

Over the weeks that followed, I used Emma's membership at the Y, swam laps, used the stationary bike and the treadmill. I lifted weights to build the muscles in my arms, and took many, many saunas to sweat out the toxicity from a lifetime of sugar consumption. I made my mandatory appearances at the unemployment office and hung out in coffee shops where other unemployed actors also lurked looking for leads to auditions.

Emma seemed pleased with all of my efforts. At the same time, without her saying anything, I could feel her always egging me on, urging me forward. And every night, as I crawled into bed, I felt strangely content in the acceptance that my efforts were never enough for this tiny enforcer. The fact was, I seemed to thrive on the challenge.

Chapter 12

… it is just when the Creative is coming to dominance
that the dark yin force is most powerful in its external effects.

“Emma, where are you?” I called out, as I searched the apartment, exhausted from a run. But she wasn't in the kitchen, the living room, her bedroom, or the bathroom. She was nowhere to be found.

Did she go for a walk? Did someone pick her up? She would have left a note. Hmm. I'll wait an hour and then call the police.
To keep myself busy, I started to organize my room, make sure the socks were in the sock drawer, the bras in the bra drawer. I hadn't spent five minutes arranging anything in this room since I'd moved in. While I sorted through my slightly worn-out slips and undies, I noticed a tiny drawer between the two larger ones that I hadn't opened yet. It was only three inches wide, big enough for a few pieces of jewelry.
Maybe,
I thought,
I could place a few bracelets and rings inside.
I tried pulling the drawer out, but it kept sticking along the edges. Finally it unstuck, and inside was a clear plastic bag, with a lace-edged handkerchief. The name ALEXANDRA was embroidered in blue script, neatly sewn on one corner.
If I don't forget, I'll ask Emma about this when she comes back … whenever that might be
. In the meantime, I decided to use another drawer for my jewelry and went on with my chores.

I was getting edgy wondering where Emma was, so I grabbed an apple from the fridge and called Rachel. I hadn't seen her for a month. But just a recording greeted me: “The number you have reached is no longer in service. The party has requested no forwarding number.”

What?
I dialed the number again to be sure. Same recording.
Has she moved?
Did she quit her job and take off for an extended vacation to Bali or Nigeria? Maybe she went to visit her cousin, Cannoli. Or she's taking some space
. She did that—a lot. We'd get really close and all of a sudden,
poof!
She'd disappear for weeks. I wouldn't know if she had the flu or if she'd been kidnapped. Then, just like that, she'd call, as if no time had passed. It was never a big deal for her. But it drove me nuts … and she knew it. If I didn't hear from her soon, I told myself, I was going to leave her a note saying, “I had a skydiving accident, and if you don't call soon, amnesia will have set in and I won't remember who you are.”

I went back to my room, lay down on the bed, and was just about to close my eyes and escape from my present state of bored frustration—when my eyes became fixated on a painting hanging directly across from me. It was a picture I'd seen every day, but never really looked at. For some reason, the small painting of the ocean, the expansive view of the pale beach dramatically juxtaposed against the vibrant aquamarine water, pulled me in now. It took hold of me, beckoned me to slide into it. And as my eyes became transfixed by the scene, I could feel myself at that beach, the hot sand, the clear water dancing on my toes. Squinting at the orange-and-blue sky surrounding the brilliant sun, I could feel the warmth of the rays. As I lay there, this warmth gently released all the tight muscles, one after the other, until I fell into a deep sleep …

“Ah-hem.”

I jumped straight up off the bed, I swear, three inches. It was Emma clearing her throat. I had no idea how long I had slept or how long she had been standing there. “I didn't mean to disturb you,” she said. “I circled a few auditions you might be interested in.” She handed me a copy of
Variety.

“Where were you?” I asked with a tinge of anger, still shaken from the deep sleep and her surprise entrance.

Trying to catch her breath, she said, “I went with Bert to the cemetery this morning. It was the anniversary of his mother's death.”

“Oh … that's right. You were very close.”

“Yes, she was my closest friend. We brushed off the grave and left her favorite flowers.”

“That was so sweet of you … to go with him. He's really lucky to have you … be there for him … Where did you get this?” I asked, referring to the
Variety
magazine. Still groggy, struggling to wake up. “I've been looking all over for this magazine!”

“I started a subscription for you a few weeks ago.”

“But I thought they only listed auditions for Equity members?”

“That's not true.”

Big black Magic Marker circles were drawn all over the page. I read the circled entries out loud: “‘Non-Equity auditions: Young female jock needed, age twenty. Must work with tamed tigers for zoo movie.' You aren't serious?”

“It's never too late to learn a new trade.” She smiled.

“‘Female teens needed for new horror film produced by USC seniors.' No, thanks. I've paid my dues doing student films. And I hate scary movies.” I kept looking. “Oh, this is interesting. ‘Nineteen-year-old female needed for new play.' It takes place in Georgia. Tryouts are next week.

“‘Oh, mah, how ah simply
love
to feel the ga
-lor
-i-ous Califoh-nyah sun on mah peachy white body.'” Testing my Southern accent.

“Not too bad, but it wouldn't hurt to go to the library and listen to a Southern phonics tape and solidify that drawl,” Emma remarked as she stepped away from the door and headed toward her bedroom.

“Well, maybe ah'll jus' mosey on ovah thayah and do that,” I called after her.