Unbeweaveable (22 page)

Clogged Arteries

“Y'all want something to drank?”

“Sure,” I said. She gestured for us to sit and we took a seat on a yellow paisley couch. An oscillating fan whirred, stirring the air. The house had a log cabin feel with its fake wood paneling. The royal blue carpet was immaculate, not a spot to be seen. It actually looked new. Who in this day and time picked out royal blue carpet? Glass figurines littered the room, small white children playing, little ones praying, all white. Disturbing.

“I got lemonade. It's Country Time. My favorite. Let me get you girls a glass while you tell me the story.”

I watched her walk to the kitchen and was amazed at her size. Her neck was thick as a bull's and she had the shoulders of a quarterback. There was nothing dainty about Gloria. Her feet were covered in yellow athletic socks that sagged around her cankles and her grey hair was curled tightly except for one pink sponge roller in her bangs.

“She's huge,” Renee whispered.

“Shush,” I said as Gloria came back with two recycled jelly glasses filled with lemonade.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip. My lips curled at the amount of sugar, and I was sure I was instantly diagnosed with diabetes. Renee shared my expression but managed to put on a smile. “Delicious,” she said.

“Can't drink too much of the stuff myself. I'm a diabetical,” she said, huffing herself into an oversized chair. “But Paul say it's good. You ever hear of TiVo?”

“Umm, yes…”

“They say it tapes shows for you. With a remote. And you can fast forward TV and press pause. On a regular show. Can you imagine? I still have to tape my shows when I want to watch something later. They making VCRs obsolete, like eight-track tapes. But y'all too young to remember that. So, I'm recording my show so you can tell me everything. Go,” she said, like I was a race car.

“What show do you watch?” Renee asked.

“
The Rich and the Famous
. You watch it?”

“No…”

“You don't know what you're missing! See, today they gonna tell us who killed Rico. See, Rico was a bounty hunter and he fell in love with Jasmine, who was a singer. But Jasmine was married to Shawn, who's a lawyer. But Shawn is a twin, and his brother Chance kidnapped him and took over his life and now Jasmine is pregnant, but she thinks it's Shawn's baby, but it ain't. It's Chance's.”

“Interesting story line,” Renee said. “Very realistic.”

“I know! That's why I like it so much. So, young lady,” Gloria said, turning her attention to me. “You're Beverly's daughter? You don't look a thing like her. You look just like your daddy. Now she do,” she said, pointing to Renee. “She look just like Beverly.”

“I know. We have different fathers.”

“Tell me about it. Why did your Mama keep you hidden away?”

“I don't know. Probably the same reason she said that Paul was dead.”

“She told you that your daddy was dead?”

I nodded.

“That always was a troubled little girl. When Paul moved away to go to school, I told him, I said, ‘Now don't be chasing after no skirts. You keep your mind on those books.' Six months later he telling me he dropping out because he wants to get married. I couldn't believe it. She was the prettiest little thang you ever saw, but I knew right from the start something was wrong with her. She was too attached to Paul, acted like he was her lifejacket or something.”

“You didn't like her?”

“I didn't say all that, I just didn't know her. They both came down here to live, and I think that bothered her. She wanted her own place. But what did she expect? Paul ain't have no money. He wasn't even a man yet, he wasn't used to the responsibilities of marriage.

“Her father called her a lot. Too much. Every time she got off the phone with him, she was complaining about something. I think that Daddy of hers was spinning stories, trying to get her to come back home. But she was too in love. Then she got pregnant. I thought that would have made her happy, but she wasn't. Just kept complaining.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to go on like that about your mama.”

“No, go ahead. It's nice to hear some of the bad stuff.”

She sat quiet for a minute. “I want to show you something.” She squeezed herself out of the chair and left the room.

“That woman is huge.”

I threw Renee a look.

“Sorry. She seems nice, though. Weird, but nice.”

Gloria came rumbling back in the room, her arms full of different colored binders. Photo albums.

“Figured you'd want to see some old pictures of your daddy. I got a bunch of 'em,” she said, putting the albums down on the pine coffee table with a loud thwack.

“Start with this one,” she said, placing a large, dusty album on my lap. “This is all Paul's baby pictures.”

I opened the album, with Renee next to me peering over my shoulder. I added all the necessary oooh's and aaah's—Paul in his crib, Paul at the beach, Paul loses a tooth, Paul gets first haircut—all scribbled in black ink next to each photo. It felt like I was reading the titles to children's books.

“Was Paul your only son?”

“My one and only. Yep, that's my baby.”

I closed the album and picked up another one.

“No, save those for later,” Gloria said. “I'm getting hungry and was just about to fix myself something for lunch. You girls want to eat?”

“Sure.”

We followed her to the kitchen, where we were faced with more fake wood paneling, this time painted a soft yellow. A plastic tablecloth covered the small oak table in the middle of the room, and a large multicolored rooster sat on it. That seemed to be the theme to the room, with a rooster clock on the wall and a large rooster on top of the yellow refrigerator. Roosters everywhere.

“You girls up for a sandwich?”

“A sandwich is fine—I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” She reached under her cabinet and pulled out a deep cast iron skillet.

“Mariah, go over in the icebox and pick out what meat you want.”

I opened the door to the refrigerator and saw salami and bologna. I chose the lesser of two evils and picked the salami.

“Yeah, you a Stevens all right, we love salami sandwiches. Renee, salami all right with you?”

“Actually…”

I gave her a warning look.

“Salami's perfect, thank you,” she said.

I nodded and handed Gloria the salami. She took it from me and I watched her pour oil into the skillet heating on the stove.

“Won't take me but a minute to fry these up.”

“Fry?” Renee and I said in unison.

“Well, how else do y'all eat a salami sandwich? You ain't never had a salami sandwich fried before?”

“No, ma'am.”

She shook her head. “Beverly done forgot her roots.” She tested the oil to make sure it was hot, and then she dropped several slices of salami into the hot grease. They instantly sizzled and shrunk. She took a slotted spoon and flipped them over while she buttered the bread and added mayo and cheese.

“I thought she wasn't making any trouble,” Renee whispered.

“Hush.”

“You girls like Oreos?”

“Sure do.”

She grabbed a handful of Oreos out of a rooster cookie jar and spread them on the counter as she finished assembling our sandwiches.

“And here we go,” she said, sliding the sandwiches in front of us on white paper plates. The grease from the salami had turned the white bread transparent, and yellow cheese oozed out of the sides.

“Looks great,” I said.

Renee nodded and I watched in terror as she took a bite. “Delicious,” she said as she shuddered.

Gloria looked at me to take my first bite and I did. The heat from the salami had melted the cheese, and all of it stuck on the roof of my mouth like peanut butter. I had to scrape my tongue across it to digest it.

“Yummy.” My stomach shook, and I put the sandwich down. “I have a stomach ulcer, so I can't eat all of it, but it sure tastes great.”

Gloria dug into her sandwich with the fervor of a homeless person. “When you get diagnosed with that?”

“A little after college.”

“Well, you can't eat that. You want a can of soup or something?”

“No, I'm fine. Thanks.”

“You got any problems with your stomach?” she asked Renee.

“Actually—”

“She has a cast-iron stomach,” I said. “She can eat anything.”

We were quiet for a few moments until Gloria asked how Beverly was doing.

“Did she turn out okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I was always worried about that girl. She had it so hard with her father. Just wanted to know if she's happy.”

I looked at Renee to answer. When she didn't, I replied. “She seems okay to me.”

“Is William still living?”

“Grandpa? Yes, he's still alive.”

“Humph. Well, I guess some dreams don't come true.”

I sucked in a breath. “Why would you say something like that?”

“That man was terrible to us. Your mama, too. Did you know he's the reason we never saw you? Paul wrote to your mama for years and heard nothing. Then that William wrote him a letter telling him that he stopped all those letters from ever reaching Beverly.”

“Yes, I just learned of that—”

“Downright despicable. Did you know that he tried to pay Paul to annul their marriage? Just came down here and wrote him a check like he could be bought. But I didn't raise no fool. Paul tore that check up right in his face. That didn't stop old William, though. He just kept interfering in their marriage, pointing out all of Paul's flaws to your mother. Nobody's perfect, but if all you see is flaws, then it kills the love. He made having money more important than love.”

“Beverly never talked of him like that—”

“Since when do you start calling your mother by her given name? What's wrong with you young people today?”

“I don't know…I've always called her Beverly.”

“I don't know everything that went on with you two, but in this house, you won't disrespect her.”

“It's not a sign of disrespect. She actually prefers I call her that.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

She looked at Renee and she shook her head.

“Renee!”

“Well, what do you want me to do, lie? Mama never liked you calling her Beverly. I told you that.”

“I don't believe this,” I said under my breath. I didn't drive a thousand miles to be ganged up on. Not again.

I took another bite of my sandwich, gagged, then put it down.

“I'm not trying to get you upset. I'm just trying to catch up. But seems like I'm not the only one who needs catching up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you even know your mama at all?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you? Does she play the piano for you?”

“Bev…I mean, Mama doesn't play the piano.”

I looked at Renee.

“Mama plays the piano?”

She nodded her head yes.

“Looks like I'm not the only one who has stuff to learn. Y'all ready for your Oreos?”

“Yes,” I said, desperate for something that wasn't slathered in grease.

She walked over to the stove and drained the grease out of the skillet into an old blue coffee can.

“Mariah, could you hand me a stick of butter out of the icebox?”

I got up and handed it to her and watched her heat up the skillet and slowly melt the butter. She then dropped the Oreos in and swirled them around in the butter.

“These will be ready in just a minute.”

I sat back down next to Renee.

“I can feel my arteries clogging.”

“Oh, shut up.”

* * *

After I watched Gloria and Renee eat ten pounds of grease, I called Norma.

“So you made it!”

“Yes, we made contact.”

“Really? That's great! And on the first day, too.”

“Yeah, you wouldn't believe where I am—”

“What is Dynamite!”

“Who's that?”

“My grandmother, Gloria.”

“You're in her house? Wow.”

“What is Billie Jean Is Not My Lover!”

“What is she doing?”

“Watching
Jeopardy
. She's pretty good, actually.”

“Is she nice?”

“Yes. She's tough, but nice. Hey, did you know my mom played the piano?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“What is the theory of relativity! Yes!”

“Renee told me. Why?”

“I didn't know that. Why didn't I know that?”

“Because you never asked?”

“Yeah, but still, I should have known that.”

“Mariah, you didn't even want to know what your mother ate for breakfast, let alone what she did as a hobby. You don't like her.”

“I know that—”

“What is Some Like It Hot!”

I squeezed the phone closer to my ear. “I know that, but still I should have known more about her. I don't know anything.” I sighed. “How's Elizabeth?”

“Good. My nipples look like cow udders, but all in the sake of feeding.”

“You're crazy, you know that?”

“So I've been told.”

We talked for a few minutes, with me promising to keep her posted through the week, and then I hung up.

I sat back down next to Gloria and finished looking at the albums. The wedding pictures of Beverly and Paul were the ones that garnered the most interest from me. I stared and stared at how happy Beverly looked, and how young she was.

You thought this would last forever. How naïve you were then.

I picked up another album and saw different wedding pictures, to what I assumed was Paul's second wife.