Waiting to Exhale (54 page)

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Authors: Terry McMillan

Tags: #African American Studies, #Arizona, #Social Science, #Phoenix (Ariz.), #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #African American women, #Female friendship, #Ethnic Studies, #African American, #Fiction, #African American men, #Love Stories

BOOK: Waiting to Exhale
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"Wait a minute!"

"What now, Mama?"

"What'd you do for Thanksgiving?"

"I spent it at church."

"Church? Since when did you start going to church?"

"I helped feed homeless people."

"Well, that was a nice thing for you to do," she said. "I'ma let you go, then. Bye, baby."

I was just about to unplug the phone, when it clicked. Please don't let it be Kenneth, I thought, while I lifted the receiver. "Hello," I said.

"Yeah, Savannah, how you doing?"

"I'm fine, Kenneth. And you?"

"So-so. Look, I wanted to ask you something."

"What's that?"

"I'm coming out to Palm Springs for a conference in two weeks, and I was wondering if you could meet me there."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. That's why."

"I need to talk to you."

"I've got the phone to my ear. Talk."

"In person."

"About what, Kenneth?"

"About us."

"Us? Get real, would you."

"I am being very real," he said. "I've been thinking about what you said last time. And I'm getting ready to make some major changes in my life."

"Then why don't you do this: Why don't you invite me to Palm Springs after you've made those major changes in your life. How's that?"

"Savannah, I'm not asking you to do anything. I just want to se
e i
f we could spend some time together, to see if what we have is something we might want to pursue on a more permanent basis."

"That's sweet, Kenneth. Really it is."

"Look. All I'm asking you to do is meet me in Palm Springs, at my expense, of course, for a few days, so we can get reacquainted. To see if what we had is still as strong as / feel it is. What's wrong with that?"

"Fuck you, Kenneth, and the horse you rode in on," I said, and hung up.

Of course, he called right back.

"What's wrong with you, Savannah? What, did somebody break your heart since the last time I saw you or something? You sound bitter."

"I'm not bitter. I'm better. Can I ask you something?"

"I'm all ears."

"Have you filed for your divorce?"

"Not yet. We're talking about it."

"I figured as much. But you want me to meet you in Palm Springs so you can fuck my brains out for three days and then go home to your wife, and a month or two later, you'll call me up all pitiful and probably say something like, even though you love me to death, you can't leave your wife right now because you'd feel too guilty about leaving your kid, or it's too much money involved, or whatever other excuses you motherfuckers always manage to come up with."

"You obviously don't know me very well, Savannah. That's not what I'm planning on doing."

"You all say that shit, Kenneth. I know you have good intentions, but if you're that damn unhappy, why can't you leave your wife on your own and keep me out of the picture?"

"Because I want to know if you're going to be a part of the picture."

"Look, Kenneth. I'm thirty-seven years old. I've got enough shit going on in my life right now to deal with, without putting my life on hold waiting for you to divorce your wife, okay? Why do you guys . always pull this shit? You claim you're miserable, so you fuck around on your wife and then expect the other woman to wait for you to finalize your goddamn plans. You must be nuts. Now, I'm sure there'
s p lenty of women out here who'd probably jump at this chance. Because I guess you fit in that category of what's commonly known as a 'good catch.' But I'm not one of them. I'm not that desperate."

"I'm not accusing you of being desperate, Savannah. All I'm asking is if you're willing to see what we have. I thought you felt as strongly about me as I do about you. Am I wrong?"

"You're not listening, Kenneth."

"I am listening. To every word you're saying. But life isn't all black and white, Savannah. It's not as cut-and-dried as you'd like it to be. I would love to tell you that we've already signed the papers and it's over, but that's not the case."

"Tell me about it," I said.

"Look, I can see we're not getting anywhere," he said. "So why don't I do this. I'll call you back in a few days. You give it some thought. Some serious thought. And let's talk again. Would you at least give me that courtesy?"

"Would you give me a courtesy, since we're talking courtesy here?"

"What's that?"

"Leave me the fuck alone." I hung up. And this time I unplugged the goddamn phone. I felt good. So good that I jumped in the air and kicked my heels together. Exactly the way Charles had.

I told my boss what happened to my car and explained why I'd probably be out most of the morning-maybe the whole day. I also had a doctor's appointment. I finally got up my nerve to go to see that acupuncturist. But that wasn't until noon. I'd planned on going during my lunch hour. I was also secretly getting a jump start on my new job. I'd already lined up folks for the show on the elderly. As a matter of fact, right after I found out I got the job, I went through some of my back issues of the Arizona Informant-the, black newspaper here-and cut out articles on topics and issues I wanted to explore. One that struck me in particular was about black children who faced longer stays in foster care. I called the Black Family and Child Services to get more information, but the woman in charge was too busy to talk to me. She suggested I come down to see her, which was what I was planning to do today. Since my car was gone, I called to ask if I could come a little later. She was pissed but said okay.

I took a bus to the Nissan dealer. I got there at five minutes after nine. By eleven, I drove off the lot in a black 1991 300 ZX. My first payment is due on January 15. I get my first decent paycheck the very same day.

I smoked a cigarette on the way to the acupuncturist's office but refused to flick the ashes in my new ashtray. He took me into a small room, told me to lie down on this bed that was just like the kind you see in a regular doctor's office. Then he stuck these long wirelike needles into my wrists and right below my knees. It didn't even hurt. "This detoxify you," he said, and closed the door. I lay there for forty-five minutes, thinking, This shit isn't going to work. When he took the needles out, I felt exactly the same, except I had this disgusting taste in my mouth. I felt like I needed to brush my teeth. The doctor gave me some kind of tea to drink and said, "You no smokey no more." I threw my cigarettes in the trash, stopped by Walgreen's and bought some mouthwash, ate lunch, and went to talk to the adoption lady. It was after three, and it didn't make much sense for me to go to work. Normally, when I'm out of the office for an extended period of time, I call in for my messages. But what was the point? And since I was only a few blocks from Oasis, I decided to stop by so I could show Gloria my new car.

Chapter
26

Waiting to Exhale (1992)<br/>FRIENDSHIP

Gloria thought she was dead. At first she couldn't see or move her lips, because something was covering her face. It was an oxygen mask. But Gloria didn't know that. Her skin felt clammy. She also wanted to know why those tubes were in her arm. Her chest hurt like hell, too. She remembered that somebody'd been beating on it. Her vision was less blurred now. Gloria wondered who all these people were. And what were they doing here? She couldn't hear them talking, but some of them were wearing white. They must be doctors, Gloria thought. And this must be a hospital. "Where's my son?" she said.

But no one seemed to hear her. "What the hell is going on around here?" she said. Again, no one seemed to hear her.

It wasn't until much later, when Gloria was more coherent, that the doctor told her she'd had a massive heart attack. She was ready to have another one, just hearing it.

She fell asleep. When Gloria woke up, there was a crowd of people standing around her bed. "Who's all here?" she asked, but no one could hear her yet. Somebody'd been holding her hands for a while now. When Gloria looked to her left, she saw a tall, dark figure standing over her. She knew it was Tarik. "Thank God you're all right," she said. But he didn't hear her.

"You're gonna be okay, Ma," Tarik said. He sounded like he was crying. Gloria still couldn't see his face all that clearly. She turned her head to the right, to see who was holding her other hand. She saw another dark figure, who wasn't as tall. "That's Marvin over there, Ma. He's the one who gave you mouth to mouth resuscitation and called the paramedics. When I heard you hit the floor, I was so scared, I didn't wanna leave you." Gloria squeezed Tarik's hand. "It's okay, baby," she said, but he couldn't hear her because even though Gloria thought she was talking, she wasn't.

Marvin squeezed her hand. "Me and Tarik are gonna take good care of you when you get out of here. So don't you worry about a thang," he said. "Not a doggone thang."

Gloria heard other familiar voices. Bernadine. Savannah. And Robin. Now it seemed like everybody was rubbing different parts of her body: her legs, feet, arms, and shoulders. But her feet were still cold. Why were her feet so cold? Gloria wondered. It then occurred to her that maybe she'd almost died. But she wasn't dead. "I'm not dead!" she thought she yelled. But no one could hear Gloria.

When the cardiologist came back into the room, he asked who the responsible party was. Tarik spoke up. "She's my mother."

"And I'm her husband," Marvin said. "I'm this boy's daddy." Tarik looked at Marvin. Marvin looked at Tarik. Then they both smiled.

"I think we're all responsible for her," Bernadine said. "She's our sister. Please tell us she's going to be all right."

The doctor looked at all three women. He knew Bernadine was lying. But he was used to this.

"Well, she's got a clogged artery, and since we didn't know what her heart looked like before this attack, we can only tell you that there appeared to be blockage in her anterior artery. That artery apparently went into a spasm, which chokes the blood flow to the heart. We're doing everything we can to stabilize her heartbeat. There's been some damage, but she's almost out of the woods now. Those first four hours were critical. She's lucky someone was there to give her oxygen and got her here so quickly. Right now she's doing fine."

The doctor then told everybody to leave. Gloria felt lips touching her face and forehead, her hands and arms. She didn't know who all was kissing her, but it sure felt good. She also didn't know what was going through those tubes that were sticking out of her arms. And didn't much care. Gloria looked at all the machines hooked up to her. She noticed what she assumed was her heartbeat on a little screen. At least it was moving, she thought. But her chest still hurt. It felt tight. The muscles inside ached. And her left arm was sore. She didn't know that every two minutes an automatic blood pressure cuff was squeezing it. Gloria wished she could get up out of this bed and find herself an Advil.

She pressed down on the button near her right hand. A nurse walked in and asked if she was in pain. Gloria nodded yes. The nurse squeezed the end of another tube, which took the pain right away. Gloria grabbed the nurse's hand, looked at her with desperation, and pointed to her heart.

"You're going to be fine," she said, but Gloria was asleep before the nurse finished the sentence.

By the fourth day, Gloria felt much better. Even that stupid blood pressure machine was only socking it to her every fifteen minutes. Most of the machines and tubes had been removed. She was grateful for her very first meal. When the nurse came in to move her to the progressive care unit, Gloria heard the applause. Her three best friends were standing next to the doctor and nurse. Tarik whispered in her ear. "Yo, Ma. I'm Up With People." He made a fist and swung it in the air.

Gloria smiled.

"You better hurry up and get your ass out of here," Savannah said. "My hair still needs to be cut."

"Yeah," Robin said. "And I want this weave cut out of mine. I'm sick of it."

"Gloria!" Bernadine said rather loudly. "You've got some nerve, having a damn heart attack when you knew good and well Onika was coming in to get her hair permed. Is that why you did this shit? Tell the truth?"

Gloria was laughing so hard, she couldn't say anything.

"Sister Monroe's here," Bernadine said.

Oh, Lord, Gloria thought. She sat straight up; a look of terror loomed on her face.

"Just kidding," Bernadine said.

"So this is what it takes to get your big ass to go on a diet, huh?" Savannah said.

Gloria shook her head.

"That's all right," Robin said. "We'll still love you when you're skin and bones."

"Where's Marvin?" Gloria whispered.

"I'm right here," he said, and came through the doorway. "I hope you don't go losing too much weight on me, gal. I like my women big."

Gloria smiled and looked around the room one more time before she closed her eyes. Everybody she loved was here.

Chapter
27

Waiting to Exhale (1992)<br/>THE WEIGHT OF ALL THINGS

My daddy died in his sleep yesterday morning. Even though he wasn't really aware that we'd put him in a nursing home, my mother said he knew it. Which was why he decided to leave us when he did. The way he did. She's taking it pretty good, all things considered, and I'm still numb. This whole ordeal has drained us both, but at least my daddy's at peace now. We don't have to watch him act like somebody else anymore. I know he's in that place where he can be the way he used to be.

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