When Everything's Said & Done (20 page)

“I know that’s right,” Sheila replied. “Shoot. Every time I think that Michael’s going to explode or that Brenda’s going to say dee-vorce.” She waved her hand across her face. “This never-give-up spirit just comes and Michael reaches out to Brenda again. I tell you, it’s the most amazing thing.”

“It is,” Cynthia replied. “So I guess he did love Brenda. At least he wanted a home with her. But he loved Cora, too. What a mess.”

“Yes, he did,” Nebia said. “Michael loved both of them. But he had made a life with Brenda, and being the kind of man that he was, he couldn’t turn his back on that.”

“I—I—I don’t know,” Cynthia said. “What if Cora was free? What if Cora hadn’t married Warren? How much turning back would he have done?”

Nebia paused. “Well...I guess that’s something we’ll never know, because Cora did marry Warren, and Michael and Brenda continued to try to hold their marriage together.”

CHAPTERS
27

"Mommy.
I want bubble. I want bubble, Mommy.” “Faith, we agreed to wait until we got home to blow bubbles,” Cora said.

“I want bubble now, Mommy.” Faith’s chubby fin
gers tried to unscrew the top of the plastic bottle.

“All right. Okay. Just two blows.” Cora knelt in front of the door of the Five and Ten. She placed her purse and a small bag on the ground. “Here, let me help you.” Cora gazed at Faith’s intense face as she took the pink container and unscrewed the top. Carefully, she removed the bubble wand. “Okay, now. Blow.” She put it near her daughter’s mouth. Unconsciously, Cora pursed her lips, too.

Faith blew several times, but no bubble formed. “Let me show you,” Cora offered. She brought the wand to her mouth and blew slowly. A large bubble bloomed. They both watched as it detached itself and floated into the air.

“Look, Mommy! Look! Bubble. Bubble.”

“Ye-es. It’s a bubble.” Cora laughed and kissed Faith on the cheek.

“It’s a bubble.” Faith’s little finger pointed and fol
lowed the rise in the incandescent circle as it floated up and in front of Brenda, who had stopped a few feet away.

“Hi, Cora.”

“Brenda. Hello.” Cora rose to her feet.

“Mommy.” Faith tugged at her dress. “You said two bubbles. Make another one.”

Cora picked up her belongings, then situated Faith in her arms. “Okay. One more.” She dipped the wand in the bubble mix and blew. Several small bubbles emerged from the quick burst of air.

Faith grinned. Cora smiled than looked at Brenda, whose eyes lingered on Faith’s face.

“How are you?” Cora asked.

“I’m fine,” Brenda replied. “And you? The two of you?”

“We’re good. Say hi, Faith. This is your Aunt Brenda.”

Faith looked at Brenda then
lay her head against her mother’s breast. Finally, she wriggled her fingers.

Cora looked back at Brenda. “We decided to come down here and pick up a few things.”

“I’ve got a little shopping to do myself,” Brenda replied.

“Look at you. Aren’t you thin?” Cora said. “As thin as those models in some of the magazines.” She smiled. “But I guess you look at me and say I’ve gained weight.”

“You look wonderful, Cora. Just as any mother should. You look absolutely wonderful,” Brenda repeated.

Cora looked into her sister’s disillusioned eyes and
looked away. “When we were growing up, did you ever think it would end up this way?” She looked aback at Brenda. “I didn’t.”

“Neither did I.” Brenda’s grip tightened on her purse. Her face saddened.

“But life could be worse,” Cora said.

Brenda nodded. “Sure it could.”

Cora nodded, too. “I’ll tell Mama I saw you.” Brenda placed her purse in front of her. “Thanks.” Their eyes locked.

“Bye.” Hesitantly, Brenda touched Cora’s cheek, then Faith’s hair. “Bye, Faith.” Brenda said the toddler’s name softly before she entered into the revolving door.

Cora and Faith went straight to Laura’s place. She took the BenGay and BC Powder out of the brown bag, and placed them on the kitchen counter. “Mama?” she called.

“I’m back here putting some things away,” Laura replied. “I did some washing.”

“Come on. Faith. Let’s see what your grandmother’s up to.”

Cora took Faith’s hand and followed her mother’s voice into Laura’s bedroom. “I got the things you asked for. I put them on the counter in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” Laura smushed the clothes inside the drawer.

Cora leaned against a nearby wall. “Faith and I bumped into Brenda as we were leaving.”

Laura continued putting the clothes away.

“She looked like one of those models you see in the magazines,” Cora said. “Dressed to kill, she was. And so thin. Mama. Brenda’s so thin.”

“She said she was doing okay?” Laura didn’t look at Cora.

“She said things were fine. I just—don’t know if that was really true.”

“Well you can’t know any more than what she’ll tell you.” Laura closed the drawer.

Cora sighed. “It’s amazing to me that we all live in the same area and we just don’t see each other.”

“Well we all got our lives, and we go about them the best way we can.” Laura cleared her throat. “We’re different, that’s all. Got different ways of doing things. And I don’t think nobody’s right and nobody’s wrong. So we keep goin’, and that’s how it’s suppose to be.” Laura focused on Faith, who had climbed onto her bed and was picking at the nodules of yarn that stuck up from the pale green bedspread.

“Sometimes,” Cora began, “but I don’t obsess about it, I wish that we could start all over again. That we could all be together the way that I thought we would when I was a girl growing up.”

Laura clasped her hands in her lap. “It does no good to try to remake the past, Cora. No good at all. Don’t cause nothing but a bunch of heartache and I’ve had my share of that. I’m not going to fish for no more.” Laura’s chin tilted stubbornly. “I’m not going to fish for no more.”

Nebia’s Story...

“Lo-ord,” Erica exclaimed. “I don’t know if I could take it. I think one of us would have to leave town or something.” She looked at the night sky. “How do you do it? Walk around seeing your sister once in a blue moon and when you see her you don’t know what to say. Yuck! It’s too much for me.”

“Yeah, I’d say that would be rough,” Sheila replied. “But you know, we know folks right now that know their sister or brother, or some relative
lives nearby, and they don’t have nothing to say to each other because they have had a falling out, a fight or something. So what can you say? When it comes to families, there are all kinds.”

“But I’m not talking about those kinds of folks. To me it seemed like Cora and Brenda wanted to love each other. They wanted to be sisters again. Didn’t they, Nebia?”

“Yes, they did. They surely did. But they just didn’t know how to get it going again. So they just kept going. They had things that occupied them and kept their minds away from the heartache. And then of course there was Laura.” She licked her lips. “It wasn’t just Brenda and Cora; Laura was in it, too. You know we older folks can be more stubborn than most. And Laura was as stubborn as they come. So everybody just continued the best way they knew how. That’s how life is.” Nebia leaned forward. “You just keep going until something stops you in your tracks.”

CHAPTER 28

The main door of The Way Home opened again. Cora glanced up as four young men with black stocking masks slipped inside. Systematically, two of them pulled down the shades so no one could see inside.

“What’s going on?” Cora asked as her eyes darted from man to man.

Once the shades were drawn, the men moved slowly, very slowly, as if they were in a play. Three of the intruders went around the room touching things before they became destructive. They knocked over a can of paint, broke chalk and tore up some of the charcoal etchings.

“Why are you doing this?” Cora demanded.
“What is this about? I don’t have but a little bit of money in here. If you want the money. I’ll give it to you.” Cora opened a nearby drawer, but the vandalism continued.

Many of the children’s paintings were destroyed. Fi
nally Cora couldn’t take it anymore. “Damn it! Say something! If you’re going to rob me, rob me! Whatever you’ve got in mind, do it, and get out of here. Or tell me what this is about.”

“You are something else.” The only intruder who had stood by and watched spoke. “Here there is four of us, and you’ve got the nerve to tell us we better speak up.” He rose from where he had perched on top of an old armchair. “I’ll tell you what this is about, since you just have to know. This is about your cutting into the numbers.”

“Cutting into the numbers?” Cora looked at the other vandalizers who were moving toward her.

“Our numbers. The Gangster Disciples.” The spokesman hit his chest. “You know, you’ve been a one-woman show over here and you’ve got a lot of attention. I’ll give you props for that.” He removed his
skullcap, and the knotted end of his stocking cap mask bobbed. “You’ve impressed us all, and you’ve definitely impressed some of the young men that we intended to join us. But now, because of you, and this—” he looked around “—they’ve decided that they don’t want to. And not only don’t they want to join us, they’ve gotten bold enough to tell us what they’re not going to do.” He shook his head. “We can’t have that.”

Cora looked defiant. “Well maybe you need to change what you do. I can’t help it if what I offer ap
peals to them. Maybe my way feels better. Maybe it’s safer. You need to think about that.” Her eyes blazed. “Here the four of you come in here like this against one defenseless woman. You can’t feel good about that.

And if you do, I can’t imagine why. So I think while you’ve got a chance, you better take this money—” she laid thirty-some-odd dollars out on the table “—^and leave now. If you do, you won’t hear a peep from me.” She crossed her arms. “And maybe your conscience will hound you bad enough that you won’t ever try something like this again.”

One of the young men laughed. “I can’t believe it. She’s threatening us. She is one bold bitch. Telling us to leave and hopefully our conscience is going to get us.” He laughed again, then stopped abruptly. “Lady, I don’t have a conscience.” He grabbed another painting and ripped it down the middle. “This is what I think about you and my conscience.” He grabbed another one.

Cora was across the room before she knew it. “You stop that. Don’t you do that!” She grabbed the paint
ing and the young man caught her arm. Cora looked at his wrist tattooed with an open mouthed snake devouring the world.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?
I’ll break your arm.”

“No, I’m not crazy. You must be crazy. All of you. You get out of here. You hear me? You get out of here right now before you do something you regret. ”

Suddenly the door to The Way Home swung open and Cora looked at the clock. It was nine p.m., the time Warren dropped by every evening to check on her.

“Cora, why are the shades drawn?” Warren asked as he stepped inside.

“Warren,” Cora shouted.

“Let’s get out here,” one intruder shouted.

A mad dash toward Warren and the door ensued.

“Stop where you are,” Warren commanded, and reached for his gun, but before he could draw, the Gangster Disciples grabbed him.

“What the fuck we gon’ do now?” another one said. “If we leave him we’re going to jail.”

“Hold off, man,” the spokesman demanded as War
ren and two of the gang members struggled.

“Just go,” Cora pleaded. “Go! He won’t arrest you. Tell them, Warren. You’re not going to arrest them. You’re not going to do anything.”

“What were you doing in here?” Warren demanded as he tried to free himself. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shit,” one of the young men ex
ploded. “See, I wasn’t down for none of this. All this here... You know we were suppose to be just scaring her, but now what the fuck we gon’ do? Look at this shit.”

“I’ll show you what I’m going to do,” the most vio
lent gang member declared. He drew back then thrust forward. Warren cried out in pain.

“Fuck! Let’s get out of here,” the spokesman yelled as Warren slumped to the floor.

“Warren! ” Cora ran to him as the young men headed out the door. She fell to her knees. “Warren! Oh, my God! He stabbed you! Warren!”

Warren groaned and grabbed near his heart.

Cora ran to the telephone and dialed the operator. “Please call an ambulance. This is Cora Gray. My husband, Warren Gray, a policeman, has been stabbed. So please come to 1526 4^^ Street South. Please! Hurry!” “You say your husband has been stabbed?”

“Yes! He’s a policeman and he’s hurt bad. Pleas
e send an ambulance to 1526 4
th
Street South.”

The operator repeated the address. “I’ll send an am
bulance right away. ”