Naughty Or Nice Part 15

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Olivia, guess what?" I snap back at her. "Antonio called me. Happy? Geesh."

We stand in front of the headstone, wiping our eyes, presents and flowers in our hands.

BERNARD LEE McBROOM BETTY JEAN McBROOM Frankie whispers, "Livvy, you been getting your b.r.e.a.s.t.s checked?"

"I go back in January. Tommie?"

"I'm self-checking all the time. Frankie?"

"I have an appointment."

I put the green blanket down. We always come comfortable, most of the time in jeans and sweats and sweaters and jackets, sometimes gloves. A couple of times we came and stood underneath an umbrella while heaven cried soft tears. This year heaven smiles. The clouds are gray. A marine layer covers us. But we live in nothing but suns.h.i.+ne.

I ask, "Okay, who's going first this year?"

Frankie's gift for Momma is a bottle of Red, the perfume she used to wear all the time. Frankie used to steal Momma's perfume when she was in high school, and they fought over it all the time. Frankie bought Daddy another silk tie and a bottle of Riesling.

As a symbol of grat.i.tude for bringing her into the world and keeping all of us out of harm's way, Livvy bought those love-birds a basket of their favorite fruits.

My present is a beautiful Unity cup and candles, giving them the spirit of Kwanzaa. I have so much love for Daddy and the only mother I ever remembered.

I blow my nose. "Bet they're in heaven looking down on us right now."

Frankie shakes her head. "n.o.body's in heaven until Judgment Day."

"You're wrong, Frankie."

She tisks. "I am not wrong, Tommie."

"Then why does the preacher say people are gone to heaven to meet G.o.d and Jesus?"

"Don't make me slap you with a Bible."

"Heathen. You do and I'll throw holy water on you and watch you burn."

Livvy snaps, "Can we, for once, not argue or have that conversation?"

I look around; see other families at several gravesites, honoring their loved ones. Sort of feel an emptiness for the resting souls no one comes to visit anymore. The people who have ceased to exist in the minds and hearts of others. Then I notice a few more tombstones around ours, the final dates on those markers anywhere between last Christmas and only a few days ago.

Livvy ma.s.sages her hand. She has three broken nails. And she's wearing a scarf around her neck, hiding her scars. We know all of her injuries have something to do with her indiscretion. We don't question her. She'll tell us when she's ready.

We sit down awhile and talk to our people, make it similar to the Day of the Dead celebration in Latin America. Our party isn't out of place, because all around us are people having conversations with their loved ones, some alone and talking out loud, some in groups, some a capella and standing in silence, but the expressions on their silent faces let me know that they're transmitting and receiving memories and affections. We live in a city where patriotism lasts about as long as the X cap and baggy M.C. Hammer pants, but love is eternal.

Frankie pulls her Polaroid camera out of her bag and gives it to me because my arms are the longest. We huddle up close to each other, cheek to cheek, all smiles, and I take our photo.

"My eyes were closed, Tommie."

"Then open them, Livvy."

We take a few more pictures, wait for them to develop.

Nothing is promised.

Livvy asks, "Tommie, Frankie . . . What did Momma mean when she said that marriage was about the end?"

"She meant eternity." I said that, my voice so tender. To me it's so simple to understand, so straightforward. "Marriage should be about who you're gonna spend eternity with. It's about who will be by your side until Judgment Day. I guess, if you look at these people out here buried alone and . . . dunno . . . it's kinda sad to not have anybody to be buried next to. I think it's because . . . a man buried next to his wife, or a tombstone with a woman waiting for her husband to finish his journey so he can come and be by her side, or vice versa . . . that makes me . . . I dunno . . . when I see that I guess that makes me smile or something."

I show them the Polaroid. It's perfect. We all sign our names on the back of that indelible image of this moment. Then, like we do every year, we leave the picture and presents with our parents, their gifts resting in the middle of their headstone.

Frankie rolls up our blanket. By then, Livvy is standing in front of the headstone, her expression telling us that so many thoughts and decisions are going on in her mind.

I stand next to Livvy, put my arm around her. She sniffles. "Daddy was nineteen years older than Momma."

"Yep. Seems like we were all together yesterday."

She nods, whispers. "It's about who you wanted to be with at the end, when it's all said and done, all about who you want to be buried next to."

We stand there for a moment.

Frankie blows her nose again. "Okay, who is leading the prayer?"

I tell her, "Anybody but you."

I give the prayer this time, keep it short and sweet.

Like children who believed in Santa, we believe that when we leave, Momma and Daddy will sneak out and get their seasonal blessings, the same way we imagine they did on their birthdays, open them, stand side by side, hand in hand, and blow us kisses of protection. They will be loving each other until Judgment Day. Looking out for us until the end.

Livvy's tears came on strong. "I love both of you. Love both of you so much."

We become her bookends. I tell Livvy and Frankie the same thing, that I love them unconditionally and eternally. Frankie hugs us tight and gives us the same love.

Livvy.

We had left our parents' resting place and were driving down Manchester, radio on KJLH. They played Christmas songs from midnight to midnight today. By noon we'd be ready to scream. But for now, we sang along with the Temptations. The song ended and five or six announcements for New Year's Eve parties came on back-to-back. This year was ending. My thoughts and emotions wafted in so many directions, asking me who I wanted to be at the end of this holiday season. If not this year, then by this time next year. No matter what I asked myself about my future, it always came back to the same answer.

I rubbed my hands on my jeans, stared at my broken nails, the pink elephant that my sisters hadn't mentioned. I said, "I'm going to work things out with Tony."

They looked at me. To them, my announcement had come out of nowhere, in the middle of them jamming with Donnie Hathaway, with no segue, other than a conclusion to the thoughts that were spinning inside my head.

We said a few things, nothing new, went back and forth on that issue.

Tommie asked, "What about the kid?"

My sigh was heavy; my tongue made of lead. "Her name is Miesha."

Frankie stared at me, testing my reaction, gauging my emotional level.

I told them that the kid's mom had sent pictures to our home, that I had kept one.

Tommie asked, "Where is it?"

"In my purse."

Frankie snapped her fingers in a give-it-to-me motion, and I went through my handbag, took the picture out of my wallet, gazed at that child's image, then pa.s.sed it on. Frankie stared at my humiliation with her mouth wide open, shook her head, then pa.s.sed it to Tommie.

Tommie had the same flabbergasted reaction. She held my reality, the picture that represented my dishonor and Tony's indiscretion, the catalyst to our coming apart. That made everything concrete for them, the same thing it did for me the moment I first saw that image.

Tommie's voice softened with concern. "Can you handle that?"

I imitated Momma, "f.u.c.k 'im or leave 'im. Don't matter. Same problems you got with this one you gonna have with the next one. Only thing is since this one in the doghouse, you got the upper hand. He know he done done wrong so he ain't gonna ride down that street no more."

Frankie made an oh-please sound. "It'll be an eighteen-year situation."

"At least that long. Longer if she goes to college."

Frankie tisked. "That's a h.e.l.lified commitment."

My lips went up into a slow and steady smile, like suns.h.i.+ne moving clouds away. "Tommie, your daddy took care of two girls that wasn't his, loved them like they were his own."

Tommie wiped her eyes. "Your momma took care of a nappy-headed little girl like she was her own daughter."

We pa.s.sed the picture back and forth again.

I cleared my throat, swallowed, then struggled with it, but accepted my own reality. "It'll be rough . . . maybe . . . for a while . . . maybe it'll always be rough . . . but I don't want to be buried by myself, you know. I want to see if I can be with him until the end. Until it's all said and done."

Frankie nodded. "What about the guy you're seeing?"

I didn't answer.

Everything was starting to feel wonderful when we got back to Tommie's place. Sun was breaking through the clouds. Marine layer was burning off. No rain in the forecast, so it was going to be a wonderful day. Out in Palos Verdes and Beverly Hills people were probably doing laps in their heated pools. Joggers were out and about, burning up calories before they threw down at the dinner table. And barbecue. As we pulled up South Fairfax, I smelled some of the best Q I'd ever smelled. The aroma was so good I could inhale and gain ten pounds. Next door Womack had fired up the grill and was making the neighborhood smell like it was the Fourth of July. His boys were out shooting basketball. Rosa Lee yelled out the back door for her boys to stop playing in their new Christmas clothes. Such a loud and happy family.

We went inside Tommie's, sat in the living room, and swapped presents like we did when we were little girls. Jewelry and sweatsuits and candles and baskets filled with Dermalogica products.

I screamed. "Okay, which one of you sacrilegious b.i.t.c.hes gave me this vibrator?"

Frankie laughed so hard she almost wet her pants.

I snapped. "I'm not putting nothing pink in me."

"You know you want to let Willie Wonka into that chocolate factory."

"It's big. And it feels so real." Tommie shrieked. "Oh, my G.o.d. It plays a Christmas song. That's so cute."

I took it away from her, then bopped her upside the head with that carnal toy.

Blue came over an hour after we finished our gift exchange. He had on faded jeans, black sandals, and a gray baseball Jersey, JETER on the back. His daughter was with him, dressed in sweats and Little Mermaid tennis shoes, her hair in braids. They exchanged presents with Tommie, then Tommie made us all breakfast. This year was her year to make breakfast.

Blue's little girl gravitated toward me. "What's your name?"

"Livvy. I'm Tommie's big sister."

"No you're not. Tommie is bigger than you."

"Good point."

"My name is Monica. Want to hear the poem I wrote for my daddy?"

We sat in Tommie's living room, not too far from the table set up with a Kinara, a Unity cup, and colorful corn. Monica performed her spoken word for me. I applauded and laughed.

She changed my disposition, made me happier than I had been in days. I told her, "You are so smart."

"I'm smart because I go to Escuela."

I told her, "Escuela is Spanish and it means 'school.' "

"So I go to a school named school."

"You sure do."

She said, "Tomorrow is Kwanzaa. And I can tell you allllll about Kwanzaa. And the parts I don't know, my daddy can tell you allllll the rest. And we're going to have a Kwanzaa party and we have red, black, and green candles, and a Kinara, and I get lots of presents from Santa Claus, but I get more presents from my daddy on the very last day of Kwanzaa and-"

Her conversation was never-ending.

While I sat on the floor with her and talked and played with her new brown-skinned Barbie dolls, pretended Barbie was a doctor and the doll I had was the patient, that sensation came back. The one that warmed my stomach and heart.

I wanted to have a baby.

Wanted a little girl just like her.

I smiled at Tommie and Blue. Pam Grier and Billy Dee. Then Tommie came in and had fun with Monica. I sat in the beanbag and watched her, so comfortable in her role. Not quite the step-mother role, but a role she loved. Blue sat down on the floor and they all played hospital together. Then they started putting together a puzzle. Played and laughed with a pure, unbridled, unrestrained laughter that could only be produced by happiness.

New hairstyle. Glowing. Tommie was blooming again, coming back to life. The mark on her face didn't seem as large. I touched my neck. There wasn't any pain, but my own marks were there. We all had marks that reminded us about things we wanted to forget.

Tommie had surpa.s.sed both Frankie and me in so many ways. My smile showed my love for her and hid my envy all at once. The way Frankie had her arms folded and was chewing her lip, her envy was on the rise as well.

I still wished Tony had fathered that child before we met. That could be us.

I was in the kitchen with Frankie, talking about nothing when Blue came in.

He said, "I'm glad I have a moment to see both of you at the same time."