A Day Late And A Dollar Short Part 39

"We do," Janelle says. "We do."

"Mind if I sit?" "No," I say, sliding over. "Dingus! Shanice!"

"Yes, Ma?"

"What are you two doing out there?"

"Nothing much. Looking at Granny's little garden. It's tight. She's got a bunch of stuff growing out here."

"Please stay out there until I say it's okay to come in, can you do that?"

"Yes, we can."

"Now," I say, turning to Miss Loretta, "what did you want to tell us?"

"Where's your brother and other sister?"

"He's been detained. We're hoping he'll be in Chicago for the service. And Charlotte lives there, so she's trying to make sure everything's organized."

"I see." Her white hair looks lavender. I just realized that. I never noticed much about her except that she was white and old. And for the first time, I realize that Miss Loretta is pretty. I'd bet she was a knockout when she was younger. It's written all over her face. I wonder if she has any other close friends. But she plays bridge, she should. I'm also wondering if Mama ever actually got the hang of it. She said Miss Loretta was trying to teach her.

"Do they need to be here?" Janelle asks.

"It's all right. You two can share this with them."

Janelle sits in one of Mama's gold chairs. What are we supposed to do with them? What about all of this stuff in here? What do you do with someone's personal belongings when they die? I don't want to think about it right now. "What exacdy is it we need to share, Miss Loretta?"

"Well," she says, clasping her hands together, "first of all, your mother and I talked about this quite some time ago."

"Talked about what?" Janelle asks.

"About what to do if she pa.s.sed away suddenly."

"What?" I say.

"She knew it might happen, with her asthma and all."

"Okay," Janelle says, paying extra-close attendon.

"Anyway, Paris, as the oldest, she wanted me to tell you a few things. First, she wants you to go through all of her old purses."

"Her old purses? For what?" I say. "Why?" "I'm not sure. She just asked me to tell you that." "That's kind of a strange request," Janelle says. "It sounds like she knew this was going to happen."

"Well, after the last attack, Vy told me that she didn't think she could go through it again. That she was tired of fighting, and if she ever had another one even close to one like that, she probably wouldn't be able to handle it." "Really? She told you that?" I ask. "Yes, she did." "When?" Janelle says.

"Right after you all left back in March." Now she's reaching into her purse, pulling out what looks like a bunch of white envelopes. I forgot about Mama's mail. What do we do about her mail? Do we just open it and read it? And what if it's personal? What if it's something we shouldn't know? I never thought about any of this stuff before.

When Miss Loretta presses the envelopes to her chest, something tells me they're not bills or anything close to it. "Your mother wrote each of you a letter," she says, trying not to cry, but neither she, nor I, nor Janelle can help it.

"Mama wrote us all letters?"

"Yes, she did. And they're right here."

"May I have mine?" Janelle says, holding out her hand.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not how Vy wants it done." "What does Mama want done?" I ask.

"She asked me to tell you that she doesn't want any of you to read them until the first Thanksgiving after she pa.s.ses, and only if all four of you can manage to spend it together. At that time, she wants each of you to read the letter out loud and in front of each other, but you can't read your own." "What?" Janelle says, obviously confused about this. "Paris, she wants you to read Charlotte's." "But why?"

"I'm not sure. And she wants Charlotte to read yours."

"So that means I have to read Lewis's and vice versa. But I wonder why?"

I sink back against the couch and drop my head. What could she say to us in a letter that she couldn't say or hasn't already said to us before? "Do you know when she wrote them, Miss Loretta?"

"No I don't. But I already gave your father his."

"She wrote one to him, too?" Janelle says.

"Yes, she did."

"Does he have to wait until Thanksgiving?"

"Yes. And Vy hoped he'd spend this one with you all."

"What if we snuck and read them?" Janelle asks.

"Are you f.u.c.king crazy?" I say. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Loretta. I mean, are you crazy? Is that how you think we should honor Mama's wishes, by disrespecting them?"

"I'm sorry. I just asked. November's a long way off."

"Who should keep the letters?" I ask.

"You, because, and I'm quoting her, 'as the oldest, you're going to have to be the mama now.' Vy also suggested-or, I should say, insisted-that you children make every effort to spend at least one holiday together each year, because she was really worried that you all are missing out on being a family."

"But we are a family. We just live in different cities," Janelle says.

"You know, Vy told me that when she was a youngster they had family reunions every year, and since most folks didn't move away from home like they do now, everybody usually came. She said her cousins were just like sisters and brothers. That's how close they were. But nowadays, she said, too many families are like strangers. And I agree. I have two sisters I haven't seen in going on eighteen years. Vy just doesn't want you all to wait until you're all old and your kids are grown before they get to know each other. Do it now, while they're young. And she wants you all to try to spend some time doing things together, too."

"But we try to, Miss Loretta, it's just so hard with everybody's schedules," I say.

"Try harder," she says. "Vy said kinfolk should know kinfolk. Friends come and go, but family is forever. She said you don't have to like your kinfolk, but accept them-faults and all-because they're your flesh and blood."

"That's true," I say.

"Your mother was smart and wise, you know. I wrote down so many things she said, because they were just so helpful to me."

"She's right," Janelle says. "Shanice doesn't know Tiffany or Monique at all, and they're about the same age. They should have something to talk about, but they don't."

"I know," I say, agreeing. I realize Dingus doesn't really know my brother's son-or his aunts and uncles, for that matter. I never actually thought about this except as a pa.s.sing thought. It's one of those things you hope to do one day, right up there with going to church every Sunday, reading the paper every day, or a book a week, or exercise, and thank-you notes.

"I'm not through," Miss Loretta says. "Paris, Vy wanted this first Thanksgiving to be at your house, since you like to cook, and that, every year thereafter, you children vote to see whose home you'll spend it at next."

"Well, we can just skip Lewis," Janelle says.

"Why?" Miss Loretta asks.

"It's a long story," I say. "A very long story."

"I'm not doing anything," she says.

"No, Miss Loretta. We don't want to bore you with it. But tell me something. Are you still going to go on the cruise?"

"Oh, no. I couldn't go now. There's no way I could step foot on that cruise s.h.i.+p without Vy."

"That's sweet," Janelle says.

"So does that mean you're coming to the funeral?"

"Absolutely. Vy begged me not to get sentimental. But I never listened to her when she tried to boss me around, I'm certainly not going to start now. If there's anything I can help you girls do, please yell right out that window."

"We will," I say, as we both give her a hug. "And thanks for being Mama's friend all these years."

Janelle is nodding when I blurt out: "Miss Loretta, did Mama ever learn to play bridge?"

"Goodness, no! Vy was terrible at it. Just terrible," she says, and is laughing as she walks out the front door.

Janelle and I are sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and sifting through Mama's "junk drawer," which is full of every possible receipt for every possible thing she has ever bought. But when I come across a layaway slip for none other than Thomasville furniture, I pull this out from the stack. "Janelle! Look at this! Mama has a five-thousand-dollar dining-room set in layaway!"

"You have got to be kidding!" She takes the slip from my hand, and just as she does, the phone rings.

It's a collect call. And I know whom from. "Yes, I will," I say. "Hi, Lewis."

"Hi, Paris. How's everybody doing?"

"We're hanging in here, I guess. Can you come?"

"Yeah, they're letting me out, but my lawyer's gotta escort me. It's for security reasons. But at least I get to be there with y'all. That's how I see it, anyway."

"He can come," I whisper to Janelle.

"Good! We need you here, Lewis!" she yells.

"All right, then. I'ma hang up. That's all I wanted to tell you."

"You have to hang up so soon?"

"Yeah. We just came from court. But don't worry. I'll be there."

"We love you, Lewis."

"Yeah, me, too," he says. He's spent, too. All of us have been running on fumes these past few days. But now I need to perk back up. I get two pills out of my purse and down them with my coffee.

"What's that you're taking?" Janelle asks.

"Just something for tension headaches."

"Let me have one," she says.

"I can't. They're prescription."

"So? If they work for you they should work for me."

"Okay. But only take one, because they're strong." "Then why are you taking two?"

"Because I need two. Now shut up," I say, and dial the store number. "Yes, h.e.l.lo, my name is Paris Price and I'm calling on behalf of Viola Price, she's my mother, and I understand she has a dining-room set on layaway."

"Yes, I waited on Viola. She practically lived in our store. She's such a character! We just adore her. Is someone coming to pick her set up, or is she ready to arrange for delivery?"

"I wish I could say yes to one of those, but my mother just pa.s.sed away, and my sister and I are going through her things and we found the receipt, and we're not sure what to do about it."

"Oh my. I'm terribly sorry to hear this. The other salespeople are going to be just crushed when I tell them. She even brought us some sweet-potato pie once because we'd never tasted it. What happened?" "She had an asthma attack."

"I'm so sorry. Please let us know where her service is being held so we can send flowers-or if she had a favorite charity, or if there's anything else your family needs, do let us know. She was our friend." "Thank you."

"And as far as the furniture is concerned, whatever you want us to do, we'll do. We can refund the money. It wouldn't be a problem." "I hadn't thought that far ahead yet."

"Well, I'm Nolene. I can get a refund check out to you in three or four days if you like."

"That would be fine. And thank you. Thank you very much." I hang up the phone and look at Janelle. "They're giving Mama her money back."

"But Mama's not here, Paris, and it was your money." "Whatever. We can use it to help pay for her . . ." and the phone rings again.

"I'll get it," Janelle says. "h.e.l.lo. Oh, hi, Charlotte. Yeah. Paris and I are here. Yes, Lewis will be there. Yes. Everything's going fine. What about there? Well, we just looked in Mama's junk drawer and found out she had a cherrywood dining-room set on layaway at Thomasville and had put two thousand dollars on it and owes a little more than three. . . . What? They're refunding the money. What? Wait. Hold on a minute." Janelle covers the mouthpiece with her hand. "Charlotte says she wants the dining-room set."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"She can't have it."

"Paris said you can't have it. Hold on a minute." She covers the phone again. "She wants to talk to you."

I take the phone. "Charlotte, what would make you think you should get this dining-room set?"