A Day Late And A Dollar Short Part 31

"That's good. And keep your foot propped up as high as you can, to keep that blood circulating."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Dr. Lerner, and I'll call you as soon as I get back."

"Have a good trip," he says.

As soon as I hang up I feel both relief and shame. Why am I doing this? Lying to my nice doctor to get some pills I don't need? I mean, how long have I been doing this? Think about it, Paris. It's not until now that I realize I've long since driven over the bridge and am actually approaching my exit. As I start to change lanes, someone is honking at me, and when I turn to look, it's some guy in a truck holding up a giant rubber hand that's giving me the finger. I guess I must've cut him off, but I just give him the finger right back. When I get off the freeway, I pull the car over and stop and drop my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.

But I can't think. Of anything. And almost as if by rote, I reach inside my purse and dump out my last two pills and open my water bottle and swallow them. I drop my head against the cushion, but this time it seems as if knowing I've paved a way for my immediate comfort, I can perhaps begin to think about when my so-called long-term discomfort first started.

Last year. Right after I had my b.r.e.a.s.t.s lifted and they prescribed Vicodin and I realized that I liked the way it made me feel. That I could think about one thing at a time when I took one. Even then I wasn't in that much pain, nothing a couple of Advil couldn't have remedied, but I remember getting the refill when I didn't need it, and later calling that doctor back and asking for yet another one, and he gave it to me. I did that four times in four weeks. It was right after that, that I had the first of a series of gum surgeries and once again I felt lucky when I was prescribed the same medication.

Back then, I took one every four hours, just like I was supposed to, but now I do believe that I'm up to six and sometimes eight of these things a day. How and when did this happen? I'm n.o.body's drug addict, am I? Is this what they mean by getting dependent? No way. No f.u.c.king way. I just won't take any more. Period. I can get through a day without a pill. It's not like they cure anything. They haven't fixed anything. Haven't changed anything. Problem solved. I'll just stop taking them and grow up and face the f.u.c.king music. I mean, what am I complaining about anyway? I live a good life. I've got lots of money. A nice big home. A good kid. I'm alive. And I'm no drug addict. No f.u.c.king way.

However, I am truly shocked, ashamed, and embarra.s.sed when I realize that I'm weaker than I thought, because, after the housekeeper gives me a tour, and upon reaching the master bedroom, when the doorbell rings and Sophia excuses herself to go downstairs to answer it, I find myself rushing into the master bathroom and opening one of two medicine cabinets that look like shelves in a pharmacy, and I pa.s.s right over the Percodan, the Per- cocet, the Darvocet, as well as the antibiotics, Prozac, and Xanax, until I spot two giant bottles of Vicodin. I quickly open one and dump a pile into my palm and then drop them into my jacket pocket. I do the same thing with the other botde and then close the medicine cabinet and walk out into the hallway. When Sophia comes back and asks if there's anything I need, all I can think to say is that a gla.s.s of water would be nice.

Chapter 24.

Sinners Me and Brenda went to church two weeks ago and she got saved. I was scared to death when she jumped up and threw both her arms over her head and balled up her fists and started boxing the air, and then she musta been doing that call-and-response business, 'cause she yelled back to the choir, "Yes, He is worthy!" I guess that song is what did it, 'cause, right before that, Reverend Xavier Jones had preached a hefty sermon about redemption and how good G.o.d is for forgiving us for our sins, and sweat was dropping down Brenda s temples and tears was rolling from her eyes, but she didn't move that much. The reverend broke it down so good that Brenda, and it seem like everybody else in there, started whooping and hollering, fanning fans, and moaning "Amen"s and "Hallelujah"s and "Thank you, Jesus"s, "He who died for our sins," and what have you. Everybody probably except me. It take a lot to get me excited. I was moved, just not to the point of yelling, speaking in tongues, or jumping up and down. And before the reverend could finish calling folks up to join his congregation, when the choir started humming and singing in the background, Brenda was already up there, dropping to her knees. I could hear her crying and she was shaking her head back and forth so fast one a her hoop earrings flew off but she didn't even notice. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she was saying. I wanted to tell her she ain't got nothing to be sorry about, but I couldn't go up there, 'cause I wasn't feeling the Holy Spirit on this particular Sunday the way Brenda was, and if I was to go up there with her, I'da been faking it. And that ain't a good thing to do in the House of the Lord. Some older woman wearing all pink wrapped her arm around Brenda and rocked her till she calmed down. Good thing the kids was in the next building in Litde People's Church, 'cause they wouldn'ta been able to handle watching thei r m ama in such a state. It was hard for me, too. But when Brenda came back to her seat, she looked different. Like she just took a shower or something. All I know is when she took my hand and squeezed it, I felt closer to her at that one moment than I ever remember feeling with Viola.

Afterwards, when we in the car, I come right on out and ask her: "You all right, Brenda?"

"I'm fine. Never felt better."

"Well, what just happened in there?"

"I ain't sure, Cecil. But all I know is I felt the power of G.o.d move in me. I been feeling bad for not being a good mother, for dranking like a fish all these years, and here I am pregnant again and all I been doing is cutting back some, and it's shameful. I know I can do better than what I been doing for myself and my kids. I ain't dumb. We shouldn't be living in no projects, 'cause I got good sense."

"I know that, Brenda. It's one of the thangs that attracted me to you. Did G.o.d tell you anythang in particular? Like what to do next, anythang of that nature?"

"No. I just feel cleansed. And I ain't finished. I need to purge myself. I need to look into the light instead of the darkness. That's what I been doing all these years, living in darkness."

"Who told you that?"

"n.o.body. I grew up in the church. I left when I started doing a whole bunch a unnecessary things to myself. But Cecil," she say, looking over at me like she pleading, "I feel like G.o.d done gave me another chance to make my life right with you. You a blessing. I know you older and all, but it don't matter to me. I wanna spend the best years of my life, and the best years of the ones you got left, with you."

"You can put money on that."

"Will you join with me?"

"You mean church? If I have to, I will, but I don't like going to church every Sunday, Brenda."

"I didn't ask you to go every Sunday, now, did I?"

"No you didn't. But, Brenda, please don't turn into one of them Holy Rollers and try to save me and everybody else just 'cause you been saved. Please promise me you won't do that?" Rollers and try to save me and everybody else just 'cause you been saved. Please promise me you won't do that?"

"I promise, Cecil. I just feel like it's time to clean up my life. I think that's why I came to church today. Something led me here."

"I'm happy for you, Brenda. I'm just glad you can't sang."

"Why is that?"

" 'Cause I ain't gotta worry about you joining the choir."

"Is that right?" she say, and then she just let out a hoot and hit me with her purse and started singing "Amazing Grace" real loud, like them people who get pulled off the stage with the rod on Amateur Night at the Apollo.

We done seen two miracles around this house: Brenda ain't had a drop to drank since she found G.o.d, and I done lost eight pounds since I started walking evenings a little over a month and a half ago. I sure like her sober, and she say she certainly like what's left of me.

Right now, we sitting out here at Lorenzie Park watching the kids feed the ducks. She mad with me. Ain't said a word in the last ten minutes. She just put Sunshine on her left hip and started throwing breadcrumbs out in the water, too. Miss Q keep trying to count the ducks, but they keep flying away, and she get mad 'cause she have to start all over. For five, she don't count too fast, but I been trying to help her, using toothpicks. I bought my fishing pole out here just so Hakeem could hold it in his hand to see what fishing feel like, but he keep wanting to run in the water to catch hisself a duck. I wanted to take 'em to McDonald's and then over there to the Sammy Davis Theatre to see a litde kids' movie, but I don't know now. Depends on what Brenda feel like doing.

She getting big. Her stomach is starting to poke out. I thank it's cute. Been a long time since I been around a woman with a baby inside her. I been thanking about what Howie asked me, and I come to the conclusion that I don't care if this baby is mine or not. I'ma pretend like it is, and that's what's gon' make it mine. I been wanting to ask Brenda off and on ever since Howie brought it up, but I just can't brang myself to do it.

I love her. And these kids is growing on me. I'm even learning how to braid hair. Brenda showed me, 'cause Sunshine's hair sticks out all over the place and she look too wild to be such a little-bitty thang. I musta bought at least twenty books for these kids. They was so excited, it was like they ain't never had they own books before. I told Brenda that reading is important. Especially for black kids. I would write and talk a whole lot better if I'da learned how to appreciate reading when I was younger. I been reading to 'em before they go to bed, at least on my nights off, and Brenda started doing it when I ain't there. She say she love that Goodnight Moon more than the baby, and If The People Could Fly makes her happy. She said she never knew reading could be so much fun. That words could make you feel so good. This is one more reason why I like Brenda: she say what's on her mind. Uh-oh, here she come now. Sunshine done fell asleep on her shoulder.

"Can you take her for me, please, Cecil?"

"Sure can."

And then she stands there with her hands on her hips. "You want me to make you some gumbo tonight?"

Hot d.a.m.n. Don't she know how to get what she want from a man. "Yeah, if it ain't too much trouble."

"You know how much trouble it is, but if I didn't wanna do it, I wouldn'ta mentioned it, now, would I?"

"Thank you, Brenda."

"You're welcome. You ready to go home?"

"I wanted to take the kids to McDonald's and a movie."

"I'm tired, Cecil. Let's go to the drive-up window so we can go on home. They can watch a video, they don't care."

"Okay, then."

"So-you thinking about what I asked you?"

"Yeah, I'm thanking about it."

"And what you thinking?"

"I'm thanking that maybe you right. That we living in sin in front of these kids and we need to do it the right way."

"So when you gon' go down there and file?"

"Monday morning." "You sure you wanna do this, Cecil?"

"I can't go back to Viola, Brenda. Not now."

"Why not now?"

"With the baby coming and everything."

"What if I told you I ain't sure if this baby is yours, Cecil?"

"You got reason to doubt?"

"Maybe. But maybe not. I don't know. I'm trying to be honest about it."

"I don't truthfully care one way or another, Brenda. I like being around you and these kids."

"And I love being with you, Cecil. I love how you treat my kids. I love how you treat me. That's why I'ma make you some gumbo tonight, but you gotta go to the store to get the stuff."

"I don't mind."

"When you think we gon' be able to move?"

"Soon. Viola's moving out the house next week. I went down there to talk to them IRS folks, and turns out I can put the house up for sale and pay what I owe from the proceeds. I should. Have enough change left over for us to find a decent place."

"What's wrong with that house?"

"We can't live there."

"Why not?"

"I can't bring you into that house, Brenda; now, thank about that."

"I wouldn't care. It ain't like we'd be sleeping in the same bed."

"No. And that's all I gotta say about the matter."

"Okay. But when we gon' start looking?"

"When we get a offer on the house."

"We?"

"Well, that would be me and Viola. Whatever I get, I gotta split it with her."

"Hakeem! Miss Q! Come on! Let's go. We going to McDonald's!"

And here they come.

I can tell she mad again, but it's too bad. Wait till she hear this: "Speaking of Viola, I gotta stop by there to get my stuff out the carport."

"Today?"

"It won't take but ten or fifteen minutes at the most."

"You sure you know what you doing, Cecil? I mean, I ain't one to pressure n.o.body. I done took care of my kids by myself all this time, I don't want you to feel obligated to me."

"Brenda, stop."

"You right, Cecil. I'm sorry. Glory be to Jesus. I know I'm blessed, and here 1 go being ungrateful. I ain't got no hard feelings toward Viola. None. She been your wife longer than I been born, so I understand you kinda tied to her. Just don't change your mind about us, Cecil. Please."

We almost at my car in the parking lot. "I was thanking that if and when the house sell, I might should trade this old thang in and get us a van. Something the kids can be comfortable in. What you thank about that, Brenda?"

"I like it. I like that idea a lot."

After we put the kids in they car seats, I bend over and give her a kiss on her lips. Brenda is a good kisser. A very good kisser. She just don't know how blessed I feel, and I ain't even close to being saved.

Is that fella back again? This is getting a little ridiculous. I mean he spending a awful lotta time over here with a woman who ain't even divorced yet. He don't feel no kinda shame, do he? I should ask him. But naw. I can't talk about sinning. What I thank I been doing for the past five months? I still wonder what him and Viola been doing in there. I had a hard enough time trying to get her in the same bed with me, let alone getting her to do anythang else. I wanna see this fella. See what he sporting that I ain't got.

When I get up to the front door, before I get a chance to even knock, Viola opens it, and I have to rub my eyes, 'cause I know I'm seeing thangs. This look like the woman I was married to ten or fifteen years ago. This can't be the fifty-five-year-old Viola. Not looking like this.

"You can't speak?" Now I know it's the Viola I left five months ago, but she still look good enough to kiss right now. If only she could change the tone of her voice so she don't sound so evil.

"How you doing, Vy? You sho' looking good, girl. Don't tell me you done went and had some of that plastic surgery?"

"h.e.l.l no, I ain't had 110 d.a.m.n plastic surgery. What about you, Cecil? You looking like you done had some liposuction. Where's your stomach?"

I look down. Some of it is gone. I suck it in a little more and stand up extra tall. "I been exercising."

"What took you so long to start?" "Look, Viola. You got company?" "No I don't."

"Well, last time I was here you said that car belonged to a male friend. Did he give it to you?"

She break out into a big smile, and hot d.a.m.n if her teeth ain't pretty and white. What she been doing over here? "Viola?" "What?"

"What happened to your other teeth?"

"Paris got me some new ones."

"Them don't even look like dentures."

"That's 'cause they ain't cheap like the other ones was."

"You look like you done lost quite a bit a weight, too."

"I have. And still losing. I got ten or fifteen more to go."

"Me, too," I say. "Is your friend in there?"