37
Glover
The wild ride I was on had come to an end. The game was over for me, no passing Go and no collecting $200. On the other hand, I didn’t go straight to jail either. Enough with the Monopoly metaphors; the choice was made. I was going to be Mrs. Lionel Dunning, and everything would work out.
I cried myself to sleep after leaving Max’s apartment, and woke up looking like shit on a very short stick. I showered, got myself right, and called my girls Saturday morning. I had an afternoon appointment scheduled at the bridal studio inside Barney’s New York on Wilshire, where last minute fittings were to take place. Mona and Charmaine needed to be fitted also, Mona being my matron of honor and Charmaine being my main bridesmaid. Lionel’s sister, Sarabeth, who was flying in from Europe, and his first cousin, Jazelle, were the other bridesmaids.
I surprised myself when I called Lionel, asking if he wanted to tag along; my way of telling him that my issues with Max were behind us. He was even more surprised by my request, but gladly agreed. I left the apartment, and along my route, stopped at the post office to put invitations in the mail before picking up Mona and Charmaine.
In Beverly Hills, we caught up with Lionel in front of the studio. He stood there, exuding his usual confidence, in one of his white linen shirts. It was as if we’d been reset to a more peaceful time, with a promise of better times ahead. I had gone through the motions before, but was determined to play a more active role from now on, affirming my decision as the right one.
The entire studio was ours during our appointment. Lionel’s mother scheduled it, as everything else, in preparation for the event. The pampering and stuff made me uneasy, but Charmaine and Mona had no such problems.
A thin, middle-aged man named Carro greeted us at the door. He wore all black, was feminine in his mannerisms, and wore his thick black hair in a short ponytail. Carro hemmed and hawed around me while his fellow handlers served complimentary champagne to Mona and Charmaine. Lionel watched the whole scene with amusement. As my gown was finalized, samples of material rested on a small mahogany end table next to Charmaine, who sat in a highback chair.
“G-love, you sure about the dress?” Charmaine asked, holding a sample in one hand and an empty champagne flute in the other. “What about Nicole Miller or Carolina Herrera?”
“Charmaine, shush,” I said as I gave her a disapproving glance. Their dresses were nice too, but I wasn’t going to say it aloud. Carro heard Charmaine’s remarks too. He stood motionless, with one eyebrow raised, before resuming his fussing over me. The last thing I needed was him getting ticked off and sticking me with a needle.
“I think Charmaine’s enjoying the freebies a little too much,” Mona said as she sauntered around the studio.
“Girl, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve only had two of these teeny little glasses, for your information. You need to loosen up yourself,” Charmaine said through squinty eyes. Then she stuck out her tongue at Ms. Mona.
Lionel tried not to snicker at the show. I suggested that the other handlers begin fitting Mona and Charmaine to keep them out of each other’s hair. Now it was time for Mona’s size four and Charmaine’s size fourteen frames to be wrapped, taped, and measured like fashion mummies. I could only imagine what the wedding would be like with these two in it.
As I excused myself to go to the restroom, I quietly asked Mona if I could borrow her cell phone. Lionel was holding mine. She pointed to her purse, which was resting near the walkway. I walked past it on the way to the rest room, casually lifting her phone out.
I had to call Max to make sure he was okay and to let him know that I was happy. Even though our “relationship” had ended, I still cared about his well-being. Even in the midst of all this, it was hard not to think of him during the quiet seconds between the noisy minutes.
I entered the restroom and took a seat just inside the door. I dialed, letting the phone ring several times. I hung up just as the answering machine clicked on. No need to let my thoughts wander and ramble on there. I could wind up saying something inappropriate and further mess up Max’s life—like how maybe I wished the final night I saw him had ended with us making love rather than arguing. He was too good a person for that.
I stayed in the restroom for a minute longer and splashed some water on my face. I’d begun to run on empty. My night before with Max and the lack of sleep was wearing me out. I needed some food for a quick burst of energy.
Upon my return, Carro had moved on to Mona and Charmaine. His fellow handlers scurried about as he barked out orders. While they watched Carro’s antics, I slipped Mona’s cell phone back into her purse and came over. I slowed by Mona.
“Had to call him, huh?” Mona cracked softly.
“Shhhhh,” I responded. “It’s all over. I was just checking on him. Real talk.”
Her face twisted at my choice of slang. In reality, it was Max’s. “If you say so,
Mrs. Dunning.
”
“
Oh
. Mrs. Dunning. I like that. You say it so elegantly, Mona.” I laughed.
“Would a diva do it any other way?” Mona replied, striking a pose with measuring tape dangling by her waist. A funny sight to behold, I think the free champagne had loosened her up too. Then we saw what the free bubbly could really do. Charmaine had begun singing to her handlers. Charmaine can’t sing.
“We need to get that girl some food. Her ass is tipsy and about to fall over.”
“And I ain’t helping her up,” I said.
38
Max
I didn’t miss the heat and humidity of Louisiana. While only springtime, it was almost ninety degrees. Felt like I was walking around under somebody’s armpit, but I was leaving for the cooler climate of Los Angeles tomorrow.
I spent the previous night just like old times, grubbing on okra and rice while catching up with my momma and visiting some of my people. I promised my momma that I would wash her car first thing after church. Since my car was thousands of miles away, Orelia allowed me to me roll in her Camry in exchange for cleaning it.
I had my momma’s ride covered in suds at the car wash on Highway 14 when an old blue Buick slowly crept by the stall I occupied. The car, with its twenty-four-inch rims, was older than me, but the little baby gangsters inside were younger. The passenger had a mouth full of golds, but I couldn’t tell if the driver shared his dental work. We exchanged nods before I resumed my scrubbing. No worries, no problems. I guess they were wondering who the “old guy” was.
Before returning to Los Angeles, I felt a deep-seated need to see my ex, Denessa. Maybe it was my momma’s mention that set me on this course, but I think this was bound to happen from the moment my flight was booked. Maybe dealing with her betrayal could help me better understand myself. Maybe it was just a need for serious and legit closure. Or maybe I just never forgot about her and wanted to let her know. I’d know which as soon as I laid eyes upon her.
From what my momma knew, Denessa still stayed in the apartments off Fifth Avenue. My understanding was that she was no longer with my boy who fathered her baby, so I wouldn’t be intruding on his turf by stopping by. Not that I was up for renewing old shit, but Denessa knew me in a way very few women did.
Maybe my time away had made me more critical, but her apartment complex seemed more run-down than I remembered. If I didn’t recall them looking this way, I did recall the wild times we’d shared here, especially during finals, when I’d cram in more ways than one.
I didn’t see Denessa’s car, but got out to knock anyway. It had been a few years since seeing her, and she could’ve switched cars. A piece of folded paper rested between the doorknob and frame, along with a few colored envelopes, holding cards, no doubt. In spite of this, I knocked, to no response. I gave a final courtesy knock and waited.
“You a relative?” came from the unit down the hall.
“No, just passing by while I was in town,” I answered, not feeling up for the questioning. I started to leave. Probably best she wasn’t home anyway.
“Max? That’s you?” the figure from down the hall asked, stepping out from the shadows of the doorway. A round, droopy-eyed brother covered in dirt and oil stepped into the light, jogging my memory.
“Monster?” I called out, recognizing my high school classmate from LaGrange. Monster, or Willie, his given name, was an all-star lineman who went to LSU on full scholarship. He was a sure shot at the NFL, until he blew out his knee leaping from a frat house window on a drunken dare. Now he was resigned to repairing cars at his cousin’s shop on Mill Street.
“What up, dawg. You still stay out here?”
“Nah, dawg. Moved to Cali.”
“Word? That’s tight. You musta heard about Denessa, huh?” he said, motioning to the door on which I’d just knocked.
“No. What’s up?” I asked, beginning to seriously consider the cards left in her door jamb.
“It was all over the news. Folks takin’ it hard, dawg. She gone, dawg. Her, her little girl, and this dude from Texas that was hittin’ that. They was movin’ to Houston with cuz and he fell asleep behind the wheel ’n shit,” he said, making an unnecessary sound effect. “Happened on I-10 just past Beaumont. Damn shame. Hey ... y’all two used to kick it, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, reeling from the revelation. I had to get out of there before I lost it. Shit like this really showed me not to sweat the small stuff.
I went back to my momma’s house and stayed there the rest of the day. Orelia was stunned when I told her about what happened to Denessa. She then called her town grapevine and confirmed it. She had seen something on the local news, but had missed the mention of Denessa’s name. As distraught as she was, she was more concerned about my mental well-being. I won’t lie; I was pretty beat up, but at least I was alive.
I gave my momma some money to put in on some flowers for Denessa’s family. She was going to pick them up tomorrow to deliver them personally. When I found out the wake for Denessa would be tomorrow afternoon, I rescheduled my flight to later in the evening so I could pay my respects.
Monday morning, I got up early and headed to Goosport, on the north side of town, for a quick haircut from my old barber. Mr. Thomas’ barbershop was off Opelousas Street, across from Immaculate Heart of Mary Church. When I arrived, he was outside doing some painting on the older building. He was happy to see me, but reminded me that he was closed on Mondays. My mind was so gone that it had slipped by me. After stowing his paint brushes, he opened to hook me up due to special circumstances.
While I got an edge and trim, I filled him in on how things were going with me in California.
“Don’t worry, boy. I’ma send up some prayers for you. You gonna get that job you seek. You just gotta believe,” he said as he edged me patiently with the straight razor. He followed it up with a smile and wink that seemed to indicate he was in on some higher-level stuff.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
“When are you going back?” he asked as he whipped the cover off me with his traditional snap. I was free to leave the chair and stepped down.
“Today. I have to go by a wake first.”
“Family?”
“No, but someone I was close to once. Denessa Pitre.”
“Yeah. I heard about that. A damn shame. Family lived off Shattuck Street. My condolences, son,” he said, giving me a hug. “Just remember to put God first and to run, not walk, to those that He puts in our lives, for He knows why things happen, even when we don’t understand.”
I thanked him for both the cut on his off-day and the words of wisdom, giving him an extra tip before leaving out the door and down the steps.
There was a noticeable somberness in the car as my momma drove me to the airport. She knew I was in a fragile state after seeing Denessa’s family and those closed caskets of her and the baby at Combre Funeral Home. I was selfish in my reasons for wanting to see Denessa, still clinging to resentments of the past. Obviously, she’d grown beyond crap such as me and my boy, and was moving to Houston to begin the next chapter of her life.
Then it was taken away in an instant.
Why?
I loosened my tie to help me breathe then turned the A/C vent on me as we drove up Common Street for the last flight of the night. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“I wish you could stay longer, baby.”
“There’s nothing here for me, Momma.” I regretted saying it like that, but she knew I wasn’t referring to her.
Her last words were spoken to herself as well as to me. “I thought the two of you would get back together one day.” She sighed.
I didn’t respond.
Upon my return to Los Angeles, I was filled with restless energy. Unable to get Denessa out of my head, as well as Glover, I was consumed with rage and regret, feeling like a powerless little speck in light of events both past and present. Anything to take my mind off the grim shit would do, I thought.
It was after midnight, and the TV watched me as I darted back and forth, cleaning or putting away my things. I didn’t have to be at Denny’s until Tuesday evening, so I would have time to crash—or time to replay things over again.
Denessa.
Glover.
Both meant something. Hell, more than anything else in my life, at separate times. Now both were gone.
I was too young for this.
But that’s just it. We have no control over when people come into or go out of our lives. We just have control over what we do while they’re here.
I turned off the TV and put on my old Carl Thomas CD instead.