Imani All Mine Page 9

  About all I can see clear up front is the heads of the choir. Rocking back and forth. The floor shaking under my feet. It’s moving with a beat and I can hear that music of the organ getting louder and louder. It’s all up next to my heart. Pushing past it. Into my arms. Running down my legs. It’s scaring me, how it can do that. Leaving me even hotter inside so that I’m steady fanning. Trying to cool down. Trying to find some more air.

  Some woman up front. Some voice starts hollering about Jesus. Over and over. Saying, Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. And the choir start singing his name over and over. Jes-us. Jezzz. Jes-us. Jezzz. While the preacher ask, Don’t you want to come to Jesus this morning? Don’t you want to give your life to him? He gave his life for you.

  I see the preacher face then real clear in the light. Glowing. While that woman steady screaming. He say, Come on up here. It’s only a short walk. Step out on faith this morning. Come on out across the water.

  I’m looking to see who’s going to go up there to the preacher when I see my baby crawling up the aisle! Imani headed up front. Like he was talking to her. Calling to her. I take off and grab her up in my arms before she get all the way there. Imani don’t like it. She start kicking to get down when I think she seen what I seen and stopped. That woman hollering up front is Miss Lovey.

  She right off to the side of the preacher, standing up with her body jerking like there’s something in it. Something trying to get out. The woman dressed like a nurse is there with her, and another two women dressed the same way. Fanning her. Miss Lovey say, Thank you, Jesus. Oh, thank you, Jesus. Oh, thank you, Lord. With her hands throwed up in the air. With her face of tears turned up to the ceiling.

  The preacher humming and fanning at hisself with that handkerchief real hard. So hard it come from out his hand. Now I know I ain’t crazy. I guess it’s the light or something. But for a second it look like a bird up in the air. Some white bird that had come right through the ceiling. Down from the trees. Out from the wilderness and floated down to the floor.

  The preacher say, Won’t you come this morning?

  Looking right straight at me. I can feel his eyes on me, and my feet stand still while the music roll hard up against me. Holding me up. Holding me there. Touching me like I want to be touched. In a place I need to be touched. Like when I used to be kissing on Peanut. That music in my heart. In my arms. That music in my legs making me think it is all right to take a step. Even if I don’t believe what it’s saying. I don’t think it’s lying to me. Like some boy lying to me. Like him lying to me that night. Out in the trees. Out in that wilderness. Like Peanut lying to me about liking me thick. Like Miss Odetta lying to me about the preacher. Like Mama lying to me about God. I think that music have truth in it, and I ain’t hot no more. I don’t have the fan with me. But I feel a cool starting inside of me. Pouring down on me like water. Coming down on me. I stand there looking at that preacher and he say right to me, Jes-sus. Jezzz. Jesus is in the wilderness. He’s in the forest. He’s in the trees.

  I want to step to him. To follow his voice. Miss Lovey already there by the preacher in the light, and it seem like it might be safe to go out farther. To take a giant step like when I was little and playing Mother May I at recess. Mother may I take a giant step? Mother may I take a scissor leap? Some baby steps? Mother may I come to you? But I know Mama ain’t going to like that. She ain’t going to want to hear nothing about God and Jesus and the wilderness and how I feel just now. I’m thinking I could walk on water. That music could carry me right on up to the preacher. Where I could fall and he would pick me up. But I know if I go up there to him, I won’t be able to lie with my face right when I get home. So instead of going forward, I back right up the aisle. A baby step. A baby step. A baby step back to my seat. Back into the dark where the moonlight is hanging over me and I see in it what looked like a man.

  All during the christening I was cool and shivering like I had just stepped out the tub from a bath. The choir was quiet and the music was quiet and the voices was quiet. They had all slipped into the dark, and the only voice there was the preacher’s blessing Asia and Aisha. The twins was all dressed in long white dresses and they was laid back sleep. Missing everything. Eboni was holding one and Miss Lovey the other one. They daddy was supposed to be there. But he ain’t even get out of jail. Eboni say he got in a fight or something stupid like that. I couldn’t tell which baby was which. But the preacher knew, because he went to each one with something look like a silver pie plate. He dipped water from it and sprinkled water over they heads. Saying, I bless you Asia Joelle Carter and Aisha Noelle Carter, in the name of the Father and the Son and Holy Ghost. Them babies ain’t even wake up. If that had been Imani, ain’t no way she would have slept through nobody pouring water on her head. My baby would’ve been all awake and paying attention. Seem like that blessing was wasted on them.

  I ain’t even say that to Eboni, though, when it was over. I told her everything was real nice. Which it was. Her babies got to be blessed like that and have God looking out over them special. The Holy Ghost and Jesus too! And I was thinking, Who my baby got? Just me? I made it up in my mind right then that I was going to bless her. Because a baby need a blessing. There ain’t nothing in them books Mrs. Poole be making us read about a blessing. It ain’t nothing Mama never talked to me about. But I left the New Light of the Covenant Church knowing I was going to bless Imani, because when I took her out that door, we was heading out into the wilderness.

  Mama was sitting right on the couch when I got home. Miss Odetta, too. Drinking and smoking and her feet up making work for me before I even walked in the door. Ain’t neither one of them open they mouths about the church. But the question was all on they face. Making they mouths curl up on the ends with smiles because they knew they was right. Imani was sleep by then. All wore out with the cold and wind.

  I sat right down next to Mama and I say, just as big and bold as day, That church wasn’t about nothing. I say it with a flat face. My baby’s eyes popped right open and she stared right straight at me like she know I was lying. Miss Odetta actually sat up straight like her back wasn’t broke.

  Mama say, I could have told you that. Money. That’s all church is about.

  Miss Odetta ask, How the preacher look? Bad? Imani was still looking at me like she was understanding, so I shook my head and say I had to go put Imani down so she could get a good nap in. I was thinking of blessing her then. But I wanted to wait until we was all alone, like we was tonight.

  After I blessed her, Imani got the shivers before I could get her out the tub. I ain’t even let the water out. I just got her out and dried her real good and dressed her before I even dried and dressed myself. Then I put her down in her crib with a bottle and went to let the water out the tub. Before the last of it went down the drain, I was thinking that I didn’t know if the blessing took. I hoped it did. That she got more than me. And then I took a few drops of water up in my hands and blessed myself.

  SIX

  L.O.V.E.

  A LITTLE AFTER I went back to school from my Christmas break, Mama opened up her closet and pulled out a big old skeleton. Me and her and Imani was just sitting in the living room on a regular kind of Sunday. I was combing Imani head, while Mama was watching some old movie on TV. Then there was a knock at the door and Mama go to answer.

  I thought it must be Miss Odetta coming over to make some work for me. But it wasn’t even her. It was them bones still all up inside a white man. Mama pulled him into our living room and kissed him dead in the mouth on the rug I’d just vacuumed the day before. He the boyfriend she been keeping secret. She say his name Mitch.

  It was like some bird flew inside me. Plucked out every word and flew off with them to put them in a nest. Somewhere out there in the wilderness up in some tree was my voice screaming in the wind. Mama done went and got herself a white man! When all I could do was sit there while that white man spoke to me.

  He say, It’s good meeting you,
Tasha. Your mama has said such nice things about you.

  I was thinking, You might be telling the truth, but she ain’t said nam word to me about you.

  My mouth was hanging open. All empty and dry. Mama was standing right next to him, throwing me dirty I’d-better-be-polite-now-or-she-going-to-slap-me-into-the-middle-of-next-week-later looks. I got a smile to come up out me from somewhere. A real smile. Not a fake one to stop Mama from knocking me through time when Mitch was gone and there wasn’t going to be no good reason for her to be polite. It seemed to calm Mama down. I ain’t mean no harm to Mitch. But no white person, let alone some white man Mama was saying was her boyfriend, ever set a foot in our house for nothing. And now here he was. And he was here for something. My mama.

  Imani crawled right over to him. I don’t think she cared nothing about him. All she wanted was to get away from me and the comb. Her hair was all napped up, because I hadn’t done it in a week, and she was dodging the plastic comb like it was a straightening comb licking tongues of fire at her head. I was trying my best not to hurt her. I’d wet her hair and greased it good. But it was still hard to comb, and she was steady whining.

  Mitch bent down like my baby was really interested in him, and say, Hello, darling.

  And my baby had the nerve to reach her arms right out to him like he wasn’t no stranger and white. Mitch picked her up and went and sat on the couch with Mama.

  Mama say, Get me and Mitch something to drink.

  Mitch say, I’ll take a beer, if you got one.

  Mama say, We ain’t got no beer.

  I say, I think Miss Odetta left one in the fridge.

  Mama cut her eyes at me and say, We ain’t got no beer. And even if we did, your ass ain’t having nam up in here. You on your way to work, Mitch, and you know how you be when you drink.

  Mitch say, It’s only one little old beer, sugar.

  Mama say, Bring us some Pepsi and some ice.

  I went and got the drinks. Right on the shelf with the Pepsi was a beer. I picked it up but then put it back on the shelf. Shoot. If that white man was stupid enough to have Mama talk to him like he was a child with no sense, telling him what he could and couldn’t have, then he was getting a Pepsi like Mama say.

  When I come back in the living room, I heard Mitch say to Mama, She’s so cute. If we go out with her, people will probably think she’s our baby.

  Mama rolled her eyes at him. Mama say, Shit, they can think what they want to think. But I got me one baby and I ain’t never having no more.

  I was thinking there was no way nobody was going to think my child was mixed up with nothing. Not with the nappy hair she got. I ain’t like what Mitch say, anyway. Coming up into our house already claiming stuff which ain’t bit more belong to him than the man in the moon.

  I couldn’t even look straight at him. He got this red red hair and freckles everywhere you can see and they run off into places you can’t and never would want to see. I put the drinks down on the table and sat on the floor. Watching to see if he would put his shoes up on the table and start making more work for me for later. At least he kept his feet on the floor like somebody with manners. Like somebody not raised up in a barn, and he say, Thank you, darling. Didn’t you get nothing for yourself?

  I just shook my head.

  Mitch kept pushing on trying to make a conversation where there wasn’t none. So, your mama tells me you’re going to be a doctor.

  I looked up at Mama, and she say, She sure is. You looking at a future doctor right there.

  And right there in the present, I feel like falling through the floor and all the way to China. Because all that talk about me being a doctor is turning into a big joke, because I’m failing Mr. Toliver class. Mama ain’t know it right then. But report cards coming. I don’t even want to see mine.

  Mitch sipped on his Pepsi real polite and say to me, You listen to me, darling. Don’t you let nothing keep you from your dreams. I gave up on mine too easy. I threw them away, and I’m working at the post office. And I’ll tell you something. The post office is nobody’s dream. It’s a whole nother reality.

  Mama say, Don’t you even get started telling no stories up in here.

  Mitch say, What story? I’m talking about my life, sugar. It’s true. I wasn’t much older than Tasha when I screwed my life right into the ground. Tasha, your mama has got a bad heart. She can’t take hearing about nothing worrisome.

  Mama say, Ain’t a damn thing wrong with my heart. I just don’t know why you feel you got to be telling your personal business. What make you think my child need to hear it?

  For the first time I looked real direct at Mitch. Past all his freckles and into his blue eyes, and I say, I want to hear it.

  Mama say, Mind your own business, girl. Ain’t nobody talking to you. Mitch, go on to work before you late.

  Yeah, I guess you’re right, he say. He drank a big gulp of Pepsi and got up and put Imani on the floor next to me. He told me bye and walked with Mama to the door.

  They stood there talking real quiet while I was wondering how Mitch screwed his life into the ground. Had somebody took a big old screwdriver to the top of his head, or had he done it hisself? I was thinking he probably done it hisself by just the way he talked. That he was probably some skinny white boy growing up out in a suburb who ain’t had no better sense than to get off into drugs, never mind how many times they be telling you not to take them, and his brains got scrambled like eggs. Then he had to start stealing money from his mama pocketbook and TVs and toaster ovens from his neighbors to keep on using. Maybe he turned hisself into the kind of person his own mama ain’t even trust. The kind of child you cried when you saw coming and cried when you saw leaving and in the middle time you cussed at and tried to slap sense into they heads while they just stared at the TV, because they loved you. But thought you was just they stupid mama crazy and carrying on. Maybe when Mitch gave up the drugs he was only fit to work at the post office or maybe hand out quarters at a laundromat and clean lint out of dryer filters.

  What Mama wanted with him, I ain’t even know. He wasn’t good-looking nowhere I could see. Maybe somewhere I couldn’t see, like up under the bottom of his foot, he was handsome. The next time he come over I was going to look close at his hands to see if he had one of them ink pen tattoos spelling out L.O.V.E. across the knuckles. The kind of tattoo kids with no sense and too much time on they hands be giving each other.

  Mama kissed Mitch dead in the mouth again and stuck her hand in his back pocket where his wallet was.

  Oh, I almost forgot, he say, as Mama pulled out his wallet and handed it to him. Mitch took out some bills and put them inside Mama bra. I don’t know what was wrong with the both of them, because they was acting like me and Imani wasn’t even there. After he put the money in Mama bra, he squeezed her titty and whispered something that made her laugh. She slapped his hand away and told him to quit. But I knew she ain’t want him to, because she was smiling back.

  When Mitch left, Mama wiped the smile right off her face and come back to the couch and say, So what you think of Mitch?

  Imani come back to me. I held her close like a shield and say, I don’t think nothing of him. I mean, I ain’t got nothing to say.

  Mama sucked her teeth. Aw, stop lying, Tasha. You got something to say, all right, but before you ever even think it. And Mama stopped talking and pulled the money from out her bra. This here is the money to get the cable turned back on. Legal. Its what you want, ain’t it?

  I ain’t say nothing. I just sat there looking at Mama.

  She say, Now shut up your mouth before a bird fly in it and build a nest.

  I ain’t even know my mouth was hanging open.

  Maybe I should’ve felt grateful about what Mitch had done. But I didn’t. Mama must think I’m some stupid little girl. She sat right down on the couch. Acting like Mitch some kind of Santa Claus. Acting like there is really some white man who come busting into black folks house to give they kids something for noth
ing. Just because they good for goodness sake. I knew there was only one way Mama could pay Mitch back for cable, and it made me turn my face away from hers, because I ain’t want her to see it made me hate him.

  I concentrated on doing Imani hair. Before I could even make another good, straight part, there was a knock at the door again. Mama told me to get it. I ain’t want to, because I knew it had to be Miss Odetta for real.

  It was. She was breathing hard like she had been running for miles, when all she did was come from right next door. It was real cold out. There was snow on the ground, but Miss Odetta ain’t have on nothing but a housedress snapped up all crooked and a pair of house shoes dragging on her ashy feet. Her face was all lighted up. Not like she was drunk or nothing. But like it was full of gossip. I knew right then she knew about Mitch, and I was wondering what kind of unnatural bitch she is. Not like a bitch bitch. But like a dog. A female dog that’s got some great hearing. She probably heard Mama opening up her closet door and that skeleton falling out. I was thinking right then I was going to make a stop down Woolworth basement where they keep the birds and fish and hamsters and it stink and see if they got a whistle only dogs can hear. If they got one, I’m going to get it and blow it out my window in the middle of the night to see if Miss Odetta come to our house like she did that day.

  Miss Odetta was holding on to four cans of malt liquor in them plastic rings, and she pushed past me without even speaking. Like I’m nobody she even had to bother about saying a word to. One of the cans she has come loose and roll under her foot. She slipped on it and skated right by me toward the wall by the stairs, screaming, Jesus! Goddamn it! Watch out now! I laughed even though I shouldn’t have. She ain’t hit the wall, anyway. She caught hold of the bannister.

  Mama come up behind me and say, Damn, Odetta, is you drunk? Coming in my house falling like you trying to get a lawsuit? You know I ain’t got no goddamn money.