CHAPTER 17
“So what are you gonna wear?”
“I don’t know, Mama.”
“Why don’t you wear that navy blue pantsuit?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have to wear my Behave jacket.”
“Oh. Can you pick different pants and shirts?”
“You may wear different color shirts, but you always have to wear black slacks.”
“Why?”
Yolanda sighed. Her mother loved to ask ‘why’ to everything she said. She never accepted information at face value.
“Baby, I know you’re nervous about your first staff meeting tomorrow, but I think if you came in dressed to impress, you wouldn’t be so nervous,” her mother advised.
“Speak for yourself,” Yolanda said under her breath.
“What was that, baby?”
“I said I need some more shelves.”
“For the living room?”
“No, my bedroom,” Yolanda added, rolling her eyes.
“Speaking of bedrooms, let me tell you about what your father did to my closet…”
Yolanda listened half-heartedly while eating tortilla chips and mentally going through her closet, trying to think of something to wear. Daddy must be real bored. I wonder if he misses his job at the post office. He calls himself remodeling, but it looks more like demolishing.
“…so now I have to find a place to hang my clothes! Can you believe this man? I swear, Yolanda, everyday it’s something.”
“Well, Mama, just hold on. It’ll be over soon,” Yolanda said patiently, rubbing her eyes and hoping her voice did not reveal her exhaustion.
“I know, baby, but I feel like he’s gonna send me into an early grave.”
Please don’t mention blood pressure, don’t mention blood pressure…
“And it has my blood pressure all up!” her mother said.
Gimme a break.
“Okay, Mama, everything will be fine, but I have to go and iron my outfit for tomorrow.”
“All right, baby. Listen, you coming over again this Sunday?”
Oh, great. Another Sunday of Daddy doting on Gina. Count me out.
“I don’t know, Mama. Maybe.”
“Well, good night, baby.”
“Good night Mama. Tell Daddy I love him.”
“Okay, sugar. Bye-bye.”
“Bye.” Yolanda said, relieved to hang up the phone. She had talked to her mother so long she didn’t have time to do much of anything.
Yawning, she reached into her closet and took out her Behave jacket. She held it up to her chin and looked at herself in the full-length mirror, proud that she was finally getting to wear it.
Watch out, world, here I come.
* * *
They’re beating her again.
She’s trying to fight them off but they’re getting stronger, meaner.
“Mama! Somebody! Help me!” she yells.
No one comes.
She can hear them laughing.
“No one’s gonna save you,” one of the girls says.
They yank on her pigtails.
They pull so hard that Yolanda feels her hair tearing out.
One of the girls stands over her and shows her the pigtail that she pulled out of her head.
“Lookey what I got!!” the girl says.
Yolanda cannot see the girl’s face as she spits on her.
* * *
“So a bunch of little girls are whopping yo butt at a playground? You called me at 2:00 in the morning for this stuff?” Natalie shrieked into the phone.
“Listen, these dreams are steadily getting worse,” Yolanda said, her voice rising with concern. “This time I woke up all hot and feverish…”
“Girl, relax. You know you get like this before an important day. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“But it was weird…”
“So? All dreams are weird.”
“Yeah, I know, but this one felt real.”
“I can’t handle you calling me every time you get one of these crazy dreams,” Natalie said, yawning.
“I’m sorry, but they’re starting to freak me out. What do you think they mean?”
“Why don’t you go talk to a doctor or something if they’re bothering you that bad?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because black folks don’t have shrinks.”
“What? Girl, please…”
“Okay, name somebody,” Yolanda challenged her.
“Look, Yolanda, I’m not gonna name somebody so your neurotic butt can be comforted, okay? Besides, who goes around talking about their psychiatrists, anyway?”
“That’s because they don’t have one.”
“Good night, girl,” Natalie said, hanging up.