A Day Late And A Dollar Short Part 10

"I ain't in your chair."

"You is!"

"I ain't!"

Miss Q, who is standing behind Hakeem, puts both hands on his chair and flips it backwards so fast that, before anybody can say a word, that boy is on the floor screaming out the top of his lungs. Then Suns.h.i.+ne start crying, and Miss Q just gets in that chair and start eating like ain't nothing going on. I wanna say something, but it ain't my place. These kids like me. And if I start chastising 'em like they mine, feelings have a tendency to change.

Brenda takes another sip of her beer before she even open her mouth. "You want me to go get my belt?"

I don't know which one she talking to, and I don't thank she do either, but all three of 'em shake they head no.

"Get up off that floor, Hakeem. You know Quantiana sit in the same chair every day, so why you have to aggravate her like this?"

He is not crying like I thought he was. He was just making a lot of noise. Being dramatic, as Viola would say.

But he already in the other chair, slurping up that corn. Miss Q rolls her eyes at him, like she done won another round, and the baby is sucking on a hot link. Brenda should know that that girl too litde to be eating this kind of spicy food, but she don't seem to be having no problems.

"Y'all gon' be okay, then?" she asks them.

They all nod yes. "Then me and Cecil gon' go on and sit in the living room, 'cause we got some important thangs to talk about. Don't come in there till I tell you it's all right, understand?"

Miss Q and Hakeem nod yes, and then the baby imitates them. Me and Brenda walk in the living room and sit down on the couch. It's a sad couch. I couldn't tell you what color it is. These kids destroy everything. All I know is there's a dip in the middle cus.h.i.+on, so, to keep from sliding into each other, we have to sit at opposite ends. I gave her five hundred dollars last week and I thought she said she was gon' buy one since they was having a big inventory sale at Levitz. But I don't see no new couch.

Brenda got her beer in her hand, which, after she take a long squig, she set on the c.o.c.ktail table. It's sticky from something. I don't even wanna know what. And the rug under it is tore in one place, so, to keep it together, I lift the leg of the table and push this end of the rug against the other. You can't hardly tell it's split, but I know it.

Brenda picks up the remote control and press it until she get BET. It's some music videos on. She lean back on the couch and her bra strap done fell down on her left shoulder, but I don't thank she realize it, 'cause she don't do nothin' about it. I thank Brenda got a buzz going. She c.o.c.ks her head to one side and look at me and smile. I smile back. If she could just stay in that pose, she could almost pa.s.s for pretty right now. But of course she move back to her position and then look down at the floor.

"You like me, don't you, Cecil?"

That is a dumb question to ask a man who living with you, who give you all his money, and is helping to take care of somebody else's kids, but I just say, "Of course I do." "How much?" she asks. "What you mean by how much?"

She must feel her bra strap, 'cause now she makes a hook outta her index finger and pull it back up on her shoulder. I just noticed that she changed her nail polish. It's a bubble-gum pink with green palm trees on each finger. She got some kinda imagination. "Okay. You know how they measure earthquakes, right?"

"Yeah, on a Richter scale," I say, even though I thank she about to lose me, but, then again, I don't usually have no trouble following Brenda's line of thanking, so why should I thank she about to get all philosophical on me now?

"Okay. So how high was that last one in L. A.?" "I don't know. But it was a big one."

"Of course it was, Cecil! It had to be at least a eight-something to kill folks and do the kinda damage it did, am I right?" "You right."

"Okay, so let's say a nine is like the very highest earthquake, and say like a three ain't nothin' but a little tremor. Where do your feelings for me fall on the Richter scale, Cecil?"

That's all she getting at? "It's a easy eight, Brenda." "Don't lie to me, Cecil."

"I ain't lying, girl. You the best thang that's done happened to me in a long time. I ache for you. My feet don't hardly touch the ground when I walk, and when I do I can't even hardly feel my bunions no more. What about your feelings?"

She take a sip of her beer, then decide to go on and finish it. She set the botde down and stands up. She do some kind of s.e.xy stretch so her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rise up and then fall. Then she cup her hands over both of 'em and squeeze. "You could be on your way to being a eight, too." "What is that supposed to mean: 'on my way'?"

"Well, we got some decisions we gotta make."

"Like what?"

"Well, tell me something. Since your wife didn't die, was you planning on getting a divorce any time soon?"

"Of course I am. We over here living in sin. It ain't right. I know that. Your kids is little now, but not for long."

"How soon?"

"Well, I gotta let the woman get back on her feet, and I just told you, we got some financial problems we have to straighten out first. It ain't as easy as one two three, Brenda. Why you wanna know all this today, when we done talked about it before?"

" 'Cause things is different."

"What's different?"

"Something done happened and I can't do nothin' about it."

"Something like what?"

Next thang I know, she look toward the kitchen to see if the kids is looking, and they ain't, so she lift up her light-blue top and pull both her b.r.e.a.s.t.s out from under her bra. "Do they look bigger?"

"I can't say. I ain't never really looked at 'em with no ruler in mind."

She puts 'em back and pull her top back down. "Well, they gon' be bigger than this in a few months."

"You don't need no surgery, Brenda, if that's what this is about."

She shakes her head back and forth. "How old is your youngest child, Cecil?"

"Thirty-five."

"And the oldest?"

"I thank she thirty-eight. Why?"

"Well, you might wanna let 'em know that they gon' have a brand-new little sister or brother sometime in September."

"You playing with me, ain't you now, Brenda?"

"Why would I joke about something like this?"

"You sitting here telling ine that right this minute you got a baby growing in your belly that's got my blood?"

"That's exacdy what I'm telling you," she says, and walks toward me. My heart is skipping every other beat. 1 feel hot. I feel young. I feel blessed. Like I'm being given another chance. A baby. A real live baby. Hot d.a.m.n, Cecil. Didn't even know the old fella still had the power.

"So," Brenda whispers in my ear and then licks my earlobe. She know this drive me crazy and I can't hardly tolerate myself. "Do you wanna be the father of my baby?"

"I certainly do," I say. "I certainly do."

"Then we gon' have to make some changes."

"I know we do."

"We need to move."

"I know."

"Someplace decent."

"I know."

"Where the kids can go to good schools."

"Yeah."

"Closer to white folks, is what I'm getting at."

"We ain't gotta move with no white folks for that. They can go to private school."

"Private school?"

"They got some good Christian schools around here. It wouldn't hurt these kids none to get closer to G.o.d and get a good education at the same time, since don't n.o.body seem to go to church around here."

"We can start doing that, too, you'll see."

"I thank that's a very good idea, Brenda."

"Okay, but I ain't finished."

"I'm all ears, baby. You got my undivided attention. Do my ear again, though, please?"

"I can't be doing too much more cleaning in my condition."

"Don't even worry about that, Brenda."

She makes one long stroke with her tongue on the side of my neck up to my ear, and then she blows inside it. Hot-diggety dog.

"And my car need more than a transmission."

"We can trade that sucker in."

Now she do her nibbling thang on my earlobe. I like this one, too. I do.

"I need to get this Curl outta my hair and get some braids, so I won't have to be worrying about lifting my arms up over my head when I get too big to fix it."

"Okay."

"And you might wanna get yours trimmed some, too, Cecil. Or maybe by the summer you might see a new style you like. We ain't got but a few pillowcases, and between the two of us, they all getting stained. And pillowcases ain't cheap."

"I'll certainly look into it, Brenda."

"Oh. Last thing," she says, and then she kiss me on my cheek, which makes me feel all squishy, and I squirm when I feel her lips cover my mouth. She sucks on 'em like they tangerines or something, and then she gives 'em back to me, I guess. "Hakeem and Suns.h.i.+ne need to go to a good preschool, 'cause I can't get no studying done with two kids in the house all day long."

"Studying for what, Brenda?"

"My GED. Remember I told you I wanna get it?"

"Yeah, I do remember. It wouldn't hurt me to look at them books neither."

"I told you we needed to make some changes, didn't I?" she say, so proud. I do like this girl. She ambitious. Everything she wanna do is about improving herself, her kids, and, I guess now, us. This is all new to me. But it feel good. And it feel right.

"Yep. You sure did, Brenda. But we need to add one more thing to this list."

"What?" she asks, looking a litde worried-that is, if I'm seeing her right.

"Pour them beers in the icebox down the drain. You don't need 'em, and neither do the baby."

"I will, Cecil. Don't even worry about it."

"A baby," I say.

"Yep. But it ain't coming today," she say, turning toward the kitchen. "Did you want a hot link or not?"

"Naw. You go on and help yourself."

I'm so happy right now I feel like I could run down the street screaming at the top of my lungs. I feel like calling Viola to tell her my good news. Woman, I can still make a baby! After all this time. Lord knows I can't let her know nothing about no baby. Can't tell my kids neither. Not yet. But h.e.l.l, I need to do something to celebrate. What?

Brenda's in the kitchen doorway, looking at the kids. They paper plates is clean. They drinking they Kool-Aid. I stand behind her and put my hands on her belly and rub in a circle. "What?" she asks. "I gotta go celebrate," I say. "Just bring me back something green, okay?" "Broccoli or collard greens, baby? Take your pick!" She stomps on my toe, right on my corn, but I refuse to feel it. "Okay!" I say, and head for the door.

"Would you bring the kids back something sweet?"

"Y'all want something?" I ask.

"Yeah!" they all say.

"Vanilla Wafers!" Miss Q says.

"Cookie Dough ice cream!" Hakeem says.

The baby just grins. She'll take whatever they having. When I get outside the door, I just stand there and look out at the black desert. All I see is the flas.h.i.+ng lights of the Mirage and Excalibur and Caesar's Palace. I feel lucky. Like I done already hit the jackpot and I need to tell somebody. I run on my tiptoes all the way to the bottom of them steps. Before I put the key in my Lincoln, it hit me: Howie! That's who I can tell. He the one person in the world I can trust. Howie won't pa.s.s judgment on me. He'll be happy for me.

I get in the car and start it up, but before I put it in gear, I push in my B. B. King tape and don't hear a word he sanging 'cause I'm grinning so hard. I can't wait to tell Howie. I know he ain't gon' hardly believe this. But, h.e.l.l, he ain't the only one.

Chapter 10.