A Day Late And A Dollar Short Part 24

"It's me, Paris."

"What can I do for you?" she says, dryly.

You'd think I was a bill collector. "You don't have to sound so cold, Charlotte, my goodness."

"I don't sound cold, and if you called to give me another lecture, I ain't in the mood."

"I'm not calling to lecture you, so please don't hang up the phone."

"Well, what's going on?"

"I was just calling to see how you're doing."

"I'm doingjust fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Just the tone of her voice tells me she's lying. I don't know why it's becoming so hard for us to tell each other the truth, when we used to tell each other everything. "Relax, Charlotte. Why're you so defensive? You're the one who hung up on me the last time we talked, remember?"

"Look, Paris, I talked to Mama and she understood why I didn't come out there, okay?"

"Okay. That's not why I'm calling."

"Then what are you calling about?"

There's a click on the line. This could be my agent. "Can you hold on a second?" "Yeah."

Before I press the receiver, I hear Miss Ordelle, the older lady who irons for me on Wednesdays, come in the side door. I see her bandana tied around her head. "Hi, baby," she says, almost to the floor. "Hi, Miss Ordelle. How are you?"

"No worse for the weary," she says, and coughs ferociously. "But I'm here."

The phone clicks again. "You gon' get that?" Charlotte asks. I click it this time. "h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Price?"

My agent calls me "Paris," and anyway it's a man's voice, so then I think it's Dingus trying to pretend like he's Isaac Hayes or Barry White, but he's still at school. "Look. I'm on a long-distance call, and if you're trying to sell me something, the answer is I'm not interested, or I already have some, and, no, I don't want to change my long-distance company, and if you're not selling anything, who's calling and how'd you get this number?" "This is Randall Jamison. I'm the landscaper. . . ." "Oh, I'm sorry." Now I feel silly.

"No, I'm sorry for being late. I'm stuck in traffic. Apparendy, a semi has flipped over on 280, and me along with about a hundred other cars are waiting to see when we can move. I just wanted you to know that."

"Well, thanks for calling, Randall. And don't worry, I've got enough to keep me busy until you get here."

Before I click back to Charlotte, I have to pause for a minute. What a nice voice. What a s.e.xy voice. A landscaper. He's probably rough and ready and raggedy and ugly and dry and dirty, and I bet he stinks. Oh, who cares, as long as he can get the job done. I press the receiver. "Charlotte?" "I'm still here." "So-how are you, again?" "I'm fine, Paris. Couldn't be better. How's Dingus?"

"He's fine. Except some little white girl might be pregnant by him."

"Yeah," she says, like she couldn't care less one way or the other.

"How about your kids? How are they?"

"They're all doing good. Real good."

"And Al?"

"Oh, he's fine. We're all fine."

"That's good. What are you doing for your birthday?" "Nothing. I don't celebrate my birthday no more. It's just another day." "Well, we're trying to decide what to do for Mama for hers, and we were wondering if. . ." "Who is 'we'?"

"Me and Janelle," I lie. We haven't exactly discussed it again in any detail, but she'll go along with the program. She always does. "I'm listening."

"Well, first I thought Mama wanted to spend a couple of weeks here. . . ." "Don't she always?"

"No, she doesn't always, Charlotte. Would you let me finish, please?" "I'm listening."

"Anyway, since Shanice is staying with her. . ." "Since when did Shanice start living with Mama?" "Since the end of March. You haven't talked to Janelle?" "No. I ain't talked to n.o.body but a lawyer." "A lawyer? For what?" "I'm getting a divorce."

"Hold it a minute! You just said you and Al were fine." "We are. This is the best thing that coulda happened to both of us. I shoulda done it a long time ago. Why is Shanice staying with Mama?" "Because Janelle and George are having problems." "And she gets rid of her daughter and not his a.s.s?" "Good point. He's supposedly gone." "What happened between them two?" "I don't know for sure. Janelle's not talking about it."

"Mania thinks he probably messed with Shanice, even though Shanice claimed he just hit her."

"Who told you that?" I ask.

"Mama. Why? Was it supposed to be a well-kept secret or something?"

"I don't know. I'm confused. This is just getting all f.u.c.ked up. Everybody getting divorces. Splitting up. What's going on with you and Al, even though I'm not sure I want to hear this?"

"You ain't gotta hear it."

"Are you serious, Charlotte?"

"As cancer. He just got served some papers for back child support from some woman he slept with over ten years ago who just came outta no-d.a.m.n-where and they done took our f.u.c.king income-tax return and everything."

"No s.h.i.+t. Who is this woman?"

"I don't know the b.i.t.c.h!"

"She had a baby by Al and he didn't know it?"

"Apparently, he did."

"I don't know what to say, Charlotte."

"You ain't gotta say nothing. It's a lotta things I been wanting to do with my life to get away from this post office, and, to be honest, Al ain't been doing nothing but keeping me down. We been in a rut, so this might just be a blessing in disguise. Anyway, what about Mama's birthday?"

I don't know what else to say about her divorce, so I'll let it pa.s.s for right now. It's not something you gloss over, but I'm not in any position to fix their problems, if in fact their problems are real. You never know with Charlotte. She can be so melodramatic. "Well, Mama told us to forget about doing anything for her on her birthday, but she was wondering if we could all chip in a little something so she could go on a cruise this summer with her friend Loretta."

"How much something?"

"I don't know yet. Probably no more than five hundred."

"That's a lotta money. For some of us."

"If you can, you can. If you can't, you can't. Don't worry about it, Charlotte." "You'll take care of it if we can't come through, ain't that right, Paris?"

"I don't know. I've got a lot on my plate right now, too. Look, I just wanted you to know."

"All right. That's it?"

"I guess. But are you sure you're feeling okay, Charlotte?"

"Couldn't be better. Look, I gotta go, Paris."

"Okay, Charlotte, but call me if you need to talk."

"I will. And tell Dingus to make that girl get a abortion. He don't need no baby. He got a future ahead of him. Bye."

I'm in shock. She's getting a divorce? Charlotte loves Al, and he's been there for her and those kids since the beginning of time. Do you fault somebody for something they did a long time ago when it comes back to haunt them? It doesn't seem fair, but, then again, I'm not in her shoes.

I can't go into my office now. No way. I feel like I'm floating in a holding zone, waiting for this guy to show up and a call from New York. Why isn't she calling? Did the deal fall through? I dial my other sister, who answers on the first ring.

"How're you doing, Janelle?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"Exhausted, if you want to know the truth."

"Me, too."

"You won't believe this."

"What?"

"Charlotte says she's divorcing Al because some woman from his past hit him up for child support."

"I can think of better reasons to divorce your husband than that. She's not divorcing him. Wait and see."

"I don't know. Have you talked to Shanice?"

"Yes I have. She's fine. She and Mama are bonding."

"You miss her?"

"Of course I miss her."

"Well, when's she coming home?"

"I don't know right now."

"Why don't you know?"

"Because there's a lot of confusion around my house." "Like what?"

"I don't feel like getting into it right now, Paris."

"Why not, Janelle? You never feel like talking about anything that really matters. Why is that?"

"That's not true. It's just that sometimes other people can't solve your problems."

"Did I say anything about solving your problems? No. But I'm your sister, b.i.t.c.h, and if something is wrong over there, I just wanted you to know you can talk to me." "1 know."

"Then why aren't you?" "I am."

"No you're not, Janelle. Something is going on with your daughter and your husband and you're not telling it."

"You're right. But, like I said, Paris, I have to work this out myself." "But you're not very good at that." "You don't know what I'm good at."

"I've only known you for thirty-five years, Janelle. We grew up in the same house. So-I think I do."

"Look, can we talk about something else? Like Mama's birthday, for instance?"

"She told me she just wants us to chip in so she can go on her cruise this summer."

"That sounds good."

The phone clicks. This has got to be New York. "Can you hold on a minute? I'll be right back. I promise." "Okay." "h.e.l.lo?"

"Is this Paris?" somebody with a raspy voice is asking. "Who is this?"

"This your Aunt Priscilla, baby. How you doing?"

"You mean Prison, Aunt Priscilla?" I ask, disappointed again.

"Well, yeah, since you put it that way."

This call means two things: she's out and she wants something. And it's always the same thing-cash-for the same thing-drugs. She's the oldest drug addict I know. I hope it doesn't run in the family. "Aunt Pris- cilla, is there a number I can call you back at? I'm on a long-distance call right now."

"Look, I just need a favor, is all. I just got out, you know, and I went to the doctor and he done told me I got cancer, and I wanna know if you can help me get the operation."

"What kind of operation?"

"The operation that's gon' get rid of the cancer."

This one takes the cake. "What kind of cancer do you have?"

"I think he said it's in my throat. A lump or something, and they need to get it out."

"Look, Aunt Priscilla, I'm really sorry to hear that you've got cancer, and I wish I could help you right now, but I'm broke. Don't you have insurance or Medicaid?"

"Broke? Everybody know you got money, baby. You ain't gotta lie to your Aunt Priscilla. When you do time you don't get no benefits," she says, and starts crying. "This ain't no way to come home: with nothing but a whole lotta something you don't need. You ain't even gon' try to help your auntie live a little longer?"

"How much is the operation?" I ask for the h.e.l.l of it; I would love to come right on out and ask her how much does she need to get her through the day, but it's coming. I know it.

"I think it's only gon' be about a thousand, but if you could send me a hundred or two hundred today that would help take care of the doctor's visit and them X-rays they took."