They told us to always have our own money. “Always be prepared to make it by your dammie—i.e, your damn self,” they advised. “The only person your children can really depend on is you,” they warned. “They” included female relatives and women on buses and in beauty shops, on front stoops and over backyard fences. They put their hands on their hips or pointed their fingers and warned, “Love don’t pay the bills.” They cut their eyes and asked, “What has he done for you lately?” They folded their arms and twisted their necks and declared, “No finance, no romance.” They said they could do bad, all by themselves. And they sucked their teeth and said, “Only a fool would put her trust in a man.”

  But maybe a girl is supposed to dream, I thought, watching a tear form in Jade’s eye. I suddenly felt burdened by the armor that had been offered to protect me. I found myself pondering what my life would’ve been like if I’d been encouraged to see the world through more hopeful eyes. A part of me wished that they’d never told me all that stuff. But another part of me understood that all that stuff came with having been born Negro and female in 1955. They were my operating instructions; back then a colored girl couldn’t be raised without them.

  “If I complain about Yoshi’s being a workaholic”—Jade sighed—“he just says he’s Japanese, and Japanese feel guilty if they’re not working. Yoshi says he plays golf mainly because of the networking opportunities.”

  Typically, it was unheard of for a sista to complain about a man working too much. Instead, she bragged about her man working on two jobs. “I just wanna man who’s got sense enough to work” was a popular expression when I was a child. Work was what a man was ’spozed to do. If the bills were paid and the credit was good, the sista had no reason to complain.

  “Yoshi says that the financial burden is all on him,” Jade added. “He says, all I do is wiggle my waist.” Tears finally spilled out of her eyes and splashed onto her face.

  “That’s not true,” I said, reaching out and hugging her. “You’ve created a beautiful home. You’re an artist and a teacher, besides being a wife and mother. And you’re a good friend.”

  “My self-esteem means more to me than any of this shit!” Jade shouted, her voice choked with emotion.

  “I hear you,” I said, looking out toward the blooming garden. I understood about self-esteem. I knew that you could look good on the outside and feel bad on the inside. I knew that you could take a bath and still feel dirty. I knew that you could have a belly full of food and still feel empty. I knew that a child could be read a fairy tale and be tucked into her own bed and still not be safe. But I didn’t want to think about that, because I didn’t want to fall apart. I hadn’t forgotten that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty-Dumpty back together again.

  four

  I hadn’t seen Freddy on the way into the radio station, but he was all up in my face on the way out.

  “Heard you went to Jade’s, after y’all left Taste last Saturday,” Freddy said when I walked off the elevator.

  “I see the grapevine is popping.”

  “Very little gets past me. Jade said you might start taking a belly dance class.” Freddy winked and twisted his shapeless hips.

  “Don’t quit your day job,” I teased. “Boy, you must’ve really grilled Jade on her way up. It’s a wonder she made it to the mike on time.”

  “I know Jade must have a nice place if she’s out there in Lake Forest, huh?” Freddy asked, wide-eyed, like a child peering into a candy store.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “It’s real nice.”

  “I’m surprised she let you come out there,” Freddy said, folding his arms and leaning against the desk.

  “What do you mean? We’re friends.”

  “I just know that if I had money, say if I won the lottery”—Freddy lowered his voice—“I wouldn’t let black people know where I lived. Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “Not unless they had money, too.”

  I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the wall. “I don’t think she has to worry about me robbing her or anything.”

  “Maybe not you, personally.” Freddy rubbed his chin. “But she don’t know who all you know.” He raised his eyebrows. “And what all they into.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “People can set you up without you even knowing it,” Freddy insisted.

  “The same can be said of white people.”

  “Yeah, but white folks are less likely to go in on a minority. That’s why I’d be slow to let a Negro know what I’ve got. I’ll be fifty years old in October and I’ve never heard of a white boy snatching a black woman’s purse. Never!” Freddy pounded the desk.

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “I just remember when I was growing up in Morgan Park, even though it was still on the South Side of Chicago, it really was like a village. When we crossed the railroad tracks into the black section, we felt home. And we felt safe. You could practically sleep out in Ada Park on summer nights. Imagine that, feeling safe when you saw black men at night. It sounds funny now, but that’s how it was.”

  Freddy sat on top of his desk. “I left Mississippi in 1962. I remember on my last day, I went to say good-bye to my best friend, Delmar, out in the cotton fields. For him, it was just another hot, dusty, delta day. For me, it was the beginning of the rest of my life. I bragged that I was going up north to Chicago and find me a good job, buy me a nice car, finish high school, buy me a house and get married and raise a family. Those were my dreams.”

  “And you accomplished them, didn’t you?” At least more or less, I was tempted to add, because of Freddy’s modest position. But when I saw the pride shining in his dark eyes, I was glad I’d bitten my tongue.

  “Yep, I did.” Freddy nodded solemnly, as though he’d invented medicine or at least made partner in a law firm.

  “Not everybody can say that,” I added, enjoying boosting Freddy’s ego.

  “That’s true,” Freddy said, with a faraway look in his eyes. “That day, I asked Delmar what he dreamed about. First, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the bossman wasn’t looking. Then he stopped picking cotton long enough to shade his eyes from the sun. ‘I dreams about getting outta this field. That’s what I dreams about,’ Delmar answered.” Freddy sighed. “I remember feeling guilty.”

  “Why?”

  Freddy’s voice softened. “I guess, on accounta my dreams was bigger.”

  “Did Delmar ever get outta that field?”

  “Oh yeah!” Freddy exclaimed as he jumped down from the desk. “You can’t tell them Negroes nothing now! They living it up down there with them casinos. Your money goes a long way in Mississippi. That’s where I plans to retire.” Freddy stuck his chest out like he already felt prosperous. “I never thought I’d hear myself say that.” He shook his head. “I used to say, ‘Mississippi, goddamn.’”

  “You and Nina Simone, both. Hey, I can relate. I was born in Alabama, and folks used to call it the meanest state in the union. Probably still do.” I glanced at my watch. “Nice talking to you. I had a little extra time to kill, but now I’d better bounce.”

  “Accident on Sheridan Road,” Freddy reported as he opened the door for me. “You headed that way?

  I shook my head. “I’m headed out to O’Hare to pick up my friend and her daughter.”

  “You still stay fifty-some-hundred North Sheridan Road, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’m still in Edgewater.”

  “Soon, you won’t be able to tell the difference between the North Side and the South Side, after your people get through with it. Y’all done already took over Uptown and Rogers Park.”

  I groaned. Freddy and I had just shared a Kodak moment and now he had to go and spoil it.

  “Plenty of black folks keep their property up,” I protested. “There are some nice black neighborhoods on the South Side,” I added.

  “Yeah, but folks still afraid to go outta they doors at night. And the business districts are a mess. You want something tore up, just dial, N-I-G-G-E-R-S. They’ll get the job done.”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you, Freddy. You sound ignorant.”

  It had been like a furnace all day, but by the time I stepped out of the car at the airport, there was something of a breeze. I waved excitedly toward two familiar figures, sporting long braids and pushing luggage carts. It would be great having my best friend home this summer. Our old asses could check out the scene together, take in some blues clubs, maybe even attend a few singles parties. We could support each other in our attempts to find Mr. Right.

  “Look at Tyeesha, she’s bigger than I am!” Sharon pointed, after we all hugged each other to death. “She can’t even steal my clothes anymore,” She chuckled as we loaded the car. “Girl, I may as well be taking care of a grown woman.”

  Tyeesha rolled her eyes before she slumped into the backseat. I could tell that she didn’t want to hear it.

  “Don’t feel bad, T, we can walk the lake together.”

  “Yeah, look like you’ve gained, too,” Sharon said, glancing at my middle as I slid behind the wheel. “You all make me look skinny.”

  “Haven’t seen your behind in almost a year, and the first thing you wanna do is cap on folks’ weight.” I tried to sound casual as I started up the car, but I felt sensitive about the pounds that had crept up on me, and figured Tyeesha did, too.

  “I’m sorry, girl, you’re right. It’s good to see you.”

  “So, what did you want to tell me?” I asked, driving out of the airport.

  “I’ll tell you after we get settled.”

  “Yeah, it might cause you to have an accident,” Tyeesha warned.

  “I can’t stand all this suspense! Unless you robbed a bank, or murdered somebody, or blew up a building, just blurt it out.”

  Tyeesha put on her headphones. “This is an A and B conversation. So I’m gonna C my way out of it.”

  “Good, Tyeesha, ’cause you’ve already given me your two cents,” Sharon said.

  “Well, I’m waiting with bated breath to give you mine,” I said.

  “Okay, Dee Dee.” Sharon cleared her throat. “I’m a lesbian.”

  “You’re a lesbian!” I shouted, slowing down to keep from rearending a minivan. “How can you be a lesbian? You’ve been a heterosexual fool the whole almost thirty years I’ve known you.”

  I paused long enough for Sharon to tell me that I hadn’t heard her correctly. But she didn’t open her mouth.

  “Remember, I’m the one who called Reggie Davis to ask him if he liked you. After you begged me to, I might add.” I shook my head as I changed lanes to avoid a tailgater. “You have a long rap sheet. Remember us following Michael Green’s car to see if he was going over to Paula Benjamin’s house?” I whined as if I were recalling fond memories. “Damn near had me hiding in bushes.”

  I continued trying to sound like a good sport. “And nobody could tell you not to marry …” I caught myself. I didn’t want to mention Tyeesha’s disappearing-act father. He’d hung around just long enough to see her graduate from kindergarten.

  I was thoroughly confused. I’d assumed that Sharon’s heterosexuality had been written in stone. I just couldn’t understand how she could suddenly do such an about-face. I mean, I never saw any signs. I also felt abandoned. It was like my running buddy had run out on me.

  “That was a long time ago,” Sharon said. “I was desperate to have everything fit.”

  “Didn’t everything fit?” I asked. “No pun intended, but I don’t remember hearing any complaints.” I sped up to stay with the flow of traffic.

  “Yeah, things fit, so long as I didn’t know any better.”

  “So, now you suddenly woke up and smelled the pussy, so to speak. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Dee Dee, please, don’t be crude. Remember, Tyeesha’s still in the car.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, glancing into my rearview window. Tyeesha’s eyebrows were raised almost to the roof of the car. “Keep those headphones securely over your ears,” I ordered.

  “Acknowledging my feelings toward women goes beyond sex,” Sharon continued. “It’s about emotion and intimacy. Things I never got from a man.”

  “I don’t know anybody who has a truly intimate relationship with a man. Although in all fairness, Phil is probably more capable of intimacy than Sarita. But generally speaking, men are from another planet. You can have sex without intimacy,” I continued. “And you can have intimacy without sex. But having both is rare. Most women I know get their intimacy needs met from their good girlfriends and female relatives. They’re just thankful if they can coexist with a man. I didn’t think true intimacy was even a goal these days.”

  “Well, it is for me. But maybe I just want a little more than most women.”

  I groaned as I maneuvered around a row of orange construction cones.

  “They’re always working on the roads here,” Tyeesha observed from the backseat.

  “Sharon, didn’t you say kids on campus don’t even get into relationships anymore? That’s what you told me. They’re ridiculed as Velcro twins if they do. They just go out, drink and pick each other up. There’s no intimacy. You said that yourself.”

  “So, Dee Dee, are you wigging out or what?” Sharon asked.

  “No, I’m not wiggging out,” I said, loosening my tight grip on the steering wheel. “I’m just surprised.” I glanced at Sharon. “Have you ever even been with a woman? Have you even kissed a woman?”

  “See, Mom, that’s the same thing I asked you.”

  “Go back to your music! Dee Dee, if I had, I would’ve told you. I wouldn’t keep something like that from you.”

  “You haven’t done anything? Then how did you come up with this foolishness?” I asked, changing to the slow lane.

  “You are wigging out!”

  “No, I’m not,” I insisted. But I secretly wished I still had a stick shift to grab on to for support. When I turned forty last year, I decided I was too old to shift gears and bought an automatic.

  “I don’t appreciate your calling my feelings foolishness!”

  I could hear the hurt in Sharon’s voice and see Tyeesha’s eyes widen in my rearview mirror. My voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear heart. I want to support you. I just wondered how you know you’re gay, that’s all.”

  “How do you know you’re straight?”

  “Because men peel my paint, and women don’t. For me, it’s always been that simple.”

  “Well, maybe for some of us, things are a little more complex. I would never have chosen to be gay. But I’m not ashamed of who I am. And I’m not going to beg for anybody else’s approval.”

  “I don’t think you should. You have to do what’s right for you. It’s just a surprise, that’s all. I mean, you must’ve had some inkling all these years. You’re forty-two years old, for heaven’s sake. Isn’t it a little late to be coming out of the closet?”

  “Yeah, it’s embarrassing. I’m probably too ancient to do anything about it. My dentures might fall out,” she said sarcastically.

  “You’re getting oral now. Remember, T’s here.”

  “I forgot for a minute.”

  “Speaking of Tyeesha, I would expect it more coming from her.” I sighed. “I hate to say it, but it just seems so lame at your age.”

  “Excuse me?” Tyeesha pulled off her headphones. “Keep my name out of it.”

  “It’s just that you’re young, your hormones are raging. Your mother’s on the verge of menopause. Her hot days are behind her. She’ll be facing hot flashes soon,” I said.

  “Life begins at forty,” Sharon declared.

  “Well, for the record, I’m strictly dickly,” Tyeesha informed me.

  “Your virgin behind better hush,” Sharon warned.

  “Sharon, didn’t you have a crush on a teacher or friends or somebody?”

  “Yeah, a few times, but I repressed them. Boys showed interest in me and I was relieved. I didn’t see being gay as an option.”

  I hesitated. “You didn’t have a crush on me, did you?” I asked, glancing at the rows of chocolate brick apartment buildings above the freeway.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Oh, really? When?” I swallowed.

  “Way back when we were kids.”

  “Oh.” I breathed a sigh of relief. And let a car cut in front of me. “When we were still back at Morgan Park High?”

  “No, even before that, eighth grade, back at Shoop. As soon as I got to know you, it wore off.”

  “Well thanks; I mean, I’m glad that your attraction was short-lived. But you know you could do worse.”

  “You can’t have it both ways. You’re my best friend, but you’re just not my type, romantically. That’s all.”

  “So, what is your type, romantically? I mean, just out of curiosity.”

  “I’m not sure. But you’re a little too artsy to be my type. Maybe we’re too much alike.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “So, Dee Dee, tell me quick before I faint. Is we friends or is we ain’t?”

  “I hope we stay the best of friends,” I said, glimpsing the breathtaking downtown skyline. “This doesn’t change that as far as I’m concerned.” I sighed. “I guess I was partly looking at this from a marketing standpoint. I just like to think of my friends as being on the cutting edge. I mean, lesbian is so passé. Can you at least identify yourself as bisexual? That way you can keep your options open. You should see all the personal ads in the Sun-Times from black women who are bi-curious or bisexual. It’s damn near an epidemic. Why not ride that wave?”

  “Because I’m not interested in being trendy. I’m just interested in being Sharon.”

  I glanced sideways at Sharon as I exited the freeway. “Girlfriend, I may not understand you, but I accept you.”