Heart of Gold (7 page)

“I so wanted everything in Dallas to be exactly the way it was when I left.”

“And it wasn't?”

“No.”

“Time doesn't stand still, honey.”

“I know that now. Even my best friend Kiki was different. I figured we'd pick up right where we left off, party, go to the clubs—but she has twins now. She doesn't do the club thing anymore. Just takes care of her kids.”

“Having children can make you grow up.”

“I thought maybe she could get a babysitter, but she just laughed. Said she didn't have the money, and even if she did, she wasn't going to waste it on going out.”

Bernadine thought she liked this Kiki.

“I told her about my life with you and how nice you are and all the places we've been, and she wanted to know why in the world I'd wanted to come back to Dallas.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I tried to explain how slow it is, that there's nothing to do. She started yelling at me like she'd turned into Ms. Lily.”

Bernadine let a small smile show.

“So I told her she didn't understand, and she was like, right—she had no idea how it felt to have someone take her in and give her all the stuff you've given me, and that she definitely preferred living on food stamps with two babies and no life.”

Bernadine was liking Kiki more and more. “Is she with the father of her twins?”

“Yes. His name's Bobby. He's working two jobs and trying to get his GED so he can start his own business. Something to do with pimping out cars.”

“Good for him.”

“They're really struggling, though. Their apartment is tiny, and one of the windows was cracked and they drive an old beat-down van you can hear coming a mile away.”

“Is that the life you want?”

“No. I wish they didn't have to have that life either.” Crys looked her way. “I know I have no business asking for anything after what I did, but can they live here with us?”

Bernadine was taken aback.

“I don't mean in our house, but in town someplace. Bobby wants to work on cars, and Amari's dad has the garage, which would be perfect. And Kiki's a hairdresser. Be nice not to drive all the way to Hays to get our hair done.”

“You've been thinking about this, haven't you?”

“Just last night, after I got back and looked at all the stuff I have, and how Kiki would love to have even just a little bit of it.”

Bernadine knew Crystal had a good heart, but this was surprising. “How about we talk about it again in a few days.”

She nodded.

“So tell me what happened with your shoes.”

She sighed. “All I wanted to do was go to the club, and Kiki's cousin Ross offered to take me. So I went. Thought I could hold my liquor. I couldn't. Had too much. Passed out and woke up so sick I thought I'd never stop throwing up.”

“Oh, Crys.”

She shrugged. “Then I realized my purse was gone along with my phone, my jacket, and my shoes. Kiki warned me to watch my back around Ross. I should've listened.”

“But why would he take your shoes?”

“Wasn't him. It was his girlfriend. She kept saying how cute they were and wanted to know where I got them and if she could try them on.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after I got through throwing up, I had to walk all the way back to Kiki's in the freezing rain, barefoot.” She retreated into silence again, and when she looked at Bernadine, there were tears in her eyes. “I was so cold and my feet hurt so bad,” she whispered.

Like any mother, Bernadine's heart ached for her child.

“I lasted one day. One! I tried to get a job as soon as I got to Dallas, but I didn't know my whole social security number or have an address, so I couldn't even finish filling out the application.”

Bernadine wondered what had gone through Crystal's mind when she realized she didn't know as much about how the real world rolled as she thought she did.

“Tamar told me at church that I'll get the chance to fly away when I'm ready. Can I still go to college?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. I want to finish my triptych for that art show in LA next year, too.”

“Okay.”

“I promise to never do anything this dumb again. Ever.”

“Going to hold you to that. Your mom is way too old to go through this again.” Bernadine thought back on who Crystal had been when she first arrived, with her tats, ratty gold weave, and urban attitudes. In the years since, she'd grown and blossomed and made incredible strides. She hoped the maturity would continue to grow so that when she did fly away, the wings would be strong and true. “Anything else you want to discuss?”

“No.”

“Then let's go in and see what Diane's been up to.”

Inside, Bernadine made the introductions. Diane eyed Crystal up and down. “You should be grateful my sister took you in, instead of running away and causing her trouble.”

Crystal's mouth tightened, and angry tears filled her eyes. Bernadine said to her softly, “Go on up to your room, Crys. I'll see you later.”

Crys nodded and left quickly.

Because Bernadine didn't bother veiling her anger, Diane responded with, “What? I'm not supposed to call her out? Apparently somebody should. She needs to know how blessed she is.”

“How do you know she doesn't?”

Diane's chin rose in challenge.

“This is her home, and I'm not putting up with you bullying her. You don't know a thing about her or her circumstances.”

“Why are you defending her? Have you had her tested for drugs?”

“You have two seconds to shut your mouth or get out.”

“I'm going to my room.”

“Not yet. How long are you planning on being here?”

“I hadn't really thought about it.”

“Then do, because if you're going to be here more than a week, you'll need to start looking for employment.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you're a grown woman.”

“But I'm also your sister.”

“So that means you get to loll around and not contribute to the food you're eating and the bills.”

No response.

“Yes, you are my sister, but you're also single, and single women have to take care of themselves, especially financially.”

Diane's face was as sullen as a teenager's.

“Or you can leave.”

“You know I have no place else to go.”

“And why is that?” Bernadine asked gently.

More silence.

“Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to look in the mirror and acknowledge truthfully what you see.”

“Thank you, Iyanla Vanzant. Or is it Dr. Phil?”

Bernadine held on to her temper, reminding her sagely, “You're the one with no place to go.” The underlying message of Reverend Paula's sermon that morning had been about choosing to be kind over being right. Bernadine was trying to use that philosophy with her sister, but Diane didn't seem to be appreciating her restraint. “So figure out what you want to do and let me know.”

With nothing more to say to the sulky-faced Diane, Bernadine headed upstairs.

Two doors down at the Garland house, Roni ended the call with her manager Jason West and set the phone aside. For years she'd wanted to do a tribute CD for the musical matriarchs like Billie Holiday, the great Ella Fitzgerald, and Sarah Vaughan. Securing the rights to the songs had proven difficult, but Jason had finally worked things out and was ready to get back into the studio. Although she was equally ready, she knew Reggie wouldn't be happy with this, so she'd asked Jason to hold off on the project for the time being. He wasn't pleased, and truthfully neither was she, but marriage was supposed to be about compromise. Never mind that she was the only one compromising, or at least that's how it felt. Why had she gone through all the trouble of having a studio built in town if she wasn't going to use it? Swallowing her resentment, she walked into the study, where Reggie seemed to be retreating more and more. “Hey. What're you doing?”

He glanced up from papers in his hand. “Checking out this medical conference I'm going to in Seattle on Tuesday.”

“Really? How long will you be gone?” This was the first time he'd mentioned leaving. Had they grown that far apart?

“Be back on Saturday. There're some great lectures on the agenda.”

“Do you need me to take you to the airport?”

“No. Trent has a meeting in Hays that day. He said I could ride with him.”

“Ah.” She paused for a moment to think about how to phrase what she planned to say next, but decided to hell with it. “Jason wants to go back into the studio.”

His eyes flared.

“But I told him I'd like to take a break for a month or so.”

He visibly relaxed. “Good. Zoey will appreciate that.”

The knowledge that this had nothing to do with their daughter almost made her lash out. Instead she swallowed the urge to set him straight and changed the subject. “So, did you find an assistant for your office?” The college student who worked for him quit to move to Topeka. He'd just begun advertising for her replacement when Roni flew out to the West Coast.

“Not yet. Hoping to hire somebody soon, though. My practice isn't that busy, but having someone handling the paperwork is helpful.”

Roni felt as if they were two strangers conversing. In spite of her having voiced interest in what was going on with him, he'd not reciprocated. How they were going to close the chasm between them and get back to the love they'd once shared was anyone's guess. There was no guessing about how much this was hurting her, though. None.

“Anything else?” he asked.

She wanted to ask why he'd pretended to be asleep last night. She knew that to be the case because Reggie snored. In fact, some nights he snored so loudly she had to place her pillow over her head to muffle the sound so she could sleep. There'd been no snoring last night. But instead of asking, she answered his question with a shake of her head. “Nope. I'll let you get back to your reading.” And she withdrew.

Upstairs she looked in on Zoey. “Whatcha doing, shortcake?”

Zoey grinned, but her eyes never left the flat screen on the wall. “Watching Danica Patrick.” The room was loud with the drone of race car engines.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure!”

Roni walked over to the bed, where the thoroughly enthralled Zoey sat cross-legged in the center, and settled her hip on the edge. Cars were zooming like crazy around the track. “Now which car is she in again?”

“The green one. Number ten. The Godaddy.com car.” She pointed at the screen. “See, there she goes. She driving a Chevy SS, but sometimes she's in an Impala.”

Roni had no idea if that was significant, but she was impressed by Zoey's knowledge.

Zoey's eyes were going around and around with the flow of the race. “She's the only girl to ever come in third at the 500. And the only one to win the pole.”

“Wow.” Roni's sports were football and basketball. NASCAR was a whole 'nother world.

“And she started driving go-karts when she was ten. Same age as me.”

When Zoey looked her way, Roni chuckled and asked, “And you're telling me this why—like maybe I don't already know?”

“I really want to drive go-karts.”

“Do you now?”

“I really, really do.”

“Is there a go-kart track somewhere near town?”

“I think so. Amari's dad takes him all the time.”

“Okay. Let me talk to your dad and Trent, and I'll get back to you.”

Zoey beamed before refocusing on the race.

Temporarily setting aside her inner fears that Zoey might get hurt driving go-karts, Roni took a moment to glance around at the changes in Zoey's room decor. Gone were the Disney princess posters and all the Barbie stuff. Instead the walls were now graced with the likes of a smiling Danica Patrick holding her helmet on her hip and members of the WNBA in various basketball poses. Serena Williams, bent at the waist, fist balled up in triumph, held court on the wall by Zoey's closet. And her prized green-and-black Patrick leather jacket hung on a hook on the wall next to the flat-screen. Everyone knew green was Zoey's favorite color—it was the color of her late mom's eyes. Roni glanced over at the framed picture of the smiling Bonnie on Zoey's nightstand and wondered if it was Patrick's signature color that had initially drawn her to be a fan, but thinking about that, she decided probably not. This was all Trent and Amari's doing. The day Trent allowed Zoey to help him and Amari at the garage, her little girl's life changed. She'd become confident, more self-assured, and car crazy. The shy little girl they'd adopted three years ago and thought mute because she didn't speak now had so much confidence that Roni'd be willing to bet there wasn't anything in this world Zoey didn't think herself capable of doing. Unfortunately, being at the garage had also altered her relationship with her former BFF, Devon. “How're you and Devon doing?”

Zoey made a face. “If he'd stop being so fussy all the time. He acts like an old lady.”

“That's who he was raised by, honey.”

“No kidding. He thinks he knows everything. If he tells me one more time that I'm not supposed to like working on cars, I'm going to punch him.”

She thought back on the fight they'd had last year. “No punching allowed—we've already been through that once, remember? And you might want to cut him some slack.”

“Why?”

“Because we all change as we get older, and maybe he's not sure who he wants to be or how to be it.”

“He's a pain in the ass.”

“Zoey,” Roni warned.

“Sorry, but he is.”

Now that Zoey was speaking—thanks to the intervention of Reverend Paula—every now and then she let a few curse words slip out. Roni attributed that to her having been raised on the streets of Miami—and to hanging out with Crystal, Amari, and Preston. Roni slipped every now and again too, so she added herself to the list. Reggie, of course, had never let fly a curse word, at least not since she'd known him. He was from a very traditional upper-middle-class family who never cursed. His father was an architect and builder, and his mom had stayed home to raise Reg and his two younger brothers, which could be the reason he was having issues with her career.