"No. And that's my car, Cecil. Paris bought it for me."

"So do this mean you ain't got no friend?"

"Did I say that?"

"No you didn't."

"Then don't let it concern you."

"I just came over to get my stuff."

"It's out there."

"You gon' need any help moving?"

"I don't know yet. A lot of this junk ain't going to my new place."

"What you mean by junk?"

"That bedroom set, for starters."

"Ain't nothing wrong with that bedroom set, Viola."

"Then you can have it."

"No, I can't sleep on that."

"Then shut up, Cecil."

"You looking good, Vy. Healthy. I'm glad."

"Thank you, Cecil. Now. I wish I could stand here and talk to you, but our granddaughter got a track meet and I been watching all that O. J. Simpson mess on TV and I'm almost late."

"He kilt them people as sure as I'm standing here. Shanice still here?"

"You don't know that, Cecil. She ain't going back home till next month."

"We'll soon see, won't we? How the kids doing these days?"

"d.a.m.nit, Cecil. I just told you I gotta go. I'd be standing out here all night if I was to tell you what they all doing, but let me say this. Janelle done finally put George out, and he might be going to jail."

"Say what?"

"You heard me. Charlotte ain't speaking to me, and I suggest you try calling her, 'cause I'm through with her a.s.s. I mean it. Your son is in jail again. I think they said he might get up to a year for beating up Donnetta s husband with a sponge mop handle."

"Say what?"

"And Paris still over there in California trying to be superwoman, popping pills like them women did in Valley of the Dolls to keep that fast pace up, but she don't thank n.o.body know it."

"Say what?"

"If you say 'say what' one more time, I'ma slap you into next week. Now, get outta my way, 'cause we ain't got no more kids to discuss. And don't touch my lawnmower or take nothing that don't belong to you. Goodbye."

I just stand there and watch her lock the front door that I had the keys to for twenty-some-odd years. But my keys don't fit this door no more. I walk over to the carport and turn around and watch Viola get in her new car. She just don't look younger, she look happy. I ain't seen her look like this in years. I wonder, as she wave to me backing out the driveway, if it's because I'm here, or because I'm gone.

Chapter 25.

A New Life "I still can't believe Jackie Ona.s.sis is dead; can you, Loretta?"

"I can't believe I'm not dead," Loretta says, laughing.

"She was too d.a.m.n young to die. And as pretty as she wanted to be. You remember when President Kennedy was shot?"

"Of course I do, Vy. Everybody remembers that day. Okay, let's not talk about dead people right now. We're alive and kicking right here in your brand-new condo, and it's beautiful! Just beautiful, Vy!"

"It is, ain't it?" I say, looking around. It certainly is. And far enough from my old house that I get to go to a different grocery store, bank, and post office. "Thank you, Loretta. I told you you would love it." It took all the patience I had to hold off showing her rill now, but I wanted to wait till after they put in the new carpet and painted it, so she could get the total effect. But with Memorial Day and everything, they couldn't do nothing till this week, and they took their sweet-a.s.s time. They just finished two days ago, and we go on our cruise a week from today-on the sixteenth, and I got a million and one things to do between now and then.

Since I can't move in for another few days, I wanted to bring something over here so it feel like I'm gon' live here, so me and Loretta stopped by Target and picked up two $7.99 houseplants. She also helped me bring over my good towels and sheets and gla.s.ses that I keep hid. I'm trying to decide if I wanna put one of the plants in the kitchen window and the other one in my master bathroom. I don't know. Hot d.a.m.n! If I don't like the sound of that: master bathroom. But if there ain't no master, can I call it a mistress bathroom? Naw, 'cause I ain't n.o.body's mistress neither. h.e.l.l, it's my big bathroom. That's good enough. I got two sinks! So I can take my pick which one I wanna brush my teeth or wash my face in. They look just like marble even though they ain't, but, h.e.l.l, I don't care. I still can't believe it. "Don't you just love this dark teal I picked out for the carpet, Loretta?" I say, and then I sneeze.

"Bless you. I do, Vy. You've got such good taste."

"So do you, Loretta. What you talking about? I just don't like ruffles as much as you do, that's all. Come on around this corner and see how big my bedroom is."

"I'm coming," she says. "Boy oh boy, these ceilings are so high. And you've even got a little backyard out there. This is just perfect. I wish I had a daughter like you."

"I feel blessed to have all my kids, even when they make me mad," I say. "I can't wait to put my new bedroom set in here, and I'm still gon' have plenty of room. When I start taking that cla.s.s to get my day-care license, and if I get a job that won't mess up my Social Security checks, I might buy one of them loveseats or a chaise lounge, like Marlene Dietrich used to lay on, remember those?"

"Of course I do. You're still thinking about working at a day care, Vy?"

"I don't know, Loretta. I can't hardly add two and two no more, I don't know what kinda cla.s.s I'ma take, but I'ma learn how to do something. That much I do know." I sneeze again.

"Bless you."

"Thanks. Okay, Loretta, get the camera and hurry up and take my picture. I gotta get outta here, 'cause this paint is starting to get to me, I ain't lying."

"It could also be the new carpet, you know. I read somewhere that people with asthma shouldn't be around new carpet, because something they treat it with can trigger an attack." She reaches in her big purse and gets out the Polaroid. "Lean against that wall there. It'll look more professional with a white background."

And I do. I smile, showing off my new teeth, and turn a little to the side, showing off my new body. I'm wearing those leggings all the young girls wear and a black cotton T-shirt.

"Say 'pizza'!"

"Pizza. I know that, Loretta. That's why I ain't moving in till next week. So let's go. Plus, I gotta stop and get some gas, and pick up my prednisone and theophylline prescriptions, 'cause I'm all outta both of 'em, and then get Shanice. She only got a half-day of school today. Will you take another one, just in case?"

"Okay, Vy," she says, "say 'pizza' again!"

"I wanna say 'cheese'!" And the flash goes off.

"The first one came out really nice. You look so much younger," Loretta says, and starts putting her shoes back on. I made her take 'em off when she came in here. I took mine off, too. But when I move in, I ain't making n.o.body take off they shoes, except if they look too dirty. "Is Cecil helping you move?"

"I wouldn't ask Cecil to help me move if he paid me. I'm starting a new life, Loretta, and he ain't nowhere in it. Simple as that."

"Well, I just wondered, Vy."

"I know, Lo. I didn't mean to get testy about it."

And then she looks like she just saw something that excited her, but she couldn't have, 'cause we just walking over to my garage. I love it when I press my Genie and that door starts going up and I see my new car sitting inside it. Now I know what living good feels like. My teeth ain't even hardly hurting me no more, and I done lost nineteen pounds. It don't get no better than this. Lord knows it don't.

"Vy, guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm already packed," Loretta says, blushing like a litde girl-wrinkles and all.

"I'm right behind you," I say.

"You mean you started already, too?"

"Finished. When would I have time to pack when I move? And how in the world would I be able to find anything? You know how much junk I got?"

"Yes, I do."

"Shut up, Loretta. See you later."

She starts laughing, waves to me, walks over to her white Cadillac, and gets in. Loretta know she don't need that big old car, but her husband left it to her, and she said she'll drive it till whoever dies first.

It's hot as h.e.l.l out here. I know that much. But I don't care. I got air conditioning in my car. And I got air conditioning in my new condominium. Hot d.a.m.n! I pull straight into a handicapped s.p.a.ce when I get to the pharmacy and put my card on the dashboard so the police can see it while I run in and get my medicine. I love having this handicapped sign, 'cause you always get a parking s.p.a.ce. When I pull into the gas station, I forgot I just used most of my cash, and I ain't cashed my check yet, so I hurry up and put five dollars of unleaded in, 'cause I can't tolerate the smell of this gas and it's hard holding my breath when I'm filling up, but sometimes when I plug my nose up people look at me like I'm crazy. I'ma just have to look crazy again today.

Shanice is standing at the curb outside Hyde Park Junior High School talking to some boy with little braids in his hair. He sure is cute. No wonder she like it here. This is one of them Magnet schools they made so that all kids could get a good education and not just white ones. I feel like honking this horn, but I don't wanna embarra.s.s her. She swings her head around, and when she sees me, she tells this boy something and runs over to the car.

"Hi, Granny," she says, and gives me a kiss on my cheek.

"Hi, baby. Who was that boy?"

"Gerard. He's in my science cla.s.s. We've been doing our final project together on the senses."

"And which ones would you be dealing with?"

"Taste and smell."

"I betcha."

"Granny! Stop it. Wait a minute. Where are we going?"

"We splurging. We going to the Mirage to eat lunch at their buffet, and then we going home and start packing. Get Granny one pill outta each bot- de and then hand me that Pepsi tolling under your foot, would you? And get my spray outta my purse while you at it, please? Between that paint and them gas fumes, I swear."

"Granny?" She hands me my pills, opens that warm soda, and gives me my inhaler.

"Yeah," I say, after swallowing them and taking a puff, but I start coughing, 'cause my chest been feeling tight and this is what happens when it starts opening up. I take another pufF, just to make sure.

"You all right, Granny?"

"Yep. I'm okay now, baby. Here, you can put it back."

She drops the inhaler in my purse. "Would you be mad at me if I told you I don't wanna go home when I get back from camp?"

"No, I wouldn't be mad. But why don't you wanna go home? George done been arrested. And your mama's there all by herself."

"That's true, but Mama said they can't keep him in jail unless I let them examine me and do that stupid interview, which I am not doing. Period."

"Why not? If that's what it's gon' take to put that son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h where he belong-in San Quentin somewhere-why won't you?"

" 'Cause I can't. I just can't. I want to forget about this whole thing, and every time I look around here comes another reminder."

"Maybe you just need a litde more time to think about it. Those social- service people I been talking to seem real nice. They trying to protect you, Shanice. They got your best interest at heart, you know."

"I've heard. But I'm not interested. As you always say, Granny, 'they're a day late and a dollar short.' "

"But it ain't they fault."

"I can't go back to that house. And I'm not setting one foot in there ever again in life. So, if Mama wants me to come home, then she's gonna have to find us another place to live."

"Then you need to take that up with her."

"I will."

And we don't say another word about it. I stop by the bank and cash my Social Security check and then drive till we pull into the Mirage, and I let 'em valet-park my car, and we go in and eat steak and crab and lobster, and we licking our fingers when I see some hones on a big screen in another room running around a track. Now, I know the Kentucky Derby was dam n n ear a month ago and I know I ain't got no business doing this, but for some reason I feel lucky, so, without even realizing what the h.e.l.l I'm doing, I grab Shanice by the arm and the next thing I know we standing in this big old curved room with giant screens all around us and all kinds of races is going on.

"Granny, what are we doing in here?"

"I wanna bet on a horse."

"Which one?"

"h.e.l.l, I don't know," I say, looking up. "Let me go ask somebody."

And that's exactly what I do. I walk over to some old black fella who look friendly with a wrinkled-up newspaper in front of him that turns out to be a racing form. "Excuse me, honey, but what racetrack is this?" I say, pointing to that screen.

"That's Hollywood Park."

"What would I do if I wanted to bet on a horse?"