"So what? You write that poetry all the time."

"Yeah, but it ain't that good."

"It is good."

"Yeah, but you can't get no job being no poet, Ma."

"Maya Angelou seem to be doing all right."

"That's true."

"Then look into it. Read some books about poetry or something. That's the only way you gon' find out."

"Okay, Ma!"

She still flipping through the career stamps, but now I can tell she ain't really looking at 'em. She got exacdy ten seconds to get her behind over there in that kitchen. One. Two. Thr- "Ma, we miss Daddy and want him to come home."

s.h.i.t. "I know y'all do, but sometimes married people have problems that kids don't understand."

"We do understand, and we think it's stupid that you put Daddy out and wanna divorce him for something he did centuries ago. It's kinda like crying over spilt milk."

"Who the h.e.l.l is we?"

"Me, Trevor, and Monique."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. Ma, you don't know how many kids at school's parents is divorced. And I been so happy all these years that I could say my parents ain't even thinking about getting no divorce, and that I got a very cool dad. I mean, come on, Ma, Daddy does everything around here, and he takes us places, and not every father will wash and braid his daughters' hair."

"Girl, that was so long ago."

"Me and Monique ain't forgot it. And even Aunt Suzie Mae think you way off base."

"Is that so?" I say, even though what I really feel like saying is, "f.u.c.k ALL Y'ALL," at the top of my lungs, but I know that would be wrong. I bought this book a couple of weeks ago about feeling good, and one part of it was about controlling your anger, and it said people need to learn how not to say the first thing that comes into their mind, 'cause sometimes it can be more hurtful than you think. This is some hard s.h.i.t to do. The book even said you can control your thinking, which is news to me, but according to this stupid test I took, a lot of my thoughts is negative, which means sometimes I may not be seeing things the way they really are. I don't quite buy that. But some of it do make sense. And some of it don't. Do I always think I'm right? Yeah, 'cause most of the time I am. I don't say nothing if I can't back it up. I had to stop reading that book, 'cause it was getting on my nerves, just like Tiffany is now. But it did get me to thinking that maybe I might need more than a book. Maybe I might need a real person to talk to.

"Hi, Ma," Trevor says, coming into the family room and handing me my ticket. "Here you go. And as we always say: Lotto Love!"

"Would you get me a drink, please?"

"Certainly. What might I make for you this evening?"

"I don't care. Just as long as it bite."

"Okay, Ma, what was it you was saying about Daddy?"

"Nothing. Y'all just gon' have to wait and see what happen. Just like me."

"Wait and see?" Trevor says.

"That's what I said."

"Where's Daddy staying anyway?"

"With one of his buddies." I turn the TV to Channel 9.1 been doing this every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for I don't know how many years. One day I'ma win. I just know it. And when I do, me and Mama been had a deal going for so long that whoever hit first split it. I'd be so happy to have a little bit of money to share with her. It wouldn't even matter if we ain't speaking. A deal is a deal. Plus, it would be one thing I could give her on my own.

"Which buddy?" he asks.

"Why y'all so worried about your daddy? I'm the one that got the raw end of the deal here."

"No you didn't," Trevor says. "From what I gather, you're charging him for a crime he committed a long time ago. Haven't you heard of the statute of limitations?"

"The what?"

"Even I know that," Tiffany says. "It means after so much time pa.s.ses you can't be found guilty of the crime. And this was way over ten years ago, wasn't it?"

"Look, after me and your daddy talk next time, I'll let everybody know what the verdict is, but until then could we skip the subject, please?" My jawbone is jumping, I'm getting so mad. I hate being put on the spot like this. I don't know why they taking his side, especially when they don't know the whole story.

"Okay, then, Ma?" Tiffany says, finally running some dishwater. "How come you ain't said nothing about my report card?"

"Where is it?"

"Right next to you, by that Ebony."

I pick it up and lift up the top part. I can't believe my eyes. Is them B's I'm seeing? And an A? "Tiff! Baby! When did you get so smart? I mean, I'm so proud of you! How'd you do this?"

"I listened harder," she says, smiling. "My tutor said that whenever I didn't understand something, instead of pretending like I did, to raise my hand and ask the teacher to explain it till I did. And guess what, Ma?"

"What?"

"A whole lotta kids in my cla.s.ses was glad I asked, 'cause they didn't get a lot of that stuff either."

I give my daughter the thumbs-up. "Right on, Tiffany. I told you not to be scared to speak up, didn't I? I'm going down to Kinko's first thing in the morning and make a copy of this and mail it to your granny." She nods her head up and down like she hearing music all of a sudden. I know she smart. She just been acting stupid. I hope this is the beginning of a trend. If it is, this make two down and one to go. Monique tries harder than anybody I know, and maybe one day it'll pay off for her, too, especially when she grow up and don't need no medicine to think. But, come to think of it, seem like her grades was better before they put her on this mess. She slowed down like them doctors said she would, but, s.h.i.t, maybe too much. She don't like taking it, that's for d.a.m.n sure. And maybe I might take her off this stuff and see how she do. White folks got us believing everything they tell us just because it might be true about them, but it ain't necessarily true about us.

"Okay, Ma, I thought you was fixing to ask me a question a while back."

"I already did. About college. And do me a favor? Work on your English, would you? You sound downright uncouth half the rime. If you can write the s.h.i.t right, try speaking it right."

"Okay. I thought we was, were, talking about food or something."

"Oh, yeah, what do I cook best?"

"Pies," Trevor says, handing me a gla.s.s of something light yellow. Probably Squirt and Tanqueray.

"Yeah, all your pies are the bomb, Ma, but you make good cakes, too. And some of them cookies be jamming. Why, you think you might wanna cook this kinda stuff?"

"I don't know. Maybe. We'll see."

"But what would people eat to go with it?"

"You can specialize," I say.

"I know that," Trevor says. "That's what Felix and I plan to do."

"Felix is a f.a.g," Monique says, standing in the doorway in her pajamas. She's laughing, and then Tiffany starts in, too.

"So what, so am I," Trevor says, and I almost choke on my drink.

"We been knew that," Tiffany says. "Everybody know it, so what's the big deal?"

I don't say a word. As a matter of fact, I pretend like I didn't even hear him say it. 1 just stare at the TV and drink my drink until it's gone.

"No comment from you, Ma?" he says, looking up at me.

I swallow hard. I'm trying to figure out the right thing to say, but I don't know what that is. My daughters don't seem to be having no problems with this news, which apparently ain't news to them. s.h.i.t, he's their only brother and he act like a d.a.m.n girl.

"It's okay. Ma," he says.

"No, wait a minute. All I can say right now is this. First of all, I thought the correct word was 'h.o.m.os.e.xual.' "

He looks shocked. So do Tiffany and Monique. I almost feel a grin coming across my face, but I don't wanna push it.

"That's the technical term," he says.

"Well, whatever you think you are, or whatever you wanna be, is up to you. I can't stop you from doing or being whatever is in you, just as long as you ain't going through these antics to get attention."

"Why would I wanna do that?" he asks.

"I don't know. But pour me another drink, would you, Trevor? Y'all getting on my nerves. And, Tiffany, there's a stain on the back of your shorts."

She twists her neck around and looks down at her behind, but she can't see it like that. "Never mind, Trevor. I'll get it myself." I take my empty gla.s.s over to our little bar. "Tiffany, let me ask you a question, since we all in a confessing mood. When was you gon' tell me you got your period?"

"Ma, you should get over here," Trevor's saying.

"Wait a minute! I asked you a question, missy."

"I did tell you, Ma."

"No you didn't."

"Ma, I'm serious!" Trevor screams.

"G.o.dd.a.m.nit, I said just a minute!"

"Yes I did. Three months ago."

"Then how come I don't remember it?"

" 'Cause you had been drinking a litde bit that night, I guess."

"Ma, you've got all five of the Litde Lotto numbers!"

"I don't drink that. . . What did you say, boy?"

"You got all five of the numbers! I kid you not! You hit the jackpot! It's like two hundred f.u.c.king thousand dollars, Ma!"

"No s.h.i.t," Tiffany says.

"d.a.m.n," Monique says. "It's about f.u.c.king time."

I thought I heard 'em all cuss. I know I just heard 'em all cuss, but I can't believe this s.h.i.t either until I walk over and grab that ticket outta Trevor's hands and compare it to the numbers on the screen. He's abso-f.u.c.king- lutely right! While everybody's jumping up and down I flop down on the couch. "Y'all, relax, and let's not get too excited till I find out how many people I might have to split it with."

"Oh, yeah. We forgot about that," Trevor says.

"Well, we'll just cross our fingers," Tiff says.

"Maybe we should pray harder tonight," Monique says.

"Now, that's a good idea," I say, and rest my head on the back of the couch and close my eyes. I wanna call Mama so bad, but I better wait till the morning. I don't wanna get her hopes up too high. Right now all I wanna do is thank G.o.d for answering my prayers. I promise to be a better person, a better mother, a better wife, a better sister-a better everything. 'Cause this is a sign. I guess the kids musta heard me say, "Thank you, G.o.d, for blessing me and everybody in this house," because, the next thing I know, I hear Trevor say, "Oh Lord, Mama's getting religion on us."

I'm the first one up. After the kids leave for school, I do everything I can possibly think of around here to make that clock move a litde faster. Just get to nine o'clock, please. When it finally gets here, and I call, it turns out that only two of us picked these numbers. But what the h.e.l.l: I'm still $104,000 richer! All I gotta do now is be patient, because it takes four weeks to get the money. I can wait.

I dial Mama's number, but she ain't home. I get her answering machine. "Mama! Mama! Hi! This is Charlotte! I know you still mad at me and everything, but forget about that. Guess what? I got a present for you! Fifty thousand dollars! You heard me! Guess who hit Litde Lotto for a h undred thousand bucks? Me! Yeah, me! Call me as soon as you get this message, and don't worry, 1 won't hang up in your face. I promise. They got any room left on that cruise you going on? I ain't never been nowhere. I might wanna go. And when you moving? I wanna buy you something for your new condo. 1 do. I love you, Mama, and I'm sorry for being so nasty and hanging up in your face all them times. I swear I am. I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I love you again. I been waiting a long time to do something nice for you, and I'll finally get a chance to do it. So call me as soon as you get this message! Byeeeeee. Oh, I'm quitting the post office and selling the Laundromats, and I'm probably gon' start my own mail-order business where I sell nothing but desserts. I'll tell you all about it when I talk to you, but, no, I won't, 'cause . . ."

Beep.

The machine cut me off. I'm tempted to call back, but I'm too excited. I ain't got no choice but to call in sick, and when I do I plug my nose and cough a litde bit to make it sound good, and then I spend the rest of the day daydreaming and doing nothing. I could get used to this.

For some reason, when the alarm go off like it do every morning at four- thirty, I can't hardly move. I went to bed too early, is what probably made me tired. My body ain't used to relaxing. That's it. Get up, Charlotte. Get your rich a.s.s up! Which I do. I can't wait to get to work to tell Belinda. She about the only one there I can tell. But I ain't quitting today, that's for d.a.m.n sure.

I press the alarm off and get in the shower, but as soon as I do I swear I hear the phone ringing. Now, who in the h.e.l.l would be calling me this time of morning? I know it ain't Al, 'cause he ain't had too much to say to me since I put him out. But you never know. I grab a towel and wrap it around me. This better be important, that's all I gotta say. I hurry up and pick up the portable right next to the bed. "h.e.l.lo," I say, and my voice cracks, 'cause I ain't talked since last night.

"Charlotte?" somebody's asking whose voice sound worse than mine.

"Who is this?"

"It's Paris."

"Paris? What you doing calling me so early in the morning? And what's wrong, you sick or something?"

"No, I'm not sick. I'm in London."

"What you doing over there? And what's the time difference?"

"It's not important right now, Charlotte."

"What you mean? What's going on, Paris? Talk to me."

"Something's happened to Mama."