Bebe Moore Campbell Read Online Free PDF Page A

It was my mother’s detachment that stung like acid flung against my skin.
    Oh, those beautiful mommies, just out of reach, removed and aloof because they lack the maternal gene, because they love their jobs, some no-good man, their reflections in the mirror, or the afterglow from the bottle or the hallucination from the pipe more than they love their children. Daughters can worship their mothers too. When I was a child, my mother was in and out of my life and mostly drunk in both locations. I wanted to be important to her, only that. To matter more than the next drink. It’s amazing what people squander in a lifetime, what they walk away from as though it’s just so much detritus in the street. I remember trying to hold on to my last bit of hope, how it seeped out just before I gave up on my mother. I stored my pain and anger in a place that became molten. And now I had to live with heat that wouldn’t stay contained.
    Trina was giggling. Clyde used to make
me
laugh too. When we were newlyweds with brand-new dreams, we laughed all the time. Driving through Atlanta, where we started out, Clyde would point out the site of our first mansion, our second. Stick with me, baby, and you’ll be farting in a Rolls. I don’t need a mansion or a Rolls, I told him. But he did.
    Trina caught my eye, gave me a look, and I got up and walked outside, closing the door behind me. Not all the way, though. I left it open a crack and stood right there. Trina’s laughter wafted out. I heard her say she was fine.
    I had to give the man some credit. Clyde showed up for the important occasions: the birthdays, the holidays. He called. He had never been late with child support, except after his second divorce. When we were together, he did almost as much child care as I did. In between chasing down dollar bills, Clyde was a real daddy. Trina caressed the word, cooed, and giggled some more after she said it. If anybody said my name that way, I’d never leave her. But then, he hadn’t left Trina. He left me.
    My inner mule made me marry Clyde. That was one time God warned me big time. Minutes before the ceremony began, while I was standing outside the church getting ready to march down the aisle and say I do, a pigeon flew over my head, veered dangerously close, and shit right on my veil. Ma Missy was next to me, her bright clairvoyant eyes fevered with insight garnered from one look in her personal crystal ball. Between clenched teeth she whispered, “Babygirl, that’s Jesus talking to you. You need to put your ass right back in that limo and get the hell on away from here.”
    She read my glance.
    “Okay, don’t listen to me. I got to seventy-five with all my teeth and in my complete right mind being a fool. This is your world, squirrel; I’m just living in it.” She shook her head. “So damn hardheaded.”
    It wasn’t that my grandmother didn’t like Clyde; she just realized early on that he was a man intent on moving up so fast he’d leave behind whoever didn’t keep up.
    When I peeked into the office, Frances was dabbing more spot remover on the stain. “Don’t want to come out,” she muttered. She put her hand to her face, partially covering a scar on her cheek that she tended to rub when she was troubled. It had become a keloid. That smooth raised skin stood out like a brand.
    I returned to the showroom. Trina and Adriana were both helping customers. Adriana rang up hers first and then came over to me.
    “So, I understand you have a movie date.”
    Adriana nodded.
    “Who’s the guy?”
    “Some dude in my class.”
    “Do you like him?”
    Adriana shrugged, her movement full of tough-girl bravado. She didn’t want to care. Then, just as quickly as it had been erected, the wall came down. “It doesn’t matter if I like him or not. You know that.”
    She was back to being sad girl again. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and squeezed her tightly. “Just have a good time,” I said.
    Trina was helping several