Piecing Me Together(30)
I sit on a bench outside of the store and wait for Sam. One of the women who was able to hold on to her purse comes out of the store, a shopping bag in hand. She walks over to me and says, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I had to let you know that what that woman did to you was wrong. If I were you, I’d write a letter to her manager.” She walks away, and I am left with her apology and the scent of her lingering perfume.
When Sam comes out, she asks, “Why’d you come out here?”
I tell her everything that happened.
“No way,” she says.
“I’m serious. That really just happened,” I tell her. “Did you get to take your backpack into the dressing room?”
She looks at mine, lifts it up to hers, and says, “Yes, but yours is a little bigger.”
“By, what? An inch? Really, Sam? You’re going to side with that racist salesclerk?”
We walk to the next store. “I wouldn’t call that racist,” Sam says.
“So what would you call it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you seemed up to something because you weren’t buying any clothes.”
“So big girls can’t go into stores for skinny girls and look at the accessories? That’s a problem too?”
Sam slows down. “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t think it had anything to do with your race or your size. I think maybe she was just trying to do her job. That’s all.”
I don’t know what’s worse. Being mistreated because of the color of your skin, your size, or having to prove that it really happened.
35
negro
black
Today’s collage is made up of words and cutouts from magazines.
Things That Are Black and Beautiful:
A Starless Night Sky
Storm Clouds
Onyx
Clarinets
Ink
Panthers
Black Swans
Afro Puffs
Michelle Obama
Me
36
comer
to eat
As soon as I step onto the porch, I can hear Fred Hammond’s voice singing about God’s grace and mercy. Mom must be home and she must be cooking or cleaning, because that’s the only time she goes into gospel music mode. I unlock the door and walk in. “Mom!” I call out to make sure I don’t scare her, since her back is to me.
She jumps anyway, all hysterical, but then smiles once she realizes it’s just me. “Jade, you can’t sneak up on me like that!”
I turn the music down. “Sorry. I tried not to.”
Mom scratches her nose against her forearm because her hands are turning fish in a bowl of cornmeal, coating both sides before she dips it into hot oil in a frying pan. On the back burners of the stove, there are two silver pots, their lids trembling on top of them like chattering teeth. She turns the knobs down and brings the boiling pots to a simmer.
“You’re home early,” I say.
“Half day today.”
I change my clothes, grab a bag of chips, and sit at the dining room table.
“Don’t get full. Dinner will be ready soon.” Mom takes the fish out of the frying pan and puts it on a plate layered with paper towels to soak up the grease. She puts more fish in the pan. The oil pops and crackles.
I eat a few more chips, fold the bag, and start doing my math homework. By problem three I am feeling stuck and frustrated. “I can’t do this right now,” I say. I close my book.
Mom comes over to me. “What’s wrong?”
“Algebra two.”
Mom opens my book, skims the page for a moment, and then says, “Girl, I don’t know nothing ’bout that. Wish I could help you.”
I close the book. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll ask Maxine to help me.”
“Well, excuse me,” Mom says.
“Mom—”
“No, you’re right. I can’t help you. At all.” Mom finishes cooking.
I take my flash cards out and drill myself. I repeat each word three times. Mom huffs and puffs and closes cabinets harder than usual, so I stop saying the words out loud. Just whisper them. Mom fixes my plate and then fixes hers.
I take a bite of the fish. “This is good, Mom.” I tell her—not like she doesn’t know it, but because I think she needs to be reminded of the good she can do. But if that was my goal, I should have stopped there. Because what I say next sends Mom into a rage. “Are you coming to the Woman to Woman Healthy Eating, Healthy Living seminar?”
“The what?”
“I left the flyer on the fridge.” I point.
Mom looks at the flyer. “I don’t have time to go to that. What is it about, anyway?”
“Eating healthy. I think they’re going to give tips on how to make small changes when buying and cooking food. Like, this fish—it’s good—so good, but Maxine and Sabrina would probably say it should be grilled or pan seared or—”
“Is Sabrina going to buy us a grill? You tell Maxine that if she got time to come over here and cook for us, she can come. Until then, I’m cooking how I want to cook.” Mom shakes hot sauce onto her fish. “Got some nerve, telling me how to cook my food.”