Piecing Me Together(46)

Clouds are moving in. Maxine lifts her sunglasses up and nestles them into her hair. I ask Maxine, “What are you thinking about?”

She smiles and says, “My grandmother. I’m thinking about how she’d say that sometimes, it’s just good to talk it out, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“My grandmother called it bearing witness. She’d sit on the porch with her sister and talk the night away. Sometimes gossiping, sometimes praying. I’d hear them confide in each other, telling each other things I knew I wasn’t supposed to know anything about.” Maxine hits the button on her keychain to unlock her door. We get in. “I didn’t get it as a kid. I mean, nothing got resolved, necessarily, so I thought it was silly to just sit and rehash everything that was wrong with the world,” Maxine says.

“Yeah, that’s kind of depressing,” I say.

“But I think what my grandmother was saying is that it feels good to know someone knows your story, that someone took you in,” Maxine says. “She’d tell me, it’s how we heal.”





59


escuchar

to listen

The next time I see Maxine, it’s for Woman to Woman’s very first Money Matters workshop. We’re having the meeting at a small church not too far away from my house. The pastor is letting us use the space. I love that I didn’t even need to take a bus or get a ride from Maxine to get here. I love that once it gets started, Sabrina says, “I’d like to give a big thank-you to Jade, who is the one who suggested today’s workshop topic. So if you like today’s session, you owe it to her.”

Jasmine starts clapping, and then everyone joins in.

Sabrina pauses, letting the applause fill the space. “I want you all to know that your feedback is welcomed here. This is your program, and we want you to get the most out of it.”

Sabrina introduces our guests for the day. The first person is Maxine’s friend Bailey, which is a surprise to me. Maxine leans in and whispers to me, “I couldn’t let you in on everything.”

Sabrina tells us, “Bailey is going to focus on how to make and manage your money in college.” Then she says, “Aka don’t get any credit cards!”

The panelists laugh, and our mentors all respond with a chorus of agreement.

Sabrina introduces the rest of the panelists and tells us, “This is the first of many conversations, so if your question doesn’t get answered today, don’t worry.”

By the end of the panel, my fingers are cramping because I’ve been taking notes nonstop. There are handouts, but I didn’t want to write on them. I want to save them and share them with Mom and E.J. and Lee Lee.

Bring back something other than food this time.





60


anticiparse

to anticipate

I post my schedule on the fridge for Mom. I’ve put a big circle around the third Saturday of the month because that’s when Woman to Woman is going to visit Maxine’s sister’s gallery. Sabrina was not playing around when she said she took our input seriously. Mia is going to talk to us about being an entrepreneur, and then we’ll get a tour of her gallery. She’s closing to the public that day, and it’ll be just us.

Mom teases me, “You can hardly wait, huh? Bet you are counting down the days.”

“No, I’m not,” I tell her.

But Mom knows me better than anyone could ever know me.

Three more weeks.

Twenty-one days.

Five hundred and four hours.





61


las manos

hands

E.J. has a gig deejaying for a new restaurant. He works every Thursday and Friday night now, so usually it’s only me at home. Maxine calls and asks what I’m up to. I tell her, “Nothing, about to take out my braids so my mom can redo my hair.”

“Want some company? Four hands are better than two,” she says. “I can help you take them out.”

I call my mom, ask if it’s okay for Maxine to come over. She doesn’t mind.

I tell Maxine to come over because I could really use the help. These braids are small, and I don’t feel like being up all night, doing my hair. As soon as I hang up the phone, I realize I just agreed to let Maxine come over and stay awhile. I am used to her stopping by for only a moment to pick me up, maybe look at my new art projects. But to stay, for hours at a time? I get anxious about the things she’ll see that maybe she hasn’t noticed before, like how the dining room table isn’t a real dining room table and how none of the furniture matches, or how there’s a crack in the ceiling, chipped paint on some of the walls.

When Maxine gets to my house, I get a brown paper bag, open it, and set it on the floor next to the sofa. I go to the bathroom and return with two small combs, a pair of scissors, and a small squirt bottle full of water. “Ready?” I ask.

“Yep.” Maxine grabs a throw pillow from the sofa and gives it to me. She sits on the sofa. I sit on the floor, propped up by the pillow between her legs.

Maxine holds a handful of braids and clips the ends with the scissors. We start unbraiding, throwing the used added hair into the bag. After my hair is unbraided, Maxine sprays my hair with water to make it easier to comb through. The mist tickles the back of my neck. She parts my hair into fours, gathers the bottom section in her palm, and pulls the comb through my hair. It feels so good to get my hair combed. To feel the teeth raking gently against my scalp.