Page 94 of Pride and Protest
“Look—I know that your friend Lucia has this big ol’ fancy life right now. She’s in expensive cars and meeting fancy people and she’s got a great big old ring, but you wouldn’t have been happy like that, Liza, I know you wouldn’t.”
“Oh, Granny, I know. Idon’twant her life, and”—she rushed out the last bit—“I’m happy for Chicho.” It wasn’t all the way true, but if she said it enough it would become so.
“Well, what’s the matter, baby?” Granny looked all out of options. Why had she kept Dorsey from her?
“Therewassomeone,” Liza started.
“I hope you don’t mean that flashy one...” Granny quieted down. “I mean, WIC is a charmer. But I just didn’t like that he couldn’t show up for you that night.” Granny paused to think. “You ended up dancing with that Mr. Shit Don’t Stink.”
Liza lifted her head from Granny’s chest again. Her voice had lost its tremor. “No, his shitis normal.” Liza shook her head. “No, I mean, he’s not like that. He doesn’t think that.”
Granny huffed, reminding Liza a little of Bev. “Well, he’s not winning any congeniality contests over here.”
“He’s not like David. He’s probably never ordered anything with sprinkles on top. But he’snotunkind. It’s important to me that you know that, Granny.” Liza searched her granny’s face for agreement.
“Okay.” Granny look perplexed. “Okay, I know that now.”
If she held on to any suspicion about Liza’s pointed defense of Dorsey, she didn’t let on.
“Granny, have you ever messed up really bad and didn’t know if you could fix it?”
“Oh yeah.” Liza could see her wrestling with speaking again. She sighed after a long pause. “I stepped out on your grandfather, you know.” She waited for condemnation from Liza that did not come. But surprise did roll over her. Her grandmother had always chastised Bev about her penchant for married men. She’d never dreamed her granny would ever make a huge relationship mistake like that.
Liza stayed quiet. She didn’t want to break the soft spell of this truthful moment. Slowly Granny continued.
“Your grandfather was in Vietnam, and I had just gotten so lonely. In the end, I just had to ask his forgiveness. Forgiveness will take you a long way, Leese.” The use of the old nickname combined with the soft trilling of Aretha turned Liza’s stomach inside out.
“I think this person is a kind of cut-’em-loose-forever type,” Liza said.
“Someone’s capacity for forgiveness says more aboutthemthan you.” Liza burrowed deeper into her grandmother—loving the enveloping softness, the astringent smell of arthritis ointment and the soft curl of rosewater perfume and Pink oil hair cream. Granny had been the most solid thing in her life for so long, but her sturdy presence made Liza think of another person who always put her at ease. She pulled away from Granny; her mascara made two spidery crescent moons on the older woman’s shoulder. Liza reached for the silk-lined turban, and Granny pulled it off, letting the bone-white cloud of hair rise with static electricity.
“Can you oil it for me?”
Liza stood and settled herself behind her seated grandmother. She was happy to occupy her hands, happy to toil with the cottony strands until they parted into neat little rows. Dipping her finger into the Blue Magic, she slid it across her granny’s soft scalp.
Should she trade a secret for a secret? Tell Granny everything about Dorsey—about how wrong she had been? But everything had already slipped through her fingers. Did shewantto see the look of disappointment on her granny’s face when she told her how much free work she had done for weeks? How many lies she’d lapped up? How she had faked her smiles and let WIC shit on Dorsey just to seem “down” and worthy of his attention? She didn’t want to share that part of herself with her granny—the shallow, weak, silly, gullible side. Instead, she dragged Blue Magic down another row.
The days rolled into weeks, and Liza couldn’t lift herself out of her fog. She hadn’t received a “36 Questions” text since the last one. No IFFs, no four a.m. selfies, no GIF parties, all of it sixty to zero. Dorsey really was done with her. She had also lost more than ten thousand followers. There didn’t seem to be a bottom on this roller coaster from hell.
When the day came for her Pinoy hip-hop event, Liza threw out the schedule that the radio station gave her and played all the artists that Dorsey and Park had recommended to her. Listeners came to the station to taste Filipino dishes from local chefs and dance on the makeshift dance floor. The Filipino embassy had even come by to take a few pictures, and magazinesand newscasters interviewed her about her choice of musicians. She gave all the praise to her advisers, Joseph Park and Dorsey Fitzgerald. When she walked outside the booth to pass out radio station T-shirts and beer cozies and interview community members, she scanned the crowd constantly for Dorsey. He wouldn’t be coming, she knew, but hope was the last thing she had, and even that was wearing thin. What had he said that night of the snowstorm? Once he was done with someone, he cut them off completely.
Everything was going so well. Her last international hip-hop session was a raging success. Itshouldhave made Liza happy.
She laughed and smiled and did and said all the right things. All the media articles were complimentary, saying she was on her way up, not knowing her station was handing out pink slips like a paper factory. She had thrown out their contractually mandated playlist, and however popular she was, her big final insurrection would not go unnoticed.
When it was dark, Liza slept, and when it was day, she compiled playlists, ate, and watched Marvel movies.
Liza, I see you in everything I do. I feel you.
She was never sure how much time passed between her time at the studio and her time at home. Her interactions were generic, and her family, who were always the most annoyed by her sharp tongue, seemed lost with its absence. It occurred to Liza that little by little, the days had become hotter; the birdsongs of spring were replaced by the neighborhood children outside. Her sister was thriving in New York without David and was sending money back to the family. Granny put her window AC unit back into her room. It was summer, but Liza’s cinnamon skin had lost its bronze glow and her hair stayed in a silk scarf—hoping but never getting to be unwrapped. Bev would weave in and out ofthe room commenting on the state of her hair, the smell of her room, and the puffiness of her face.
She was on her third shot of Crown Royal Apple when her mother dropped an envelope on her bed. The envelope was thick and creamy white with gold foil type. Somebody with money wanted her somewhere. Her heart leapt.Could it be Dorsey?Liza let the idea linger for a moment. He would not be renewing any friendships, or any “-ships” with her. She would not feel bad for standing up for her sister, but her throat still clenched at the thought of WIC. She had to stop herself before she spiraled down into guilt again.
Liza, I want to wake up with you in my arms.
When she looked back up again, her mother hovered at the door. Granny pretended to dust the floor near her door. LeDeya craned her neck and stepped past Granny to snatch the letter out of Liza’s hands.
“Why does it take you forever to do stuff?” LeDeya pulled the thick paper out of the envelope.
