Page 45 of Leave It to Us
After they’d all showered and changed into their pajamas, they’d come back downstairs. Yvonne had gone into the kitchen to heat up the beef stew and bread Ms.Janie had sent while Lana spread out one of the tarps on the living-room floor.
“Damn, that was some good eats,” Lana said as she lay back on the floor, one hand over her stomach, the other arm dropping over her forehead. “I haven’t eaten sweet tada bread since the last time I was here and Grandma had hired that girl from down the road to cook for us. Y’all remember her? What was her name?”
Tami had just finished the iced tea she’d been drinking. She set it aside on the part of the floor closest to her that wasn’t covered by the tarp. “Her name was Charity. She was just a little older than me and trying to earn some extra money to pay for culinary school. Jeremiah told me she came back here and opened up a little restaurant. It’s along the road close to one of those resorts so she could get the tourist traffic. We should check it out one day.”
Yvonne nodded from where she sat across from Lana and Tami. “We should definitely support her. Grandma would’ve liked that.”
“I think so too,” Tami said.
They fell silent, each of them in their own thoughts. Tami’s had drifted temporarily to the fact that she still hadn’t heard back from that record company about the job. It’d been three weeks since the interview, but she’d been trying to remain optimistic. Which had been Gabriel’s advice, but since she had other stuff going on, she figured she could follow along for a while. The house was the next thought, and what other work they needed to do. They hadn’t yet touched the blue house out back because Yvonne and Lana had decided they would get the summerhouse finished first. Tami figured that was so that if they ran out of money on the renovations here, they’d have an excuse to tell her to forget about her plans for the blue house. But Tami wasn’t going to do that, no matter what they said.
Yvonne spoke finally, her voice somber. “We should talk about Mama.”
By the way she looked down and picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on her pajama pants, Tami could tell that even her sister knew what she’d just said was putting a damper on the otherwise amiable last few hours they’d shared. It wasn’t easy being with her sisters—never had been. But she couldn’t forget that there’d also been some really good times. Tami knew that, and she cherished them, especially in the years that they’d become so distant.
“How’s she doing?” Lana asked, rolling over onto her side and propping up an elbow and resting her head on her hand. “Last time I talked to her, she was complaining about the doctors lying to her.”
Yvonne pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah, she doesn’t like many of the doctors she had to choose on the Medicare plan.”
“But she doesn’t have a choice, does she?” Tami answered. “They’re the only doctors she can go to, right?”
“No, not really. I mean, there are several providers on the Plan C portion of Medicare, but I don’t know if it’ll be any different. She just doesn’t like the fact that she’s on Medicare,” Yvonne said.
“Something else for her to be unhappy about,” Tami said. “I swear, for a woman who always had so much, she never seemed happy with anything.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Yvonne said. “She was happy when we were little. Don’t you remember, Lana? She used to love Christmas and all the gifts Daddy used to buy us and her. We used to sing Christmas carols while riding around the neighborhoods, looking at the lights on all the houses.”
“I remember,” Lana said. “But it seems like so long ago. I don’t think I remember her smiling much by the time I graduated from elementary.”
“She never smiled around me,” Tami said. “Not at Christmas or any other holiday. Not at any of my graduations, even though she knew howhard I worked to get to each one of those milestones.” She sighed. “The doctor I see now, she said being on some form of medication—even if it had been a really light dose when I was younger—might’ve made my school experience a little less traumatizing.”
“You felt like you were traumatized because you had to go to school?” Lana asked.
Tami shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. But school was hard for me; I know you two knew that. Mama used to make you sit at the table with me every night, trying to get me to understand my homework.”
“And you still struggled,” Yvonne said. “I remember those nights. I used to feel so sorry for you because I knew you were trying really hard. I knew you were doing the best you could.”
“Me too,” Lana said. “That’s why I used to just write the answers on most of her math homework.”
Yvonne looked shocked by the admission.
“Mama didn’t want to admit that I had a problem. Swore the school system and doctors were always quick to medicate the Black kids. But she just didn’t want to say it out loud that I wasn’t perfect,” Tami said, the heaviness in her chest threatening to choke her. “My therapist said I should’ve talked to Mama about this a long time ago—the two of you as well, but I didn’t want to. Didn’t want to rehash all that pain.”
“That doesn’t sound like you at all,” Lana said, and Tami tossed her an annoyed glare. “I mean, you never were one to hold your tongue. Especially when something pissed you off.”
Tami shook her head. “Not when it was Mama. You know there was no backtalking in Mama’s house, and no opinion that was better than hers.”
“I don’t know if that’s fair, Tami,” Yvonne said.
“Oh boy, here she comes. I was thinking for just a minute that maybe you were ready to have an honest discussion about her,” Tami said.
“If an honest discussion includes you taking some responsibility for your actions for once,” Yvonne rebutted.
“C’mon, y’all, are we really going to do this now? It’s late,” Lana said, pulling herself up to a sitting position.
“All I wanted to discuss was our mother’s health,” Yvonne countered. “She’s been struggling since the stroke. The neurologists think she’s starting to experience more of the residual effects from the type of stroke she had. That means in some ways her mind is deteriorating, and that has her strength and overall health declining. That’s why she needs everything to be on one level so she’ll be able to get around easier.”
“But you moved her down into that back room off the kitchen, right?” Lana asked. “And there’s a little bathroom downstairs.”
