Divas of Damascus Road Read online

  “Afraid of what? You’re a man.” She tried to dodge his insinuation, taking a big, nervous, throat-scorching gulp of coffee. “I’m here with you, ain’t I?” That swig was so hot, it was all she could do to keep from crying again.

  “Yeah, I’m a man, but this is not a declared romantic relationship. You’re beautiful; you’re single; you’re smart—I’ve seen the way guys look at you when we’re together. I’m starting to think you hang with me so men won’t approach you.” He waited for her to deny what they both knew to be true. “Tell me, do you ever go any place where a man might approach you?”

  “I go to church; I go to work; I go to the grocery store.” She eyed him.

  “And what do you do when men approach you? Do you give them the same cold shoulder you gave me when we first met?”

  “Why do you have to keep bringing that up?” She gave a simple smile, hoping to throw him off, but it wasn’t working.

  “No, answer the question. How do you respond when men approach you?”

  “How am I supposed to respond?”

  “See, this is the thing I’m talking about. Your attitude toward men—it stinks.”

  “My attitude stinks?” She pressed her back against the chair and brought her hand to her chest.

  “It’s foul, Yolanda.”

  “Kelan, I’m tired,” was all she could say. “Could we please not talk about this today?” They drank coffee and read for a few more minutes, then Yolanda gathered her things and left.

  Kelan could finish up his coffee alone. All the way home she thought about Kelan’s accusations. He’d rubbed her the wrong way, that was for sure. Who does he think he is? Yolanda bounced in her seat as she waited for the traffic light to change. After a long day at work, this situation with Regina, and Kelan’s harsh words, her patience was paper-thin.

  She threw her head back on the headrest in frustration after waiting another thirty seconds. What a day, what a day, what a day! She felt the beginnings of a headache; the twinge lodged between her eyes. Yolanda rarely suffered headaches, so she didn’t carry pain relief around with her.

  “Maybe I need to start,” she said out loud.

  “No, I take that back,” she said after giving it a second thought. She’d made it nearly thirty years without lugging medicine around with her, and she wasn’t about to take up that habit now. She popped in her Fred Williams’s Dwelling Place CD and opted to praise her way out of this frame of mind. With her attentions focused on thanking God for everything He had done right, rather than sulking about the problems in her life, Yolanda was open to revisiting Kelan’s words with some level of objectivity. She laughed at herself, thinking, “Okay, maybe he was a little right.”

  Once at home, she hung her keys on the designated hook, popped out of her shoes, and ran bathwater right away. After bathing and devotional time, she checked her messages. There was one from Orlando, saying that he wanted to ask Yolanda a few questions. The second one was from Kelan, as she figured it would be. He simply called for a truce, offering a partial apology. “I apologize for my word choice,” he said, “but I do think you should consider the message I was trying to convey. Call me when you get in, okay? Bye.”

  Nope. You’ve got a little silent treatment coming to you, my brother.

  Yolanda returned Orlando’s call first, asking him to read the questionable statements. He talked under his breath as he scanned the documents. “Height five-six... blood type B. African-American…” Finally, he read the troubling statement regarding his wife’s condition. “What’s this body dysmorphic disorder?”

  “It’s... like...” Yolanda stumbled through the words, “when Regina looks in the mirror, the image she sees is much bigger than what she is in reality.”

  “Isn’t this just a part of postpartum depression?”

  “Well, if she really thinks she’s fat—and she obviously does—that’s not going to change in another couple of months. She needs help.”

  Orlando respected his sister-in-law’s opinion, both professionally and personally, but if there was one thing he had learned in observing his mother and her sisters, it was that women stuck together, right or wrong. “Okay. I’ll talk to her about it tonight and we’ll get something set up.”

  “Tonight?” Yolanda asked. Regina’s wrath so soon?

  “Yes. Tonight.”

  Orlando put the phone on the receiver and took a deep breath. He wasn’t afraid of Regina, but he didn’t like arguing with her. Somehow she always twisted his words and left him twenty leagues below wondering which way was up. That came with the territory of marrying an attorney, he knew, but that knowledge didn’t make him feel any better. As much as he hated what was about to happen, there was no way around it. His wife and his entire family were in danger, and he was not going to sit by and watch this eating problem tear this Hernandez family apart.

  He sat at the foot of their bed and looked into her swollen eyes. “Regina, we need to talk.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’m going to schedule you an appointment for counseling.”

  She cocked her head and calmly stated, “For the record, have you been talking to Yolanda?”

  “I am not going there with you.” Orlando stood his ground, his eyes fixed on hers, not a break in his stern face. They battled it out, fussing and arguing until Regina finally kicked him out of the bedroom. He’d hoped to cuddle his wife tonight in the comfort of their bedroom, with their son sleeping quietly in the next room. Instead, Orlando curled up on the couch with a blanket and a flat pillow. Regina was angrier than he’d ever seen her, but he’d meant what he said about her getting into therapy, whether they were living under the same roof or not.

  Chapter 21

  Dianne put the finishing touches on the guest bedroom in preparation for Yo-yo and Aunt Toe’s arrival. With Gloria spending her first Christmas with Richard, Regina spending Christmas in New Mexico with some of Orlando’s family, and Yolanda needing a break from Kelan, Dianne easily managed to get them to leave Dentonvile for Christmas. Maybe if they saw that she had a life in Darson, they wouldn’t pester her so much about moving home.

  In her heart, Dianne determined that she couldn’t move back home again as long as Joyce Ann was living and breathing in Dentonville. The best thing she could do was bring a piece of Dentonville to Darson for the holiday.

  Dianne hoped like crazy that the plan wouldn’t backfire, leaving her with even more longings for the company of her family than before. She couldn’t think about that now, though. They were at the door.

  “Merry Christmas!” Dianne welcomed them into her modestly furnished apartment.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too, Dianne.” Aunt Toe reached up to hug her great-niece. That girl was looking more and more like Joyce Ann every day. Shame they don’t even talk.

  Yolanda pushed Aunt Toe past the entrance and then stopped for a hug. “Merry Christmas, girl.”

  Aunt Toe took it from there, rolling through the widened paths Dianne created in anticipation of their overnight stay. She might as well have pulled out her old white ushering gloves, the way her eyes roved the premises. Dianne and Yolanda stood in the kitchen and watched Aunt Toe as she broke all the rules of home training and inspected what she could from the seat of her wheelchair. She respected Dianne’s privacy enough to leave the closed doors closed, but Dianne knew she’d have to open up her master bedroom to Aunt Toe sooner or later because that bathroom was the only one with an entrance wide enough for the wheelchair.

  “How was the drive?” Dianne asked Yolanda.

  “Girl, she fussed the whole time,” Yolanda replied, performing her best ventriloquist act.

  “I owe you one.”

  “You owe me a million.” They shared a private laugh and spoke in their normal tones as Aunt Toe turned up the volume on the television.

  “You want some hot chocolate, Aunt Toe?” Dianne yelled over the blaring volume.

  “Yeah, baby, that would be fine.”

 
Dianne filled a kettle of water on the stove and continued her conversation with Yolanda. It was the first time in months that she’d had an overnight guest. “Girl, I’m so glad you two came.”

  “I should be thanking you. I’m kind of glad to get out of Dentonville.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “Well, for one thing, this is Momma’s first Christmas with Richard. I didn’t want to impose on them. Then there’s this guy named Kelan—”

  “A man?”

  “Yes, a man,” Yolanda said evenly.

  “I’m just saying, I didn’t know you were in the dating mood, Miss I-don’t-need-anybody.” Dianne eyeballed Yolanda.

  Yolanda gave a childish smirk and continued. “Anyway, he keeps trying to make me commit, but I’m not ready for all that right now. Then there’s this whole thing with Regina. One day she’s doing fine, the next day she’s hardly speaking.”

  “Sounds to me like she’s just being regular old Regina.” Dianne shook her head.

  “That’s the problem—all these years of mood swings have been a direct result of the underlying problem. She has what the psychological community calls depressive episodes. It’s like she goes into self-destruct mode.”

  Dianne was all too familiar with the term.

  “Anyways,” Yolanda continued, “Regina’s got to learn to deal with life without overeating or obsessing about weight loss. And then there’s the situation with your mom.”

  Dianne held her hands up. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “I’m just telling you what’s going on in Dentonville.”

  “I don’t want to hear anything about Joyce Ann.” Dianne shook her head firmly.

  Yolanda chewed the insides of her cheeks. Then she exhaled and said, “Okay, Dianne. I just hope you know that you can’t put this thing on the sideline forever.”

  “I’ve been on her sideline for over twenty years now,” Dianne muttered. “What’s another few decades?”

  Later that Christmas evening, they gathered in the living area to exchange gifts. Aunt Toe surprised the young ladies with a gift, knowing they wouldn’t expect anything from her. Her present was only a token of the love she had for them. Aunt Toe was no fool; she knew she was a handful in the way that strong, stubborn women with graduate degrees in common sense could be. She wanted her nieces to know she appreciated them.

  “This is beautiful,” Yolanda gasped as she twirled the black angel ornament around with its shimmering, glitter-laced wings.

  “Thanks, Aunt Toe.” Dianne took her angel straight to the tree and hung it near the top. “This is perfect.”

  “Well, I figure I ain’t got too many more Christmases left.” Aunt Toe shrugged, pushing her glasses back up on her face.

  “You’ll probably outlive all of us.” Yolanda draped her arm around Aunt Toe’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

  “Oh, I doubt that. Chile, I’ve got one foot in the grave and one foot on a banana peel. Don’t push me, now.”

  After sunset, Dianne took Yo-yo and Aunt Toe to an upscale community renowned for its Christmas decorations. They gave a small donation near the gated entry and joined a caravan of onlookers in gawking at the elaborate holiday scenes staged by some of Darson’s wealthiest citizens to benefit the Red Cross. They bought hot chocolate from a group of drill team girls and sipped on the smooth warmth as Dianne cruised the neighborhood. There was nothing like it in Dentonville—the first time in all of Aunt Toe’s years she’d seen such a display of Christmas spirit.

  “Well, I’ll be,” she remarked time and time again as lights dazzled across artificial snow and illuminated rooftops that seemed to reach the stars.

  “Ooh, they light bill gon’ be sky high next month,” Aunt Toe laughed. “But I suppose it was worth it.”

  Later that night Regina called to say hello to Dianne. They talked at length, with Dianne easing into her room to converse privately.

  Aunt Toe took that as her opportunity to corner Yolanda. “So, is it working?”

  “I don’t know, Aunt Toe. It looks like Dianne has a pretty good thing going here in Darson.”

  “Hmph. Ain’t nobody called her except Regina and Gloria. How’s that a good thing?”

  Yolanda shrugged and shook her head, not wanting to give Aunt Toe any ammunition.

  “What’s wrong with you, chile?”

  “Nothing. I’m just glad to get out of the house.”

  “Mmm. Me, too,” Aunt Toe confessed. “It’s good to get out sometimes. But there’s no place like home. There’s nothing like being around your own peoples, you know?”

  “I don’t know, Aunt Toe. If Dianne moved back, we wouldn’t have anybody to visit. Besides, I don’t think Dianne wants to be around Aunt Joyce Ann just yet.”

  “That’s the real problem.” Aunt Toe wagged her finger in the air.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “It was an awful thing, what Joyce Ann did. I can’t say I blame Dianne for feeling the way she does. She’s entitled to those feelings. But deep down in my heart, I know Joyce Ann still loves Dianne, and Dianne still loves her, too. If they didn’t still love each other, it wouldn’t hurt them both so much.”

  Yolanda put her face in her hands and spoke to Aunt Toe between her palms. “That may all be true, but I don’t think that badgering Dianne about the situation is going to help anything. I think we need to give them time.”

  “I ain’t badgering her!” Aunt Toe whipped her neck around and faced Yolanda. “But that thing about time healing all wounds isn’t always true. Yeah, leaving some wounds to time is okay, but other wounds need to be pulled tight and stitched up before they can heal. And I do consider myself surgical thread, ‘specially when it comes to my family.”

  Yolanda didn’t argue. Actually, she was too tired to argue. A nice nap would hit the spot right about now. “Well, I’m gonna go lay down for a bit.”

  “I ain’t through with you yet.” Aunt Toe grabbed Yolanda’s arm and yanked her back onto the couch.

  “What did I do now, Aunt Toe?”

  “It’s what you ain’t doin’ that I’m concerned with.” Aunt Toe looked at Yolanda above the rim of her glasses.

  Yolanda was clueless.

  “That boyfriend of yours—what’s his name, Keldrick?”

  Yolanda had known Aunt Toe would go there some time this weekend. It was a miracle she hadn’t brought it up on the ride to Darson. Might as well get this discussion it over with. “I don’t have a boyfriend, but I’m assuming you’re referring to Kelan.”

  “Well, whatever that nappy-rope-headed boy’s name is, he’s a good ‘un, and I think you ought to keep him,” she offered her unsolicited advice.

  Any other time Gloria would have come in and pushed Aunt Toe out of the room, but not today. Aunt Toe had Yo-yo all to herself, and she was ready to lay down the law. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s to see a foolish woman throw away a perfectly good man.”

  Aunt Toe waited for Yolanda to protest. When she didn’t, Aunt Toe continued, “You know, there was a time when a black woman couldn’t expect to hold on to a good man, ‘cause at any moment he could be taken away. My great- grandfather got sold off, left my great-grandmother’s heart broke in two. She never got over it. Nowadays y’all just toss use ‘em up and toss ‘em out like old grease. You got no idea how much your ancestors wanted to fight to keep their marriages and families together, but they lost their families because they didn’t have a choice.”

  Yolanda had never given it much thought. She considered for an instant what it would be like for someone to come and take Kelan away. “That’s sad.” Then she thought about all the black men who had intentionally abandoned their families, and countered, “But you have to understand, Aunt Toe, some of these men aren’t acting right. Evidently, they don’t know what a blessing it is to be in a position to stay with their wives and kids.”

  “That’s all a part of what we’re still dealing with as a people.” Aunt Toe sympathized
with Yolanda, but she explained herself. “See, three or four generations ago a black man couldn’t keep his family together. Couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t stop a white man from taking his daughter’s purity; white man come in and attack the girl with the daddy right over in the next bed—wasn’t nothin’ he could do about it.

  “That does something to a race of men after a couple hundred years. Then here come the black women, we just took on both roles in the family since we couldn’t count on them being there. The women stuck together and raised each other’s kids, nursed for one another even. Hundred years or so of that, and I guess some of us started thinking, ‘What we need these men for?’

  “And even though we’re past that now, we’re still only a couple of generations from it. Our men want to come back home, but we have to be willing to take ‘em back in and make ‘em feel welcomed and needed. A man’s ego is a fragile thing. Especially our men. A lot depends on how this generation of educated black women responds to the black men who’s tryin’ to come home.” She pointed at Yo-yo as if the entire African-American community rested on her shoulders. “You’ve got to be sensitive to their issues as well as let them know you ain’t givin’ ‘em another three hundred years to get their act together. It’s a fine line, Yo-yo. A very fine line.

  “I’ll tell ya what, though, there’s no substitute for a man in your life. You can have all the female friends you want—ain’t nothin’ like the hum of bass in a man’s voice.”

  Yolanda couldn’t argue with that.

  “All I’m saying is,” Aunt Toe summarized her sermon, “don’t be so independent you won’t allow for one of the best things that could ever happen to you in your life. Your momma finally listened to me, and I tell you, Gloria’s got a smile on her face I haven’t seen her wearin’ since Willie was alive. Love is a beautiful thing, you know?”