A Different Kind of Blues Page 2

  She didn’t like the sound of that, but she knew that, like many holiness preachers, Pastor Collins meant what he said. “I don’t remember all the times I wronged someone,” she told him. “So what will I do?”

  “Make a list.” He left the living room, returned a few minutes later with the material for the bulletin, and handed it to her.

  “I feel like doing all the things I always wanted to do, seeing places I wanted to see.”

  “Go ahead and do that, so long as it’s nothing bad,” he said. “But first, seek forgiveness from those you’ve wronged and forgive the ones who’ve wronged you. Mark my word. You can’t afford not to do this.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He walked with her to the door. “I’ll be praying for you, child.”

  Petra looked up at the tall, distinguished man and suddenly envied him his great age. “You can tell the Lord about this, since I guess he can keep a secret, but not anybody else, please,” she said. “I’m not even going to tell my family.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll discuss that another time.”

  At home, Petra walked into her kitchen and looked around. Nothing had changed. The uncluttered countertops sparkled; the stainless steel sink shone as if it had just been polished; and the eleven-year-old stove looked as if it had never been used. She shook her head and sat down on a stool beside the window. For eighteen years, her life had been like her kitchen. But to what end, and did it matter?

  She got up, measured one and three quarters of a cup of water for a cup of rice, put it on to cook and sat down to list the names of people she thought she had wronged, beginning with incidents in her childhood. She soon tired of it, mainly because the exercise led her to realize that she shouldn’t think herself superior to some people who she regarded as her inferiors. Petra did not and never had enjoyed self-examination, though she had many commendable habits. But she had some bad traits, too, knew it, and did nothing to change them.

  She stirred the chili, put the list aside, and chopped tomatoes and green peppers to make salsa. Who would take care of Krista? Her mother—Krista’s grandmother—was a licensed practical nurse, and although she could take care of herself easily, she didn’t earn enough to do that and send Krista to college.

  “If only I had been more frugal,” Petra said to herself. But how much more could she have pinched and stinted? She’d worn the same pair of shoes daily for nearly a year and had had them repaired twice, and she only owned one coat.

  “Is the chili ready, Mom? I have to finish this report tonight, and I intend to get an A. Top grades mean college scholarships. Right, Mom?”

  “They sure do, honey, and if any student gets one, I know you will. I’m chopping vegetables for salsa, and as soon as this is ready, we’ll eat. Hmmm. This chili smells good.”

  Petra set the table, called Krista, and sat down to eat. She didn’t feel like eating, but she couldn’t afford to alarm her daughter. She’d been blessed with a wonderful child, respectful and obedient, for which she was grateful, and she wanted their relationship to remain warm for as long as she lived. But when she thought of what she had to tell her daughter, goose pimples popped out on her flesh. She resisted a sudden urge to get up from the table and hug her only child, for that would alarm Krista.

  “You’re not eating, Mom, and this is the best chili I’ve made in ages,” Krista said.

  “I know, but I ate cake down at Reverend Collins’s house, and you know how miss Minnie insists you eat.”

  “Tell me about it. You should have brought me a piece. It wouldn’t curtail my appetite.”

  “No. You could eat two cakes and not gain an ounce.” She looked at her lovely daughter, seventeen years old, beautiful hair and complexion, her father’s bedroom eyes, and a near-perfect size ten body. “Well, I’d better put this bulletin together. You know how nervous Reverend Collins is about his church bulletin. But you go finish your homework. I’ll clean the kitchen.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?” Krista asked her, for she considered it her job to clean the kitchen after meals and never left the chore to Petra.

  “’Course not. You take care of your studies.”

  Petra cleaned the kitchen, typed out the bulletin, and looked around for something else to do. She was in trouble at work, but she didn’t care. Only yesterday, it promised her so much, but now…. Nothing. She went back to the kitchen and got her list. She had to tell her daughter the truth and ask her forgiveness, and she doubted anything else would cost her so dearly. But she couldn’t do it until after Krista turned in her term papers and took her final exams. That meant she had to be a consummate actress at least for the next two weeks. And she had to make up an excuse for Jack.

  I know what I’ll do. I’ll go on the church’s annual retreat to Ocean City next week. Mama will be glad to stay with Krista, and, once I get to Ocean City, I won’t have to talk to a soul or do anything else that doesn’t suit me.

  “You got some explaining to do,” Jack said when she walked into the office the following morning. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Might as well put her cards on the table. “While I was out to lunch, I got some bad news. I freaked out.”

  “It had to be awful for you to act like that. Not only did you walk out and leave your computer on and your desk unlocked, but you hung up on me.”

  “I did what? When did you call me?”

  Jack threw up his hands. “All right. I hope you get it straightened out. One day I give you a nice raise, and the next day you do something you never did before. I put some stuff on your desk, and I need it before you leave today.”

  “I’ll get right to it.” She thought for a second. Might as well ask him now. “Jack, I need next week off. I know it’s a month earlier than I usually take vacation, and I’m not giving you much notice for this, but I can’t help it, Jack. I don’t have a choice.”

  He stared at her until she thought she would wither from the heat of his gaze. “I suppose this is connected with the problems you got yesterday.” She nodded. “All right, but leave your desk clean.”

  “Thanks. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  “Get yourself straightened out.” He said it in a gruff tone, but she knew he cared. If only she could straighten it out.

  “How long is the retreat, Mom?” Krista asked Petra as her mother closed her suitcase and got ready to leave.

  “Ten days. That means I’ll be back for your graduation. I know you always like it when Grandma stays with you. You can call me if you have any problems, but I’m sure you and Mama can handle everything. It’s good Mama will be here, because she’s making your dress for the graduation gala.” Nervous chatter, and she realized Krista knew it.

  “Oh, she’s finished with that. You have a good time, and don’t come back with that long face you’ve been carrying around here for the last couple of days.” Krista paused. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Petra’s eyebrows shot up. To her knowledge, Krista was not a worrier. “Sure I am. You and Mama have a good time eating catfish, collards, and cornbread. I’ll call you.”

  Petra hugged her daughter, and when Krista stepped back and looked at her quizzically, she knew she had communicated to Krista her sense of desperation. Quickly, she pasted a smile on her face and said, “I’ve never been to one of these retreats, and I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m getting into.”

  Krista’s relief was evident in the slow deep breath that she took before returning Petra’s hug. “Get outta here, Mom, before you miss that bus.”

  Petra took the single seat opposite the bus driver, closed her eyes, and went to sleep, the first time she’d slept soundly since learning of her illness. She did not want to spend three hours making small talk with someone with whom she had nothing in common except membership in the same church.

  The bus arrived at the hotel in Ocean City shortly after noon, and she got out, gazed at her surroundings, and thought how much she would have enjoyed being th
ere in different circumstances. She registered, went to her room and looked out at the enormous stretch of water and the numerous sailboats that it accommodated and decided that she would enjoy herself. Everybody had to die; most people just didn’t know when. She put on her bikini bathing suit and a pair of dark glasses, put a book and a towel in a tote bag, grabbed her beach umbrella, and headed for the beach.

  With the sun still high, a cool breeze drifted in from the ocean. She was about to relax when she remembered that she hadn’t told Lurlene and Twylah that she’d be away for a few days. What else had she screwed up in the last couple of days? They began meeting at her house and playing cards to encourage Lurlene in her attempt to quit smoking. To Lurlene’s way of thinking, Petra had probably committed a crime, for her friend counted on their card-playing sessions—when she wasn’t allowed to smoke—to ease her withdrawal from cigarettes.

  She took out her cell phone and dialed Twylah’s number. “Girl, where are you? Your mama said you went off on some church retreat. I can’t imagine you doing such a thing. Who’s on this retreat other than you and the preacher?”

  “About thirty other sisters and brothers. The preacher must be eighty if he’s a day, so don’t worry about Reverend Collins. I forgot to let you and Lurlene know. My boss gave me permission Friday, and I had to hustle to get ready to leave Saturday. Mama’s staying with Krista.”

  “I know that, Petra. I called there and talked with your mama. She said you hadn’t been acting right. And don’t let that preacher’s age fool you; my mama was born when my granddaddy was seventy-eight.”

  “I don’t know what Mama could mean by that. Till she came over to my house this morning, I hadn’t seen her in a little over a week. And another thing: I wouldn’t care if Reverend Collins was born ready to go; he’s too holy for my taste.”

  Twylah’s whistle irritated Petra’s ear. “You ain’t in a good mood,” her friend said.

  “Never mind that, Twylah. You keep up with Lurlene; I’d hate it if she went back to smoking.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. See you when you get back.”

  Petra’s lower jaw dropped when the Reverend Collins sat down beside her. “Mind if I share your umbrella for a few minutes?”

  She told him that she didn’t.

  “Are you at this retreat to escape, or are you seeking spiritual renewal?”

  Lying was not a sin that she could afford, so she told him the truth. “I’m trying to get my act together, escaping, you might say.”

  “Have you begun asking forgiveness of people you’ve wronged? You have to do it.”

  “I know. I want to talk to my daughter first, but I have to wait till after her exams and graduation. It wouldn’t be right to upset her now when she’s trying to graduate.”

  “That’s right. So ask the next person on your list. You did make out a list, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, and it’s a long one.”

  “Then I’d say the sooner you start, the better. If you need help, come see me.”

  “Yes, sir. I think I’ve had enough of this sun. Maybe it’s better early mornings.”

  “Yes, it is. Why don’t you take a trip on one of those big cruisers? You might enjoy it.”

  Until he joined her, she had managed to think of something other than her illness. She jumped up and gathered her things, glad to get away from the man. “Thanks. I will,” she said.

  Several hours later, she found herself on the big cruise ship, Tanga.

  She wasn’t much of a gambler, but she spent half an hour at a slot machine and managed to lose only three dollars. Of course, she’d had about eighty dollars in winnings at one time and gambled it away. No more of that for her. She went to the buffet restaurant, paid the required twenty-five dollars, and spent the next hour eating.

  “I don’t care if I get fat,” she said to herself and made up her mind to find a good homemade caramel cake and eat every bit of it. At worst, it would make her sick, and she didn’t care about that, either. She wandered to the upper deck, watched the line dancers, and decided to move on.

  “Come on,” a male voice said. “It’s fun, and you look as if you could use some.” When the disc jockey played “Boot Scootin’ Boogey,” the revelers filled the dance floor. She danced beside the man until the end of the piece. Then, he asked her if she’d like to go down to a lower deck and see a movie with him.

  “How old are you?” she asked after giving him the once over.

  “I’m twenty-four. Why?”

  “’Cause I’ve nursed my last baby. My daughter will be eighteen in a few weeks,” she said, waved at him, and walked on. Days earlier, she would have been flattered that a man twelve years her junior found her interesting; but on that day, the idea bored her. I don’t have time for that kind of frivolity. I’ve got too many serious things facing me.

  Although she didn’t take another trip on the cruiser, she whiled away the ten days on the beach, in the shops, at the hairdresser, and browsing in a local gallery, always careful to avoid the Reverend Collins. When the bus returned to the church to discard its passengers, Petra got out first; but when she would have rushed away, she heard the preacher call her name and walked back to him.

  Tall, handsome, and distinguished looking in spite of his eighty years, he stood ramrod straight as she approached him. “You’ve had plenty of time to think about what’s right, Petra. Now, you start doing what you know you have to do. I know you don’t like thinking about it, but you’ve been given this time to get yourself right with your Maker. I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thank you, sir. It isn’t going to be easy, but I guess I have to.” She walked away without waiting for his reply.

  Several days later, tears rolled down Petra’s cheeks when the principal handed Krista her diploma. At least she’d been alive to see her daughter graduate. In spite of her unhappiness about her situation, she couldn’t help being grateful for that. She wanted Krista to go to college and to have opportunities that, because of her own stupidity, she’d been denied. But unless her daughter got one of the scholarships for which she had applied, it wouldn’t happen.

  The following evening, after they finished dinner, Petra took a deep breath and looked at Krista. “Let’s sit in the living room. I have to talk with you.”

  Krista’s gaze swept over Petra. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m fine,” she said. “I have to correct something, and it’s not easy for me to do this. All of your life, I’ve held you close to me, treating you as if you were mine alone, although you aren’t, and I’ve lied to you about your father. He isn’t dead, at least not as far as I know.”

  A frown covered Krista’s face. She narrowed her left eye and bounced forward. “What are you saying?”

  “All he ever talked about was his dream of finishing college and that nothing was going to prevent him from getting his degree at Howard University. He would have been the first person on either side of his family to get a degree, and a lot of his relatives pitched in to pay for his education. I’d just finished high school, and he was entering his junior year at Howard. It was my fault I got pregnant; he asked if I was on the pill, and because I wanted to sound sophisticated to this college man, I lied and said I was protected. I never told him I got pregnant, and he spent his junior year at a university overseas.”

  Petra thought the silence would deafen her. It seemed that many minutes passed, and Krista sat facing her and looking her in the eye, but not saying one word. But she saw her daughter’s jaw working and knew she was angry.

  “How on earth could you dare do such a thing,” Krista said at last. “How could you do this to me? What’s his name, and where is he?”

  “His name is Goodman Prout, but I don’t know where he is. I do know that wherever he is, he’s probably teaching music.”

  “He’s a musician? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, he was getting a degree in music with a major in piano and a minor in strings. I don’t think you should contac
t him and upset his life. He’s probably married, and—”

  Krista interrupted her. “I don’t care if he is married. And don’t give me any advice about him. I don’t want to hear a thing you’ve got to say.”

  Her daughter had never spoken to her disrespectfully, and the words cut her like scissors shredding her insides. “Krista, I was a child, the same age as you are now. What would you have done?”

  Krista sucked her teeth. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to get pregnant. You take care of the kitchen. I’m going to start looking for Goodman Prout.”

  Petra knew that there was no point in trying to dissuade her. “Will you at least try to forgive me?”

  “That’ll take a lot of doing.”

  Krista went to her room, closed the door, slumped against it, and released a heavy sigh. Her heart beat so fast that it frightened her, and she groped her way to the bed and fell across it. She had a father, a living, breathing father who she’d never seen and who didn’t know she existed. What would her life have been like if he had been a part of it? Would she have walked to school on those cold days, or would he have driven her in his car? Would he have gone to her school plays, the debating team activities, and other things that she participated in, and would he have been proud of her? Would her life have been more pleasant? Would she have loved him, or would he have been a drunken slob like Jaynell Cook’s father? Was her mom ashamed of her? How could her mom do such a thing to her?

  Fury boiled up in her. She sat up and kicked the chair that stood beside her bed. She had a right to know her father, and she intended to find him, no matter who it hurt. And her mom had a lot to account for. She hadn’t told her only a lie, but a hideous one.