Chapter Three

Nikki wasn’t there when the spider made its webs. But today, she had decided to trace back the exact steps of the spider.

To her three senior sisters, Nikki was luck to be in a perfect marriage, though none of them could fathom the reason why. For them, to have remained married for the past eleven years to one man was a great accomplishment. Their records were enough proof to sustain the significance of their little sister’s feat.

Kamesha, the most senior married at eighteen. She divorced at twenty-one. At twenty-three, she married again and once more divorced at twenty-six, leaving one kid each for each ex-husband. At twenty-nine, she almost married once again but managed to put it off. But not before she became pregnant for her third child born in her mother’s house. She is now thirty-two and once more talking about marrying this guy who is ten-year younger.

The second girl in the family, Ashley, had a different fate. Right from the time when she was a kid, she had her eyes somewhere above the blue sky. She married a flamboyant man form New York. She was twenty-five years old and he was twenty-six years old. Three years into this marriage, he was killed in a drug related shoot out in Brooklyn. She had not married ever since. She seemed more contented with raising up the daughters she had during the marriage.

Lala, the third girl, never married. She is still twenty-eight but widely believed to be uncut for the marriage institution. Surprisingly, she was the prettiest of the girls. But since she started telling anyone who cared to listen that she was too good for any man, ever since their sixty-two year old mother had joined other in classifying as never married-as if she would never marry.

Nikki had never been enthusiastic about visiting her parents ever since Lala and Kamesha returned to their family house. To Nikki, being the baby of the family only became a relishing experience when the older ones were away.

The last time she was home was on Independence Day. Like every other time, she had to take lectures from everybody about everything. Even Lala and Kamesha usually find one or two things to tell her about marriage. In her parent’s home, she had always been the little baby of the house, not withstanding the fact that she had two kids of her own. An eight year old boy she named Martin and a ten year old daughter she named Mary, after her mother.

No task had proven itself harder for Nikki as taking decisions, especially those decisions that conflict with the position of her husband. She had loved him all through the 12 years they have known each other. But somehow Nikki was feeling that she had to stand her ground for the first time in her married life.

Nikki did not arrive at this decision to put herself first easily. It took the not guilty verdict in the O.J. Simpson trial for her to know that sometimes things could go well beyond human imagination. Early this morning, Malcolm had happily informed her that the Nigerian Airways DC 10 plane had arrived in New York City, living Nikki only ten days to stop this family holiday in Africa. A holiday her instinct had told her would turn her life around.

She stood in front of a six feet mirror looking at herself. Few things had changed since she was twenty. She had not seen wrinkles yet. Her figure still looked attractive. That was in spite of the few pounds she recently added. She knew she wasn’t flattering herself because men, too, tell her how beautiful she was.

First, she combed her long black hair to the right. She looked in the mirror and saw that it didn’t fit. She tried the left. It made her look like someone about to fly. She split the hair into two equal parts-one parts she pushed to the left, the other to the right.

If it were some years ago she did ask Malcolm how she looked. But these days Malcolm had fallen in love with something else. The man she used to know was now in love with Africa. Gradually she was finding herself further apart from Malcolm. What used to be their bedroom had been taken over by African artifacts. That was why she was in the visitor’s room where she now dresses up. Their bedroom had lost the laughter it used to know in the early days of their marriage.

She pulled out a special make-up draw. She stretched her hand and picked the perfume Venus. It has been her special perfume wore only on special occasions. Early in her marriage, one of her problems was finding a place she could hide the perfume so that Malcolm wouldn’t see it. Now Malcolm had become contented with burning candles and rubbing solutions made from African herbs on his body. If not for Mary who seemed to have found out she was a woman, Nikki wouldn’t mind leaving the red bottle on the table.

Nikki had not told anyone the whole truth about her fear of visiting Africa with her husband. She had gone out for her way to talk to a handsome African man. The man only confirmed her fear that in Africa her husband could marry a second wife. She was not sure she was ready to present that fear to her family. But she was ready to do anything to stop the trip, including playing along with her heart about that African man who called himself Emeka.

After all, nothing seemed to remain of her marriage to Malcolm. He missed their marriage anniversary because he had to attend the Million Man March on Washington. Just when she thought he would make it up on Valentine’s Day, that same day he also traveled to Washington to attend a special convention of The Nation of Islam.

These developments devastated Nikki. She had no doubt Malcolm was no longer the man who proposed to her form the pulpit. The man she used to call her own angel Gabriel. Something she could not yet pin point went terribly wrong. The Malcolm she used to know would never forget their marriage anniversary. And when Valentine’s Day comes, he would always be there.

After nine months in her mom’s womb, Nikki had thought she had passed her loneliest hours. But on Valentine’s Day in her lonely room, she was lonely like a corpse in a coffin. The night was longer than she ever felt. From the noise she heard emerging from the room near-by she felt no one wanted to sleep.

She imagined the night drunk in the sweat of lovers who took advantage of God’s suspended law to do the only thing they knew as loving. She tried to count the lips maliciously kissed and found it harder than counting the heaven’s stars. She heard the noisy crickets go dumb at the sound of lovers laughing at pain. She looked out of the window and saw that it was a work free day for ugly moths mesmerized by the smell of effervescence love.

Calmly, she lay on her bed, holding fast to her chilling pillow. With nothing but her inner eyes, she built up his structure in her mind. She gave him eyes like the eagle’s and molded his lips with fresh honey. She unveiled his egg yoke skin and warmed her head on his hairy strong chest. Her hands trembled and her tongue emerged. Out of control went down her waist.

Back to herself, he instantly vanished. Leaving her alone with her pillow, to hug, cuddle, kiss and caress. She looked up to the night sky and saw stars smiling. She wondered whether the mocking smile was at her whose pillow was her Val or at lovers moaning next door. Before she went to bed, she told herself that next year her empty bed would be occupied.

***

It was an old three-bedroom ranch. Sitting on chairs left on the porch were Nikki’s sisters, Kamesha and Ashley. Kamesha was braiding Ashley’s hair. Watching from her rocking chair was their mother, Mary. In her hand was a sweater she had been knitting. In the living room was Nikki fetching juice from the fridge.


“Nikki, girl,” Kamesha called out, “could you please get me a glass of lemonade while you are in the kitchen.”

Her voice was faint for she just recovered from a cold.

“What?” screamed Nikki.

“One glass of lemonade, please,” Kamesha repeated her request.

“And me too,” joined Ashley.

Nikki searched through the fridge and saw no lemonade. It occurred to Nikki that twelve years after she left home, nothing had really changed about what is where in their fridge.

“There ain’t no lemonade in the fridge,” Nikki screamed back. She did not find that unusual either. Assigning chores and following through had always been their mother’s greatest challenges. While Nikki had been resourceful and domestic, Kamesha and Ashley were sloppy and detached from things mundane.

“You will find lemon beside the fruit basket and tin of sugar on the fridge,” Kamesha said.

“Y’all do not expect me to come here and be making lemonade.”

“Excuse me!” Kamesha said, “So you are now too good to make lemonade for your sisters?”

“Whatever!”

“Sister, just make it because of your Mama.”

“Mama didn’t say she needed lemonade.”

“Alright then. Your sisters need some.”

“You girls should do more here than sit around and gossip.”

“We heard you big sister. We can feel you.”

“Thanks for the lemonade, sister,” chipped in Ashley.

Nikki brought out lemon squeezing machine and gathered together some lemon and began to slice on the kitchen table. Outside the porch, Ashley, Kamesha and their mother were having a conversation.

“Y’all seem to forget that Nikki is a grown woman now,” their mother said. “She is no longer the baby of the family.”

“Mama, wait,” Kamesha said. “Does her being married make her better than us?”

“That’s not my point.”

“Because I was married once.”

“Once or twice?” asked Ashley.

“Shut up, Ashley,” scolded Kamesha.

“And what do you call that your marriage to the crazy African guy?”

“Just so you know – it was good while it lasted.”

“What did you get from the relationship other than this fake African accent?”

“Mama, tell Ashley to shut up,” Kamesha appealed, turning to their mother for help. “This is not about me. It is about Nikki.”

“My point is that Nikki has her own family and Lord knows she is doing everything to support her family and make her marriage work,” said Mama. “She doesn’t need any aggravation when she comes here. Being who she is, she might not readily say it but this home is sometimes her final sanctuary where she can find peace.”

“Mama, tell that to Ashley who has never been married and may never be married,” Kamesha said.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about your sister,” Mama said.

“Let her say whatever,” Ashley replied. “For all I care, I rather be unmarried than marry three different men in less than ten years.”

“You know, I wonder sometimes if you are a lesbian,” Kamesha said.

“And I wonder sometimes if you are a whore,” replied Ashley.

“That’s it, you girls,” Mama yelled. “You don’t talk like this in my house.”

“If I am a whore, you are a whore’s sister,” Kamesha continued angrily.

“I say that’s enough.” Mama yelled the more, this time louder. “You don’t talk like this in this house. If you want to talk the ghetto talk, go out in the streets not in my house.”

There was an unsettling quiet after Mama spoke. Kamesha and Ashley understood what she meant when she said this house – her house. The decision to house them whenever they return from yet another adventure with men was one that Mama could revoke.

“Sis, are you guys still going to Africa for vacation?” Kamesha said raising her voice for Nikki to hear her in the kitchen.

“I guess so,” Nikki said.

“You don’t sound excited,” said Ashley.

“I am worried,” Nikki confessed. “I don’t know much about Africa and Malcolm is too excited that it worries me.”

“I want to go to Africa,” Kamesha stated. “If you guys buy me a ticket, I will come along.”

“From what I heard, it is disgusting over there,” suggested Ashley. “Flies, bugs, hunger all over. For me, I am staying put in these United States.

“I want to go where Black people run things,” said Kamesha.

“Guess what?” retorted Ashley. “That’s why it looks as messed up as it is.”

“Y’ all should support your sister,” chided Mama. “It is just a holiday and if she doesn’t like it, she won’t go back.”

“I am afraid Malcolm may not want to come back,” said Nikki.

“Then you bring your behind back with my grandchildren,” Mama said.

“Maybe he already got a wife over there,” Ashley teased. “You know that they marry more than one wife. Ah, my sister will soon share her husband with another woman. What do they call that arrangement? Step-wife? Or is it co-wife?”

“Ashley, stop teasing your sister,” Mama said.

“For all I know, when I save enough money, I will go to Africa and find me a fine husband,” Kamesha said.

“Is that how you plan to get your groove back?”

“Mama, tell Ashley to shut up or I will close that stinking mouth for hers.”

“The truth hurts, they say.”

“Nikki, there is this young African man who works at the Laundromat on Park Street,” Mama recommended. “You can go and talk to him about Africa. He may be able to answer any question you have and help you prepare.”

“Oh, Mama you saw him too,” said Kamesha. “The guy is cute. I have tried to hook up with him but he isn’t feeling me yet.”

Nikki walked out of the kitchen with a saucer full of glasses of drinks. She passed the drinks to each of her sister and sat beside her mother. Down the road, a 10-year-old boy ran towards them. He was fast and seemed threatened. He held on to his chest like someone on the verge of a heart attack. Nikki, Kamesha and Ashley rushed toward him.

“Allen, what’s wrong?” asked Nikki as she caught up with him.

“Nothin,’ Just exercising,” Allen said, breathing fast and gasping for air. “Have you forgotten that I want to be like Mike?

“With these tiny legs of yours?” asked Kamesha, disappointed that she ran out for nothing.

“The young do grow,” said Allen. “But for old Mama like you, it’s over.”

Everyone dived to grab him but Allen dogged and continued to run away from them. Slowly, they walked back to the porch where their Mama sat, unmoved.