“What kind of female problem?”

“I don’t know, Granny.”

“Dial the number and get her on the phone for me, would you, baby?”

But no soon as I get the words outta my mouth, the phone rings. “Shanice, would you get that for your granny, please? Never mind. I’ll get it myself.” I grab the receiver and say, “Yep.”

“Happy birthday, Ma.”

“Charlotte?”

“Yep.”

“Why, thank you. And happy birthday to you. Did you get my card?”

“Yes I did. Yesterday. It was very nice. Thanks. Anyway, Mama, I been running around since early this morning and I been meaning to call you all day and just now getting around to it. You know your card is in the mail. You should be getting it by tomorrow or the day after at the latest.”

“No biggie. What you doing to celebrate?”

“Nothing.”

“What you mean, nothing?”

“Just what I said. I don’t feel like celebrating.”

“You mean to tell me Al didn’t do nothing for you for your birthday?”

“Al is gone.”

“Gone where?”

“I don’t know. I filed for a divorce, but I don’t wanna get all into that right now. It’s your birthday. The kids wanna say something, hold on.”

A divorce? She kill me just dropping bombs on you like this, and you just supposed to accept it like it ain’t no big deal.

“Happy birthday, Granny!” I hear all three of ’em scream at the same time. “We got you something pretty!”

“Why, thank you,” I say.

Then Charlotte gets back on the phone. “So what you doing to celebrate?”

“Wait a damn minute, Charlotte. You just said you getting a divorce. . . .”

“Mama, can we talk about this another day, please?”

“Okay,” I say—since she don’t feel like talking about it, then to hell with it. “Well, then, have you talked to Paris lately?”

“Not in the past few days, why?”

“You know she sold her cookbook, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t know she was writing a cookbook.”

“Yes you did. She told all of us last Thanksgiving that she’d been putting it together for years. Anyway, she got a whole bunch of money for it, and she bought me a new car!”

“What kinda car?”

“A Mitsubishi Galant. Navy blue.”

“That’s nice,” she says like she don’t really mean it.

“Wait. I ain’t finished.”

“You mean there’s more?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. I’m getting some new dentures—the best money can buy—and tomorrow I’m going to start looking at some brand-new condominiums!”

“Paris is buying you a condo?”

“Yes indeedy.”

“What else did you get for your birthday?”

“Shanice made me a cup in her art class, and Dingus sent me a pair of gold hoop earrings.”

“Real gold?”

“I don’t think so, but what difference do it make? It’s the thought that count. Anyway, my good friend Loretta—the one I might be going on a cruise with—she crocheted me a pretty gold, purple, and hunter-green throw to go over my old couch.”

“Ain’t she white?”