But I wasn’t. Lewis locked his arm through mine, and I couldn’t tell if it was to keep me close or to stop me from getting up again. But I felt purged, like I had passed through something that had lightened the load I brought here. By the time I stopped shivering and was able to appreciate the breeze from Janelle’s fan, I guess it was Lewis’s turn to drop. All he did was be his usual pitiful self, ’cause he leaned forward while his eyes was glued up toward that plastic Jesus and started shaking his head back and forth, slower and slower, until he finally said, “What we gon’ do now?” What a stupid-ass question. What we been doing? But since I had just barely pulled myself together and this didn’t seem like the time or place to be criticizing, I kept my thoughts to myself.

And Miss Keep-Her-Cool Paris shed a lotta tears, but it looked like she was controlling them, too. I ain’t said one word to her since she got here, and she ain’t uttered a single syllable to me neither. She got a lotta nerve, is all I can say. Of course she staying in a hotel, but Janelle and Shanice is sleeping in the girls’ room with them. Through most of the service Janelle squeezed my hand and smudged the left shoulder of my navy-blue dress chocolate brown and red from her makeup, but I didn’t mind.

Al sat right behind us. Next to him was Lewis’s lawyer. Paris almost had a stroke when her ex-husband showed up. Everybody, including Nathan, knew Mama couldn’t stand him. Dingus was the one who called him. But then Nathan turned around and asked if I thought it would be okay for him to come. I told him I didn’t see no reason why he shouldn’t at least be there for his son. I have to be honest, the only real pleasure I done felt all day was watching Paris grinding her teeth and reaching in her purse to pop whatever kinda pills she taking, after she saw him.

So many folks wanted to say goodbye to Mama that at the last minute we had to switch to a bigger church. Paris had a hissy-fit about that, too. But I took care of it. And everything went good. The choir sang some of the worst songs I done heard in a long time, but mostly by friends who ain’t seen her in at least thirty years, since she left Chicago, but they wanted to honor her by doing solos. That white lady Miss Loretta even came. She gave us all the biggest hug and she smelled good, like Shower-to-Shower powder, and when she told me how much I looked like Mama, her smile was just as warm as when she squeezed my arms. Now I see why she was Mama’s friend. A few of her old boyfriends had some kind words to say. Daddy kept a frozen smile on his face and didn’t blink once when they got up and started reminiscing about what it was about Mama that got their attention forty-some-odd years ago: Her pretty legs. Her deep smile. Her take-no-prisoners attitude. How far she could hit a ball. How fast she could run. How clean and fresh she always smelled. And one man thanked her for teaching him how to dream. Said he was a surgeon in D.C. After fifteen or twenty minutes, wasn’t nobody listening to them. We even had to cut some of her close friends’ speeches short, ’cause it’s obvious when folks get dressed up and got a audience they get long-winded and you can’t hardly get the microphone outta their hand.