Hives

The portable falls out my lap and hits the floor. I bend over the arm of the recliner to get it and all the blood rushes straight to my head, ’cause when I come back up I get the spins and then feel lightheaded. I let the phone rest in my lap until I get my bearings. What am I gon’ say to her? “Hi, Mama, heard you had a asthma attack and sorry you had to be rushed to the hospital but I’m glad you didn’t die and I’m sorry for not calling before now and I wish I could fly out there to help you get well but I can’t ’cause I just found out my husband is cheating on me for the second time in ten years and when I get up out this chair most likely I’ma go upstairs and tell him to get out. I don’t wanna hear none of his weak-ass explanations this time. He can’t talk his way outta this divorce. Mama, please tell me if you think this is the right way to handle it? I got these kids and so many responsibilities; I don’t know how I can handle all this without no help. But I won’t let him, or nobody, use me. What did you do when Daddy did this? Why didn’t you make him leave? Why didn’t you divorce him? Ain’t it hard pretending you don’t care? Ain’t it hard acting like it don’t hurt? How do you get brave enough to face the pain and hold your head up and get on with your life? How do you do it, Mama?”

I could start there. But I better hurry up before I forget everything I’m thinking in the order I’m thinking it, and then it won’t make sense and she’ll think I’m having a nervous breakdown, like she always think as soon as any of us kids get in a fix and ain’t quite sure how to deal with it. But I ain’t having nobody’s nervous nothing. I wouldn’t let no man drive me that damn crazy. Ain’t no man worth losing your fucking mind over. He done got your heart. That’s enough.

I finally press the talk button, but as soon as I do, I hear Tiffany on the other end. “I need to use the phone,” I say.

“Ma, it’s my tutor. Did you forget? I’ve got a big math test tomorrow and we got a lot to cover in forty-five minutes.”

“Sorry,” I say, and hang up.

Now what? I recline the recliner and press the remote for the TV. My mind ain’t hardly ready for nobody’s sitcoms and I think I got enough news for one day. I gotta get outta here. Go somewhere. Anywhere. I flip the lever forward and come up so fast it almost don’t take nothing for me to keep going and end up standing. I look around for my purse. It’s over by the door. I grab it and head for the garage. I hope the keys is in it. They should be. I hear ’em jingle, and I’m so glad Trevor didn’t close the garage door I don’t know what to do. This way Al won’t have to hear me leave. All he’ll hear is me burning rubber.