“Come on,” I say to Al, and lead him upstairs to our room.

“Don’t get no ideas,” he says.

“I’m full of ideas,” I say.

When we get to our room, I go in the bathroom to find the calamine lotion, and decide to take a shower. Al gets in the bed. “I called Mama,” I yell.

“And how she doing?”

“I didn’t get to talk to her. But I left a message.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it, Charlotte. Now, didn’t it feel good?”

“Yep,” I say, and stand in front of the mirror butt naked. I hold out my hands and arms and they’re completely smooth. No welts. No redness. No bumps. Just a 180-pound dark-brown body. After lathering all over, I’m wondering if I’m feeling good because I made the call or because I know my husband ain’t cheating on me. I don’t really care right now. I feel so good I decide not only to wash my hair, but shave my legs and underarms, too. I splash St. Ives Apricot Splash all over my body, then sprinkle a little talcum powder between my breasts and the inside of my thighs and slip on my light-pink gown hanging behind the door. When I prance out to the bedroom to give my husband the best part of me, he’s sleep. But it’s all right. I ease on in the bed and slide under the covers next to him. I kiss his warm hands and am staring at him when the phone rings. I know I should trust him. He’s a good man. The phone rings again. I’m wondering why nobody’s getting it. I look over at the clock. It’s ten to ten. The kids are already in bed, and, besides, they don’t have a phone in their rooms. I kiss Al’s thick eyebrows and then pick up the phone.

“Yeah,” I say, in a voice that will make the person feel like they woke me up.

“Is Al there?” Loretha asks.

This bitch was his first wife. It’s been seventy-two whole hours since she last called. She must be trying to break her own record. “He’s sleep, Loretha.”

“It’s important.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Look, Charlotte. It’s late. I don’t wanna go through this tonight. Just tell him Birdie’s tuition for summer school is still due next week, and for him not to forget it.”

“I thought she was graduating from that beauty school?”

“She is, after this summer. She needs a few more courses.”

“I bet. Didn’t she go last summer?”

“Don’t you remember when she took sick and couldn’t finish?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Look, Charlotte, Birdie is Al’s daughter, too, just like Tiffany and Monique, okay? Except she got here first, so don’t hold it against her.”

“I ain’t got no problems with Birdie, so don’t try to twist this shit around, Loretha. It’s you that irk the hell out of me.”

“Well, get over it. We been going through this too long, and we only got one more year left to tolerate each other. You sure Al is sleep?”