Sassafrass languidly positioned herself in a paunchy straw mat, waiting for Cypress’ inevitable “sermon for the daughter of little faith.” She smiled inconspicuously as Cypress almost glided back and forth across the room. “She really is elegant,” Sassafrass thought, as she attended to the womanly grace oozing out of Cypress’ every motion.

“Well, Cypress, what’s on the corner of your fat ol’ ass?” Sassafrass could hardly believe herself, but she kept on. “Now Cypress, I want you to tell me all about my future, and how bright the sun’s going to be shining in my back door some day.”

Sassafrass was wheeling in her seat as though she was showering in scotch whiskey. “Did you hear, Cypress? I wanna know all about how I got it made, and ain’t got no cause to be gloomy right now.”

Cypress just giggled, and placed some cream cheese and pineapple concoctions on the table next to a fresh porcelain pot of coffee. She slid into a seat exactly opposite Sassafrass and murmured, “Why don’t you let me know what all went down with Mitch, because I ain’t got a thing to say ’til I know if you’re still a devoted mistress.”

Sassafrass blushed and threw her arms in the air like she was going to choke flies . . . then she saw Cypress’ face held no malice, no judgment. Cypress nestled her head up against the side of the stove, and started again.

“Sassafrass, isn’t there anything you can say about what happened between you and Mitch . . . or is that top-secret-confidential he-ro-in’ just between you and him?”

Sassafrass pulled her chin up and out, like a prouder woman than she was, and sucked in her teeth like she was thinking what a bore this all was. Cypress delighted in her canapés and coffee, until she decided playtime was over.

“Look-a-heah, Sassafrass, Miz Been-Thru-It-All. I need to talk to you. I know better than you how hard it is to live with an artist . . . the ‘artiste.’ Black men ain’t no easy picking; ain’t no easy staying. That’s why I keep them all coming here, then I don’t have to pick not a one, and can keep them all. But you aren’t like me, Sassafrass. You got to have you a single cosmic wonder with more than all the troubles of Hades in his horns and arms. Come on, girl. Will you tell me what’s going on? ’Sides, I might want to rent that room, if you’re going back to him.”

Cypress’ astounding request set Sassafrass to laughing, and finally able to share the events of her last few days with Mitch, she poured out anecdote after anecdote, telling Cypress all his good points and all his weaknesses.

“Ses faiblesses,” Cypress cynicized, “gonna cost you all the hair on your head and probably any joy you were expecting.”