Leroy McCullough stationed himself in the corridor of Cypress’ building, drawing folks coming down the street into her whoopla shindig. And drummers went up and down the stairs for a while, until everybody who was supposed to come was there, and smoking. Cypress and Sassafrass coordinated the cooking, and Malik and Guy divvied up glasses of wine: sweet, dry, red, white, tequila; and Leroy held out for keeping the beat to some funky rhythm and blues, to help dancers get into writers, and musicians get into each other, and painters to talk to someone standing next to them, and to clear the air. Because this was going to be a long affair. Women dressed in jewelry pranced around, or posed in doorways waiting to be seen or to see somebody interesting, and children played house in the middle of the foyer, saying, “Daddy is goin’ on a gig tonite . . . lil one you go to sleep and when ya wake up he’ll be back.” Cypress gorged herself on the fullness, the life in her house, and she kept Sassafrass and Lallah busy making salads and celery with cream cheese. New chants to old river and field spirits rose up out of the gyrating crowd in the center of the house; so much clapping and stomping of feet in an Arkansas-Texas emancipation day excitement, and through the open door came the San Juan-Ponce contingent, congas strapped around their backs and clavés and tamborines in hands. Los Jibaritos brought an irresistible guaguanco into the Deep South, and some kind of New York City music evolved out of the funk and salsa. Everybody was dancing and sharing—no partners, just getting moooveddd. Sassafrass wanted to know everyone, but everyone was dancing so hard, until Ariel arrived in a white satin robe and a silver and lapis headpiece. Then something holy and quiet started happening, and folks began talking to each other . . . and Sassafrass wandered in Cypress’ world.

Chapter 9

My two big girls, Sassafrass and Cypress,

Well, looks like you are having a veritable family reunion. I wish I could be there, not just to see you both (which I really would like), but so I could finally be at one of Cypress’ parties! Cypress, you be sure to introduce Sassafrass to some nice young men. She doesn’t get out like she should. And Sassafrass, watch that your sister doesn’t spend up all her money entertaining folks.

Isn’t it wonderful, the two of you together. Cypress doing so well in that dance company and you, Sassafrass, out on your own for a while. I feel relaxed about you for a change. I don’t even get shortness of breath like I used to, thinking about the earthquakes and the drugs out there in California where my two lil babies are all by themselves. Now is a good time for you both to set your minds on a good marriage.