Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“You talk to your grandmama? She asked ’bout you the other day.”
“I haven’t talked to Nana in a couple of weeks. I knew she was recovering from her surgery, so I didn’t want to get on her nerves too much. She was tryna sleep the last two times I called.”
Nadia was close to her maternal grandmother. They had a lot of great conversations and good times, but Nana had been having problems with her arthritis and headaches. Mama reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer. Moments later, the top was off, and she guzzled half of it down in a matter of seconds.
“You hungry?” Mama asked after belching.
“No. I ate a couple of hours ago.” Mama nodded in understanding then sat across from her. Her dingy blue jumpsuit with the company name, ‘Ace Electric Heating and Air’ and her first name, JoAnn, sewn on it was something that Nadia had seen for years. Mama mainly worked for several properties around town who hired her to do the electrical repairs in their rentals, but every now and again, the company would send her out to emergency calls such as this. It was always something, but the money was consistent, so the woman seldom complained.
“You gotta work tonight?” Mama questioned after a brief silence.
“Storm comin’ in, so I decided to call off. I’m not pressed for the money or anything. I can skip a day or two.”
“You called off?” Mama’s voice rose as if surprised.
“You know I don’t like getting caught in no storm.” She turned another page of the magazine. Brazilian food.
“Hmph,” Mama huffed, then mumbled something she didn’t catch. Her eyes narrowed as she ran her hand up and down the beer bottle, caressing it like a lover. “What? You scared of a lil’ rain for? Just drive slowly, and don’t be switching lanes all crazy, treating it like some twerking contest.”
“I just don’t like it is all.” She shrugged. She hated lying to Mama, but also disliked talking about things that hurt her as that conversation normally didn’t go anywhere but downhill fast. All Mama would do was tell her to tighten up. Straighten up. Woman up. Fear wasn’t in the woman’s vocabulary. Fear was a four lettered ‘F’ word. Literally. When Nadia was a little girl, if she cried after falling and busting her knee, or got upset about a lost toy, Mama would raise hell. Mama despised tears. She made iron look like melted butter, and mountains look like pebbles tossed about in sand.
“You are still afraid because of that car accident you had in the rain in Atlanta, ain’t you?”
The room suddenly felt colder than ever. Nadia kept her gaze on the open magazine, focusing on the image of an elegant couple sitting at a table covered in white linen, smiling at one another while holding the stems of fancy champagne flutes.
“It was impactful.” She kept her eyes on that smiling couple. The two paid actors or models who pretended to be in love, and out on the town.
“Impactful?” Mama sucked her teeth, reached into the breast pocket of her uniform, and took out her cigarettes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? A meteor hitting the Earth is impactful. That was four years ago. You had some cuts and bruises. You lived.” She leaned back, looking somewhat disgusted. “So you just gonna let some rain talk you outta some money?”
Here we go. “You don’t even like me dancing, so what does it matter?”
“I don’t like you doin’ that shit. Ain’t nothin’ changed.” Mama lit her cigarette then took a drag and blew smoke out the corner of her mouth. “You out here busting it wide open for a bunch of mothafuckas who ain’t about shit. Got wives that they lied to and told they had to work late, or they’re standing behind some pulpit preachin’ the word, talking about how bad lust is, but just the night before they were sitting in some cheap plastic chair that’s probably got dried jerk sauce on it, and I don’t mean from no Jerk Chicken appetizer, either.” She rolled her eyes. “…Sittin’ there all hard and sweaty, smellin’ like piss, getting turned on by women like my daughter—who wouldn’t fuck them in their real life, if yo’ life depended on it. Throwin’ money away at some fantasy! You’re just a wet dream.” Mama sucked her teeth.
“Movies are a fantasy, even the realistic ones. TVs shows, sitcoms, soap operas, game shows even, are all fantasies. It’s not real. It’s scripted. Rehearsed. Amusement parks are fantasies, and people pay for that too, Mama. There is no Mickey Mouse in real life, and there are no princesses living in tall pink castles, either. But it’s okay to dream. Even if it’s wet…” Mama grunted and tapped her cigarette. Ashes fell into the ashtray that sat between them. “You love going to the movies. Unless it’s a biography, and even that has some creative license, none of that shit on that screen is real, Mama. Fantasies… sometimes that’s all we have.” Nadia shrugged. “I’m not knockin’ nobody’s coping mechanisms just to get through life. We all need to escape every now and again.”