Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice (33 page)

I rummaged around, hoping that my receipts hadn't blown out. Or that the salesclerk hadn't forgotten to give them to me. I found the two receipts and shoved them at the men.

“Y'all treating the sistah like she's in South Africa or some damn where,” the dreadlocked brother shouted. “Having to show her pass and shit.”

“Now, satisfied?” I yelled. “I wish I hadn't spent a dime in your damn store!”

“Boycott Macy's!” the brother shouted.

“Girlcott Macy's!” a tough-looking white woman in leather echoed.

The detectives turned away sheepishly, but neither of them apologized.

One of them mumbled, “We're just trying to do a job here.”

But that was just a cliché, same as
Father Knows Best
. I was on the phone. I had just finished telling Grandma about being treated like a criminal by Macy's.

“And you had me thinking it was different out there.”

“It is, and it isn't. I mean, generally that's true. But some people say things are just more subtle.”

“Well, there was nothing subtle about what happened to you.”

“I second that emotion. But I still try to deal with people as individuals. It's hard, though. But otherwise I guess I'd be walking around in a rage all of the time.”

“White folks will sho' try you.”

“Yeah, I've been tested.”

“And here you thought you were rich and white.”

“What are you talking about? I just got off of food stamps last month.”

“Didn't you twist your mouth and say you were goin' skiing?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, when did you become rich and white?”

“It's cross-country skiing, Grandma.”

“You ain't fixing to try and ski across the whole country, are you?”

“No, you just ski on flatter ground than with downhill skiing.”

“I thought going down hills was the point.”

“There will be some hills, they just won't be real steep.”

“Well, I hope you get your money's worth. Who you going with?”

“A friend.”

“One of us?”

“No.”

“You ain't fixing to spring a white husband on us, are you?”

“I'm not hardly thinking about getting married.”

“Ain't no romance involved.”

“It's a girlfriend, Grandma.”

“That don't mean nothing these days. Especially out there where you at.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

“Well, be careful, running with white folks.”

“Grandma, I'm tired of tripping on race. I don't want to be careful. I just want to be myself!”

“Gone with yo' bad self, then. Some folks gotta learn the hard way. They might smile up in your face, but sooner or later you'll find out. White can cover a multitude of faults. And I ain't just talking about the snow.”

“You would know, Grandma, since you have so much contact with white people,” I said sarcastically.

“I'm just trying to protect you from unnecessary pain.”

“If you protect yourself from pain, you also protect yourself from pleasure.”

“You go 'head on then. Maybe you a pioneer. Probably we need pioneers. But when they do you dirty, you can always come running to me. I'd never leave you hanging out to dry.”

18

I stared out the car window at the falling snow. It was a trip going from passing a palm tree-lined street in San Francisco this evening to goo-gobs of snow in the Sierras tonight. I was reminded that it was winter back in Chicago. Cynthia rubbed my thigh. “Don't the mountains look gorgeous?

“Uhm hmm.”

“We have two whole days ahead of fabulous skiing!”

When we hit Emigrant Gap, we paid a guy to put chains on Cynthia's car. While we waited, I told Cynthia about how they'd treated me outside of Macy's.

“That was really a bummer. But you've gotta let it go.”

“It's hard to let it go, 'cause racism is always there waiting to pounce. Sometimes, just when you least expect it, then, boom.”

“Well, you don't want to become paranoid, do you?”

“No, but I don't want to have blinders on either.”

“Look, I'm not saying there's not a lot of shit out here. Don't get me wrong.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm just saying you have to stay open to the magic that's out here too. Or else you'll never experience rainbows in the sky and all that other good stuff.” Cynthia smiled.

“I wouldn't want to miss out on all that,” I said a little sarcastically.

“Don't you feel you deserve to be happy?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, then visualize peace and harmony and pink balloons.”

I shook my head. “Maybe if I were blonde, it would make more sense.”

I awoke after a night of snuggling in one of the twin bunks in our Spartan cubicle. I looked at Cynthia lying next to me, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

“I dreamed about you last night,” I smiled, sitting up in bed.

“I bet I was good, too,” Cynthia yawned.

I nodded. “You were giving me a Pap smear.”

After a hearty breakfast and packing a bag lunch, I was ready for the slopes. It was exciting picking out my poles, boots, and skis, and waxing the skis. Cynthia fastened my gaiters onto my ski boots. They were supposed to keep the snow from getting into my socks and shoes. She and I told each other how good we looked and quickly brushed each other's lips. “You're gonna love it. I'll meet you back here for lunch around noon.”

I waved good-bye to Cynthia in front of the lodge. I stood holding my skis and poles, watching her take off in the winter wonderland. I still had a few minutes before I needed to walk over to the ski instruction area.

“Excuse me, are you Jean Stevenson?”

“Yes, are you the teacher? I was just headed over that way.”

The chubby man shook his bald head. “There's an emergency phone call for you.”

“From who?” I asked, concerned. I wondered if something had happened to Sterling. He was the only one who knew how to reach me.

The man handed me a scrap of paper. It said, “Evelyn Stevenson called.”

“Do you have a phone I can use?” I asked, feeling scared as I followed him back inside.

“Over there,” he pointed. I set my skis and poles against the wall.

I was a nervous wreck by the time Mama accepted the charges.

“It's your grandmother.”

“What's wrong? What happened?”

“She went into pneumonia yesterday.”

“Pneumonia! I just talked to her and she was fine.”

“Turns out she's had walking pneumonia for weeks. We took her into emergency last night.”

“Well, at least she's in the hospital. She'll get better.”

“I just came back from the hospital.” Mama's voice shook. “Jean, the doctors don't think she's gonna make it.”

I swallowed. “Oh, no!”

“They're only giving her a fifty-fifty chance to live through the night,” Mama said tearfully.

“Through the night!”

“She's pretty weak. She's in intensive care.”

“Can she talk?”

“Yes, but her voice is faint.”

“I want to come home. I have to be there. I'm gonna get out of here and hop a plane as soon as I can.”

“Well, call us when you know your plans. Someone will meet you at O'Hare. And Jean, don't forget to pray.”

“OK.”

I hung up the phone, dazed.

“Aren't you signed up for a beginner lesson?”

“Yeah, I did,” I stammered.

“I'm Joe, looks like you're the only one who's a beginner today. You have me all to yourself.” He looked like an average Joe.

“Hey, something's happened. I just got some bad news. I don't think I can do it now.”

“What kind of bad news?”

“My grandmother might be dying. I have to go to Chicago.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Are you thinking of driving down to the airport right now?”

“My girlfriend is skiing. She's meeting me back here for lunch. I guess I'm sorta stuck until then. Is there any way out of here? Is there a bus I can take?”

“Waiting for your friend would be the quickest way. The next bus doesn't leave until tomorrow morning.”

I groaned.

“Take a deep breath,” the ski instructor ordered.

To my surprise, I was able to.

“I don't like to give advice, but since you're pretty much stuck here for the next several hours, why not do the lesson?”

“How can I think about skiing when my grandmother could be dying?”

“You don't have to think about it. You just have to do it.”

“I guess there's no guarantee that even if I left this minute I could get there in time.”

“I think skiing would ground you.”

“I just feel like I should be
doing
something.”

“Doing something physical can be therapeutic.”

“I still have to call the airlines.”

“I don't think the airline situation is going to change in the next hour or so.” The instructor put his hand on my shoulder. “But your state of mind could change.”

“I just need something to hold on to right now.”

Joe handed me my poles. “Try these.”

“OK,” I sighed. “Let's go.”

Carrying my poles in one hand and my skis in the other, I ventured into the sunny, snow-covered world. Having the sun shining when you're feeling down just makes it that much harder, I thought.

“Stevie, are you a total beginner?”

“I've never been on a pair of skis before in my life.”

“Let's snap on your skis.”

I stood gripping my poles. I gazed apprehensively at the snow-covered slopes. Yet the thought of learning something new gave me a glimmer of hope.

“I've heard that cross-country skiing is easier than downhill skiing,” I said.

“It actually takes more energy, but it's easier to learn.”

“Cynthia said it's just like walking.”

“Let's just practice walking a little bit, then.”

“OK.”

I gingerly moved my feet toward a slight incline. Suddenly, I began to slip. I dug my poles desperately into the snow, but it was no use. I fell to the ground, my skis a twisted mess.

I felt frustrated and helpless. I'd fallen on the ice plenty of times growing up in Chicago. But that was different. I'd always been able to get up. Because kids are cold, they cracked up when you fell. But usually my pride was hurt more than anything else.

“I must look like a fool. I sure feel like a fool. Why aren't people laughing at me?” I asked as folks skied nonchalantly by.

“Nobody's laughing because all of them have fallen about a million times. And they know that if you don't fall, you don't learn to ski. By the way, what other people think of you is none of your business.”

“I'll have to remember that one.” I struggled again to get up. “Damn, I feel like a paraplegic!” I moaned, attempting to raise myself, using the poles. But it was hopeless. I couldn't even begin to straighten my legs out.

“This is really ridiculous!” I muttered as Joe stood by quietly. “It's just like walking, all right. Yeah, if you're about nine months old.”

“The first lesson you need to learn in skiing is how to fall.”

“Well, I think, I've passed with flying colors. Now, if I can learn how to get up, I'll feel like a genius.”

“OK, turn to your right on your knees. Plant your poles in the snow in front of your face.” I did what I was told.

“Now, uncross your feet and raise yourself up.”

“I did it!” I shouted, struggling to my feet.

“If all else fails, you can always unsnap your skis and get up that way.”

“Now you tell me.”

“OK, let's just walk a little again. Let's head over to the beginner's area; notice my stride.”

I tried to move my arms and legs the way Joe did. I must look like a penguin following him, I thought.

“Look, you're skiing!”

“Yeah, I'm actually skiing!” But then I remembered Grandma and felt sad. Who cared if I was skiing when Grandma might be dying this very moment? And I wasn't even there to tell her I loved her.

Then, I slipped again and fell.

I pulled myself up again, and got up the way Joe had taught me. But it took a lot of effort.

“You're doing fine.”

“This is hard work, though, this falling and getting back up.”

“Yeah, but it's worth it. You'll see.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Now, I'm going to show you how to go up this incline so you can ski down. And that's when the real fun begins.”

“How can I have fun when my grandmother might be dead?”

“Would you rather sit around and worry?”

“I guess not.”

“Well, turn your skis outward like this to go uphill.”

Wouldn't you know it, I slipped again. I fell into the snow, sideways. My hand even hurt a little. I didn't even try to raise myself up this time.

“I don't need this bullshit today!” I shouted. “This was a bad idea!”

“Get up the way I taught you.”

I sat up in the snow. “I feel so helpless,” I cried. “I feel so damn helpless.” I sobbed. “I might not even have a chance to tell her good-bye. I didn't even get a chance to tell her how much I loved her.”

“Just let it out. I told you this could be therapeutic,” Joe said.

“I'm cold,” I shivered. I could see my breath.

“Well, try getting up the way I showed you.”

“Forget that, I'm unsnapping these bad boys.”

“You were doing great. You have to practice getting up.”

“I don't have to do anything but stay black and die! And I can happily live the rest of my life without ever skiing again. Besides, I have never known any black person who skied. So nobody will ever expect me to ski. It isn't like being black and not being able to dance. I mean, skiing will never even come up.”