The Gilda Stories (20 page)

“On the day of our first lesson I knew that you would learn well, with or without me.”

“And now?”

“Now I'm here for a family visit.”

Dawn was still on the far side of the sky, but they had energy only to be near each other. Their hands touched and the night passed at its normal pace, moon and stars swirling above, the sun chasing to catch up.

Before pinkness reached the sky Gilda awoke with a start. She sat up in the darkness feeling for the source of her panic. Bird's low voice beside her asked what was wrong.

“The shop… it's the shop!”

They quickly jumped into their clothes and ran out to the street, down the few, long blocks of the avenue to the beauty parlor. They were standing in front of the blazing flames before the fire engines left the firehouse. Gilda felt a scream rising in her throat as she stood watching the bulging glass window.

“The back!” Bird shouted, and they ran around the block to the alley. Unlike the twenty-four-hour incandescence of Mass. Ave., the alley was pitch black. Still Gilda had no difficulty making her way to the small yard that backed her shop. She bolted over the fence and Bird followed as the sound of the approaching fire engines reached them. Smoke seeped through the pores of the building; the heat was a wavy aura around it. Gilda raised her fist and struck out against the back door, creating a hole just the size of her hand. She reached inside and unbolted the door. Bird yanked it back, almost removing it from the hinges. Toya lay still as death, her breathing shallow, the spell Gilda had used to calm her into sleep still holding. Bird pulled Toya into her arms and screamed “Out!” as Gilda stood hypnotized by the sound of the flames on the other side of the locked storeroom door and by the acrid smell of gasoline.

By the time the fire engines arrived, Bird, Gilda, and Toya were blocks away. Once inside Gilda's flat they looked at the still figure. The fire had not gotten through, but the smoke had been thick. Bird listened to Toya's breathing, felt her pulse, and made reassuring gestures as Gilda watched, questioning. Bird leaned over the girl and breathed into her lungs, swelling her chest to bursting. She then drew the breath back, much as she had done with blood so many times. She breathed the rancid air out and breathed into the girl's mouth again.

“Wake her,” she said.

Gilda knelt beside the couch, stroking the girl's forehead and whispering into her ear until the girl opened her eyes. She smiled at Gilda as if none of the events of the past few days had happened. Then her eyes clouded over with anxiety. She looked around, confused by the change.

“We brought you here—there was a fire at the shop.”

“A fire! I was dreaming about fire but I couldn't wake up. I wasn't afraid but I couldn't wake up.”

“Don't worry, no one knows where you are.”

“You mean he thinks I'm in that fire, don't you?”

“Would he do that?”

“That ain't nothin' to what Fox would do.”

Gilda was silent as she looked at Bird. She turned away, the ripple in the muscles across her back moving from liquid into stone. Bird turned to Toya and smiled with the sweetness of a maiden aunt.

“You mustn't worry about this for another minute. Gilda and I will take care of Fox.”

“No, please don't try to face him. You don't know him. He'll kill you both and laugh. Just let me get out now. Maybe if he thinks I was in the fire—”

“No, Toya. Remain here and don't open the door for any reason.”

The girl looked uncertain. After the last three days nothing seemed real to her, and she laughed nervously.

She pulled her legs up beneath her on Gilda's sofa, her eyes staring blankly into the darkness. They had said wait, so she would wait. There was nowhere else to go.

Gilda and Bird went back up to Mass. Ave. to see the small crowd gathered in front of the smoking ruin that had been Gilda's shop. They stood at a distance from the cluster of black faces whose eyes watched the white firemen with a wild array of emotions. Their anger at the white men who always seemed to arrive too late in their neighborhood was as pungent as the smoke. Still, they stood as supplicants in their nightclothes, desperate for something to survive the blaze, knowing that their appointed saviors had little personal concern one way or the other.

The flames cast an orange light onto the faces that watched with horror and fascination. Gilda caught the gaze of a man who was smiling. The flame made his light eyes look amber and red like some shining jewel. He stared straight into Gilda's eyes, unflinching. She knew it was Fox. His smile was without humor, his eyes flat and compelling. As he peered at her, Gilda saw his hatred and the joy the hatred brought him. Her body stiffened with recognition. Bird felt it too and held onto Gilda's arm as Fox pulled away from the crowd and walked swiftly up Massachusetts Avenue. Gilda recognized the fluid movement, the opaque eyes. He was one too—one of them.

In the time she had lived here she'd searched the air looking for others, and there had been none. Or so she thought. He had kept his thoughts shielded deliberately and perhaps felt safe enough simply ignoring Gilda's presence. That would no longer be possible.

Once separated from the crowd Fox turned hard on his heel and disappeared as if he had never been there. The heat of the fire filled the cool, empty space he left behind. Gilda strained against Bird's grip, anxious to follow, to find him. Bird said, “We can wait until tomorrow. He will be somewhat difficult to kill.”

Gilda and Bird walked away from the blaze and the crowded sidewalk. They didn't speak until they had almost reached the door leading down to Gilda's basement flat. Bird spoke first. “I feel a bit foolish—waiting so long to come to you. No moment seemed right. I knew you were waiting for me but I was still unable to believe we could feel comfortable in each other's company. Now here we are. It's not exactly what I'd planned.”

“My time with Sorel helped me to understand,” Gilda responded. “After that, waiting for you to return was not such a bad thing. I've lived a good life. I've brought no one into the family, but perhaps that time is near. I couldn't take that chance until we repaired the breach between us.”

At the doorstep Bird said, “I've seen much of the precious blood of my people spilled into the earth over the years. I had hoped this would be a time of renewal before I returned to them, but I can see the battle is joined on more fronts than I had realized. This Fox is like others I've observed; he will be unrelenting.”

When Gilda said nothing Bird added, “We will have to destroy him to free her. You understand?”

“Yes,” Gilda said, not truly understanding how this would be done.

“There may be little time for discussion in the coming hours. But I would say we need only go forward from here.” The sheen of her brown face in the evening light delighted Gilda and almost dispelled her anxieties.

Toya was sitting in the same position on the sofa, staring at the door when they went inside. Her eyes showed terror as Gilda appeared in the doorway, then relief.

“The shop is probably a complete loss but I don't think anyone upstairs was hurt.” Gilda put her arms around Toya who remained impassive.

“Don't think about what you're going to do,” Gilda continued, “we'll take care of it. Believe me, please.” As Toya began her protest Gilda just went on talking as if she had already solved the problem, as if she had no indication of the horror that awaited them.

“I've forgotten my manners. This is Bird, my oldest friend in the world.” Bird laughed at the simple statement and reached down to hold Toya's hand.

“Gilda's right, let us take care of this. By tomorrow night you'll be back home with little to worry about but your mother fussing at you for being gone so long.”

Toya didn't have the energy to respond. She raced through all of the questions she had and the one answer that told her that by this time tomorrow they would all be dead.

“All you have to do is remember when you face your mother and the rest of the people at home is that you managed to make it back to them. There's no shame in what you've done up here, in this life. I've done it. It was long ago, but you see no mark on me. Please just leave this time behind you, think only of home and the future,” Bird said in a soft and rhythmic voice.

She massaged Toya's hand, looking into her eyes. Soon Toya was asleep, held by Bird's will. They lay her down on the couch, covered her with a blanket, then went into the bedroom.

After Gilda bolted the bedroom door they lay together in their clothes on the rumpled comforter, ill at ease with another—not one of them—sleeping so nearby. Their breathing was even and shallow, their pulses almost imperceptible. If this were really sleep it might be said that they rested well.

On Sunday evening the door of the 411 Lounge opened into another world—not separate from the rest of the neighborhood, but more of a fantasy. At seven o'clock there were few people at the bar: two black men sat perched on stools watching television. The bartender stared out the window through the venetian blinds, only glancing up briefly when the three women walked in. Bird's long cloak fluttered, filling the doorframe. He looked more closely when he recognized Toya. The avenue was buzzing with gossip.

They walked past the bar to the back and sat at one of the dining tables. Here the women and men of the street could retreat and be themselves. Pimps and business girls flirted with each other outrageously, playing out dramas constructed to make life interesting. While sometimes the games were dangerous on the street, the 411 Lounge was like the family living room. People rarely raised their voices here. Hank, the owner, wouldn't allow it. But they did, as Gilda had assured Bird, observe and gossip. If they separated from Savannah at the 411, Fox would know about it.

The chef saw the three come in and took a few last puffs on her Tareyton before going out to take their order. When she recognized Toya she regretted not having a waitress on Sundays so she could stay in the kitchen and avoid what was sure to be an explosion.

She was relieved her children had made other plans tonight and would not be slipping in through the back door to have dinner.

When Henrietta reached Gilda's table no one was ready to order. Toya kept shaking her head, saying, “I'll wait…”

“I got no waitress today so if you want something from the bar, you mind getting it yourself?”

Gilda remembered why this place remained calm. Henrietta was a towering column of authority. It was clear that everyone here knew what was going on, yet Henrietta's cocoa-brown face was impassive. Her large, dark eyes betrayed her anxiety for only a second. The curls that sat tightly on her forehead were flecked with grey, an impressive crowning of her six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound body. The line from the slightly padded shoulders of her dress fell softly around her full breasts, inward at her waist, and out again around her firm hips. The large white apron she had doubled over and tied tightly at her waist gave her a no-nonsense look, a titillating contrast to the bright red slash of her lipstick.

She took in the situation and proceeded in the only way she knew how—as if these were her children, too. “You gonna be able to save anything outta that mess?” she asked Gilda. Everyone knew everything on the avenue.

“I haven't looked closely but I don't think so.”

“You got insurance, ain't ya?”

“Yes, I guess that'll cover most of it. I'm just glad no one was hurt. Has Savannah been here tonight?” Gilda asked, eager to avoid the connection between the fire and Toya.

“Naw, she hardly comes out on Sundays, you know. She don't even want to talk to nobody on Sunday 'cept her kids. She calls 'em two, three times on Sunday like long distance ain't nothing.” As Henrietta talked she glanced quickly at Bird, whom she'd never seen before. She seemed puzzled by the plain face and nervous energy.

“You know that boy probably comin' in here after nine o'clock,” she said, turning to Toya.

Toya nodded and looked at Gilda who said, “We're waiting for Savannah, then we'll be gone. But Toya needs a good meal.”

Before Toya could speak, Henrietta had settled the question. “I know what the girl likes. Let me bring you a little plate of something. I got some of those yams left over from last night. I'm gonna heat 'em up for ya. She likes that sweet stuff, you know. You girls want something? My chicken's real good tonight.”

Both Gilda and Bird shook their heads no. Henrietta did not push it, although it usually made her angry when three of the girls would order one plate for all of them.

When she left the table, Bird rose to go to the bar. “I know Sorel has tried to make champagne your drink of choice,” Bird said with a smile, “but I think today we should make it neat.” When she returned, she and Gilda sipped from the weighty rock glasses, letting the heat of the liquor burn through them. Their blood raced like jet streams once the alcohol entered the flow. Both felt flushed, enjoying the rare taste. Toya ate in silence. Henrietta returned with an extra spoonful of yams which she plopped unceremoniously on Toya's plate before walking away.

Gilda and Bird waited. Sarah Vaughn's voice from the jukebox competed with a ball game on television. Several people at the bar turned in surprise when Savannah walked through the door and headed directly to the back booth where the three women sat.

She dropped a short rabbit jacket over the back of the seat and squeezed in beside Toya. She was wearing a silk man-tailored striped shirt which hung loosely, almost to her knees, over wool slacks. Her white hair shone brilliantly, while her face was a mask of tight lines drawn into a smile.

“So what you broads doing out in the street on Sunday? Ain't you never heard of a day of rest?” She looked at Gilda as she spoke and held onto the thin flesh of Toya's leg with her hand. Small diamonds twinkled on two of her fingers, a sapphire on a third. It matched the star sapphire in a thin silver chain around her neck. She always wore her real jewelry on her day off.