Read Online Getting to Happy by Terry McMillan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry McMillan
Tags: Fiction, Family & Relationships, Contemporary Women, Friendship, African American, streetlit3, UFS2
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different person. Where’s she headed if she keeps living like this? She does not want to entertain that thought. She wants her life back, that much she does know. The one she’s in charge of. She’s tired of keeping the pain of the past present. Doesn’t want to keep missing out on the good things. Bernadine begins shaking her head back and forth until she feels dizzy. When she stops, an image of John Jr.’s stupid guinea pigs pops into her head. The ones she accidentally left out in the sun. They spend their whole lives running in place. Bernadine shakes her head one last time. She has no intention of ending up like them.
Fourteen Years
On the morning her doorbell rang, Gloria was in the backyard, on her hands and knees, pulling weeds and digging in dirt. She removed her cowhide gloves, wiped the sweat from her brow, took a sip of her Pepsi and yelled, “Be there in a second!”
Gloria whistled and skipped up the three steps because she was happy. It was her and Marvin’s anniversary. For the past fourteen years they were guilty of filling each other’s lives with so much love they often thanked each other for it. And no matter what day of the week their anniversary fell on, Gloria always took two days off from Oasis—her hair salon—and let Joseph and the girls run things. Right now, Marvin was over at Clarkson’s Nursery buying flats of ocotillo, red yucca and baja ruby fairy dusters along with mulch and Bumper Crop. For at least a decade, they marked their anniversary by planting a single hue of flowers indigenous to the desert. This was their red season.
The soles of her rubber boots were caked with mud so Gloria kicked them off before entering the kitchen. She could smell the oxtails beginning to stew in the Crock-Pot she’d filled with water and garlic, onions and celery, and probably a dozen spices. This was Marvin’s favorite dish. On their anniversary, she always gave him what he wanted. Last year Gloria gave him an iPod and since Marvin loved him some Marvin Gaye, she had Joline—the little white girl who does weaves down at Oasis—load it up with every song he ever made. Lately, he’d gotten addicted to John Legend so Joline was about to add all the songs from his CD except number five, which was about cheating. Marvin didn’t agree with that one.
Gloria walked through the family room. Thanks to Marvin—with the help of Savannah’s handy husband, Isaac—the two had brought this fifty-year-old (as of 2005) ranch-style house complete with one-foot-square tiles and skylights, white oak floors and distressed wood cabinets, along with plenty of smooth granite tops. The house was small, not big enough for more than one adult houseguest, since only a daybed fit into one of the three bedrooms. Gloria had fixed up the other room for her three grandkids when they slept over.
Before she reached the front door, she could see a few long-stemmed birds of paradise and pink ginger peeking through the glass. Gloria was tickled. Marvin always had them delivered early. Wanted her to know she was still being wooed. It’s definitely date night. They’ll have dinner around six. By candlelight. A couple of glasses of champagne and a bubble bath. By candlelight. Then they’ll turn the lights on to read their cards to each other since neither of them can read without their glasses. Gloria will wear a pretty nightgown. She’s thinking about the crimson one, since she’s managed to maintain the size fourteen she walked her way down to from an eighteen. She’ll spray his favorite cologne in the air and then walk through it. Marvin will wear his plaid cotton bottoms and a white undershirt. By nine o’clock they’ll most likely curl up under the covers and watch Titanic —or try to—since they’ve never managed to make it to the end. Over the years, Gloria has thought about fast-forwarding it, but then that would feel like cheating. Besides, they know how it ends.
Gloria opened the door and glanced over
Fourteen Years
On the morning her doorbell rang, Gloria was in the backyard, on her hands and knees, pulling weeds and digging in dirt. She removed her cowhide gloves, wiped the sweat from her brow, took a sip of her Pepsi and yelled, “Be there in a second!”
Gloria whistled and skipped up the three steps because she was happy. It was her and Marvin’s anniversary. For the past fourteen years they were guilty of filling each other’s lives with so much love they often thanked each other for it. And no matter what day of the week their anniversary fell on, Gloria always took two days off from Oasis—her hair salon—and let Joseph and the girls run things. Right now, Marvin was over at Clarkson’s Nursery buying flats of ocotillo, red yucca and baja ruby fairy dusters along with mulch and Bumper Crop. For at least a decade, they marked their anniversary by planting a single hue of flowers indigenous to the desert. This was their red season.
The soles of her rubber boots were caked with mud so Gloria kicked them off before entering the kitchen. She could smell the oxtails beginning to stew in the Crock-Pot she’d filled with water and garlic, onions and celery, and probably a dozen spices. This was Marvin’s favorite dish. On their anniversary, she always gave him what he wanted. Last year Gloria gave him an iPod and since Marvin loved him some Marvin Gaye, she had Joline—the little white girl who does weaves down at Oasis—load it up with every song he ever made. Lately, he’d gotten addicted to John Legend so Joline was about to add all the songs from his CD except number five, which was about cheating. Marvin didn’t agree with that one.
Gloria walked through the family room. Thanks to Marvin—with the help of Savannah’s handy husband, Isaac—the two had brought this fifty-year-old (as of 2005) ranch-style house complete with one-foot-square tiles and skylights, white oak floors and distressed wood cabinets, along with plenty of smooth granite tops. The house was small, not big enough for more than one adult houseguest, since only a daybed fit into one of the three bedrooms. Gloria had fixed up the other room for her three grandkids when they slept over.
Before she reached the front door, she could see a few long-stemmed birds of paradise and pink ginger peeking through the glass. Gloria was tickled. Marvin always had them delivered early. Wanted her to know she was still being wooed. It’s definitely date night. They’ll have dinner around six. By candlelight. A couple of glasses of champagne and a bubble bath. By candlelight. Then they’ll turn the lights on to read their cards to each other since neither of them can read without their glasses. Gloria will wear a pretty nightgown. She’s thinking about the crimson one, since she’s managed to maintain the size fourteen she walked her way down to from an eighteen. She’ll spray his favorite cologne in the air and then walk through it. Marvin will wear his plaid cotton bottoms and a white undershirt. By nine o’clock they’ll most likely curl up under the covers and watch Titanic —or try to—since they’ve never managed to make it to the end. Over the years, Gloria has thought about fast-forwarding it, but then that would feel like cheating. Besides, they know how it ends.
Gloria opened the door and glanced over
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