Read Online Like a Mule Bringing Ice Cream to the Sun by Sarah Ladipo Manyika - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Ladipo Manyika
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remember the funny way she had of laughing through her nose. The eyebrows. Mischievous. Sensuous. I remember the warmth in her hands and the cold in her feet. Those feet that used to chase mine under the sheets. More than fifteen years we’d been together, M. and I. And after we parted she never did remarry. I thought she would, but she didn’t. Feeling discomfort beneath my eyelids I squeeze my eyes shut and instinctively pat my shirt pocket looking for eye drops. I tilt my head back ready to moisten, only to be surprised. My eyes were already watering.
12
‘Bless you darling, bless you,’ I keep saying, because Sunshine is here and has brought me books. ‘Bless you!’ Then seeing that she hasn’t sat down, I offer her the choice between commode and grubby looking armchair. Knowing how fussy my friend can be, I smile as she chooses instead to perch on the edge of the bed next to me. She’ll be worried about touching anything too dirty but she may also be afraid of hurting my hip so I demonstrate how strong I am by shifting from left to right, proving that she needn’t be so tentative around my body. Then I tell her that had she come earlier she would have met the man responsible for my speedy recovery. I describe my last session with the physical therapist, getting her to picture the lengths to which he goes in order to be discreet while holding my hips in alignment. I recount how politely he instructs me to ‘clench my glutes’, while I’m busy worrying over how I might prevent myself from inadvertently passinggas when undertaking such physical exertions. I may be old, but farting and burping in public is not something I intend to succumb to. If I can help it. Sunshine laughs and I joke that the poor man need not worry about an old woman like me. It’s not as if I’m going to mistake his touch for one of flirtation, or even want to flirt with him in the first place. But the latter isn’t true. I am flirting when I joke about my creaky knees and stiff joints, all the while hoping he’ll compliment me on what good shape I’m in. And whether or not he’s aware that I’d like him to congratulate me on my fitness (but who am I kidding, of course he knows), I thrive on his praise, diligently doing all my assigned exercises and more.
‘Had I met the man twenty years ago,’ I tell Sunshine, ‘he would’ve been smitten. One glance at my tight glutes and my curvy hips, and he wouldn’t have been able to resist. He would’ve had my name tattooed right across his chest.’
‘And you? Where would you have tattooed his?’ Sunshine smiles.
‘Oh, well, if anywhere, under my thumbs. Symbolically,’ I chuckle. ‘But speaking of tattoos, he’s actually offered to introduce me to his tattoo artist.’
‘ You want a tattoo?’
‘I do.’
Sunshine looks shocked. ‘You mean that while I’ve been trying to convince Zach that tattoos aren’t cool, you, his honorary grandmother, are about to get one?’
‘But you’re assuming I don’t have one already?’
‘Do you?’
‘No,’ I laugh. ‘But you know, when I was young, everyone had tattoos. And by that I mean the facial markings that told you where someone came from. So not exactly tattoos in the modern sense, although we did have some of those too. Sometimes women had these green tattoos written on the inside of their arms. They were all just forms of bodily adornment. But by the time I was born, people started thinking that both the facial markings and the love tattoos, as I like to call them, were primitive. I wanted a tattoo, but wasn’t allowed one. And now tattoos are everywhere, everyone’s writing on the body.’
‘And you still want one? On your face?’
‘Oh no, not on my face, darling. Too many wrinkles there and besides, you need some elasticity for a good tattoo. But there are many other sweet spots on this body of mine.’
‘Like?’
‘Like you’ll have to wait and see,’ I smile. ‘Now, tell me, how are you, and my
12
‘Bless you darling, bless you,’ I keep saying, because Sunshine is here and has brought me books. ‘Bless you!’ Then seeing that she hasn’t sat down, I offer her the choice between commode and grubby looking armchair. Knowing how fussy my friend can be, I smile as she chooses instead to perch on the edge of the bed next to me. She’ll be worried about touching anything too dirty but she may also be afraid of hurting my hip so I demonstrate how strong I am by shifting from left to right, proving that she needn’t be so tentative around my body. Then I tell her that had she come earlier she would have met the man responsible for my speedy recovery. I describe my last session with the physical therapist, getting her to picture the lengths to which he goes in order to be discreet while holding my hips in alignment. I recount how politely he instructs me to ‘clench my glutes’, while I’m busy worrying over how I might prevent myself from inadvertently passinggas when undertaking such physical exertions. I may be old, but farting and burping in public is not something I intend to succumb to. If I can help it. Sunshine laughs and I joke that the poor man need not worry about an old woman like me. It’s not as if I’m going to mistake his touch for one of flirtation, or even want to flirt with him in the first place. But the latter isn’t true. I am flirting when I joke about my creaky knees and stiff joints, all the while hoping he’ll compliment me on what good shape I’m in. And whether or not he’s aware that I’d like him to congratulate me on my fitness (but who am I kidding, of course he knows), I thrive on his praise, diligently doing all my assigned exercises and more.
‘Had I met the man twenty years ago,’ I tell Sunshine, ‘he would’ve been smitten. One glance at my tight glutes and my curvy hips, and he wouldn’t have been able to resist. He would’ve had my name tattooed right across his chest.’
‘And you? Where would you have tattooed his?’ Sunshine smiles.
‘Oh, well, if anywhere, under my thumbs. Symbolically,’ I chuckle. ‘But speaking of tattoos, he’s actually offered to introduce me to his tattoo artist.’
‘ You want a tattoo?’
‘I do.’
Sunshine looks shocked. ‘You mean that while I’ve been trying to convince Zach that tattoos aren’t cool, you, his honorary grandmother, are about to get one?’
‘But you’re assuming I don’t have one already?’
‘Do you?’
‘No,’ I laugh. ‘But you know, when I was young, everyone had tattoos. And by that I mean the facial markings that told you where someone came from. So not exactly tattoos in the modern sense, although we did have some of those too. Sometimes women had these green tattoos written on the inside of their arms. They were all just forms of bodily adornment. But by the time I was born, people started thinking that both the facial markings and the love tattoos, as I like to call them, were primitive. I wanted a tattoo, but wasn’t allowed one. And now tattoos are everywhere, everyone’s writing on the body.’
‘And you still want one? On your face?’
‘Oh no, not on my face, darling. Too many wrinkles there and besides, you need some elasticity for a good tattoo. But there are many other sweet spots on this body of mine.’
‘Like?’
‘Like you’ll have to wait and see,’ I smile. ‘Now, tell me, how are you, and my
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