Page 45 of A Mighty Love

“Nothing.”

“How is Mel?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Put him on the phone and let me say hello.”

“He’s at work, Mama. I’m expecting him any minute. We’re going to Debra’s house for dinner.”

“Oh,” Mama said knowingly. “That’s what the matter is.” She chuckled. “I know Debra is a little rough around the edges, but she’s got a good heart and that’s all that matters.”

Adrienne wasn’t so sure. Daddy picked up the extension before she could reply. “Hey, baby girl!”

“Hi, Daddy. How are you?”

“Fine.” His voice boomed through the receiver. “You cooking today?”

“No. Mel and I are having dinner at his sister’s house, and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“If you plan for misery, that’s what you’ll get. Make up your mind to have a good time and everything will be all right. Okay?”

Adrienne smiled, knowing her father was right. “Sure, Daddy.”

“Good. I’m gonna hang up now.” Adrienne heard a click, then her mama’s voice. “Well, we just called to wish you a good day, baby.”

Adrienne hung up the phone just as she heard Mel’s key in the door. He looked tired.

He planted a perfunctory kiss on her cheek.

“Mama just called to say ‘Happy Easter.’”

His face relaxed. “That’s real nice. Debra’s expecting us at four-thirty, so we better get moving.”

Adrienne forced herself to smile and went back to the closet as he headed for the shower.

Adrienne wrinkled her nose at the smell in the elevator of Debra’s building as they rode up to the thirteenth floor. She stood in one spot, not wanting her shoes to touch any litter or get near the puddle of urine that lay in a pool between her and Mel. She was beginning to feel slightly nauseous when Debra opened the door with a welcoming smile.

Mel started popping his fingers as soon as they walked in, because Debra’s apartment was jumping to the sound of one of his favorite records, “The Big Payback,” by James Brown. “Hey, y’all!” he exclaimed as he headed toward the back room with their coats.

Adrienne remembered her father’s advice and smiled widely at the folks who crowded the small living room. She walked into a wall of funk and heat as she squeezed herself onto the sofa between two women who looked vaguely familiar. It smelled as if Debra had been cooking chitlins.

Debra stepped into the center of the room. Adrienne could tell she’d had a lot to drink. “Everybody, this is Adrienne, Mel’s wife.” She then pointed out each person to Adrienne. “You know Big Boy. And that’s Ann sitting next to you. On your other side is Tina. She done took Belle’s place at the bar where I work.”

“Belle is in jail,” Big Boy informed Adrienne.

“You do remember Belle, don’t you?” asked Debra.

Adrienne shook her head. She didn’t remember anyone named Belle. As Debra went into a lengthy description of what Belle looked like, Adrienne wondered why everyone in the room was so dressed up. They all looked as if they were heading for some tacky nightclub. Big Boy was actually wearing a suit!

Debra rattled off a few more names of people in the room, and Adrienne forgot them instantly. They were all either neighbors or coworkers of Debra’s. After a few minutes, they all forgot about her. Mel was dancing and throwing back drinks. Debra alternated between checking on the food and sitting playfully on Big Boy’s lap, and the young girl named Tina kept complaining about the music. “Don’t ya’ll have anything that wasn’t made in the Stone Ages?” she asked.

“What you know about the Stone Ages, girl? I didn’t think you stuck around high school long enough to even hear about anything like that!” Mel shouted.

Tina stuck her tongue out at him, everyone laughed, and the party went on. Somebody turned on “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now,” and Adrienne stepped out of the way as they began moving the chairs and the coffee table out of the way so they could all dance. She looked over and saw Debra darting back into the kitchen, and wondered if this might be a good time for them to speak.

Adrienne moved past a couple who were dancing, drinks in hand, and nodded at Mel, who was deep in conversation with an old friend. She ducked into the cramped kitchen, where Debra was busily chopping up onions.

“Hand me that butter knife over there,” she said, barely looking up.

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