Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(47)

She’d demanded to be included in the dress-choosing process. And she’d even postponed one of her pageant training sessions so she could be available. According to Eva, Grandma Lizette never rearranged her plans. She was a businesswoman, and business came first. (Which, Eva said, was one of the reasons they rarely saw her.) Harsh, sure, but Audre didn’t hold it against her grandmother. Men were rarely questioned about their dedication to their careers at the expense of family time. And Grandma Lizette was a single woman business owner in a cutthroat profession. The fact that she was virtually “here” was a big deal.

Good thing I remembered to turn my ring back around, thought Audre. Grandma Lizette was serious about her heirloom.

Eva sighed. “Black tar heroin, Mom? Really?”

“You want the truth, don’t you?”

“Fine, Mom. Why do you hate it?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“I think she looks beautiful,” said Audre.

“Of course she does, bé,” said Grandma Lizette. “She look like me.”

Eva rubbed a temple. “Then what’s the problem?”

“It don’t fit. It’s all lumpy around your hips. Y’all don’t see it?”

“This is a showroom. This dress isn’t my size. It’s held together in the back with pins. I’m gonna get it tailored.”

“Oh. Well then, what you need me for?” Sounded like: Whatchoo need me fuh?

Audre put the phone face down on her thigh and grimaced at Eva. Eva rolled her eyes and squeezed her hands into fists.

“You okay?” mouthed Audre.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” whispered Eva.

Grandma Lizette wasn’t finished talking. “Audre! Show me your mama again, bé.”

Audre aimed the phone in Eva’s direction.

“The good news? Shane loves you regardless. You could show up naked ’cept for clown shoes and a flowerpot on your head, and he’d be happy as a clam,” said Grandma Lizette in an attempt to compliment her daughter.

Just then, Baby Alice stirred. She started to cry but then saw Eva in her big gown and went silent. A huge, gummy smile, plus two teeth, spread across her plump face. And then she debuted a new skill. Clapping.

Eva yelped. Lizette yelped. Audre sipped her sparkling cider.

“Did the baby clap?” asked Grandma Lizette via FaceTime. “Somebody answer me—I feel like I’m in a looney bin, yapping to the walls.”

“Yes!” said Eva, hopping off the platform to give Baby Alice a bottle from her diaper bag. “She’s so smart, Mom. Audre, you were just like that. You hit every milestone so early.”

Audre looked over at Baby Alice, who always looked so angelic in front of an audience. (As demons often did.) It occurred to her that Baby Alice was already getting the “exceptional child” messaging. One day, her little sister would find out how heavy that crown was.

Good luck to you, kid, thought Audre. May you handle the pressure better than I do.

“Genevieve—I mean Eva… was advanced, too. Y’all get it from me,” said Grandma Lizette. “Audre, you still got our ring on, right?”

Genevieve? Who the hell was Genevieve?

Audre held up her hand at the phone screen. “I never take it off, Grandma!”

“I know that’s right! One day it’ll go to Baby Alice.”

“Does it have to?”

“Now, Audre. Can’t keep the juju to yourself. Best pass it on, or it stops workin’. Don’t you want your sister to get some of the Mercier girl magic?”

Eva, who was examining her train in the mirror, straightened her posture. “Mercy girl.”

“Right. Mercy,” said Grandma Lizette.

“Mom, have you been drinking?”

“That’s between me and the Holy Trinity.”

“Which Holy Trinity? Tequila, lime, and ice?”

“The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!” snapped Grandma Lizette.

And then, for a reason she couldn’t place, Audre couldn’t help but think of the weird note on her mom’s Post-it. Lizette: Where’s the line between telling the truth and shaming my mother?

Grandma Lizette was a mystery. But so was her mom. Who were these women, who had so much love between them but also an undercurrent of something dark? What were they keeping from Audre?

(Or maybe her mom was just being funny or sarcastic on that Post-it, in some cryptic way. Private thoughts didn’t have to make sense. Maybe Audre was searching for meaning where there wasn’t any.)

“I’m done here,” Grandma Lizette was saying through the phone. “Now, y’all go ’head and proceed without me. I gotta get up out this house. The electricity’s out and it’s hot. Like spendin’ an hour in the devil’s pocket. Y’all be good.”

With that, Grandma Lizette disappeared. Audre glanced at her mom, who was staring at herself in the mirror. She wished she could’ve read the expression on her mom’s face. It was a cloudy mix of sadness, frustration… and something else. Something deep down and closed off, where Audre couldn’t reach.

“Don’t let Grandma Lizette bother you. You know she’s just loud and opinionated.”

Eva pasted on a big smile and fake-laughed for her daughter’s benefit. “Oh, she doesn’t bother me. It’s just exhausting, watching her try to mimic human emotions.”