Inside, Niecy waved and rushed over for a hug. She held on, rocking. She’d missed her line sister so much, but beside Niecy was a guy who inched steadily closer. Whispering in her ear, and she smiled sheepishly at Lydia.
Lydia went and held up a wall, drinking a can of orange pop. Dante and she had gone to clubs together, before things had gone bad. He’d taken her to a couple places in Buckhead, but she’d preferred the funky joints, like the Royal Peacock and Charles on Simpson Avenue. She felt an ache thinking about him. How when they slow dragged, they fit together. Each of Dante’s hands on her hips while he moved her against him. When the DJ in the basement slowed it down with Luther, playing “Superstar,” Lydia was afraid she might cry. She squeezed past the folks on the stairs and headed to the bathroom. There was a line for the one in the basement but the house was huge, so she decided to sneak upstairs. Coming back, she got turned around and opened the door she’d mistaken for the basement entrance. It was a large supply closet. Inside was a guy sitting on the floor. He had an album on his lap and was pulling apart buds.
“Come in or stay out,” he said. “But make up your mind.”
The door across from the closet opened and the music drifted out. The DJ was still playing Luther. She stepped inside the closet.
The guy pulled out rolling papers and a bag of white powder from his jacket. She watched as he layered the weed on the folded paper, then sprinkled it with the powder. He rolled everything together. Briefly, he held a flame underneath the joint. She shook her head when he offered: ladies first. When he lit the joint, it took some minutes for the glittery smell to emerge through the cover of marijuana. A perfume as familiar as a Gospel word.
If she left the closet, she’d be safe, but then the guy lit another, and there was no denying her need. When Lydia took in the smoke, there was gratitude. When he held out the primo, there was Dante again, in Lydia’s head. A memory of that night, when Dante had thrown everybody out of their apartment and come to her. How wild their love had been—but she didn’t want to think about that anymore, to hurt anymore, and she took the primo and put it to her mouth. She held her breath for a long time, until the back of her throat protested. But the bitterness on her palate was like the embrace of an old friend, one who knew you better than anybody else.
“What’s your name?”
“Lydia.”
“Lydia what?”
“Garfield.”
“I’m Ray. Not Raymond, but Ray. I’m a fourth, too.”
She settled back as he told her he was selling to put away money for after college, and when he graduated, he was changing his name. Ray the Fourth didn’t care about pissing off his dad. He couldn’t stand that nigger, always talking about how he’d grown up poor and made himself from nothing. How he was from the ghetto, and his sons needed to get tough. They were too soft, just like their mother. Since Ray the Fourth was supplying his drugs for free, Lydia shared as well. She told him she used to be married, young as she was. But she was a widow. Her husband had been murdered.
“Baby, I’m sorry. That’s some heavy shit.”
She laid her head on his shoulder, and Ray put his hand on her hair. It was so soft, he told her, and she was pretty. Real pretty, but Lydia ignored his saying that, because he rolled up another primo.
The party was in full effect when Lydia exited the closet. She saw everyone as if for the first time. They were happy, like she was happy. And young and alive and life was all right. The music was inside her, like the smoke was inside her. She visited the basement bathroom, splashing water on her face. She slathered on the fragrant lotion that her hosts had provided, letting the perfume cover her sin. She found Niecy, gave her a farewell hug, and said she’d call her, but at the car, Coco wasn’t anxiously searching the crowd for her. She was outside the car, pressed against the passenger side while a girl kissed her deeply on the mouth. She didn’t see her sister, and Lydia walked away some distance. She sat on the lawn and waited. It was after one in the morning, but at least the DJ had switched to Cameo. She waited through three more songs, until the girl and Coco parted, and Coco opened the passenger door.
Lydia went to the car, tapping on the window.
“You ready?”
Her sister looked at her, and Lydia knew she was wondering. How much had she seen? but Lydia only smiled back. She asked, did Coco want to drive?
That night, Lydia dreamed. She’d come upon the cave where her bear lived, but the cave was empty. And she’d stood at the mouth of the cave and screamed. She’d called the secret name of the bear, but she knew it was dead, and she woke up with shame. There was so much shame, but she knew that she’d be expected to come down for breakfast. She had to pretend that she was still walking a good path. At the breakfast table, her mother told her Coco already had gone, though Mama had hoped she’d stay another day. Coco didn’t even have classes on Monday, but she’d been in such a hurry. Throughout breakfast, Ailey sulked about being left at home while Lydia and Coco had gone to the party. She flopped around and sighed, and Lydia pretended to ignore her, but she felt even worse. Her baby sister loved her, and she’d hurt her feelings. Lydia was a horrible person. Despair clawed at her throat, the spot where only the night before, her happiness had rested. After breakfast, she went upstairs and moved her clothes from the room she shared with her baby sister. She didn’t want to face Ailey anymore.