Juicy

  “Of course I will. Let me do this, I’ll find someone for you; through the Mental Health Alliance and if you want we can do family counseling together, or you can do it alone.”

  She nodded, feeling relieved but also scared. What if this didn’t work? What if nothing made her feel good?

  ***

  Juicy went to counseling two days later. It turns out that being depressed right after having a baby had a name. It was called post partum depression and it meant that you had to see a doctor immediately. So even though she didn’t equate her depression to additional hormones or post partum anything, she didn’t turn down the ability to get into see a psychiatrist, either.

  Troy sat in the waiting room holding the baby while she talked about things that she had held in for most of her life. It was slow at first, it felt stupid to have this white woman sitting there listening to her talk about how much she’d been taught to hate her kind when her white fiancé was out in the hall holding her multiracial daughter.

  Half of her wanted to just get up and go home and say, ‘Yeah, I know it’s a lie.’, but the other half of her understood that she never bought into that lie, she had just used it as a vehicle to express her anger.

  When she left she felt better, but knew that she had a ways to go in order to relearn the negative ways that she had been taught to express herself. But just as important, she was given an anti-depressant.

  She thought about Troy, who had run away so that he wouldn’t have to take medicine that would make him into something that he wasn’t. Now she wanted the medicine if it could make her into what she should have always been.

  ***

  It was four months, two weeks and three days since ‘that day’, when Troy and Juicy were wed at the Allen Temple AME church. The two had chosen simple bands. Troy didn’t think twice about the money, but Juicy was practical in that she had emphatically expressed that no woman needed to be sticking her hand in someone’s hair when she was wearing expensive diamonds.

  Juicy had lost twenty seven pounds and fit comfortably in a champagne colored suit. She wore her golden dreds pulled up into a thick bun at the top of her head. Troy wore a black suit and when she walked down the aisle she had a fleeting thought that he looked so young. His blonde hair were cropped short to his head and his face was clean shaven. His gray eyes were big as they watched her approach him from down the aisle. He looked like he should be in someone’s college class learning about philosophy instead of marrying her. And then that thought left her as she looked back at all that they had done for each other, and in all of the ways that he had been there for her.

  She smiled, not seeing any of the other people in the large church, not her ‘soul sisters’ from the salon, or her new In-laws that loved her purely for the fact that she had accepted and loved Troy. She didn’t see the street people that weren’t quite homeless, and weren’t bums but people that loved and hurt just like anyone else. She didn’t even see her baby girl that watched the world around her in open curiosity, or the doctor that had found the key to unlock Troy’s seizures, or any of the other people that had become so important to her life. These people she would see and laugh with, and hug and dance and kiss in a few minutes, once the ceremony was over and the party out back was under way.

  For now, her eyes were glued to those of the man that looked at her as if she were a goddess.

  EPILOGUE

  Juicy put her hands on her hips and stretched her back. She felt it crack and sighed in relief. Oh that was good…

  “Mama I want pink bows.”

  “Okay, Miss bossy.” Jazzy was bouncing up and down on her butt in the salon chair. She was a bundle of energy. That girl could run from sunup to sundown. Troy was always there, running right beside her.

  “She will tire out on her own as long as we let her run it out of her system,” is what he would say when she would get tired just watching the tot run in circles. It was a good thing that the house they’d moved into had a huge back yard and all kinds of play equipment. Troy and Dad had even built her a little play house where no one complained if she wrote on the walls or left her toys on the floor.

  Juicy brushed her little girl’s dark hair around her finger until they formed ringlets that touched her shoulders. Then she tied two big pink bows around each of the pigtails.

  “Look at me Aunt Eboni!” Jazzy stood up in the chair.

  Ebonique reached out to the grab the accident prone child. “Girl, you gonna fall!”

  “No I ain’t.” She jumped up and down.

  “Jazzy sit down, you’re going to fall.” Juicy said. “And don’t say ain’t.”

  “Watch Mama!” Jazzy leaped out of the chair before anyone could react. She almost made it but her little shoe hooked onto the arm and she went splat to the floor. She looked up accusingly with her dark gray eyes, as if her Mama or Aunt Eboni had put a curse on her for not listening. Then the tears began.

  Juicy waddled over to her. “Let me see. Girl, you’ve gone and bust your lip open.” Jazzy squeezed out a small tear. “Go into the office and get the little ice pack out of the freezer.” It was one that she kept just for Jazzy’s frequent accidents. Jasmine Hyden nodded her head solemnly and headed to do as instructed, but then the front door opened and her Daddy came in.

  “Daddy!” She forgot about the icepack and her minor injury and sprinted to her father.

  “Hi beautiful. Oomph!” She caught him in the gut and he quickly put down the carton of pastries and then lifted her in his arm. “Oh, sweetie, your lip.”

  “I bust my head open, Daddy.”

  “Again?” She nodded solemnly. “How many times has that been this week?”

  “A…thousand?”

  “Pretty close.”

  “What’s up T?” Several people greeted him. No one barely remembered a time when they used to call him Candyman. He had told them that it made him sound and feel like a drug dealer and they had eventually stopped.

  “Hey ladies.” He greeted them one by one, passing out their individual pastry orders and collecting money. He didn’t bake for free anymore, but he did leave samples in the reception area to be purchased at a super cheap price. Now if people wanted Troy’s baked goods they had to come down to the little shop that he had in partnership with his brother Bob or come here to pick up a delivery when he dropped off Juicy’s lunch.

  Bob and his wife had relocated to Cincinnati after Mom and Dad had moved to help with Jazzy. Lorie still lived in Connecticut but spoke often about selling her home and moving out, as well.

  Troy handed a bag of a dozen cookies to a little boy. “Jayron, remind your mother that I won’t be making any more deliveries once Juicy has the baby, okay?”

  “Yes sir.” The boy scampered out the door with his purchase.

  “Y’all sure y’all want another one?” One of the new girls asked.

  Juicy put her hand on her swollen belly. “It’s too late to have second thoughts now.” She gestured to her next customer. “Okay, Miss Johnson, I’m ready for you.”

  Troy moved to the salon with a lunch box in his hand. He kissed Juicy’s cheek. “How late are you working?”

  “I’ll be home by three.”

  “Have you checked your blood pressure?” Her blood pressure had been under control for several years. But they were still concerned with a reoccurrence of the pre-eclampsia. Thus far, she had avoided it. Most of that was attributed to the fact that Juicy took care of herself. Her diet was healthy, she walked and exercised—that came naturally with being a mother to an over active four year old. Even at seven months pregnant she was close to a hundred pounds less in weight then she had been at the end of her pregnancy with Jasmine.

  “We all been checking it!” Ebonique barked. “And it’s a little high, but that’s because little Miss Thang over there keeps falling and busting her head open.”

  One of the workers had slipped the girl a cookie, as if she needed sugar in her system. They had a system that worked well. Troy’s mom a
nd dad watched her all day twice a week and Juicy took her to work the other two days and then Troy picked her up and took her to the bakery when he brought Juicy her lunch each day. Mondays the shop was closed, of course. It worked well until Jazzy would start school in the fall. And there would be another baby in two more months. When that happened she wanted to stop doing hair and stay home with the kids. She hadn’t announced that yet. But Ebonique had done a great job managing when she needed time away from the shop, and she wanted her to take the position permanently.

  Troy’s bakery had great word of mouth popularity. It was small and quaint and the local paper had even done an article about how it was ‘homeless friendly’. It was now a popular hangout for college aged kids and local musicians. Troy even talked about putting in a stage and letting people perform live, just singers and acoustic guitars and such.

  Juicy thought he had great ideas and knew that if he claimed it, it would work for him.

  “I want you to come home if it keeps rising.” He said seriously, referring to her blood pressure.

  She kissed his nose. “I will. When you take Jazzy with you, I’m sure it will go down.” He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll be home by five.” He placed her lunch in the office.

  “Come on Princess Jasmine.” He called. “See you ladies later.” Jasmine scampered to him. She had already lost one of her ribbons and they spent a few moments searching for it. It was under the row of seats in the reception area. He didn’t want to consider why she had been crawling under the seats.

  “Jazzy, give me kiss goodbye, baby.” Juicy held out her arms and Jasmine sprinted to her, stopping suddenly before crashing into her stomach.

  “Bye, Ma+ma.” She wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and kissed her belly. “Bye little baby brother or sister.”

  Troy then took her by the hand and waved to everyone as she pulled him out the door.

  “Daddy, can we go to the park?”

  “I have to go back to the bakery. But we can go for a little while after work.”

  “Yay!” She jumped up and down and clapped. Several people stopped to stare at the pretty little brown skinned girl and the white man that was obviously her Daddy as they shared the same grey eyes. They talked as they walked down the street together hand in hand. When they got to his Jeep Cherokee he disengaged the locks and Jazzy mimicked the little chirping sound. He buckled her into her booster seat and handed her one of her books to read. Sometimes it kept her attention until he got them to their destination.

  Troy got behind the wheel and started the car. He had been seizure free for almost three years. And before that he’d had only one in the entire year. Of course he had to take his medication regularly, and if he noted that he was having any of the signals, like repetitive tapping of his fingers or feet then he anticipated one and could put himself in a safe position. There had been no need for that for several years.

  Jazzy had lost interest in her book in less than a minute and they were doing a sing-a-long. Soon Troy was singing by himself. He looked in the rear view mirror and his daughter was staring off into space. Her pretty rosebud mouth was slightly ajar and her body had gone slack. A few moments later her eyes blinked and she got quiet as she turned to the window to stare at the passing scenery. His lips were a grim line as he took all of it in.

  Janet had said that it was normal for kids to have absence seizures and that she might grow out of hers without the need for medication. He was reluctant to start her on a course until he knew for sure whether or not she had inherited his condition. Regardless, he would teach her how to be safe in a seizure, and how not to feel like an outcast because she had them. Right now, he was thankful that she didn’t know that they marked her as different from other little girls. Hopefully it was something that she would never have to learn.

  “Daddy, can I be your helper at the bakery?”

  “Well, as long as OSHA isn’t around, I think it will be fine.”

  “Who’s that?” He chuckled his response.

  They pulled up into the crowded parking lot shared by a music store and a Greek restaurant. Most of the cars were there for his bakery. He knew this based on the animated sounds coming from the neat little shop.

  Again, another building purchased for a dollar and partially financed with the proceeds from their first successful business venture. Then Bob had wanted to buy into it; though Troy suspected that Bob had been more interested in re-establishing their bond then in operating a bakery. Regardless of the reason, he loved working closely with his brother, as well as his brother’s wife, who dropped in whenever they needed the help. His wife had turned out to be easy going and she and Juicy had hit it off quickly.

  The newest business venture had the nondescript name of Hyden’s Bakery and coffee shop. Their family wasn’t very creative when it came to naming businesses, but they had a knack for running successful ones. They had enough money in the bank to sit at home and to allow their businesses to work for them; however both he and Juicy enjoyed the work that they did. He suspected that Juicy’s early retirement would be short lived.

  Jazzy ran ahead of him and into the bakery and Troy heard several people greet her. Her reputation preceded her. He smiled to himself. His life as a father and husband was more then he could have ever hoped for. He didn’t know if his was a ‘normal’ life, but he knew that he was where he had always wanted to be; in a real family.

  “Hey Bossman.” Jace said.

  “Hey, looks like we got a crowd. Go ahead and take a break. I’ll fill in behind the cash register.”

  “Kewl.” She slipped off her apron and tossed it to him. Then she bounded from around the bar and joined her friends at a table. She had her long black and fuchsia hair tied back but her bangs were ever falling into her eyes. And because she didn’t like wearing hair nets, she was forced to work behind the register and waiting tables. She didn’t mind. She got good tips, especially when the word got out that she was a pre-operative transsexual. It seemed that everyone that hung out in the alternative establishment wanted to help foot her surgery bill. Troy had even set up a drop box that said plainly; ‘Jace Macadue’s sex change bucket.’

  Jace hadn’t even corrected him that it was called sex reassignment surgery. Now that she was taking the hormones, her tall lanky body had the beginnings of a nice pair of breasts and she was soft and curvy in all of the right places. Straight, as well as bi guys sniffed around the pretty girl and she had no shortage of friends.

  Jeff Buckley’s So Real was playing over the sound system and the crowd was lively and giving off a good vibe.

  Bob came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Okay, we’re done baking for the day. We’re going to have some learned scones, and oatmeal bread.” They gave away their leftovers at the end of the day because they didn’t use preservatives and Troy refused to sale subpar products. When there was a lot, then he sent them to his church, but if not they just gave them to the homeless at the end of the day.

  “Uncle Bob, I’m going to be the helper.” She announced.

  “Uh…” Bob looked at Troy. “We don’t have anything else to bake.”

  “She can make chicken salad sandwiches with the leftover oatmeal bread. We can only have that tub of chicken salad another day anyways.”

  “You’re going to get us closed down by OSHA, dude.”

  “Uncle Bob, who is Osha?!” He picked up his little niece and carried her into the kitchen to wash her hands and put on an apron and hairnet. He was practical, so he intended to put a note with the sandwiches stating that they were the creation of 4 year old Jasmine Hyden and were FREE.

  Troy poured himself a cup of coffee and then walked to the table with Jace and her friends. “I’ve been thinking about opening up an Internet café…”

  THE END