breaking me down. Do something! You could get some new clothes, or just do something to your hair.” Malik smiled, shook his head, and slurped at his orange juice. “I would be satisfied with a hair change. That bun is deadly.”
Tonya started gathering her things—lunch, notebooks, purse. “Look, leave me alone early in the morning, okay? I don’t have time to fool with my hair. I’m not trying to impress anyone anyway. Not to mention that we don’t have—”
“Any money. Not to mention that we don’t have any money.” Malik laughed. “Mom-ster, that’s the biggest excuse in the world. You can always find money for me to get my hair cut, get clothes, or whatever. Just admit you’re hiding.” He pretended to toast her with his glass. “This is freaking me out to say this to you as a son, but someone’s got to do it. You’re a good-looking woman and you still got a few hot years left and a few hot assets to show off. You’re a beautiful person, and you work hard at that. Other people work out their bodies, but you work out your heart to be beautiful on the inside. After doing all the work, though, now you’re hiding. You’ve got to get a life. Really.” Malik made his voice sound like his impression of a professional therapist. “Admitting you have a problem, Mom-bo, is the first step toward the cure.”
She reached into a basket that sat on top of the dryer and threw a clean sock across the room. It landed on top of Malik’s head. “I don’t have time to fool with you, boy.” She laughed as she walked to the door. “If you want to straighten out my life, Dr. Freud or whoever you think are, get to school on time and fold up this basket of clothes when you get home.”
Malik pulled the sock away and shook his head as she walked out the door. “That’s okay. Don’t listen to your offspring. I hope Dr. Phil’s mom didn’t treat him this way.”
The office didn’t look any less like the dead man’s last mile than it had since the blowup with Michelle. Tonya, head down, made her way to her desk. She used to enjoy her job. Now it would be enough just to get through the day. She put her things away then caught her reflection in the mirror glued on the front of her filing cabinet. She patted her hair. It wasn’t so bad—her hair wasn’t really
deadly,
was it?
“Excuse me, can we talk for a minute?” Tonya almost jumped out of her seat. It couldn’t be . . .
It was Michelle.
The elevator doors opened and shut as people got on and off. Most of them were stealing glances, pretending not to be as interested as they were in Tonya and Michelle’s conversation.
“I just thought we needed to clear the air. You know, to bury the hatchet.”
Tonya couldn’t look at Michelle. She looked past her. “I don’t know what that means: bury the hatchet.”
Other than you want to bury it in my back!
“But if you want us to be civil, I always have been and I always will be.” The sooner this was over the better.
“Well, I was thinking that maybe we should have lunch together, or something.”
Tonya had to look. Michelle’s face was drawn, like it was killing her to talk. “I might have made some mistakes. Maybe.” Michelle stopped talking and waited as though she were expecting Tonya to own up to wrongdoing. She was going to be waiting a long time—some really hot places were going to freeze over if Michelle was waiting for her to say anything.
Michelle’s jaws were getting tighter. “So, anyway, like I said. I thought we could get together and try to work this out. Maybe we could help each other.”
Tonya didn’t know how her hands got on her hips, but there they were. She didn’t know how her neck got into motion, but it was moving. She forced herself to keep her voice low. “Help me? Me help you? Maybe you don’t realize it, Michelle, but I’ve been
trying
to help you since you
got
here. I’ve been trying to help you get yourself together so that you can get promoted. Now my own
Tonya started gathering her things—lunch, notebooks, purse. “Look, leave me alone early in the morning, okay? I don’t have time to fool with my hair. I’m not trying to impress anyone anyway. Not to mention that we don’t have—”
“Any money. Not to mention that we don’t have any money.” Malik laughed. “Mom-ster, that’s the biggest excuse in the world. You can always find money for me to get my hair cut, get clothes, or whatever. Just admit you’re hiding.” He pretended to toast her with his glass. “This is freaking me out to say this to you as a son, but someone’s got to do it. You’re a good-looking woman and you still got a few hot years left and a few hot assets to show off. You’re a beautiful person, and you work hard at that. Other people work out their bodies, but you work out your heart to be beautiful on the inside. After doing all the work, though, now you’re hiding. You’ve got to get a life. Really.” Malik made his voice sound like his impression of a professional therapist. “Admitting you have a problem, Mom-bo, is the first step toward the cure.”
She reached into a basket that sat on top of the dryer and threw a clean sock across the room. It landed on top of Malik’s head. “I don’t have time to fool with you, boy.” She laughed as she walked to the door. “If you want to straighten out my life, Dr. Freud or whoever you think are, get to school on time and fold up this basket of clothes when you get home.”
Malik pulled the sock away and shook his head as she walked out the door. “That’s okay. Don’t listen to your offspring. I hope Dr. Phil’s mom didn’t treat him this way.”
The office didn’t look any less like the dead man’s last mile than it had since the blowup with Michelle. Tonya, head down, made her way to her desk. She used to enjoy her job. Now it would be enough just to get through the day. She put her things away then caught her reflection in the mirror glued on the front of her filing cabinet. She patted her hair. It wasn’t so bad—her hair wasn’t really
deadly,
was it?
“Excuse me, can we talk for a minute?” Tonya almost jumped out of her seat. It couldn’t be . . .
It was Michelle.
The elevator doors opened and shut as people got on and off. Most of them were stealing glances, pretending not to be as interested as they were in Tonya and Michelle’s conversation.
“I just thought we needed to clear the air. You know, to bury the hatchet.”
Tonya couldn’t look at Michelle. She looked past her. “I don’t know what that means: bury the hatchet.”
Other than you want to bury it in my back!
“But if you want us to be civil, I always have been and I always will be.” The sooner this was over the better.
“Well, I was thinking that maybe we should have lunch together, or something.”
Tonya had to look. Michelle’s face was drawn, like it was killing her to talk. “I might have made some mistakes. Maybe.” Michelle stopped talking and waited as though she were expecting Tonya to own up to wrongdoing. She was going to be waiting a long time—some really hot places were going to freeze over if Michelle was waiting for her to say anything.
Michelle’s jaws were getting tighter. “So, anyway, like I said. I thought we could get together and try to work this out. Maybe we could help each other.”
Tonya didn’t know how her hands got on her hips, but there they were. She didn’t know how her neck got into motion, but it was moving. She forced herself to keep her voice low. “Help me? Me help you? Maybe you don’t realize it, Michelle, but I’ve been
trying
to help you since you
got
here. I’ve been trying to help you get yourself together so that you can get promoted. Now my own
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