Myself and I Page 6

  “Black folks,” I answered.

  “You got it, kiddo.”

  “Okay, even with all of what you just said, why is it that I’ve never heard of a black man or woman swimming on an Olympic team? Why don’t we have a black Michael Phelps?” I asked.

  “I think swimming has long been considered a country-club sport like golf and tennis. Just think about it—Venus and Serena Williams recently shocked the world with their tennis skills, although there were black tennis players who came along before them, like Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe. Tiger Woods is certainly a new phenomenon in the world of golf. I think that swimming will continue to be a new frontier for black folks until the sport produces, as you said, a black Michael Phelps.”

  “So, what you’re really saying is that the way I feel about swimming stems from slavery?” I asked just to be sure.

  “In so many words, yes.”

  “Why do I suddenly feel dumb?”

  “You’re not dumb, Keysha. Your grandmother Rubylee unknowingly passed on a lie that had been passed on to her. The question you have to think about is this—now that you know the truth, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  “Well, I think your friend Maya is a smart girl and is really asking you to develop a skill that has the potential to put you on the path to great career opportunities. And save lives all at the same time.”

  “Ugh, I feel really crazy now that you’ve put it like that. I feel as if I’m being forced to grow up,” I said, slapping the heel of my hand against my forehead.

  “Honey, as long as you keep taking oxygen into your lungs, you’ll keep growing up.” Grandmother Katie laughed at her own joke. “You’re at an age now where the decisions you make can have a crucial impact on the rest of your life. One of my duties as a grandparent is to help steer you in the right direction.” Grandmother Katie positioned her hands as if they were on a steering wheel and simulated the driving movement.

  “You’re right,” I said.

  “Honey, I’m not always right. Well, most of the time I am.” She laughed again at her own joke. “Seriously, though, it’s your life, Keysha, and only you can live it. I just want you to recognize and consider thoroughly any and all opportunities or blessings that come your way. When you’re unsure about something, do some research on it. That’s what the library and bookstores are for. Heck, you have your own computer, child. You have the ability to find information at your fingertips. Having your own computer in and of itself is a blessing.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Sometimes I forget that I can use the computer for stuff other than playing games or sitting in chat rooms with my friends.” I glanced over my shoulder because I thought I’d heard Mike coming. I didn’t see him, so I turned my attention back to Grandmother Katie. “I have a ton of homework to do, but I’ll call you back when I’m done,” I said as I smiled at her.

  “Okay. I’m here if you need me. Love you.” She kissed the tips of two of her fingers and placed them up to the camera.

  “I love you too.” I lovingly kissed her back.

  Once I logged off my web chat with her, I grabbed my book bag and pulled out two of my textbooks and several folders. I sat back down at my desk and began reviewing my work. I tried to focus, but my mind wouldn’t allow it. I felt awful about the way Maya had stormed off, and I wanted to clear the air between us. I was about to pick up my cell phone and call her when purely out of curiosity I decided to Google the words “African-American swimmers.” I was totally confident that nothing new or interesting outside of what Grandmother Katie had mentioned about black swimmers would come up. The first thing that popped up was an article written in April 2008 about two black female swimmers, one named Blair Cross and the other Brielle White. That shocked the hell out of me, so I clicked the link and read their fascinating stories. They both said that people were amazed that they were black and could swim let alone swim competitively. They also talked about the importance of being role models for young black children.

  As I continued to do my research, I came across an athlete named Anthony Ervin who was the first swimmer of African descent to win a gold medal in the Olympics, and that had just happened in the year 2000. I decided to YouTube his name to see if it came up, and sure enough it did. I watched Anthony leap off the diving stand and rocket through the water like a missile. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Then I kept searching YouTube and came across a black female swimmer named Maritza Correia. She was the first Hispanic-American woman to make the U.S. Olympic Swim Team. As I began to learn all this, I thought about Maya and wondered if she’d ever heard of this woman. Then I stumbled across a Website that totally blew my mind. The International Swimming Hall of Fame is an organization dedicated to the sport of swimming. A lot of the stuff Grandmother Katie and I had spoken about was there, but there was so much more. They even had videos, one of which showed this black girl who worked for the city of Fort Lauderdale Ocean Rescue. This girl’s skills were so awesome that she could even ride a surfboard. She talked about how she loved being a lifeguard because being in the water was a very calming experience. All her friends thought she was crazy and even went as far as to say she wasn’t a real black person because she was on the school swim team. She went on to say how much she loved being a lifeguard because it gave her a sense of control, which is what Maya was trying to explain to me.

  Finally, I saw a video on the Website that had me in tears. Two sisters who reminded me of Grandmother Katie were interviewed about swimming. The younger sister got into swimming in the mid-1990’s as a way to deal with some health issues she was having. She would get up every morning and go swimming. However, the older sister always criticized her younger sibling for getting wet every day and even went as far as to make her feel bad for liking the sport. Eventually, the older sister started to swim and now competes in the sport with other women in her age group. After watching this video and countless others on the Website, I changed my mind. I decided to not allow some lie from slavery, which was supported by segregationists and black folks alike, to keep me from doing something extraordinary for myself.

  seven

  After I reconsidered my decision, I called Maya. Her cell phone rang continuously before going to voice mail. I left a high-priority message asking her to return my call because I had something important that I needed to tell her.

  Later on, when I’d finished my homework, I realized that Maya had never returned my phone call, so I gave her another jingle. This time the phone went directly to voice mail, which meant she’d turned her phone off.

  “This is silly,” I said aloud before calling her on her home phone. Her baby sister, Anna, who is a freshman at our high school, answered the phone.

  “Hello, is Maya there?” I asked impatiently.

  “Who is this?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

  “Keysha,” I answered.

  “Oh, I didn’t catch your voice. Why are you calling her on this line?” Anna asked curiously.

  “Because she won’t answer her cell phone. Is she there? I really need to speak to her,” I said, wanting her to get her on the line.

  “I have a question. Are all the rumors about you true? Because I’ve heard some pretty wild stuff,” Anna boldly asked.

  “No, and you shouldn’t believe everything you hear around that school,” I said, giving her some of my own personal advice.

  “You don’t have to snap at me about it. I just asked you a simple question.” Anna was the complete opposite of Maya. She was high-spirited, and from what Maya had told me she loved to gossip and act older than she was.

  “Would you please put Maya on the phone?” I asked as pleasantly as I could.

  “You can’t talk to her right now on this line because I’m on it.” Anna seemed to take personal satisfaction in preventing me from talking to Maya.

  “Well, would you please let her know that I called?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll try
to remember,” she said, and abruptly hung up on me. I removed the phone from my ear and looked at it.

  “Why you little—” I caught myself before she made the ugly side of my personality come out. I decided to send Maya a text message in the hopes that she’d get it and contact me. I realized that she was refusing to take my calls because I’d hurt her feelings, which was something I did not mean to do.

  I went downstairs to the family room. I grabbed the television remote, sat down and turned on the TV. I flipped through the channels and stopped at VH1 to catch the end of a reality show called Fantasia for Real. Just as the show was getting really good, I heard someone coming into the house. I sprang to my feet and walked toward the door to see who it was. Barbara was entering the house with a box of files from her office, and I went over to help her.

  “Let me get that box for you,” I said, reaching out to take it.

  “Oh, thank you, Keysha,” she said as she shut the door and locked it behind her.

  “Just set it on the kitchen table. I’m going to go through all of that stuff in a minute, once I put on dinner.”

  “What are we having?” I asked.

  “Is there any more salmon in the freezer?” she said as she squatted down and pulled off her shoes. “If there is, take out a few pieces.”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll go check,” I answered as I took the box and placed it where she’d asked. After checking the freezer, I brought up several frozen planks of fish and placed them in a tub of cold water for thawing.

  “How was your day?” I asked Barbara as I followed her into her bedroom.

  “Exhausting. There is a large budget shortfall due to mismanagement of funds by the president of finance, and the mayor is not happy about it. There is talk of bringing criminal charges against the person responsible. I am on an investigative committee that has to take a look at everything the president of finance has done. Part of what I have to look at is what’s in the box,” Barbara exhaled. “When the media and voters find out about this, it’s not going to be pretty.”

  “It sounds messy,” I admitted.

  “Messy is an understatement. Enough about that drama. How was your day?” she asked.

  “It was cool. Maya came over for a little while, but then she got mad at me and left,” I said, wanting Barbara to take an interest in my day and ask why.

  “What did she get mad for?”

  “Because she wants me to take a lifeguard-certification class with her and—”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. You’d be able to get a great summer job with that type of certification. I know for a fact that the water parks are always searching for lifeguards.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, because I wanted to find out if you were cool with it.”

  “Absolutely,” Barbara said as she began removing her jewelry.

  “I’ll step out while you change,” I said, turning to walk out.

  “Before you leave, do me a favor and unzip me out of this dress.” I walked over and unzipped her dress, noticing for the first time a tattoo on her back.

  “Oh, my God! You have a tattoo in the center of your back. I never thought you were the type of person to have a tat. I want to get one,” I said, admiring the design.

  “Tattoos are a big decision, Keysha,” Barbara said as she went into her walk-in closet and finished undressing. I decided to sit on the side of the bed and wait for her.

  “When did you get it, and what does the symbol mean?” I asked.

  “I got it when I was twenty-one years old. It’s a friendship tattoo, and my girlfriend had one just like it,” Barbara said.

  “What do you mean had?”

  Barbara exhaled softly as if something weighed heavily on her heart. I’d never seen her look so wounded. “Well, her name was Latrice, and we grew up together. I met her when I was five years old. We were both taking ballet lessons at a dance school. In the fall of that year we entered kindergarten together and clung to each other like a melody to music. We went through grammar school together and were inseparable.” Barbara coughed up a soft chuckle. “We always got into trouble for talking too much in class.”

  “Did you guys remain friends through high school as well?” I asked, thinking about Maya’s and my own personal desire to have a true friend who would always be by my side.

  “Oh, yeah. We worked on and styled each other’s hair, created outfits with her mother’s sewing machine, and we got our driver’s licenses on the same day. She was truly a one-of-a-kind friend. On our twenty-first birthday we decided to get the tattoos to celebrate fifteen years of friendship.”

  “Where is she now? Did you guys have a fight or something? How come I’ve never heard you mention her before?” Barbara exited the closet wearing her pajama pants and one of Jordan’s old college T-shirts. She looked sloppy, but I could tell that she was very comfortable.

  “She passed away, Keysha,” Barbara answered mournfully.

  “Really? What happened?” I asked, feeling badly about her loss.

  “Car accident. Happened when she was twenty-four. She was driving home from a trip she’d taken to Atlanta. By the time she got to the Midwest, she ran into a very bad snowstorm. She should’ve pulled over and gotten a hotel room for the night, but she didn’t. I guess she wanted to get home. Anyway, witnesses said that an eighteen-wheeler had turned on its side on a section of the highway that was suspended above a cliff. She didn’t see the accident until it was too late. She lost control of her car and ran off the highway and down a steep embankment. She died at the scene.”

  “That’s so sad,” I said, feeling the need to hug her.

  “Yeah, it is, but she was the type of friend who always had my back. That’s why we got the tattoos placed there.”

  “Did she have any kids?” I asked.

  “No. At the time she was in med school and wasn’t ready to start a family just yet,” Barbara said as she exited the bedroom. I trailed behind as she entered the kitchen.

  “Can I help you cook dinner?” I asked, even though I knew she wasn’t going to say no.

  “Absolutely. Why don’t you cut up a few potatoes for me?” Barbara reached into the cupboard and pulled out one of the griddles.

  “I think my friend Maya and I are learning how to be close like you and your friend Latrice.”

  “You’re not trying to get a tattoo, are you?” Barbara asked.

  “Can I?” I quickly asked, because I knew that Maya had one and I was dying to get one as well.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that. You’re still very young, and I don’t want you to have regrets about it later,” Barbara explained.

  “How about for my eighteenth birthday next year?” I asked, pressing the issue.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Barbara clearly wanted to end the conversation.

  I sat down and began skinning a potato with a peeler I’d removed from the rack on the countertop. I noticed that Barbara began scratching around the edges of her hair with her fingertips.

  “It must be about time for a touch-up,” I uttered as she concentrated on a spot near her forehead.

  Barbara said, “Yeah it’s about that time. I also need to get the gray hair around the edges taken care. I cringe at the sight of it.”

  Barbara walked into the bathroom and washed her hands. When she returned she began preparing the fish to place on the griddle.

  “I think your gray hair looks distinguished,” I said glancing in her direction.

  “Gray hair looks distinguished on men but doesn’t have the same effect for a lot of women,” Barbara griped.

  “Now my grandmother Hazel had sexy salt-and-pepper hair and she wore it proudly as if it were her crown. Said she’d earned every strand of it. People used to ask her if she dyed her hair because it looked so perfect on her. It always amazed me how someone with so much gray had the ability to make young men flirt with her.”

  “How young?” I asked curiously.

&n
bsp; “Very young,” Barbara answered. “Grandmother Hazel at times was like a peacock, strutting around displaying the beauty of her curls like they were a plume of feathers.” Barbara smirked before continuing on.

  “She was young at heart and didn’t like to be around folks her own age. Heck, when Latrice and I turned twenty-one she took us out drinking.”

  “What! You went drinking with your grandmother?” My jaw hit the floor when she told me that, because I could never imagine going out drinking with Grandmother Katie or Rubylee.

  “Yeah, we did. Hazel was a real pistol and she lived her life to its fullest. She passed away peacefully in her sleep about five years ago.”

  “How old was she?” I asked.

  “Seventy-nine, but she acted like she was forty-five. Remind me later and I’ll show you a few pictures of her,” Barbara said.

  After I finished with the potatoes I went into the bathroom, washed my hands and then unconsciously ran my fingers through my hair. I stepped back into the kitchen and said, “I’m going to have to let my perm grow out some.”

  “Yes, you are, but giving your hair a break from chemical relaxers can be a good thing. Once you have your braids in you’ll have to use a leave-in conditioner on your hair and wash it every time you swim. That’s going to require some effort on your part, but it’s not going to be impossible,” Barbara said as she examined my hair.

  “It’s actually just about time for me to get a touch-up anyway, because I do have some new growth,” I said.

  “So the timing is great for braids. Just make sure you have on your swim cap as you go through the training.”