82 Desire

up on these things.
    Corey was right behind her, light glinting off his shaved head and his glasses.
    Miz Clara gave Michelle a kiss.
    “Baby, you pregnant yet?” She did think if you were going to freeload, you ought to at least drop babies.
    Michelle showed pearly teeth in a face several shades lighter than a paper bag (damn Corey for that one!). “Now, Miz Clara.”
    That was the extent of her wit. Talba didn’t exactly loathe her, but she didn’t consider her a member of the family. She rolled her eyes at Corey. “Hey, big brother. How do you stand this crap?”
    “Now, you shut up, Ms. Sandra Baroness de Pontalba Wallis,” said Miz Clara, and Corey kissed her, which left Michelle and Talba to say something to each other.
    Michelle smiled. “Sorry we missed the reading. How’d it go?”
    “To tell you the truth, it was incredible.”
    “Really?”
    “You sound surprised.”
    “I guess I didn’t think that many people were into poetry. What kind of people were there?”
    To Talba’s surprise, Miz Clara stepped in. “You wouldn’t believe who was there. Black folks, white folks, old, young—everybody there to see my baby.”
    Talba felt a warm, sticky glow. However mean she was when no one was around, her mother stood up for her in front of outsiders, even those who were family.
    “There was even a newspaper reporter,” she finished.
    Corey said, “You gonna be famous, Sandra?”
    “I am The Baroness de Pontalba.” She said it with such exaggerated pomposity that even Michelle laughed, and she was renowned for humor impairment.
    Miz Clara said, “Y’all come sit down now.”
    And things went well for a while. They had some beer and then some wine, and they ate the chicken along with some fresh vegetables Miz Clara had fixed, and then Miz Clara went to get the pie she’d sort of made—though the crust had come from Schwegmann’s—and Corey said, “How’s that Rastafarian boyfriend of yours?”
    “You like his hair, huh?”
    “I just hate to see you throwing yourself away on somebody like that.”
    “Somebody like what? Somebody with dreads? Lamar’s a grad student at Xavier.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    Their mother came in with the pie. Michelle took care to look at her lap.
    “Mama, is this why we’re having this party?” Talba asked.
    “When I tol’ you you could stay here, I didn’t mean with that deadbeat.”
    “Well, why didn’t you just ask me to move?”
    “I promise you, that’s why. I promise you a little time befo’ you have to go to work again. But when I see that poetry meetin’—”
    “Reading.”
    “When I see that poetry meetin’, I figure it be time to talk to ya brother.”
    Talba felt as if the top of her head were going to come off. She turned toward Corey and watched him almost visibly withdraw from her—when she got a smokestack of anger up, you could feel it across a room.
    “Sandra, we’re worried about you. Don’t you understand that?”
    “I don’t get this. I have a nice professional boyfriend. I just had a successful professional performance, and some very nice recognition. I even have an outside chance of getting a story in the paper. I’m doing great. How many poets do you know who’re doing so great?”
    “I have a good friend who’s just done his residency in psychiatry. I was thinking—”
    “Psychiatry?” She stood up and hollered, “Psychiatry? You think I’m crazy, big bro’? In case you’ve forgotten, I worked my butt off to get through school, and I’ve been nothing but a credit to this family even if I’m not a doctor. Mama and I had a deal here. What’s wrong with y’all?”
    Corey patted air like a conductor: Not so damn loud, please . “Take it easy, Sandra. This is not about your poetry, and it isn’t even about your no-good boyfriend.”
    “What in God’s name is wrong with Lamar?”
    All three of the others looked at each other. Finally, Corey said, “You really want to know?”
    “Yes, goddammit. Let’s get it out, once and for all.”
    He shrugged and spoke conversationally. “He’s an asshole.”
    He said it so casually, Talba had to laugh. “Oh, is that all?”
    And then they were laughing. Finally, she said, “Y’all really have to back off. The thing about it is, he’s my asshole. Let me just have him awhile, okay?”
    “Just don’t marry him, you hear me? Otherwise, Mama might disinherit you.”
    They all had to laugh again. And then Talba said, “Mama, really; why do you