I Still Dream About You

She had been awarded ten thousand dollars, which had helped her parents buy their first home. She had been given beautiful, expensive jewelry and a complete wardrobe from Loveman’s, designed especially for her, plus a gray mink stole from Carlton’s furs, which she still had.

Maggie walked down the hall to the back closet, pulled it out, and examined it. It was still in pretty good shape. She put it on and looked at herself in the mirror. Too bad mink stoles went out of style, but you couldn’t wear fur of any kind without offending someone. Just one more thing she would never have to worry about: offending someone. That was one of the reasons she was always so comfortable with Brenda; she was not easily offended, and if you were to ever say something by mistake, she wouldn’t hold it against you. Not that she ever had or would purposely say or do anything to hurt someone’s feelings. She knew what that felt like firsthand. She knew all too well.

Dropping a Hint

ETHEL, THE OLDEST MEMBER OF THE JINGLE-ETTES, A HANDBELL choir that played out at the mall on holidays, had invited Brenda and Maggie to come during their lunch hour to a first dress rehearsal for their 2008 performance. Brenda said she would drive, and Maggie was glad to have an opportunity to ride with her. It would give her a chance to try to drop a hint again.

Brenda and Maggie sat in the food court and ate their lunch and enjoyed the show. Ethel was a regular virtuoso on the handbells and had a special solo spot during “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” All the Jingle-ettes wore blinking red noses, and it was very effective, drawing quite a bit of applause from the crowd that had gathered. Maggie was glad she had a chance to see it, considering she would be missing the holidays this year, and she was surprised to find herself getting a little teary.

On the way back to the office, in keeping with her plan, Maggie said, “You know, Brenda, I don’t know if you have noticed or not… but I’ve been a little depressed lately.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. “Oh right, Maggie, you have so much to be depressed about. You’re so ugly. It must be terrible to have to wake up and see yourself in the mirror every morning. If I looked like you, I’d be delirious. I’m the one who’s depressed. I swear, I’ve gotten to the point to where I can’t even bear to look at myself anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I look like a big fat Tootsie Roll in a wig, that’s why.”

“Oh, you do not! Brenda, why do you say those awful things about yourself?”

“Because it’s true… I’m ugly-looking.”

“You are not! You are just as cute as you can be; everybody thinks so. When you’re not with me, people always ask, ‘How’s that cute Brenda?’ ”

“Who?”

“Everybody… everybody thinks you are just as cute as you can be.”

“Really?”

“Yes, silly, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Brenda seemed happy for the moment; then she asked, “What’s cute about me?”

“A lot of things… your personality for one, your smile… you have darling teeth.”

Brenda looked at her. “Darling teeth?”

“Yes, and you have a great smile.”

“Oh, I do not; now I know you’re making stuff up. I have buck teeth and a big space between my two front teeth.”

“No, you don’t, you have a great open face and a wonderful sense of humor… everyone says that.”

“They do?”

“Yes… Hazel always said you had a million-dollar personality.”

“She did?”

“Yes, you know she did.”

“God, I miss Hazel…”

They drove a little while longer and then Brenda said, “People don’t say I look too masculine, do they?”

“What? Brenda, anybody who wears a size 54 double-D-cup bra couldn’t look masculine if they tried. Why would you ask that?”

“Oh, I don’t know… I just worry. Since I got so fat, I think I look masculine.”

“Don’t be silly. Does Oprah Winfrey look masculine?”

“She’s skinny now…”

“Well… when she was heavier…”

“No…”

“Okay, then.”

They drove in silence a little while longer, until Maggie asked, “How are you doing with your Overeaters Anonymous meetings? Are you still going?”

“Yes, I love the meetings… it’s the not eating I don’t like.” Brenda let out a big sigh. “Maggie, if I tell you something, do you swear not to tell Robbie?”

“Of course.”

“I’m so mad at myself, I could just scream.”

“Why?”

“I had another slip. Doughnuts.”

“Oh… well, honey, just try to forget it and move on. That’s all you can do.”

Brenda smiled. “You’re right… that’s all we can do…”

Brenda then pulled down the visor and looked at herself in the mirror. “Do you really think I have cute teeth?”

“Yes.”

Brenda smiled. “I’ll tell you what Maggie, talking to you always cheers me up!”

Oh, dear. This clearly was not the moment. Maggie decided she would try another time.

What Was Bothering Brenda

AT BRENDA’S LAST OVEREATERS ANONYMOUS MEETING, THE LEADER had said to the group, “The problem is not what you are eating, but what’s eating you!” And unlike a lot of the other gals in the group, Brenda knew exactly what had been eating at her for years.

When Hazel had hired her, it had still been a pretty rare thing: a black real estate agent in an all-white firm. But for Brenda, growing up when and where she had, she had always been an experiment of some kind. Now, after so many years of having to deal with the “race issue” day in and day out, she was tired. Tired of everybody bobbing and weaving all around the subject, never saying what they really thought, herself included. And tired of always having to be careful about not acting “too white” around her own people or “too black” around white people.

When Brenda had been growing up, the issues had been the big, overt, and glaring oversights of voting rights and segregated neighborhoods, water fountains, schools, and bathrooms. But now it was the small, everyday subtleties that were so wearing. She always felt it when white people were walking on eggshells around her, nervous about saying something that might offend her. She just wished people would act normal. When she