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Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [36]

By Root 777 0
had become seasoned with age. With no one around to watch, Grandma was in rare form. If Rhonda’s homework wasn’t done fast enough, she got rapped on the side of her head. If she didn’t get all the soap off the dishes, she got backhanded across the face. If Rhonda ate too fast, or asked for seconds, Grandma would scream at her. Ray, however, got to eat all the Oreo cookies he wanted, whenever he wanted, at whatever speed he wanted. By the time Grandma had been in the house for three weeks, Rhonda’s nerves were frayed, her hair was falling out again, and Nett started getting sick. Somehow, Nett figured out that Grandma was the reason behind Rhonda’s balding head and her own upset stomach. Knowing what the impact would be on her family, she refused overtime and started coming home on time. It was a signal to Grandma that she was no longer needed or welcome. “I’d rather starve to death than have that old bat in my house,” Nett told the children. It was her way of explaining their steady diet of potato soup.

Even during the worst of times, Friday night was the best night of the week. Nett got paid from her day job on Fridays, and that meant treats, treats, and more treats. It was a weekly celebration that both of the children looked forward to enjoying. Nett, as usual, would go out of her way to make Rhonda and Ray feel special for being good during the week. Sometimes she even thanked them for keeping the house clean and for not getting into trouble. She would bring home Rhonda’s favorite treat, coffee ice cream. Ray liked butter pecan, even though he always picked the nuts out. Nett brought herself Oreo cookies, which she would dunk in milk until the bottom of the cup was filled with crumbs. The three of them would pile up on the sofa and watch television until they all fell asleep and somebody’s foot ended up in somebody’s mouth. Friday nights were good nights. Nights when Rhonda could hope that, in a little while, everything would be just fine.

Nett always let Rhonda play dress-up and try out her makeup. But on Halloween, Nett would make up Rhonda’s face and let her wear something really pretty. By the time Nett finished with the eyeliner and lipstick, Rhonda felt beautiful. And falling off Nett’s high heels was big fun. Rhonda and her brother would romp throughout the apartment building, collecting candy and other goodies. When they returned, they would divide everything equally between them, packing some things away in plastic bags for later in the week. One Halloween, just before the children went to bed, a real ghost appeared. Daddy came home for his weekly visit.

Daddy took one look at these children whom he had not seen in a week, and for whom he had barely provided all their lives, and asked his wife if she had lost her mind. “What the hell is wrong with her face? What did you do to her?” Daddy demanded of Nett.

“It’s just a little makeup. They went trick-or-treating in the building.” Nett shot Rhonda and her brother a get-to-bed glance, but neither child moved.

Daddy was ranting and raving about being sick and tired of Nett trying to influence his children against him, when Nett jumped up from the chair and snarled at him, “You know what you can do for me, don’t you?” With that she snatched both children by their arms and stomped down the hallway.

While Nett removed the makeup, she told Rhonda that she really did look pretty and that she was glad they’d had a good time. She put Rhonda to bed, but Rhonda was too excited by the day’s events to sleep. She remembered Nett putting the lipstick case on the edge of the sink in the bathroom. Intrigued by the golden wand that magically put color on your lips and made you pretty, Rhonda crept into the bathroom to retrieve it. Back in the bed, with the magic color wand, she realized she had no mirror, so she made another bathroom run to get Nett’s two-sided mirror that was kept on a hook next to the medicine cabinet. An eight-year-old, standing in the dark on a toilet seat, trying to reach something that is too high up, is an accident waiting to happen. In this case, it

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