Free A Song Flung Up to Heaven by Maya Angelou Page A

bride-price?”
    That was my brother. He could make me laugh even in the grimmest situations.
    “He’s been talking about going to Mexico City. Kwesi Brew is Ghana’s ambassador to Mexico, and Kwesi and his wife, Molly, love him. They dote on him.”
    Bailey said, “From what I see, he can take a lot of doting.”
    He watched as I cleared up the mess. “You are really your mother’s daughter. He doesn’t know he is lucky that you didn’t dump that dinner on his head.”
    I told him that if I had done that, I thought the African would have hit me.
    Bailey responded instantly, “He’d have only one time to do that. Next time he’d draw back a stub. Let’s go see what your mother is doing.”
    My little mother sat in the one upholstered chair as primly as an old-fashioned schoolteacher. Her legs were crossed at the ankles. Her purse and gloves lay in her lap.
    “Well, baby, this gentleman has reported you to me. He said you used profanity last night.”
    The African blurted out, “She used words I never even heard Negro sailors use when their ships docked in Ghana’s port city of Tema. Her mouth should be washed out. You should do that.”
    Mother said, “Oh, I would never do a thing like that. Never. People use profanity because they have limited vocabularies or because they are lazy or too frustrated to search for the words they want. My daughter has an extensive vocabulary and doesn’t have a lazy bone in her body. So she cursed out of frustration. Why were you frustrated, baby?”
    Bailey spoke before I could answer. “Excuse me, Mom, but I’d like to speak to him.” He turned to the African. “Would you come with me for a walk around the block?”
    The African assented. When they were both on the steps, Bailey stuck his head back in the door.
    “Pack his clothes.”
    Mother watched as I folded the flamboyant African robes into a trunk.
    “Your brother said you didn’t sound right on the telephone. That’s why we are here.”
    “I wasn’t right. I won’t deny I was happy to see him, but I can’t stand his rudeness in my face all the time.”
    “Wasn’t he rude in Africa?” Although it was ten A.M. , she was making herself a Scotch. She had told me years earlier that the time to drink was when you wanted it and could afford to buy it for yourself.
    “It wasn’t so bad there. First he had his business to focus his attention. He had his children, and I had my own house. And here he’s only got me. So since he can’t stand anyone around me, I’ve become the whipping boy.”
    Mother sucked her teeth loudly. “Well, you sure as hell weren’t raised to be that for anybody. But it’s all right. Your brother will take care of it.”
    The two men walked back into the house laughing uproariously and patting each other on the back.
    “I want you to come to Africa yourself, Bailey, see how we live, eh.”
    Bailey said, “You bet. I’ll probably be there before Maya gets back.” He noticed my suitcase on the floor. He asked, “Oh, you’ve been packing?”
    I said, “Yes, this is mine. I’m going back up to San Francisco with you and Mom.” I wanted to save my lover’s face. “I packed for him, too.” I pointed to the luggage in the corner. “He’s been talking to friends in Mexico City.”
    The African said, “That’s where I’m going, and I’m going today. I will telephone Kwesi Brew. He will meet me.”
    I offered to make breakfast. Bailey shook his head. “I’m taking him to a great breakfast place in Venice. You need to make reservations for one from Los Angeles to Mexico City.” Bailey and Mother went into the kitchen so my lover and I could have privacy. We embraced emotionally.
    “You could come with me...”
    I was already missing him. I said, “Not now, later. But why did you decide so suddenly to go?”
    “Your brother. He talked to me, man to man. There seems to be something in my personality that rubs you the wrong way, and I may threaten, or at least weaken, your