Sweet Tea: A Novel Read Free Page A

quarter short of a dollar.” I tried to think of Mama as an eccentric widow, or a woman who walked to the beat of her own drum. Comments like that made it harder.
    A neck brace held Miss Ruth’s head straight in the air, and she sat like a statue glued to her chair. It must have tortured her not to be able to turn her head to follow us.
    “I think that woman’s a Russian spy,” Mama whispered in my ear.
    “Good thing we’re not Russian,” I nervously joked.
    Mama covered her mouth and giggled. “You’re so funny, Olivia.”
    Seemed Miss Ruth was aching to catch a glimpse of one of our family members doing something unorthodox so she had something to gossip about. I heard her chair scrape across the concrete patio as she hobbled along to get a closer look.
    Mama opened the front door and I stepped inside and gasped. Five fur coats lay across our couch: a short white one with a zipper and hood, a mid-length silver, a full-length silver, a brown one, and a short black mink. All of them resembled those Aunt Nadine wore in some of the Christmas portraits she’d sent us.
    Mama pointed to the mink. “Go ahead, try it on.”
    I pulled the coat off the sofa and caressed its silky fur against my cheek. I’d never touched a fur coat before. I inhaled the scent. It reeked of Channel No. 5. I was only familiar with the fragrance because Aunt Nadine sent a bottle of it to CeCe when she graduated high school; however, I knew she didn’t have any left.
    Mama stepped in front of me, took the coat from my hands and wrapped it around me while I slid my arms through the sleeves.
    She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Look at you! That shiny, black mink brings out the golden highlights in your hair—and your eyes—they look like two lost pennies that have just been found. You look beautiful, Olivia.” She pointed toward the hallway. “Go see yourself.”
    Excited, I rushed down the hallway to the bathroom, closed the door, and stared in the mirror. Turning from side to side, I admired my reflection. I grabbed a brush from the vanity and ran it through my hair. I felt glamorous, even a bit taller, and I looked smart. However, I reminded myself it was more important for me to sound smart.
    After moving to Woodlane, I worked extra hard at that. My plan: to rid myself of all traces of my southern accent while establishing an extensive vocabulary . My guidance counselor said it would help my future. I agreed. Having been the best speller in my class since grade school gave me a head start. If only I knew where I was headed. 
    My moment in La-La Land ended when the front door slammed and CeCe screamed, “Oh my Lord! Where’d these coats come from?”
    I rushed out from the bathroom, still dressed in the mink. CeCe’s jaw dropped.
    “That’s right,” Mama said, and tossed her dark waves over her right shoulder.
    “What’s right?” CeCe asked.
    “Thank the Lord,” Mama said.
    “For the coats?”
    “Of course. The Lord gave us these coats!” She held out the long silver one toward CeCe. “This is fox. Go ahead, try it on.”
    “I don’t want to try it on.” CeCe pushed the coat back at Mama. “It’s barely cold out now and it only lasts for a month or so, anyway.”
    Mama dangled the coat at her hip. “I had a fur coat many years ago—when I lived in New York City—your great-grandma gave it to me.” She shook her head. “Only, I have no idea what happened to it. I’ve wanted another one ever since.”
    Both CeCe and I gazed up at her, and at the same time said, “But Mama, you’ve got five!”
    She ignored us. “Just put the coat on, CeCe.”
    I wondered why CeCe didn’t want to try it on. Did she think she’d like it and have to give it back? Did she think Mama would want us to wear them out together and pretend we were sisters? She did enjoy pretending she was younger than her age and often put on our clothes and pranced around the house fishing for compliments. Aside from that, I wondered what great-grandma