Getting to Happy by Terry McMillan Page A

before either of them cheated. John obviously broke his side of the promise. It made her feel like a homicide victim. But there was no funeral.
    This felt like the second time she’d been killed.
    Her friends had a hard time accepting all of it. Belinda Hampton kept her word and sent Bernadine all the legal documents proving she was indeed married to James, too, and not long afterward, Bernadine’s marriage was annulled. She removed James Wheeler’s name from everything and was surprised to find out how intertwined their lives had become during the six years they were married. It was about this same time Bernadine discovered James had been systematically robbing her for years. That she had paid for all those trips back and forth to D.C. This was when she went to see her doctor. She started having trouble falling asleep. Having anxiety attacks. In the beginning she worried if he hated her enough that he might try to harm her. It took years for her to stop worrying, but by that time, she was mad at herself for having been such a fool. She has not seen or heard from him since.
    Pills have helped her fake it. Helped her to smile when she was supposed to, to hold back tears when they were inappropriate, to forget she hasn’t been kissed in six years, not been touched in six years and not had an orgasm in six years. All this trying to forget only made her remember more. That she’s lonely. That she often feels like she weighs a ton.
    Today is one of those days she has to put the bullshit on the back-burner, which won’t be hard to do because her daughter is coming home tonight. For three days Bernadine will be happy. She’ll be a hands-on mother and her smiles will not have to be manufactured. Over the next nine or ten hours, Bernadine will clean all the rooms the housekeeper ignores—especially the nooks and crannies in the kitchen—and she’ll give Onika’s room extra-special attention. She’ll spend hours in Bed Bath & Beyond where she’ll buy an espresso maker she can’t afford, but it’ll be a surprise since Onika’s always having one at Starbucks. She’ll also buy new towels and a matching rug for her daughter’s bathroom. She’ll go up and down every aisle in the grocery store just to be sure to get all the ingredients for some of Onika’s favorite meals. She hasn’t cooked for her daughter since last Christmas.
    By seven o’clock, Bernadine lies across the bed to take what she likes to call a nap.
    “Mom, where are you? I’m home! You better not be in bed! It’s only eleven-thirty!” Onika yells as she and her girlfriend barge into Bernadine’s bedroom. She thought she’d heard them running up the stairs, but by the time she’s able to slide her head from under the pillow, the two girls are standing over her. Bernadine rolls over and tries to open her eyes but they flutter and close again.
    Sleeping pills will do that.
    “Mom, wake up! We’re here!” Onika says even louder this time, and starts rocking Bernadine back and forth.
    “Hi there, baby girl,” Bernadine mutters as she slowly sits up and gives her daughter a peck on the lips. She knows she looks disastrous, because she can see from the mirror her hair is smashed flat on the side she’d been sleeping on, the mascara has given her black baseball smudges under her eyes and to top it off, she still has her clothes on: a white wifebeater and goldenrod capris.
    “Hello, Mrs. Harris,” Onika’s friend says. “I’m Shy.”
    As Bernadine combs her fingers through her hair and gets up, this young lady is towering over her. Onika looks even more petite than her five feet two inches standing next to her. “You don’t have to be shy around me, sweetheart.”
    “It’s short for Cheyenne,” she says.
    “That’s a pretty name. And since you’re my daughter’s best friend, you can call me Mom if you want, or Auntie’s fine with me, too.”
    “Thanks then, Mom!” Shy says as she bends down and gives Bernadine a soft kiss on the