Part XXXIV: A Reunion

Harry Guakomoli set the box down and locked the door separating the shop from the outside world. He then proceeded over to Yvette.

"Is it safe there? I got an autographed photo of Charo in that box."

Yvette said nothing and instead walked through the beads. Our hero followed, keeping his eyes on her posterior. From out of his peripheral The Guak noticed they were in a hallway with cheap wood paneling. The chocolate-colored honey entered a room on the right. A pair of shriveled bird's feet...a chicken's?...wrapped in black ribbon hung from the upper part of the door jamb. The Guak entered the room behind her.

Against the back corner of the room was a hospital bed. In the bed sat a large black woman. Late fifties, maybe early sixties, by the looks of her. She was bald save for a few clumps of nappy gray hair. The woman was in a lavender cotton night gown that was in serious need of washing. A chubby hand gripped a remote control. Several violet candles situated around the room on shelves were lit. A white lace cross, with another cross made of green felt inside of it, hung on one of the walls.

The corpulent invalid hit one of the buttons on the remote, and it was then our hero noticed a flat-screen TV on a small metal table to his left.

"I never thought I would see you again," she said to The Guak.

"Yvonne?" our hero asked as he took a step closer to her.

"That's close enough!" she snapped. Her tone froze The Guak in his tracks. "I don't know how you found out about me, but I'm not happy to see you, boy."

"Say the word, Momma, and he's gone," Yvette said as she put herself between the bed-ridden woman and our hero.

"No. Let's just get this over with," Yvonne replied.

"You said you've seen me before, but I don't remember you," stated The Guak.

"That's because you were just a baby," she responded. "A baby I bought from a woman for $2100 thirty-three years ago."

"Wait, what?! You bought me? From what woman? Not from my mother; she's dead."

"Your...your mother?" Yvonne asked as a look of horror spread across her countenance.

The fortuneteller's eyes rolled up into her head showing only their whites. She began to convulse. Her uncontrollable shaking caused her bed to shake as well. The flames from the candles flickered as a cold breeze from an unknown source blew through the room chilling The Guak to the bone.

"Momma? MOMMA!" Yvette screamed.

"Three-four-three! Three-four-three! Three-four-three!" Yvonne's voice was loud and piercing as she repeatedly shrieked the numbered sequence.

"Um...does this happen often?" asked our hero.

"Three-four-three! Three-four-three!"

"What?!" Yvette asked, a look of panic on her face. "What the fuck do you think?"

Yvonne's seizure intensified. Each spasm seemed to propel her corpulent body into the air. Her daughter rushed to her side.

"Shh, Momma. Shh." Yvette said soothingly in an attempt to calm her mother.

Yet the elder woman did not calm herself down. She started frothing at the mouth, white watery foam oozing out of the orifice. Yvette turned her attention to The Guak.

"Go wait in the lounge," she sternly ordered our hero.

"Maybe I should help you roll her onto her stomach so she doesn't choke on --"

"GO WAIT IN THE MUTHAFUCKIN' LOUNGE!" the younger of the two women screamed.

"Fine."

The Guak left Yvonne's room and returned to the lounge as commanded. Hip hop continued to blast from the sound system. The vocalist was the same woman as before, but then it was a ballad about missing her "boo." Who the fuck's Boo? our hero thought to himself. Boo Radley? Who's Boo Radley? He plopped down on the couch and pulled out his phone. Our hero stared at it. The bells and whistles bothered him. There was so much going on.

Another track started. A loop of a watered down hard rock guitar lick provided backing music as the lady rapper boasted of being the "queen of all dem bitches." The Guak did his best to tune it all out.

It was not until Yvette sat down beside The Guak on the couch did he realize the honey was back in the room.

"How's your mom?" The Guak turned to her and asked.

"She's fine for now," Yvette replied. "She stopped with the frothing as soon as you left."

Our hero nodded.

"Who are you?" she asked with the voice of an interrogation. "And who's your mother?"

"I'm The Guak. And I have no idea about my mom. I came to Yvonne to ask about her. About where I came from."

"As you can see she's out of her fucking mind," Yvette said. "It all started six months ago."

"What happened six months ago?"

"The fuck if I know," she answered. "Momma began to chant something. What was it? 'Twenty-one were bred now twenty are dead.' Over and over again for, like, a day. Then it's 'All twenty-one are all undone.' Just once and fell asleep. For almost a whole fucking week. Nothing I did would wake her. After that it was all quiet. Really quiet. She looked uneasy but wouldn't say a word. Not just about that, but she was completely fucking silent. Three months ago she sat up and screamed. Then she...she...what do you call it when you breathe really fast? Like when you're scared or anxious?"

"Hyperventilate?" The Guak answered.

"Yeah, that's the word. She was mad hyperventilating and then she grew quiet again. After that she was back to normal. But she refused to see any clients. The entire time Momma didn't give a single reading. I tried, but I don't have the gift. Not like she does. Mine's good for hustling. For grifting marks but not for repeat bidness. For years the only way you could see Miss Yvonne was by appointment. Walk in off the street? Too fucking bad. Now, it's gone. All fucking gone.

"But you. You're the key. Or your dead momma is. Or both. That's why I'm gonna make sure she talks to you, and we're all gonna set this shit straight. She can't live this like no more. Me neither. What did you say your name was again?"

"I'm The Guak," replied The Guak.

"Heh. 'The Guak,'" Yvette said and shook her head. "Even white boys gotta act all street and make up code names."

Our hero merely shrugged.

"Give me your digits, and when she's ready to talk, really ready, we'll call you."

"I can't," said The Guak sounding dangerously close to apologetic. "I just got this phone."

Yvette was less than impressed and sighed.

"Fine, Guak. Call my number, and we'll get it off my phone."

Making calls on his new phone was one of the few things he had figured out how to do. Yvette gave our hero her number, and he dialed it. A cellphone on the table lit up with blue lights and vibrated. No ring tone. The mocha-hued beauty picked up the phone and checked out the display screen.

"What game you playing?" asked Yvette still staring at the screen.

"What?"

"6-6-6-8-4-3-4-8-2-5," she read the incoming number aloud.

"I...I don't know," replied our hero. "It was a gift."

"I won't let Momma do the calling then. She would flip the fuck out."

Yvette stood up and straightened her skirt. Our hero looked up and couldn't help but stare at her perfect breasts for a few seconds before standing up himself.

"I would say it's been a pleasure meeting you, 'The Guak,' but I'm not sure it was. You have my number, but you are not to call me. I make the contact. You dig?"

"I dig," our hero replied with a nod. "Do I get a kiss good-bye?"

"You wish."

The Guak did wish, but that particular wish did not come true. Our hero unlocked the door, grabbed his box of worldly possessions, and exited Miss Yvonne's Psychic Readings.Par