Loose Ends (18 page)
Authors: Electa Rome Parks
I looked over at Mia in her pretty pink dress, looking like a beautiful angel herself, with Lyric asleep in her lap with a tiny smile on her puckered lips. I realized how truly blessed I was. I had done things, shameful things, in my earlier years. Yet, here I was with a woman for whom I’d die and a daughter who was my heart. I lowered my head and silently thanked God for my many blessings.
Reverend Shipler began to end his message while the choir was softly singing “Stand” in the background. I realized that my prayers regarding Brice had been answered as well. I truly needed—or should I say, wanted—my partner in my life, and it seemed like that was coming together as well. And if I decided to go into business with him . . . Yet, I couldn’t get over my uneasiness over the entire situation. I had a nagging feeling about whether I had made the right decision.
After telling Joseph and his family good-bye and how much we enjoyed the service, Mia and I finally made it to the truck, hand in hand, with Lyric sound asleep on my shoulder. Being in a different environment with overstimulation had tired her out. Lyric had been out for the count since church service began. We decided to stop by and say hello to Vivica, Brice’s mom. I hadn’t been over since that time with Brice, and, according to him, Vivica had been asking about me and requesting that Mia visit as well.
Upon our arrival, laughter and delicious, mouthwatering soul-food smells met us at the front door. We had already seen Brice’s Volvo parked out front. Our intentions were to say hello and stay for only a few minutes. We didn’t want to intrude. Of course, Vivica was not having that. Before we could even ring the doorbell a second time, Brice answered with a big smile on his face.
He screamed into the house: “Moms, you are not going to believe who the cat just dragged in!” He moved out of the way so that we could enter the small foyer.
By now, Vivica was walking out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel hanging from her waistband. “Brice, who’s at the door?”
When she got to the doorway and saw us, Vivica was overjoyed, to say the very least. There was so much hugging and kissing going on that you would have thought we had won the Georgia lottery or something. But that’s Vivica, a loving, caring, genuine person. She was always like a second mom to me. All my maternal feelings for her rushed back full force.
“Mia, come here, girl, and let me look at you. You look good, baby! Happy! Ohhh, and is this the baby?” Vivica asked as she gently took Lyric from me who was now fully awake and looking around.
Vivica didn’t even wait for a response. “Christian, are you sure you didn’t spit this child out? God, she’s the spitting image of you,” she said with a laugh in her voice.
Mia was smiling, but subdued. Occasionally she’d glance over at Brice. Brice was silently standing there, taking it all in. When Mia took my hand in hers, I knew she was uncomfortable.
“Y’all come on in here, and Brice, close that door. I’m so happy to see y’all. Come here; give me another hug!”
It started all over again. When we finally got settled, Vivica took Lyric to an upstairs bedroom to finish her nap. Brice’s dad was upstairs napping as well. We found Kree sitting in the living room, flipping through an
Ebony
magazine. Ol’ girl barely even acknowledged our presence. No, to be honest, she didn’t seem that thrilled to see us, especially Mia. Women are a trip.
Ebony
magazine. Ol’ girl barely even acknowledged our presence. No, to be honest, she didn’t seem that thrilled to see us, especially Mia. Women are a trip.
“Hi, Kree. What’s up, baby girl?” I asked, making my way over to the sofa where she was sitting.
Kree finally put down the magazine, by which she seemed to be so enthralled, and looked up for more than a few seconds. Mia had made her way over to a wing chair as far away from Kree as she could get and pretended to be into the game on the TV.
“Hey, Christian,” she said with a sexy smile. “And Mia. Where are you guys coming from or going to all dressed up?” Mia looked Kree’s way, but didn’t answer her question.
“We just got out of morning church service. We were over at Bowler Rock Baptist Church.”
“Me and Brice need to find a church to attend every Sunday. But you know Brice . . .”
Brice took that opportunity to walk back into the den.
“You know Brice what?” he asked out of curiosity. He looked from Kree and then back to me.
Kree looked a bit nervous as she glanced over at Brice.
“I was just telling Christian . . . and Mia that we need to find a church to attend, but you’re not big on church.”
“Yeah, you got that right. I’m not about to give my hard-earned money to some so-called high-and-mighty preacher so he can buy a larger home or a more expensive car. Hell, no.”
Mia was still sitting quietly, watching the game. She didn’t even turn around when Brice reentered.
“Mrs. Pope, Mrs. Antisocial, I didn’t know you were a sports buff. When did this amazing miracle occur?” Brice asked, moving closer to her and focusing his full attention in her direction.
“I watch sports . . . sometimes. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t spend any time with my husband during baseball, football or basketball seasons. There are many things you don’t know about me.” She crossed and then uncrossed her silky legs.
Brice still made her uncomfortable, and sometimes I thought my man got amusement out of doing so. Not that he did it intentionally. Their history together—our history together—made it uncomfortable for Mia. I felt that, in time, it would pass, though.
“Well, Kree knows to stay out of my way when sports are on. She doesn’t know a damn thing about any of the games, and her silly-ass questions drive me crazy. It gets on my damn nerves. I don’t have time to explain every play. She’s around for the halftime entertainment.”
Brice glanced in Kree’s direction and she gave him this look—this evil as hell look.
“Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Excuse me, I’m going to see if Mama Vivica needs any help in the kitchen.” Kree hurried out. When she passed Brice, he playfully slapped her on the ass. She threw him that evil look again, but Brice just laughed.
“Did I miss something? No, man, just forget Kree. Don’t pay her any attention. She’s PMS-ing, tripping or something. We had an argument earlier and she’s still pissed. She’ll get over it,” Brice said without any concern in his voice.
Mia turned and looked at him. A few minutes later, she excused herself to go check on Lyric upstairs.
“You’d better chill, man. You ran the women away. I told you about those crazy-ass male-chauvinist statements.”
“Yeah, whatever! They’ll both get over it, and if not . . .”
Brice retrieved the remote from the mahogany coffee table. He turned up the volume, flopped down on the sofa, and, before you knew it, Brice and I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the game on the tube. Vivica brought in some iced tea and we were in heaven until dinnertime.
Brice
The game was just about ending when Moms called us to the dinner table. That was cool, because the game wasn’t even close; the Atlanta Braves blew the Cincinnati Reds away. I smiled a big shit-eating grin as I retrieved my twenty dollars from Christian and made a big, dramatic display of placing it in my wallet. I couldn’t help but boast that he shouldn’t bet with a pro; I knew my sports.
Moms was like, “Wash your hands and come and eat,” as if we were little children or something. Anyway, the smells coming from the kitchen were getting to me. Tantalizing smells. My stomach was growling, flip-flopping, and doing all sorts of shit. I loved to eat my moms’s cooking. She could throw down in the kitchen. Kree was a pretty good cook, but she couldn’t touch my moms. Close, but no trophy.
I’d heard them earlier, Kree, Mia and Moms, in the kitchen talking back and forth. I couldn’t make out what had been said, but it sounded like Moms was doing most of the talking. I’m sure that was an interesting conversation, very interesting. I wish I had been a fly on the wall. It was kinda funny, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever had two women together, knowingly, with whom I’ve been intimate. That, by itself, was a trip.
I was glad Kree’s mood had improved, because I was sick and tired of her bad attitude when she couldn’t get her way. I give her an inch, she wants two inches more. I had finally agreed to let her work in the business with me . . . on a part-time basis, because she was supposedly so bored at home.
This way, Kree could leave work around one o’clock or so every day and have my dinner ready by the time I arrived home. I did need help with some of the administrative and office tasks. Kree was good at stuff like that. She even came in and gave the place a woman’s touch with the plants and framed artwork she had purchased. Real homey and warm.
However, that isn’t good enough for baby girl. Kree wants to work full-time. Hell, no! Hell to the no! Now she was pissed and silently sulking. And she had better silently sulk; she knows better than to keep riding me about it. I don’t play that shit, and she definitely knows that.
Dinnertime was cool! Just like I thought, Moms threw down. She really outdid herself. We sat down to a baked ham, crunchy fried chicken, seasoned collard greens, fried creamed corn, black-eyed peas, mouthwatering corn bread, potato custard and iced tea. This was her typical Sunday meal.
My pops, when he was younger and healthier, had a hearty, robust appetite. So back in the day, he expected a real soul-food meal on Sundays, usually right after church service. Moms never gave up the habit. She still cooks as if she’s cooking for an army of people on Sundays. Leftovers are given to a few of the elderly who live on their block. Sometimes, the pastor and his wife come over and have dinner after church service.
We all gathered in the formal dining room, around the mahogany table, held hands, bowed our heads, and Moms led us in a quick prayer to bless the food she had prepared. She also gave thanks that we were all together, as family. That’s what’s important to her; that we come together as family. The ladies had brought all the food in from the kitchen, placed it on the table, and we sat down to a hearty feast and lively conversation.
Kree and myself sat on the right side of the table with Mia and Brice directly across from us. Moms was seated at the head of the table. Pops’s spot was painfully vacant. Moms didn’t want to wake him, since he was sleeping soundly.
Pops was still having very restless and fretful nights. Wednesday, I had plans to accompany Moms to visit his doctor to find out what was really going on with him. As it is, I don’t know my old man anymore. He’s a shell of the man I used to know and sometimes feared. At times, I don’t think he even recognizes me. That’s the tragedy of his disease.
At first, all you could hear was the sound of forks and spoons clanking on plates as dishes were being passed around and everyone began to dig in. Moms had this huge smile on her face, like this was the ideal scene for her.
“So, Kree, Brice tells me that you work with him for part of the day now.” Everyone’s attention focused on Kree.
“Yes, Mama Vivica. I’ve been doing it for a couple of weeks now, and it’s working out okay. It gives me time to make it home and get dinner cooked by the time Brice walks through the door,” she answered in between bites.
“That’s good. You said you were getting bored sitting around at home all the time. I know what you mean; it can get old real fast.”
Kree shook her head in agreement and looked out the corner of her eye at me.
“And what about you, Mia? What have you been up to for your summer break?” Moms asked to bring Mia into the conversation.
“Not much of anything, to be truthful. On the days when Lyric doesn’t go over to Mama’s house, we hang out at the park or Chuck E. Cheese’s or just do whatever. Christian works such crazy hours, so he’s never home.”
Other books
Chain of Evidence by Ridley Pearson
The Girl and The Raven by Pauline Gruber
The Family Man by Elinor Lipman
o 132c9f47d7a19d14 by Adena
The Burning of the World: A Memoir of 1914 by Bela Zombory-Moldovan
Dangerous Games by Selene Chardou
Cats in May by Doreen Tovey
The Invisible Mountain by Carolina de Robertis
El valle del Terror. Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle
Toothy! by Alan MacDonald
