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Authors: Daaimah S. Poole

What's His Is Mine (29 page)

BOOK: What's His Is Mine
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Now that I had a sitter, it was time to leave Frank a message letting him know I wouldn't be in tomorrow, and call Geneva back and let her know I was going.
I was now extra excited and began packing for my trip. I had so many things I needed to do. I had to do something with my hair, get a pedicure, go to the bank, pick a few things up from storage, and drop the kids off. I called down the hall to my son. Brandon was fourteen and was starting high school in a few months. He thought he was grown, but he was still part baby. He came in my room, smelling like an entire basketball team after practice.
“Go pack. You're going to Mom Mom and Pop Pop's for a few days.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm going out of town with Ms. Geneva and Stacey for a few days.”
“Man, I don't want to go over there. It's boring! Pop Pop's going to be telling all those back in the day stupid stories.”
“You don't have a choice. You can't stay here by yourself.”
“Can I at least take my Xbox?”
“I don't care. Take your game, but take a shower and get ready.”
My daughter, Mercedes, whom we all called Mimi, wouldn't be as hard to break the news to. I could leave her anywhere as long as she had a few books to read, her skates, and a rope. Mercedes came in my room, bouncing and lively. She was very thin and smaller than the other nine-year-olds in her class.
“Mom, where are you going?”
“On a little trip with Miss Geneva.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Mom Mom's.”
“No, Mom, please. I don't want to go there.”
“Too bad. Get ready. I think Jewel will be there, too!”
“She will?” Her attitude changed a little, like maybe she could deal with her grandparents if her cousin was with her.
“And whatever you do this time, do not talk to her about Santa Claus not being real or her dad's college.”
“Okay, Mom, but there isn't such a thing as Santa Claus, and her dad is in jail, not college. Why does Aunt Crystal tell her that stuff, and why does she believe it?”
“Because she does, Mercedes. Just go get ready.”
 
 
I pulled up to my parents' West Oak Lane home. It was a semidetached brick home. The neighborhood had changed a little, but it was still a decent area, where everyone worked, trimmed their hedges, and swept in front of their home. My mom came to the black iron security door. I could tell she was surprised to see us. I was tall caramel brown and shapely like she was, but I didn't inherit her thick brown hair, which she kept flipped up at the ends.
“What are y'all doing here?”
“Daddy didn't tell you? The kids are staying over for a few days.”
“Your father doesn't tell me anything. But, of course, they can stay.” My mother reached her arms out to Mercedes and Brandon. Mercedes gave her a pathetic hug, and Brandon quickly patted her side.
We walked in the house that I grew up in. Everything was still the same: My parents still had the big black sectional next to the the wall unit that took up the entire wall, and pictures of all our proms hung on the wall. The pictures reflected a time when we had long ponytails, missing teeth, too many barrettes, and hadn't quite grown into our looks. My dad came out of the basement. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“Daddy, why didn't you tell Mommy we were coming?” I asked.
“Oh, I forgot.”
“Brandon, your grandfather was just saying he was going to call you to see when you wanted to finish working on the planes in the garage,” my mother said.
Brandon looked over at me like, “Why, Mom.” I turned away, laughing to myself.
“Here is some money if they want to order a pizza or something,” I told my mom.
“A hundred dollars for pizza?”
“Yeah, Mom, and if they need anything else. Call me if you need me. Love y'all.”
“Yeah, bye, Mom,” Brandon shouted with an attitude as he lowered his eyes at me from the top of the steps.
Mercedes pouted, her lips poked out, and her arms crossed.
“Don't worry about them. They'll be fine,” my dad said.
“I'm not worried.” I wasn't worried. They could spend a few days with their grandparents while their mother had much-needed fun.
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BOOK: What's His Is Mine
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