by Nako
η
Atlanta held a special place in his heart. On his third date with Kim, she told him that he had to meet her family.
“I don’t really do the family thing,” he said, slowly.
She kept cutting up the cabbage heads that she was going to make to go along with a turkey meatloaf, yellow rice, black eyed peas and cornbread. One thing he’d grown to love in less than a month was that she was already cooking. Who would ever expect that Kimberann, high-fashion super model could burn. It was their third date and she admitted that she wasn’t really into eating out.
Porter didn’t know what else to do. She was honestly the first person he’d taken serious since moving to New York. Before her, he was boning and getting on down. Nothing more or less. He met Kim in the club and it had been bliss ever since. She was different, older…wiser. She was classy, sophisticated and bossy. He was digging her so far. It was their third date, but they talked every day and she was popping in on him, bringing him lunch and shit. Kim was thoughtful, she made his bed, washed his clothes and left red lips on his cheeks before she departed. They were moving fast but he didn’t care. He wanted comfort and she provided a security blanket of love.
“What does that mean?” she asked, minutes later. His mind was already on to the next thing.
“Huh?”
“Family thing…what is a family thing?” she wanted to know.
“I don’t want to meet your family. I’m not family oriented,” he admitted.
She shook her head. “Well, we can’t do this then. My mama has to meet you and you have to come to church with me.”
“How old are you again?” he snorted.
She wasn’t no lil girl, he didn’t understand.
“That doesn’t have to do anything with it, my momma is my best friend.”
Porter would go meet her family, if that’s what would make her happy.
“Fine, when do you want to go?”
She was a Southern girl, from the country who moved to Atlanta and then followed some nigga to New York to pursue a modeling career, thankfully, it worked out in her favor. Kim was the first African-American woman to grace the cover of some magazine, P couldn’t remember the name right now. But every time they argued she loved to throw that in his face and remind him of the woman that she was. The great Kimberann. The baddest, brownest, thickest, tallest woman he’d ever met. Porter was smitten with her from the beginning. She was aggressive, she knew what she wanted. She used to fuck him, and he’d fuck her right back. Things went wrong with them fast, but it was too late for him to walk away. She never shied away and didn’t do well with concealing her emotions, much like her mama and aunts.
He hadn’t been to see his mother-in-law in a while and the first free day he found on his schedule, he hopped on a plane and surprised her.
They had a bitter sweet relationship. Whenever he was getting comfortable and not doing right by his family, his mother-in-law had no problem calling him and checking his narrow ass, those were always his words.
“Now Porter, I appreciate everything you done did for my Kimberann, but will it kill you to send a flower or take her out like you used to.”
His mother-in-law could get him to try and part the red sea, if she asked.
It felt good being back on her land and in her home because she would’ve been so offended if he had stayed at a hotel. There weren’t any really nice 5-star ones in the small town that Kim grew up in, so he slept in the same room and bed that Kim grew up in and he swore he smelled her in his dreams.
“You want some more eggs and sausage, baby?” she asked him, coming near him with a piping hot skillet.
“No ma’am, I’m getting full. I’ll take another biscuit and some coffee.”
Kim could cook her ass off and she got it from her mama. She was delighted to see Porter and wished that he’d visited more often.
“Thank you for clearing that lil rumor up with my baby. I don’t know why these people won’t let her rest in Heaven. Ooh Jesus… Porter, they had my blood pressure sky high,” she told him.
Ma’Dear was the only person that pronounced his name, “Po-ter,” instead of Porter, but he never corrected her. He loved that country twang.
Kim’s southern dialect came out every now and then when she was mad, but years of training in media to land the big commercials on TV had snatched the country right out of her.
“I handled it, and I agree. I wish everyone would let her be,” he said, including his friends who loved bringing her up.
“You took your wedding ring off?” she noticed.
He wouldn’t tell her that he barely wore it when she was alive. He couldn’t remember the last time he had the band on, maybe in France?
“Yeah...I’m…dating someone.”
Ma’dear snorted, “Hmm hmm, yeah my niece called and told me. She said she sent me the picture. But I don’t know how to work that there cell phone. Let me see a picture of the girl.”
Porter shook his head; his mother-in-law was one nosey woman and made no apologies for it.
He fished his phone out of his joggers and went to his photo album.
“Is this lady a model?”
“No ma’am.”
Porter handed her his phone. It was a picture of him, Mahogany and Kareem.
“Lord, Porter, I know this not your child. This lil boy look like ya!”
He’d heard that a lot, especially when they were at the basketball games together.
“Yeah, he’s a good kid. Real smart too,”
“And this here is your new lady friend?” Ma’dear took her glasses off to get a better look at the woman.
“Yes ma’am, that’s her. She’s from the south as well.”
“Hmmm hmmm, which part?”
“Florida.”
“Ooh, Porter, you be careful. Them girls in Florida are some fast ones. Are these her real breasts?” she questioned.
Porter reached for his phone and Ma’dear stepped back. “She looks younger than my Kimberann. How long have y’all been together?”
“Not long…she’s in her 20s.” He was ready to wrap this conversation up.
“Do you love her?” Porter nodded his head before biting into the homemade honey butter biscuit.
“Treat her right then. God gave you a second chance at love.” She handed him his phone back and patted his shoulder.
They spent the morning in her garden, pulling up weeds, then planting fruits and vegetables. After a shower and lunch of fried bologna sandwiches and potato chips, Ma’Dear told him, “That sun wore me out baby. I’m going to take a nap. We can go see a movie at the dollar theatre. When are you leaving? I know you’re going to church with me tomorrow.”
Before he could tell her no, she added, “I’m going to make you a 7UP cake to take back with you.”
Ma’dear knew what she was doing.
“Y’all be safe on that there plane. Kimmy knows how I feel about her flying this late at night, plus it’s raining…ooh Jesus. I wish y’all would just drive back.” Ma’dear shook her head.
Kim reassured her, “Ma, I fly all the time. Porter does too. I told you that already. We’ll be fine.”
“Well, here take these plates. Porter, you barely ate. You’re skin and bones. Kim, what is you feeding him up there?” she asked her daughter.
“He eats just fine mama.”
“I get full fast, but dinner was lovely, madam.”
Ma’dear blushed every time he spoke to her in that fancy accent.
“You gon give ma a heart attack,” she whispered in his ear.
“Kimberann, I heard that,” her mother was highly offended.
“Porter, this here is my famous 7UP cake…you gotta try it before you leave.”
He was stuffed and seriously couldn’t take another bite.
“How about he try it on the plane? Ma, we gotta go.”
P saw the look on the older woman’s face and knew that he had to try it.
One bite into the moi
st cake and he was in love.
“Babe, you do know how to make this?”
“Alright ma,” he would never tell her no, she knew how much he loved her cakes.
“Are you going to go see her and the girls?”
Porter remained still as he stared at the floor.
“I think you should… take some flowers, it’s some in the dining room,” she said before taking the steps one at a time to her bedroom.
She missed her baby girl and grandkids every day. Her life lit up when they moved back down South.
Porter coming to visit her was truly right on time. A mother should never bury their child and only God and his good grace had been keeping her afloat these past few years.
P called Mahogany to check on her, but she didn’t answer. He figured she was tied up right now and would hit him back when her day winded down.
He was such a busy person, so if he wasn’t working, he was automatically bored. Being in the middle of country with not much service left him restless.
Porter kept staring at the church grounds right across the street. Kim was a PK’s kid. A good girl at that. The industry that she warped into changed her. P told her that he wished he could’ve met her before the fame. He was sure she was a sweetheart.
She was buried behind the church. Porter would’ve loved for her to be in New York, but her mama wasn’t having that.
He said, “Fuck it man,” and put his sneakers back on and left out the front door. They didn’t lock anything up down here, everybody knew everybody, and the crime rate was barely 4%.
He trekked across the dirt road, past the church and into the cemetery. Five grave stones. His wife and four little girls. A set of twins and two girls eleven months apart. per Kim’s request. That’s what she desired, and they were rich, so she got what she wanted.
“I want them to be best friends,” she told him one night as they laid in bed.
“They will be,” he promised her.
“Porter, are you excited?”
She couldn’t really tell because he hadn’t said much since they started the process.
“Yes, long as you happy, I am too.” His answers were always safe. They never really told her much.
“Did you want kids? I always pictured myself with like nine kids.”
The thought never crossed his mind, all he wanted was some money.
“We can have as many as you want,” was his response.
He kissed her on the lips. “Go to sleep,” he was tired and would most likely be sleep before her.
“Okay,” she whispered. Minutes later, P was rolled over and snoring on his stomach.
Kim slipped out of bed and went into the nursery that they were working on, day in and out.
“God, thank you for my husband and thank you for my babies.”
This was the happiest she’d been in a long time. Kim loved her son, with all her heart yet and still something was missing. She wanted a daughter. She cried so hard when the doctor told her she was carrying a boy.
Kim was counting down the day until the surrogate went into labor. She was going to be right there coaching her to bring her blessings into the world. Porter told her that they should take things slow, but no, Kim wanted twins. She was pretty much done with her career and was now a housewife who spent her days taking of her only child. Porter was getting busier and busier and barely had time for them, so the twins were needed. She couldn’t wait.
“Hey, my babies,” his voice was shaky as he touched each marker.
“I miss…y’allll…sooooo much.”
Tears from his eyes at a rapid pace. His voice was in and out as he tried to muster up the words to say, “I love y’all. Daddy loved y’all so much. Even when I wasn’t there, y’all were always on my mind.” He wanted them to know that.
He eyed Kim’s grave and his heart skipped several beats. He failed her by not being honest. He should’ve told her that they weren’t on the same page. That he wasn’t ready. That their desires didn’t match. He left her alone to fend for herself and raise the girls damn near by herself simply because he never opened his mouth. They moved way too fast. Porter knew that he would never say that aloud, even now.
“Hey lady,” he used to call her that all the time and it drove her crazy. She used to turn her head to hide the blushing on her face.
“I know you’re walking all over Heaven in high heels.”
She was the prissiest woman he had ever met.
“Kim, I hope that you know that I loved you, on the days you questioned me, and I didn’t you give an answer. On the days that I failed you with my actions and my words...I loved you.”
They say the first year of marriage is the hardest and Lord Jesus, no one had lied. It wasn’t only hard, on some days it wasn’t worth it. He questioned had they moved too fast. He worried that they wouldn’t make it. Kim was aggressive from the beginning. Did he love her? Did she love him? Did they really know each other? On some nights, he dreaded going home and wondered did she feel the same way?
It was their anniversary and he rather had spent it alone. Kim called him twice that day to confirm their dinner reservations as if they were on good terms. She was so caught up in doing what was right or better yet, what she’d seen everyone else do. He wasn’t. Porter was all about the vibe and right now, they were not on the same page. He was tired of arguing with her and if their anniversary would be spent yelling at each other’s name, he rather be in the studio or the office.
So that’s what he did.
He never showed up to dinner, leaving a beautiful Kimberann Bavay at the table by her damn self. Like the good wife she was, she ordered him dinner to-go. When he finally did bring his ass home, the plate waited on him, on the countertop in their kitchen, with a Happy Anniversary card.
Sweet lady.
He didn’t bother to pick up roses or anything. Porter didn’t know how to be any other way other than real. Placing a mask over his emotions wasn’t his thing, he couldn’t do the façade.
She was wide awake, in bed, waiting on her husband to make it home. She contemplated on acting sleep or tearing his head off about standing her up without proper warning. However, when he walked into their bedroom all she did was flash him her eyes filled with tears.
“I want this to work…it has to work,” she confessed.
Porter too, shared her sentiments.
He walked towards her side of the bed and took a seat on the edge.
“What do I need to do?”
She rushed his arms and cried, “I feel like you don’t love me. Do you love me?”
He hadn’t cried this way in a long time and boy, it felt good to get it out.
“I’m sorry baby,” he bent over and released that heavy burden that he’d been carrying on his back since their death.
Ma’dear stood near the window, behind the curtain clenching her Bible. She prayed for the day that Porter came to say his proper goodbyes to his girls. The Lord heard her prayer. That man needed closure and she was sure by the emotions evident on his face, that he’d received it today.
η
Porter wrapped up the conversation with the nigga who was yapping and yapping about having a dollar and a dream. What the man needed was a dentist, but P was a good guy, he entertained the dude up until his guest arrived. Once Juice approached the bar counter, he told the man, “Good talking to you, buck.”
He patted his shoulder and then walked off, Juice got the hint and followed him back to the hostess post.
“Mr. Bavay, are you ready to be seated?”
He nodded his head and swiftly, they were led towards the back of the establishment into a private room with a hibachi table. Juice didn’t give a damn how often he did these days, he would still stop and thank God. This was his hope, his dream, and now an…answered prayer. Every morning, he opened his in eyes in disbelief. He wondered when it would become familiar. Half of him didn’t want it to, he liked being on his toes at all times. The hustle and ambition were buried
deep inside of him. He was a hard-worker.
Juice’s mother sacrificed a lot for him to live the life he lived. He couldn’t wait to repay for her everything she ever did. The day he called her up to tell her to quit her job and pay the house off would be the moment that he knew he had made it. His shorty told him that his time was coming, and he was patiently waiting and staying ten toes down.
“You already know what you want?” P couldn’t be out all night. He and his lady had plans tonight, but she told him to eat without him because she was having appetizers. and drinks with her “girls”.
Every time she said that he blushed inwardly. His baby was blossoming out of her cocoon, gracefully.
“Yeah, steak and shrimp…filet mignon,” His stomach couldn’t handle that low-quality meat anymore.
“Big money,” Porter joked.
The waitress entered the room, taking their drinks.
“Let me get a California roll,” P ordered along with his Tito’s and lime.
Juice didn’t know what this meeting was about or if he was reading too much into his boss asking him out for dinner on a Friday night.
“How was your week?” Porter Bavay was a cool man, but asking regular ass questions like how his week is, wasn’t his forte. Juice began to sweat under his arms, assuming he was about to get fired.
But damn, what the fuck did he do wrong?
“Uh, cool…I guess. What about you?” he questioned, nervously.
P shrugged his shoulders. “It was busy. Per usual. Talked to Mahogany today?”
The drinks came fast, and Juice threw his back. “Another one,” he told the Japanese woman before she scurried away. The restaurant was busy tonight.
“Turning up when you leave here?”
Juice shook his head. “Nah.”
He barely went out if it wasn’t related to business. Sleep was what he did in his free time and spend much needed quality time with his boo.
“Have you talked to her?”
Juice told him, “Not since this morning when she was getting her hair done.”
Porter decided to tell him the good news, “She signed to YQ.”
That was a good look and the only label that was really popping right now. She would be in great hands over there.