by Tiana Laveen
“Go on,” he urged roughly, turning the water on a bit harder as he rinsed the glass and set it on a blue plastic rack to dry. “You need to get back home to your family. We’ve talked; my phone situation will be taken care of. I’ll get it worked out. We will never speak of this again, like I said. Just let me know when it is fuckin’ handled. Do you understand me?”
Saint hesitated.
“Goddamn it, answer me mothafucka! Do you understand me?!”
Bomb threw a spoon across the room and it hit the window. His tone of voice damn near shook Saint’s core. Saint fought with shock and bewilderment that the man now knew what he was capable of, and still felt a sense of comfort even after all that was shared and what they’d endured together. He couldn’t help but smile at that. Bomb would never make him feel like a freak. His big brother still saw him only as Lil’ Pharaoh.
“Yeah, I understand…” Saint looked towards the door, then back at Bomb. He deliberated just leaving without saying goodbye. Bomb wasn’t the affectionate type, especially when he was all nerved up, such as he was.
“Dejate de estar pendejeando¡ (Stop playing around.) Come ’ere and give me a hug.”
Saint grinned. His big brother seemed to be able to read his clouded thoughts. Drying his hands quickly with a towel, Bomb took Saint into his arms, almost knocking the wind out of him with the tight, powerful hug.
Such a strong person…physically astounding, even in his middle age…
“Relax,” Saint said into the man’s ears. His word carried with it a whisper of warm breath, causing the long, slightly wavy black hair framing the man’s face to sway. Saint swallowed as he caught a draft from the window, and then cherished memories poured out in front of him, the scene dripping with surrealism. The scent of linen filled the place, mixing in with cigarette and cigar smoke embers that still hung thickly in the place. The food fragrances however had the starring aromatic role, taking Saint to a place he’d only known as a little boy—a little Puerto Rican restaurant Bomb would take him to and let him eat at until his tiny stomach almost burst…
All of the scents rolled together, making a special blend. He clung to that man a bit tighter, smelling his freshly laundered shirt, the crisp, clean scent rising off the collar intermingled with a slight trace of aftershave. The wispy hairs along Bomb’s temple blew around his face long after Saint had spoken, as if carrying the meaning of forever and a day. Saint touched the side of Bomb’s head, the way a mother would inspect a child’s wound after a fall from a bike. Gently, ever so gently, he patted his face Bomb loosened in his grip. The clenched muscles and tightness dissipated as he welcomed the contact between the two. Saint stood over him instead of gazing up at him as he had so many years ago, but he still received formidable love and emotionally looked up to the man, admiring him, thanking him, needing him all the same …
*
Chapter Twenty-Five
Xenia sat in the apricot studio chair and cackled during commercial break. She was having a rip-roaring time running the new ‘Xenia Aknaten’ show, and could not believe her luck. Not only did she not need to co-host a current show and was given her own slot by her wonderful friend in radio, they had also wanted her to name the show after herself. It couldn’t get any better! She had awesome hours, a short commute, and today was her second week; the groove had been snatched like a wig off a mannequin and she was wearing it well.
She spun around in her seat as she spoke with the producer, Rick, who was doing a bang up job and keeping her in stitches with his corny sense of humor and teasing of her celebrity drop-ins. Even Mary J. Blige stopped by; they’d had a wonderful time together that afternoon as the songstress dished about her new CD and even answered a few questions about her marriage and past relationship with the head singer of the now defunct group, Jodeci. Soon, she was back on the air, so she drew serious, though it was hard. Work in that studio felt more like a party. Yes, everyone was professional, but she loved these people already. Down to earth, they cursed almost as much as Saint and were brutally honest. She felt right at home.
Her introduction music began—Run DMC’s, ‘You Talk Too Much’, which made her, crack up every time it played, especially since it was Saint’s idea. He’d teased her one evening, accusing her of spreading everyone’s business on the air. Well hell! It was her job to grab celebrity gossip with both hands and throw it in the air like confetti. She did try to practice decorum, but she was good at this, and people knew they’d get a fair interview with her, not a trashy spin of the facts. Her producer began to rap the lyrics to the song and pointed at her. She grinned, again remembering how Saint told her she should use that music.
“Xenia, this should be your theme song for that damn show! ‘You talk too much! Homeboy ya never shut up!”
She threw a pillow at him and chased him around their bedroom, forcing him to lock himself in their closet as if he were really afraid of her little self…but damn it, that was a good ass idea!
She had to give the smart-ass credit. The song was funny, attention-grabbing and turned out to be a big hit with both the callers and the guests. It became her song, and felt like an electric blanket against her skin as it played, forcing her to always remember that she was having this exhilarating experience because she took a chance, leaned on the shoulder of trust, and followed her heart and best friend to a place called New York…
*
Isis’ soft lips touched the side of his cheek, waking Saint from his slumber. He blinked his eyes a few times while trying to focus, semi-dazed, only to see Xenia standing there in an indigo and ash gray striped shirt, tied below her stomach. She’d paired it with dark gray leggings and slip on black running shoes. A simple, relaxed look, yet he found it sexy all the same. She ran her fingers through her curls and pushed them back as she fixed a silver headband to her coif, gathering the gorgeous mass and forcing it into submission.
“Hey, baby. I’m going to the store. Isis needs some new hair bows and I figured I’d pick up a few things for the bathroom as well. We’re running out of Listerine, and Dakarai could use another pair of shoes, too.”
“Yeah.” Saint yawned. “Are they here? They couldn’t be. The house is entirely too quiet.” He grinned.
“The boys are with Mama… I can’t even believe I’m saying that! I can’t believe she’s here. Who does that?!” Xenia chuckled as she scooped Isis in her arms.
“Your mother, that’s who. Well, we may as well accept it. Of course, Dakarai flipped out with excitement when he found out his grandmother was in town.”
Xenia nodded. “Yup. I dropped them off at the hotel. She said she was taking them to dinner at the restaurant there, and they were going to watch a movie in her room. She’s supposed to come over for dinner in a couple of days. She is having waaaaay too much fun out here.”
“Hopefully not too much. She might try to stay and then we’d have to move to another state…oh better yet, another country.” Saint smirked.
“Saint!”
“I’m just kidding.” He smiled slyly, showing damn well he meant it.
He stood from the beige lounge couch in the front foyer area where he’d inadvertently fallen asleep. After a long day of meetings at work, he came home to more construction, although the finish line was near. He could barely recall what those meetings were about. His thoughts had been scattered like flower petals on a wedding runner, only his mind’s trappings proved far less attractive.
“Well, I better get going. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
Xenia turned away while Isis looked over her shoulder, giggled and waved.
“Byyyyye Daddy! Going to store!” she yelled giddily.
Saint laughed and waved back, then blew her a kiss.
“Bye, Isis. Have fun, baby doll.”
He watched Xenia out front, strapping Isis into her baby seat, then unfolded a yellow throw blanket Xenia kept on the couch and settled down into the comfort of the soft, overstuffed cushions.
“Ahhhhhhh…
” He yawned.
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been at home all alone, but he was going to cash in on such an unexpected, tempting treat. A relaxing nap was way overdue, so he hunkered down, pressing his face hard into the side of the tan and orange couch pillow. Letting out a satisfied moan, he got comfortable as possible, nestling in near the expansive bay window. This happened to be one of his favorite spots in their home, a place where he could listen to the muffled city lullaby, the song of his heart, as he dozed off, seduced by a dream in no time flat…
There she was…older and just as attractive, if not more.
…Xenia…My beautiful Xenia…
Her salt and pepper short-cropped hair framed her glowing face, barely a wrinkle in time. Her dark eyes, though bright and full of life, looked haunted; they’d seen far too much. That’s what made his damn heart sink. She had lived three lifetimes within one being married to the likes of him, full of worry and frustration. She’d spent years asking herself the same question over and over, each day wondering if that would be the day her husband would be killed, dragged away in a body bag. He was the cause of it all, but what could he do? Rather than make him feel even worse, though, she tossed him a flirtatious smile as the sunrays danced along her flesh, highlighting her toast-colored skin.
He looked out the open front door, his fingers pressing against the wiry screen.
Are we still in New York? Nah… This isn’t even upstate; where the hell am I?
He walked out onto the sizeable porch of the place, surrounded by colossal trees, greeted by sweltering heat, the kind made of sticky, sweet lemonade and smelling of chlorine filled pools. On such a day, one would just sit, watch and wait for the strawberry red sunrise to set…and love every damn second of it. As he walked along, travelling the expansive verandah, he could feel a slight stiffness in his joints…
I’m older, too. Yeah, this feels a bit different…
Saint smiled as he caught his reflection in the large window by the white wooden swing that moved ever so slightly in the stingy breeze. His hair, still mostly dark, had turned silver at the temples. The sun competed with the shine of his wedding band, making it dazzle as it tried to prove who was the brightest of them all.
Still married to the love of my life, still in love…
He grinned at himself, finding he looked handsome for an old man. He took a seat on the swing and sighed as the thing creaked under his weight. Not long afterward, she came outside, holding two glasses of her all time famous honey lemonade. She passed several ivory, ribbed pillars before she reached him and as she leaned down, he caught sight of her generous cleavage, framed by a necklace made of black pearls. The old broad still turned him on…
He took the cool glass and put the smooth rim to his lips. The ice chunks slid against one another as if making love. The Queen sat next to him and crossed her legs, clad in a pair of taupe capris. She placed her hand on his thigh, and they quietly swung, back and forth in silence.
That moment proved the most peaceful and serene he’d ever felt in his entire life…
Then, the front door burst open and out poured four children. They looked oddly familiar, but he wasn’t sure of their names.
Oh… Saint nodded in sudden understanding,
Those are our grandbabies…
Three boys and one girl, faces in various shades of brown. Their feet stomped against the wooden porch as they emptied out onto the massive front yard, meticulously landscaped in lush hues of green with pops of brilliant colors from pleasing floral arrangements. In the middle of the lawn, two bicycles lay on their sides. The sky grabbed the delighted squeals and sweet laughter from the children’s mouths, tossing it all around like a soccer ball for all to hear. The music of summer, and the song never got old.
The door opened once again, revealing a strong-featured man, the sight of whom almost made Saint’s heart stop. Was he looking at himself, way back in time? The man was a bit darker, hair shorter, with a mustache and slight beard. Wearing a crooked grin, he exposed gleaming white teeth while he stood tall and proud, a hand on his narrow hip. The man tossed a tender glance over at him and Xenia.
“Mom, where did you put that beach ball? I was thinking of taking the kids to the beach before dinner.” His voice boomed like that of some powerful radio announcer. Deep and throaty, the kind women adored. More importantly, he called the Queen ‘Mom’, and then it all clicked, came together.
Hassani… That’s my son! My first born!
Saint’s eyes watered as he looked on in amazement. They had a similar build, but Hassani’s shoulders were even broader and his dark eyes glowed like the full moon in a forest.
“Yes, baby, the ball is in my bedroom by the sitting area.” She pointed towards the front door. “That’s a good idea, actually, because I got ’em some pails and other toys, too.” She placed her drink next to her on a nearby glass block table and ran her hand over her knee, as if trying to soothe an ache. “Tell Dakarai to come out here, Honey. I need to ask him something.”
Hassani nodded and disappeared inside the house.
“Day-Day! Mama wants you!” he heard Hassani call out.
Saint felt like a bystander in his own dreams. His emotions got too overwhelming to even utter a word. He’d tried, but he choked on his own dust. The door swung open abruptly, spitting out two more people that his heart recognized, even though his eyes still remained confused.
“Dakarai,” Xenia said, alleviating any confusion in Saint’s mind as to who the man was. “Make sure you get that box I set aside before the end of this visit. You’ll want those things; they’re great memories for you.”
His second child nodded. “Okay, Mom. Thanks, I won’t forget.”
“Great! At least you’ll remember something for a change!” a woman belted.
Dakarai raised dark, thick brows, just like his father’s, bunched in annoyance as he stood there, fisting and unfisting his wide hands. Right on his heels appeared a very attractive light-complexioned woman with full lips, a shimmery green tank top and a loud voice that almost drowned out the clapping of her thickly-soled brown flip flops.
“…No need to run like that, Day-Day. I’m sick and tired of this.”
…She sounds like Xenia… Same raspy voice, only a couple octaves higher…
“You aren’t reliable,” the woman snapped. “You just do whateva!” She put her hand on her hip with intense attitude and shrugged her shoulders. “Life is not one big party, you know. You play too much.” She crossed her arms.
“Nobody is playin’ but you, Isis. Either that, or you’re hard of hearing.”
“Well, isn’t that ironic coming from the Deaf Mute?!”
“Just shut up, alright! I didn’t tell you that!” Dakarai glared down at her. Built like a football player with long, black wavy hair, flowing like a cape down his back, he still stood a couple inches shorter than Hassani, but looked as if he could stop a train with his body. Dakarai was no longer skinny by a long shot. The boy was all muscle, with black swirly tattoos all over his exposed skin. His arms like boulders, he seemed to wear a permanent scowl on his handsome face yet a sense of innocence emanated from him, all the same.
“You did, too. You said you’d come on over to my new apartment and fix the garbage disposal.”
“No.” His big golden eyes spit fire. “I said I might come over and fix the garbage disposal since you said the landlord couldn’t get to it until next week. I never made any promises. I had to work. I offered to come tomorrow, but just forget it now!”
“You two arguing again?! Now look, I’ve heard enough, goodness!” Xenia chuckled. “That’s all you two do! Good grief.”
“Mom, Dakarai is not telling the truth, as usual.” The 5’9, petite woman stood there going toe to toe with the big man, her face almost a spitting image of her mother’s. Wavy, carefree jet-black hair hung a bit past her shoulders. She rolled her gorgeous eyes that looked just like her brother’s, the current bane of her existence. “I
had class and had to go to work. I stayed home thinking you were coming over, thanks a lot! You always do this mess. Let me stand you up, though,” the woman continued, refusing to stop barking up her brother’s tree.
My daughter grew up to be more beautiful than I could have ever imagined… Oh my goodness, she got a mouth on her like her Mama though. Saint smirked.
She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one…
“Nah, that’s not it, Isis. You just think whenever you say ‘Jump’ everybody is supposed to say, ‘How high?’ That’s why you ain’t got a man…you too damn bossy. Don’t nobody wanna hear all that shit morning, noon and night!” He moved his hand as if it were talking, yapping about like a little terrier.
“Dakarai!” Xenia snapped. “Stop it and cut all that cursing out. There are little kids running around here.”
“Mom, dang! You ain’t tellin’ Isis to stop it!” He pointed angrily at his sister as he made his point. “Why is it always, ‘Dakarai, stop it?’ She started it!” He looked daggers at the young woman, who threw him back a smug look.
“Dakarai, I mean it!” Xenia’s voice trembled with frustration. “I don’t want to hear another word!” Xenia’s eyes turned to slits as she pointed at her son. “This is supposed to be a nice day…family time. Isis, don’t pay your brother any attention; once again his temper has gotten the best of him but you stop picking with him. You are to blame, too.”
Isis’ mouth dropped open, as if she couldn’t believe she was being accused of such a thing.
“Now look, the both of you can help me with dinner.” Xenia scooted a bit forward, as if preparing to stand up. “Where’s Jade?”