by Howe, Violet
I immediately went silent. The location of the wedding was not a topic I was ready to delve into. I wasn’t about to tell her I was considering getting married in Orlando. Or the Caribbean. Or anywhere except here.
She mistook my silence for further dissent and sighed heavily as she spooned the grease-laden fries onto a plate full of paper towels.
“I suwannee, Tyler. Can’t nobody do nothing for you without you ruining it. People been working hard all day trying to put together a nice surprise for you and Gabe—with no time to plan, I might add, since you sprung this on all of us last minute—and could you be the least bit grateful that folks are willing to give up their Saturday night plans for you? Nooo. Not one bit of gratitude. I don’t know where I went wrong with you.”
“Cabe.”
“What?”
“His name is Cabe.” I turned and bolted up the stairs, my go-to move growing up for escaping once she started in on me. But when I got to my room, I remembered I wasn’t a teenager anymore, and suddenly flopping across my bed and turning the stereo up loud didn’t seem to be a viable solution to the problem.
I stood at my bedroom window and stared out across the pond and the drive toward the road, aggravated at the turn of events, but fully aware that the machine was in motion and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Like it or not, we’d be spending the evening at Aunt Clementine’s, surrounded by my loving family.
Still Saturday-
Evening
We had an impressive turnout, I suppose. A little over fifty people came and went at various times throughout the evening, with about thirty there the whole time.
I’m sure Cabe was a bit shell-shocked at the number of people and the level of noise, but bless his heart, he never once lost his smile. He stayed gracious as could be throughout the evening and did pretty well at remembering names and getting the family connections linked in his brain.
“Now who does she belong to?”
“My cousin Lloyd.”
“And Lloyd is Raymond’s brother?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, and Raymond is the welder with one arm, right?”
“Yep.”
I saw cousins I hadn’t seen in years before I left for Orlando, much less the time since I’d been gone. Everybody who had ever known me—and a few people I swear I never met—turned up at Clementine’s to wish us well.
“Cabe, every one of my siblings live right here on this side of the river,” Mama explained as she sat down next to him. “Then every one of my mama and daddy’s brothers and sisters live within this tri-county area. We know our cousins out to tenth, but of course, by that far out you got so many married and interconnected it gets hard to keep up with.” Mama beamed with pride as she pointed out key family members to him.
“That there is my sister Sally Jo, and she’s the oldest of us. She’s married to Claude over yonder in the den watching the TV. They got two daughters, Zula and Zona, over there playing cards in the dining room. Them girls have five kids between ‘em, all grown with babies of their own. Next in line is Pearl. She’s over there cutting pies. She’s got four young’uns grown and married and two grandbabies, but none of them could make it tonight. Then there’s Frank, but he’s offshore. Hopefully, you’ll meet him at the wedding. He didn’t know y’all was coming home with this news, and it’s near impossible for him to take off.” She glared at me with that comment.
“Then comes me in the lineup, and after me was Robert Clyde, but we lost him at thirteen. Tractor accident. And my baby sister is Marjorie. She’s outside with the little ones. Her daughter Marlena is getting married in the spring. I told Tyler y’all should talk to her about doing a double wedding or maybe using some of her stuff. It would save you a ton of money.”
Cabe stayed engaged through the entire conversation, nodding where appropriate and seeming genuinely interested in her family tree. God bless him. I’m sure his eyes were about ready to glaze over, but he kept on smiling and nodding. Good-natured as ever.
Mama had to make a big deal out of his name every time someone new came in, explaining that it was Cabe with a C, not Gabe with a G. That it may sound like Gabe, but it wasn’t. That it was short for Cable, and he was named after his daddy’s brother, who had died in Vietnam. Lord rest his soul.
I was shocked she remembered all those facts I’d given her time and time again over the years. I truly thought she never listened to me, which was the only explanation that made sense considering she mispronounced his name all the damned time.
No one else seemed as fascinated by it as Mama, and if Cabe minded being put on display like that every five minutes, he didn’t let on.
“You doing okay?” I’d ask every now and then when the planets aligned and we got a brief moment alone.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. This is a trip. You’re really related to all these people?” He widened his eyes as he laughed.
I nodded. “Yeah, somehow. By blood or marriage. Sometimes both.”
Aunt Donna, Uncle Frank’s wife, ended up being the one that took us down the path I’d tried to avoid.
“So where’s your family from, Cabe?”
I swear the entire room dropped a couple of notches in volume as every ear strained to hear his answer.
“Florida. My mom was born and raised in South Florida, and my sister and I were both born in Miami. We moved to Orlando when we were little, so that’s always been home.”
Aunt Donna leaned in, and I suspected she’d been nominated by the others to be the investigative reporter. “And what about your daddy? He’s from Florida too?”
I cringed at the mention of his dad and opened my mouth to step in, but he answered without missing a beat.
“He was born in Ohio.”
Donna nodded. “So he moved to Florida and met your mama?”
Cabe nodded back. “They met in Florida, yes.”
Aunt Sally Jo came in from the kitchen and joined the interrogation. “Patsy said your mama used to be a ballerina. What does she do now?”
I glanced up to see more people moving in closer to listen, sort of like vultures circling fresh meat.
“She’s an executive director at the Performing Arts Center in Orlando. She coordinates all the fundraising and social events at the Center.”
I heard a few “aahs” in the growing crowd surrounding us, and I knew that one of the hot topics had been checked off.
“And your daddy? What does he do?” My cousin Callie had joined the discussion, perched on the arm of Donna’s chair.
Cabe’s eyes met mine for a brief moment, and I could sense his apprehension. “He’s a show producer.”
“What’s that?” This from another cousin who had joined the fray.
“Um, he finances productions. Ballets, Broadway shows, concerts.”
“Tyler, what’s your last name gonna be?” That came from my cousin Jarod, watching TV in the den with Uncle Claude, who pretty much spent every family gathering in the recliner watching Andy Griffith reruns.
“Shaw.”
“Tyler Shaw.” Several in the crowd murmured the name, repeating it over and over again. I smiled, listening to my future name and liking the sound of it.
“I knew some Shaws in Toledo. Where did you say your Daddy’s family was from?” Uncle Claude asked. I honestly thought he was asleep and didn’t know he’d heard the conversation.
Cabe shifted his weight as he spoke, and I wondered if he knew any members of Gerry’s family or where they lived. I was somewhat surprised he had known where his father was born.
“I just know they were from Ohio. I’m not sure exactly where.”
The room grew quiet.
“You don’t know where your family’s from?” Aunt Sally Jo asked the question in an accusatory tone.
Uncle Claude bellowed out from the den, his deep voice rising above the quiet murmur in the room over Cabe’s last answer. “These Shaws were from Toledo, but I think they had some relatives in Cana
da. Your daddy got any Canadian relatives?”
“Um, actually my father’s last name is Tucker. I have my mom’s last name.”
It was like one of those moments on the school bus where just as you say something completely inappropriate or humiliating, the entire bus goes quiet and your voice rings out in the unexpected silence.
Every person in the house seemed to shut up at once, and I could almost hear the sound of a needle skipping across a record as their heads swiveled around to gawk at Cabe.
“Really? Now why’s that, honey?” Aunt Pearl said as Mama avoided my eyes.
Cabe shrugged, wondering I’m sure how much he should answer and how in depth he was expected to go.
“Are y’all writing a book?” I said. “Leave the poor man alone. Y’all gonna run him off and I won’t ever get him down the aisle. Come on, Cabe. Let’s go play cards.” I grasped his hand and pulled, and he hopped up to accompany me, obviously happy to be out of the hot seat.
I saw Mama and the aunts exchange glances with raised eyebrows, and I knew I’d only postponed the line of questioning. There was a story there, and their little noses itched and burned to get to the bottom of it. I didn’t want Cabe subjected to their judgment or their analysis, and I’d be more than happy to tell them all to mind their own business if it came to that.
When I saw the other card players at the table, I paused for a moment, not sure I hadn’t just taken him out of the kettle only to throw him into the fire.
My daddy’s youngest sister was the first to look up and see us. “Y’all wanna play? Scootch over and make room for Tyler and her beau, honey.”
“Thank you,” Cabe said. “Helene, right?”
Aunt Helene nodded. “That’s right! Good memory. I’m Tyler’s daddy’s sister. God rest his soul.”
I struggled to fit onto the bench seat with Cabe, cursing my ample backside for the millionth time in my life. Of course, my fat rump wasn’t the only reason I was having trouble fitting on the bench. On the other side of Cabe and Aunt Helene was Helene’s husband, Rodney. Uncle Rodney’s butt was as wide as mine and Cabe’s put together.
“Please tell me he’s actually an Elvis impersonator, and he doesn’t just dress that way for no reason,” Cabe had whispered when Rodney and Helene arrived.
Rodney had been an Elvis impersonator my whole life, so I didn’t really notice it anymore. But looking at him tonight through Cabe’s eyes, I have to admit it seemed a bit strange.
His hair was dyed so black it was almost blue, and the large swoop of bangs hanging over his eyebrows looked suspiciously like a wig. What man that age would have so much hair?
His pudgy face was lined on either side with thick, bushy, black sideburns, groomed to a straight line that cut across just below his earlobe. He was never without a pair of gold aviator sunglasses—rain or shine, indoors or out—and a thick gold chain sparkled in the nest of black curls bursting out the top of his ever present button-down silk shirt, which was always unbuttoned at least three down. He’d partnered tonight’s white shirt with a pair of royal blue silk shorts and some gray suede loafers.
“I don’t mean to be critical, but shouldn’t his shoes be blue instead of the shorts?” Cabe had whispered as I playfully slapped his arm and shushed him.
When we’d finished a round of cards, Rodney leaned around Helene and addressed Cabe.
“Son, I’m here to tell you. Coming into this bunch as an outsider is a hard row to hoe, but it can be done. You may not guess this as well as I fit in with them, but I’m not from around here.”
Cabe raised his eyebrows and dropped his chin with a nod as my cousin Todd snorted across the table. “Really, Rodney? Way to state the obvious.”
“Rodney’s from New York City,” Helene said with pride. “He’s an Elvis impersonator.”
“No kidding.” Cabe managed a straight face as he said it, but the rest of the table cracked up.
“Don’t mind these people,” Rodney said. “They wouldn’t know entertainment if it walked up and hit ‘em between the eyes. But from one outsider to another, I welcome you to the family.” He raised his tea glass to Cabe and saluted.
Cabe nodded and smiled. “Well, thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
“In fact, I’d like to make a toast for your engagement. Everybody listen up!” Rodney’s voice rang out across the house and was immediately answered by numerous people crowding into the dining room to see what he wanted.
“I’d like to make a toast,” Uncle Rodney said as he stood and pulled his shorts from his butt crack without even trying to be discreet about the movement.
Mama and my sister Tanya both came in and stood beside me.
“A toast?” Mama asked. “It ain’t their wedding yet, Rodney. What we gonna toast with? Iced tea?”
“You don’t have to be at a wedding to toast, Patsy. You can toast any time.”
Mama had never liked Rodney, and the feeling was mutual. Everyone knew there was no love lost between those two and never would be.
He raised his glass of tea high in the air and cleared his throat, releasing a little bit of gas under the cover of the sound. “To Tyler and Cable, may your love always keep you warm at night and send you to bed without a fight.”
“Ah, honey, that’s so romantic.” Aunt Helene rubbed her hand across Rodney’s back and smiled up at him like an adoring groupie. She stood and planted a red-lipsticked kiss on his cheek, leaving a smear that came across more sunburned than sexy.
Rodney smiled back at her and then continued his speech. “As a gift for their special day, I’m offering to sing at the wedding.”
Aunt Clementine choked on her cornbread and motioned for my cousin Micah to slap her back.
Aunt Helene clapped her hands together and squealed in delight. “Oh honey, that’s so sweet of you. My brother would be so honored. God rest his soul.”
I locked eyes with Mama and silently pleaded with her to do something. Anything. There was no way in hell I wanted Rodney belting out Love Me Tender in a satin jumpsuit at my wedding.
Rodney turned to Cabe and smiled as the gold medallion around his neck caught the light from the globe above the table and flashed like a strobe light as he spoke. “You, sir, are in for a treat. I’m not one to brag”—I heard at least three people cough—”but I once sang back-up for the band that opened for Kenny Rogers. Voice like an angel, my ma always said.”
“The Angel of Death,” Tanya whispered behind me.
“He did,” Aunt Helene chimed in. “I was there. Right up in front. Proudest moment of my life to see the man I loved up on that stage.”
They both looked to Cabe as though they anticipated a grand reaction. Cabe looked startled, unsure what to say. He gave a polite smile, and I elbowed Mama.
“That’s real nice of you, Rodney, but I’m sure the kids have their own plans of what they’d like to do. Dance music or something. They can’t dance to you crooning Presley and Sinatra.”
“Well, I didn’t plan to sing while they danced, Patsy. Maybe I’ll sing at the ceremony. Be their soloist.”
Aunt Clem had finally coughed up the last chunks of cornbread and chased down what was left with tea. As the oldest surviving member of Mama’s family, she was the reigning matriarch. “Rodney, it was a music festival. You sang back-up at ten o’clock in the morning for a local gospel band, and Kenny Rogers took the stage at eight o’clock that night. Call a spade a spade. Hmmph. Up here puttin’ on airs like you and The Gambler was hanging out playing cards after the show.” She clacked her false teeth and swished tea around her mouth to rid it of any stray cornbread crumbs.
“I never said we was,” Uncle Rodney protested. “The fact remains, I shared a stage with Kenny Rogers.”
“You did, baby doll, you did,” Aunt Helene patted his arm. “I was there.”
“Well, either way, I’m sure they have their own plans. Cabe’s family might have a singer as well,” Mama said.
“Any singers in your family, boy?”
Uncle Claude asked. I jumped at the sound of his voice, shocked to see him out of the recliner and in the midst of the others crowded into the dining room entrance.
“Um, no sir. Not any that I know of, sir.” Cabe leaned around me to make eye contact with Uncle Claude, who nodded slightly in reply.
“Cable doesn’t know his father’s family, Claude. His daddy left his mama when he was a young’un,” Mama explained.
I gasped and slapped at her arm. “Mama! Everybody doesn’t need to know that.”
“Well, Lord, child, who do you think is everybody? This is family. He’s joining the family, ain’t he?” She rubbed her arm and shot me a look under her eyebrows that would have put the fear of God in me when I was younger. But now she was messing with Cabe. I refused to back down.
“Yes, he is, but that doesn’t mean he needs his business laid out for everyone to see.”
“It’s okay, Ty,” Cabe mumbled, but his hand was hot when I reached for it. Embarrassed at being the center of attention on behalf of his daddy, I’m sure.
“That ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, honey.” Aunt Pearl came in from smoking on the front porch and joined the conversation like she’d been there all along. “I’ve had three husbands leave me. Ain’t heard hide nor hair of ‘em since the day they crunk their trucks and pulled out the driveway.”
“That gives you a forty percent success rate, Pearl.” Rodney laughed and sat back down.
“The other two ended with them dead. I wouldn’t call those successes,” Aunt Clem said.
“I just haven’t found the right one yet.” She smiled at Cabe and left the room along with most of the others.
We played a couple more rounds of cards in peace and then people began to leave as the hour grew late. We helped with the clean-up and hung around until almost everyone had gone.
“I thought it was sweet of Rodney and Helene to come and represent your daddy’s family,” Aunt Donna said as she finished drying the dishes.
“Hmmph,” Aunt Clem said. “Rodney ain’t gonna pass up a free meal.” She hobbled over to me and hugged me tight against her chest. “Y’all had a real good turnout, honey-girl.”