by Carr, K
“Matt, why don’t you go say hello to everyone else? And get something to eat while you’re in there,” I said. Matt nodded, winked at me, then wandered away leaving me and my little cousin alone.
“Cool?” I mocked.
“What?” she said with innocent eyes, twisting a bit of her hair. Jenny was rocking her natural locks.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Matt.” I mimicked her tone. “Why don’t you look at my ass while I fix these cushions? Girl, do you want me to put my foot up your ass? And wasn’t it last night when I came back from my walk that you and Jamal ganged up on me? Telling me I was Matt’s temporary walk on the dark side?”
“Pssh.” She waved her hand in the air and went over to straighten the curtains by the windows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and it’s not my fault you ain’t got no ass.” She proceeded to jiggle said ass while grinning toothily at me. I had to laugh at her, my previous annoyance disappearing on a wave of amusement. Jenny was simply Jenny.
“You’re an idiot,” I said between giggles.
“Pow,” she said, popping the left side of her butt. “Kapow.” She did the right side. We laughed together as she began to gyrate and shake her ass like a pro.
“Jennifer.” Aunt Cleo’s sharp voice had us both freezing. Unfortunately for Jenny, she had one foot on the arm of the sofa and was bent over with her butt out on display.
“What in God’s name are you doing? You’ve lost your mind. Acting a fool when we have a guest. Get your foot off my chair arm. I have a right mind to…”
I slipped out the sitting room, leaving Jenny to her telling off. In the kitchen, Matt was having a conversation with Uncle David about the construction industry and the effects the housing market crash from a few years ago had on it. I took my seat to finish my cold eggs, stealing glances at Matt. He was at ease in any given situation, confident that he had a right to be there, that he had a right to be listened to. I loved that about him. Sometimes that confidence morphed into plain old arrogance—well, a lot of the times that happened. But he carried his arrogance well. He was buttering a slice of toast as he spoke, intelligent grey eyes jumping between my uncle and the bread. He placed the buttered toast on my plate and started another one for himself, all the while maintaining the conversation.
I cannot begin to express the emotion that flooded through me. God. I loved him.
Jamal was eyeing the soft mushiness on my face as I reverently held the toast and took a small bite.
“What?” I asked abruptly. The conversation between Uncle David and Matt paused at my tone.
Matt nudged my arm with his elbow. “Are you all right, poppet?”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, shooting death stares at Jamal.
Uncle David resumed their conversation while I mouthed “screw you” to Jamal.
He took a swig of his coffee, then mouthed “stupid” at me.
I retorted with a silent “asshole”, making sure Matt was focused on Uncle David.
Jamal rolled his eyes before mouthing “dumb ass fool.”
I snuck a peek at Matt and Uncle David. They were engrossed in their talk, so I took the chance to swipe my index finger in front my neck. A sign of promised death for Jamal.
He put his mug down, and checking they weren’t looking, beckoned me on with his hands.
“Will you two stop that?” Uncle David asked gruffly. Damn. He wasn’t looking at us, yet he knew we were up to something.
Matt gave me a confused look, unaware of the non-verbal tiff that had taken place. I smiled sweetly at him and took another bite of my toast. Jamal went back to fiddling on his cell. The spat was over, for now.
Aunt Cleo and a suitably chastened Jenny walked back into the kitchen to finish their breakfast. Aunt Cleo and I kept looking at the wall clock, it was already seven fifteen am. We needed to start cooking.
“Madi.” Jenny brought my attention from the clock onto her. “I’ve never been to England and you’ve been over there a bit more than three years. Mom and I need a vacation.”
Matt bent his head. From my vantage point next to him, I could see his eyes had grown saucer-size. He was probably imagining the possible media stories that would be printed by the British press, probably imagining Grumps meeting my Aunt Cleo…oh God. No freaking way.
“Uh.” I hedged. “I have invited you guys in the past and you’ve always refused—”
“I don’t like England,” Aunt Cleo interrupted with shadows in her dark-brown eyes. “Too many bad memories. Jamal, pass me the orange juice, please, and put that phone down. Who are you texting? Whoever it is should be focused on spending time with their family, not texting you.”
“Yes, ma,” he said robotically as he passed the pitcher of orange juice.
Matt touched my thigh under the table and I jerked in surprise. For a moment I had forgotten I was seated at the table. My thoughts were hung up on Aunt Cleo’s words. Bad memories. I swallowed hard and clasped my hands in my lap. Seconds later, I felt Matt gently tug them apart before running his thumb over my tingling pinkie finger.
The doorbell went again. Aunt Cleo and Uncle David watched each other in surprise. Matt checked his watch.
“David, if that’s your sister arriving hours early with her brood…” Aunt Cleo left it right there as Uncle David slowly got to his feet. He was wearing a worried expression on his face. His sister was known for coming over much earlier than expected with her family on special occasions to fluster Aunt Cleo. Jenny leaned over to whisper something in Jamal’s ear. They both glanced across the table at Matt and me.
“Uh, rude,” I said in a pointed manner. They could take their secrets and shove it.
Matt checked his watch, then flashed a brilliant smile. “That should be my surprise, a tad earlier than expected but never mind.”
Seconds later, Uncle David called out, “Cleo, I think you should come in here, babe.”
Babe. Oh shit. Uncle David only called her babe when he knew there would be hell to pay down the line. It was his way of pre-emptively soothing her internal beast so it wouldn’t wake.
Aunt Cleo was up from her seat, making her way out the kitchen.
“What did you do?” I asked, jumping to my feet. Jenny and Jamal were getting up from the table and hurrying out of the kitchen. Matt sat there, perplexed at our sudden anxiousness.
“It’s a surprise—”
“Come on,” I threw over my shoulder. I was moving my ass. Matt’s chair screeched across the floor as he got up and followed me with long strides. When we entered the sitting room, the front door was open and a man with a clipboard stood there with a harassed look on his face. Uncle David had big eyes, I’m talking massively stretched eyes, that indicated he was unsure of what would happen next. Jenny’s mouth was hanging open. Jamal was stationed at the far end of the room. It looked like he was taking cover.
Aunt Cleo had the brightest smile I had ever seen on her face. It was bright and utterly fake. Oh, Jesus, have mercy. Please, God, don’t let her kill my Matt.
Matt smiled politely at clipboard man. “I’m Mr Bradley. I trust everything in my order is as specified?”
The man started at Matt’s British accent and nodded. “Yes. One complete Thanksgiving meal with all the trimmings. Is there a back entrance we can use to bring the food in?”
Matt looked askance at me. My hand was clutching my chest. I think I was having a heart attack. This was what it felt like? Would I see a white light soon?
“Madi?” he called. His voice sounded far away. Yes, yes, I would be heading into the light soon. I looked forward to the light.
Uncle David jumped into action. He took charge, stepping out of the front door in his slippers and robe-covered stripped pyjamas as he issued directions to clipboard man.
“You ordered Thanksgiving dinner,” I croaked. My voice sounded tinny, my mouth was dry and my heart was on its last legs.
Matt was wearing that brilliant smile of his. He looked pleased. My dying heart died a
bit quicker at his eager delight.
Aunt Cleo turned on her heels, her gaze landing on my face. And my heart stopped. I was dead. Dante would need to keep my company going. He would be sad over my untimely demise, but I had faith he would keep our dream alive.
My aunt, smiling, glanced at Matt, then strode out of the sitting room towards the kitchen.
Matt’s smile was faltering, he was picking up on the vibes. He arched an eyebrow at me. I was thinking the brain is still active a few minutes after death; I was thinking how to get Matt home safely. Was the Hulk out front? The Escalade had been parked outside the Johnsons’s every time Matt was here. Maybe I could send out a mental SOS to the Hulk.
“Holy shit,” Jenny whispered, finding her voice. “Girl, you and Matt better haul ass outta here.”
“Pardon?” Matt sounded unsure. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going in the kitchen,” Jamal advised, moving away from his safe spot. “I have to see this for myself.”
Matt started looking worried.
Jenny shut the front door, shooting pitying looks at Matt and me before hustling after Jamal.
“Poppet?” Matt sounded alarmed. “Ah, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s gonna be all right, Matt,” I said in a dazed voice. I was chanting Bob Marley’s song in my head. Every little thing is gonna be alright, baby don’t worry, about a thing…if I focused on those words, it might come to pass. Like a zombie I took his arm and led him out of the sitting room to our impending doom. No, the great Bob Marley knew what he was talking about. There was no need to worry.
We all stood silently as Uncle David organized the caterers trekking dirt in on his wife’s pristine kitchen floor with trays of food in their arms. There was so much food.
Baby don’t worry, about a thing, ’cos every little thing…I gripped Matt’s arm tightly. He twisted his head in my direction and mouthed “What’s wrong?”
I patted his muscled arm and forced a smile to my lips. When the food had been brought in and the caterers gone, I grabbed the bull by the horns.
“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?” I said jovially.
Aunt Cleo regarded Matt coolly. Matt froze, then he, oh fuck, he stepped behind me, putting my small body in front of his. I guess he needed me to be his shield. I couldn’t blame him though, the look dwelling in Aunt Cleo’s eyes was something.
“Ah,” he began in an unusually meek voice. “I thought it would be nice if you ladies, ah, didn’t have to spend all day cooking.” Matt gripped my waist tightly. “Seeing as you spent the better part of yesterday in the kitchen preparing food for the party, which I quite enjoyed by the way, I thought it would be a welcome break for you to relax and not have to worry about…” His voice trailed off weakly.
“That’s nice of Matt, isn’t it Uncle David?” I asked, hoping my uncle would give me a bit of support. He was the only one who could calm Auntie Cleo.
“Yes, very nice of him,” Uncle David agreed, going over to pat Auntie Cleo gently on the arm. “You spend so much time in the kitchen running about after everyone. This will be a nice change, babe. You can put your feet up for once.”
Aunt Cleo turned to watch Uncle David for a second, her gaze fell to his hand on her arm before returning to his face. He took a slow step back.
“Thank you very much, Matt,” she said politely to Matt, who was still using me as a shield. “It is a nice thought. Since I now have so much free time on my hands today, I’m going upstairs to pretty myself up.” With shoulders back, she swept out the kitchen. Uncle David rubbed a hand over his face, then hurried after his wife.
“How much did this food cost?” Jenny said, lifting the cover off one tray. “It must have cost a lot. You have the hook up, Matt. Did you order this yesterday?”
Matt slumped against me, arms sliding around my stomach as he murmured above my ear, “I have never been so terrified in my life. Bloody hell, poppet, I thought she was going to stab me. What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,” I reassured him. It was a downright lie, but I wanted him to feel better. “It was a nice thing to do, Matt.”
Jamal choked, his incredulous face staring at us. “Cuz, your man done fucked up.”
“Shut up, Jamal.”
Jamal turned to his sister. Jenny nodded as she stuck her finger in the tray before pulling it out to taste.
“Mmm, yep, Matt, you fucked up,” she confirmed.
I turned in Matt’s arms. He looked crestfallen. “It’s fine, Matt. Don’t worry about it.”
“Poppet, can you please explain exactly how I fucked up?” he asked.
“Oooh,” Jenny half-squealed. “He sounds cute cussing. Say ‘asshole.’”
“Jenny,” I said sharply before resting my hands on Matt’s chest. “You must have noticed Aunt Cleo is into her cooking. It’s a big thing for her, especially for the holidays, Matt. It’s her moment to shine. Sure it’s a lot of work, but she loves feeding her family—”
“And you smacked her pride down,” Jamal stated. “Buying this food like my ma can’t put on a good Thanksgiving spread herself. She’s been doing it for years. Madi, you know Auntie Gemma will never let her live this down. They try to outdo each other in the kitchen. Man. Don’t you know anything about a black woman’s pride in feeding her family, Matt?”
Shit. Uncle David’s sister would definitely twist the knife in further. I could see her now, making snide comments. I bet Aunt Cleo was picturing it at this moment.
“Will you two get out of here?” I let my annoyance show. They didn’t budge. I sighed and slipped a hand behind Matt’s neck, pulling his head down for a deep kiss. “It was sweet. You’re sweet.”
“She despises me now, doesn’t she?” he muttered in a low voice, so my nosy cousins couldn’t overhear.
“I’ll fix it,” I promised, kissing the tip of his nose before stepping back. I put my hands on my hips and stared at the trays of heavenly smelling food. Damn. The road to hell was paved with good intentions. I had a better understanding of that phrase now. “Okay. Jamal, what time does that soup kitchen open?”
Jamal was inspecting the contents of a few trays, licking his lips every so often. “It should be open now for the holiday. Why?”
I rolled my eyes. Why else? The dufus. “Because you’re going to take this food over there now, and I’m going to convince Auntie Cleo to start cooking. Jenny, you need to grab a mop and clean this dirt off the floor.” I frowned at the tracks. “Were those people raised in a barn? Don’t they know to wipe their feet before walking into someone’s house? Come on, people. Chop chop. Everyone will be here in a few hours.”
“Can’t we at least keep the bird?” Jamal asked with hungry longing. I had yet to look at the pièce de résistance. It felt as if it would be a betrayal to Auntie Cleo if I let my gaze rest upon it. I would weaken, I would probably start stealing little pieces of it like Jamal was planning to do.
“No,” I said firmly. “Go get changed, then load this food into your car and get it out of here. Jenny, for crying out loud. Go get the mop.”
“What shall I do, poppet?” Matt asked. He sounded unlike himself. I took a moment to look at him. My knight appeared out of sorts. Lost. I was not going to let that happen.
“Go watch TV, hon. You never have the time to relax. You can watch the parade or check out the news.” My voice drew to a stop. I closed the distance between us and rested my hand across his cheek. “It was a lovely thought, Matt. I appreciate it, and I frigging love you for it. Smile for me, knight.”
He did as ordered and straightened his shoulders.
I grinned at him. “That’s the Bradley spirit. Oo-rah.”
Matt chuckled and said in a soft voice, “I love you, Madison DuMont.”
“I know,” I murmured. “Would you like me to make you tea? I brought some over from England.”
“Does everyone believe all an English person needs to make things right is a cup of tea?” he teased. I grinned at him. My Matt was
back.
“Well, the Empire was built on it,” I retorted. “Do you want the tea or not?”
“Yes, please,” he said. “I could do with a proper cup of tea.”
I laughed, blowing him a kiss before hurrying out the kitchen.
<><><>
The doorbell was ringing, and whoever was ringing it was keeping their finger on the button. The continuous chime was getting on my nerves.
“Jenny?” I yelled, using my shoulder to wipe the sweat off my forehead. The heat in the kitchen had Auntie Cleo and me perspiring. “Jennifer. Get the door.”
“Keep an eye on those yams, Madi,” Aunt Cleo warned me. I nodded, more concerned with making sure the Cornish hens were browning nicely. I peeked into the other oven. The turkey had an hour to go.
“Yay!” A raucous volley of male voices came from the sitting room. The game was on and Uncle David, his elder brother, his brother-in-law, his four nephews, Jamal and Matt were enjoying ice cold beer.
Uncle David’s younger sister, Gemma, his brother’s wife, Latisha, and his mother, Ms Regina to me, plus the two girlfriends of Latisha’s sons were in the back snug with Jenny. The older women were secretly hoping dinner would bomb. I knew it and my Aunt Cleo knew it, too. Gemma, had brought over a couple of dishes. Cheeky. Rubbing her baby-filled stomach while saying coyly, “I thought I would bring some food just in case.”
I wanted to say, “Just in case what? And why are you still popping babies out?” Her two boys were grown men. Who in their right mind would want to go through all that again?
And Latisha. Oh, how I hated that woman. She had looked at me and said to Ms Regina, “Poor girl must be starving over there in England. Look at that scrawny behind. Why that rich man of hers ain’t fattening her up?”
I would end up killing someone today.
The doorbell kept ringing.
“Argh.” I threw my hands up in the air and wiped my hands on my stained apron before storming for the front door. As I passed through the men in the sitting room, I landed a smack across a few of my cousins’ heads. Technically only Jamal was viewed as my cousin. Uncle David’s nephews were raised to view me as Cleo’s side of the family.