by Tiana Laveen
Eager for a change of pace, he took on the challenge. The third property the realtor reluctantly showed him proved the clincher. He soon discovered the place needed so much work, many who’d seen it before had scoffed at it or simply burst out laughing, taking it as a joke. One guy had prepared to purchase it for an investment property, but his loan fell through at the final hour. He saw that stroke of luck like God’s intervention. It would take over forty thousand dollars to get it back in any reasonable condition, but he was up to the challenge. This was one of the reasons why he was trying to nickel and dime on all the other expenses, for he knew what lay ahead. Longstanding, rusted plumbing had to be replaced. The electrical system was a modern day twisted and crumbling nightmare. The fragmenting paint under strata of wallpaper contained dangerous lead and asbestos.
There was a rodent issue in the lower quarters and, unfortunately, the stout, disgusting bastards were nothing like the jovial rodents Mike had described. Part of the roof had to be completely replaced—gutted and laid fresh. And finally… there was the ghostly, white elephant in the room. He was most certain the house had also stayed on the market longer than average due to its unnerving legacy. It just didn’t help that a man had died on the premises… a respected, talented fellow whose death was still shrouded in mystery and unease.
Not one to believe in hauntings or the supernatural, even Sloan had to admit there was just something about the place that screamed, ‘You’re not alone.’ Ironically, he felt a sense of comfort in that, too, for his nights had been lonesome, his mornings clouded with brain-spinning hangovers, and his afternoons filled with tight smiles—forced grins to convince himself to be happy, pleased, and all the other ‘pretty little words’ one could fathom to describe everything he was actually not…
When will I wake up one morning and find it’s not such a goddamn effort to just smile?
CHAPTER TWO
Yo’ Mama Ain’t Shit…
Dust particles flew about as Emerald set the freshly sanded kitchen cabinet doors face up on her living room floor. On the television, the channel broadcast a rerun episode of ‘Scandal’ on low volume. Alessia Cara’s ‘Here’ played on the radio, mixing in with cacophony of noises that filtered in through a half-opened window from a construction project across the street. A huge rainbow-paint-splattered tarp lay just beneath the cabinetry, protecting her plush beige carpet in the upscale townhome she’d dwelled in for several years. Her cell phone sat just within arm’s reach, the speaker turned up to a high volume.
She took additional measurements of the furniture.
“I hope they payin’ you enough for all of this!” her Aunt Sugar called out from the other end of the line, her voice on speakerphone. Emerald could hear the sound of a running faucet in the background. “No wonder you never have time to talk to me no more.”
She chuckled as Sugar began her daily morning rant.
“Oh, stop it. I love this. It’s fun and yes,”—she pushed the yellow tape with black measurements between outstretched arms—“I’m getting compensated well. You know me. Business first.”
“What they got you workin’ on now?” The woman huffed as if filled to the brim with irritation.
“This project is nothing out of the ordinary. See, these cabinets were originally white but they want them in a different color to match their new kitchen better. My client only lives a few miles away, so I went and picked them up with the rental truck I get from Willis’ Garage while the rest of their remodeling is complete.”
“Couldn’t you have just done that at their house? Now your place is probably all tore up like a tornado hit it, ain’t it?”
“Only the living room, my typical makeshift work station. See,” she said, grabbing a screwdriver and rolling it about on her palm. “They are using new hardware, too, and the new fixtures require larger holes so that means it will take me a little longer; but, this is super easy. I’ll barely bust a sweat. All I have to do is fill the old holes with a sanding spackle, sand it down, and then spot prime it. I’ll have these done in no time.”
“I have no idea Emerald how you have time for all of this. ’Tween your job at the dentist’s office and this, it seems all you do is work all the damn time.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” She peered closely at the corner of one of the cabinets, noticing a tiny smudge. “Besides, I give myself plenty of relaxation and free time. When you’re doing what you love, it doesn’t feel much like real work, Sugar.”
“Free time to you is nailin’, drillin’, and screwin’.”
Hmmm, sounds like sex… But Emerald kept her seedy thoughts to herself as her lips lifted in a grin.
“You need to get out in the world and do some things for fun. If I were your age, I sure as hell would be!”
“You act like I’m some teenager twiddling my best years away.” Emerald chuckled. “I’m forty-nine and trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to hang out and sow wild oats and, as far as this right here is concerned, I don’t see it like that.”
“You say forty-nine like you’re elderly, about to push up daisies. I’m the one that’s elderly!”
Emerald chuckled. “Sugar, you’re only as old as you feel!”
“Girl, if I had it my way, things would be different. I’d love to get in a time machine and do it all over. Anyway, I don’t know how you can say it ain’t work when you get all worked up in that office round those patients and then come home and take hours and hours to make someone else’s old chair look half way presentable. Why don’t they just buy somethin’ new? Down here at the Furniture Mart, you can get a whole dinette set for $300!”
“Sugar, when it comes to those cheap furniture sets, more times than not, you get what you pay for. They don’t make furniture how they used to. I’m glad that’s an option for some people who need somethin’ real quick and are on a tight budget, but sometimes it’s better to save up your money and get something that’ll last. It will save you money and headaches in the long run.”
“I’d have to agree wit’ chew on that.”
“Now as far as me slaving away at work, as you try to put it, you know I just don’t see it that way because I love being a dental nurse practitioner.” She paused and placed her palm over her chest as if pledging allegiance to the flag. “Let’s just be real about it, people hate going to get their teeth taken care of and anything I can do to make it easier, I will. Dr. Worthington is a great dentist, too, which definitely helps. I even help out at the front desk sometimes if they need me. It’s close to home; the pay is decent, too. As far as the chairs, cabinets, and all of that jazz…” She grinned wider as she focused on her love for working with her hands. “I absolutely love restoring and refurbishing furniture, especially the old, beautiful yet rare pieces I get my hands on from time to time.”
“I’m old, beautiful, and rare but I don’t see you getting yo’ narrow behind on a plane and comin’ down to see me!”
At this, Emerald burst out laughing. “Sugar, we aren’t talking about you right now. Do you know that just last week I got a vanity from 1902? Nineteen-oh-two! I wanted to keep it for myself. It was gorgeous. They don’t make stuff like that anymore. You should’ve seen it.”
“You must’ve learned all of this from your father. He was good at stuff like that, fixing things, makin’ them beautiful again. I can’t even tell you how many times that man did thangs like that around my house. I never seen nobody that handy in my life before him or since.”
A swell of emotion suddenly consumed Emerald. She sat back on her knees. The screwdriver slipped from her grip as pleasant, yet painful, memories, tinged with a sprinkle of melancholy, overcame her.
“I miss my daddy.” She smiled sadly as she imagined his handsome face right then and there… could almost smell his English Leather cologne, too.
“I miss him too.” Aunt Sugar’s voice broke, got choppy like storm driven ocean surf. “My brother was a hell of a man.” She sniffed and drew quiet for a spell.
“Even raised a son that wasn’t his, all on his own.”
“Willie was his, Auntie Sugar. I don’t know why you think that someone not being a blood relative makes it any different.”
“ ’Cause it do, that’s why,” she spat, her low, calming tone suddenly burnt to the crisp with irritation. “That boy ain’t look a damn thing like James, either. So it ain’t like he coulda passed. He was high yella, had a big, long head like a pinecone, and was one of the funniest lookin’ people I ever laid eyes on.”
“Was he supposed to look just like Daddy, Sugar? Mama had Willie before she even met my father. I don’t know my brother’s father, never met or saw him, but I imagine that’s who he favored.”
“Check out the milkman. Nah, Willie too stupid to be the milkman’s son… damn jailbird.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Emerald paused, feeling her dander going up, and they hadn’t even hit the afternoon yet.
It’s too early in the morning for this shit.
“It got everything to do with it. He is shiftless and the milkman work hard. His real daddy must’ve been a jailbird, too.”
“Aunt Sugar, did you take your medication today?”
“Don’t you worry about my medication! I’m saying that your mother lied to folks after a while sayin’ that Willie was his, too… that’s the damn point! Dat boy looked like a chipmunk—ain’t no brother of mine sire no damn squirrel!”
“Sugar, my mother said that because Daddy adopted him. What harm was it anyway? Daddy raised all of us, right? Just because my mother had him with another man didn’t mean he wasn’t his. Daddy never treated him any different. I have no idea why you’re so hung up on this… You need to let that go.”
“Because Willie ain’t appreciate it, ended up just like ya mama… out there running wild like some Olympic race, just fast!” the woman said with a harsh bite steeped in bitterness.
Emerald slumped slightly forward and rested her hands on her knees. She was already exhausted from the conversation with the old lady and it had just begun. Every day she made sure she called her Aunt Sugar but sometimes, Aunt Sugar was anything but sweet.
The old woman had hated her mother with a passion, and she was subjected to hearing about this disdain more times than she could even count. A part of Emerald didn’t blame Sugar and understood the nature of the situation. After all, Mama did abandon the family and only called out for help years later when she was on her deathbed, dying of heart disease. By then, she’d been living clear across the country in Texas, back where she was born. She’d gotten remarried—when her first divorce from Emerald’s father was never even finalized. Guess that made her a bigamist.
She went on to have two more children, both of whom were well taken care of, as far as she knew now, while James, her father, had struggled with three children and barely made it home in one piece due to utter exhaustion from working himself to the bone for a number of years. The hideously hard memories made Emerald’s stomach roil. She’d been in a good mood before Sugar began her complaining and character assassination of her mother and brother.
This is why sometimes I have to drink before I call you, woman! Damn, you drive me crazy sometimes! Grabbing a piece of sandpaper, she began rounding the lower left corner of one of the cabinets in rapid speed, her anxiety and irascibility rubbed raw just like the cabinetry.
“And you know what, your mother—”
“Sugar, I really don’t want to talk about—”
“Well, you need to talk about it, Emerald! I’m tired of playin’ nicey nice with you.”
“Nicey nice?! Don’t you have something else you could be doing? You berate my mother, in life and in death, at least once a week!”
“Should’ve been daily, ol’ nasty ass trollop! She ran my brother into the damn ground like they was on a construction site! He lost his joy of life, ain’t never get remarried on account of her, said he couldn’t find ’er to get it finalized and was funny about who was around you all, anyway. See, that’s what you call a real man, Emerald. He ain’t trust no woman after she’d done what she’d done, though. Imagine my surprise to find out that funky little whore was livin’ right under my damn nose! All low key and sneaky as she wanna be. That’s some nerve, if ya ask me!”
“Well, Sugar, I didn’t ask you but I know how you feel. You’ve made it clear and I’ve already processed it and moved on. I suggest you do the same. Now I’m trying to be—”
“You suggest I do the same? Huh, is that so?”
Emerald rolled her eyes and sat back, waiting for the full blast drama about to ensue.
“Let me tell you something, Ms. Words of Wisdom, Madam Chicken Soup for the Damn Soul, it was me and your Uncle Kirby that was supplementing the income for all of y’all up until James won that settlement. You think James’ meager checks from that auto parts store and him sellin’ newspapers and vacuums was taking care of all of them mouths to feed? You got another damn thang comin’ if you do. When he was hurtin’, I was hurtin’! I woulda liked to wring her long, goose-ass neck!”
…I wish I still smoked weed… Hell, that was twenty years ago, but I could really use some right now. She is stressing me the hell out!
“And I told him to leave her triffling, no good ass alone when she went and gave him that itchy disease! Said his balls swole up like they’d been injected with salt pellets!”
“Sugar, I don’t need to know all of that! Anyway, it was a long time ago. Like I said, I made peace with my mother. You’ve gotten this all off your chest now…at least I hope.”
“Yeah, ya made peace? Well, some of us ain’t so lucky. Just ’cause she wanted to meet her maker and be able to say she said ‘sorry’ to her kids doesn’t mean she is off the hook. Look at y’all! You ended up divorced and yo’ brother ain’t seen the outside of a prison in over fifteen years! Dis all her damn fault.”
On a sigh, Emerald rolled her eyes, her annoyance growing impossibly bigger. “Sugar, we all have to answer to our maker. That has nothing to do with any of us anymore. She’s dead. She did apologize and regardless of the motives, I believe she was sincere.”
“ ’Bout as sincere as a queen bee sayin’ she swear off honey! She ain’t tell James sorry. What about bein’ sorry for runnin’ off and leavin’ him just because she wanted to be young, single and free? What about bein’ sorry for being a Jezebel?! Answer me that!”
“Sugar, none of us are—”
“A demon in a dress! She was a STD late, and a whore bath short. By the time she apologized, y’all was grown and then you ended up being stuck paying for the damn funeral all by your lonesome. What about them other two kids of hers that got doted on, huh? The ones she actually raised? She ain’t even tell them they had other siblings, what kinda fraggle naggle snap crackle pop shit is that?!”
“She told them, Sugar…” Emerald’s emotions tapered, and she began to feel nothing at all from the callous words hurled her way. A surreal coldness infused her blood, making her feel detached, icy. She’d stretched and grabbed a hold of something dead, something to allow her reactions to turn off like a faucet. She’d mastered this in the past; surely it could be utilized again for the sake of her sanity.
“Yeah, she told them when you was grown! They said it themselves and she ain’t even know her own daughter died, Bea, your little sister, until she sent for you while she was dyin’ her damn self. Poor excuse for a damn human being. That funeral situation wasn’t right and you know it. You wanted to have yo’ mama so bad though you went on and done it. I was surprised at you, Emerald.” Her disapproval dripped all over her words, seasoning the rotting meat of her cruelty just right.
“It wasn’t about me having my mama again, Sugar!” The death of her emotions shoved in the ground and covered with dirt, she burst free, coming to life once again. “The woman needed to be buried and time
was ticking. What was I supposed to do? Let her decompose while you berated her corpse?! You are really awful sometimes, Sugar. Where is your compassion?”
“My compassion for her ended in the same bin as her virginity… gone fast and so damn long ago.”
“I don’t have to be heartless just because she was! You and Daddy raised me better than that.”
“We taught you not to play the fool, too. I see that lesson was lost in translation. Them kids of hers ain’t buy shit but a bucket of cold ass chicken for the dinner afterward. How was twenty pieces of chicken ’spose to feed a hundred people? What was they supposed to do? Take a lick and pass it like communion? It wasn’t even KFC; it was from some man sellin’ it out the back of his dirty truck down the road there yonder. We all could’ve gotten salmonella! If that wasn’t a kick in the teeth I don’t know what was! I don’t blame you completely though. Some of this was James’ fault. He had a problem. He saw she wasn’t worth a pissed-on penny early on, but still tried to spend time on her. She should’ve been put on the fastest bus to Hell as soon as he found out about that first affair. She shoulda been on Sesame Street, her legs always wide open for the letter of the day… letter ‘V’.”
“Sugar…”
“And that ‘V’ ain’t for vagina. It’s for venereal disease. Do you know what a venereal disease is, boys ’nd girls?”
“Would you stop it?! That’s so ignorant to say. You don’t have to be promiscuous, Sugar, to get a sexually transmitted disease.”
“You should be proud, Emerald. You ain’t nothing like her, praise Jesus, so please don’t think this was a reflection on you.”
“Oh good… ’cause I was worried about that.” Emerald rolled her eyes and tossed the sandpaper to the side. It had been a rough morning in more ways than one.