It wasn’t the tear-soaking, “I’m sorry and I take it all back” greeting I’d been secretly hoping for. This woman who was supposed to be my mother methodically unhooked the latch on her raggedy screen door. The springs creaked like we about to walk into a crypt. Without saying a word she stepped aside and let us in. Her eyes were red and tired, like she’d been awake for days at a time and was about to fall asleep any minute. I could still see they were the same Jupiter-round light brown eyes as mine, and the same spiky-spider-leg thick lashes. I was expecting her to have wider hips maybe put on some weight, but her orange sundress fit her like a second skin. It tapered in at her tiny waist that was still small as if not smaller than mine.
Her house was dark for the middle of the day. The bare hardwood floor creaked and groaned with every step. Everything was covered in a layer of dust. You could even see the particles in the air as they floated through the tiny slivers of sun that managed to squeak between the aged yellowed blinds. Ava wasn’t acting nice, motherly, or even friendly. For all intents and purposes I wasn’t going to jump back and forth between her periods of solitude and suddenly wanting to be a part of our lives.
“It’s a dirty dirty bird that won’t keep its own nest clean,” Momma Rose whispered behind her hand to Deacon as we filed into the squelching heat of a tiny windowless kitchen. Leslie, held onto my hand with a vice grip. She stared at Ava in awe and fear. If she wasn’t going to speak to me, the least she could have done was acknowledged Leslie. I wanted to scoop her up in a big hug and apologize on Ava’s behalf but knew it would be best to just wait until we got back home. Sue was the only one that wasn’t the least bit bothered. The other day, I’d overheard Deacon promising her everything from shoes to a cruise. He wanted her to suck his thing in the study and go somewhere, now I know where that “somewhere” was. That was one snooping session I could have done without.
A black bucket sat by the stove with fruit flies hovering over it. I glanced in it and gagged.
“That’s for the hogs around back. It’s a slop bucket. I don’t waste anything. Old food to me is good food to them.” Ava spoke to me for the first time since the last time I’d seen her. It wasn’t exactly what I imagined our first words to be and if I wasn’t mistaken her tone was a little snippy. I can’t help if I’ve never seen a bucket full of rotten slop. And what happened to all that money Deacon supposedly been giving her?
We all crowded in Ava’s kitchen, waiting to be offered a seat, taking one on our own when we realized she wasn’t going to offer. Roaches scurried underneath the cabinets and thick cob webs waved from where they hung in the corners. My Motorola flip-phone dinged in my back pocket. I already knew it was Storie, asking for an update. Trying to make sure I hadn’t killed anyone yet. Deacon cleared his throat shaking his head at me. He was strict about my phone and would take it in a heartbeat if he thought I was being disrespectful.
The air was so thick with the smell of salted pork, hickory wood, and mildew I could feel it seeping into my pores banding together to plot a secret blackhead attack. The smell was worse than cigarette smoke and fried chicken grease combined. It was liable to be in my hair and my clothes for at least a full two day stretch. I picked invisible lint off my jeans nodding at the thought that of treating the smell like skunk spray, using tomato juice to get it out.
Once we were all seated at the small wooden dinner table Ava laid out what I guess was her best. The plates were chipped and cracked and the blue designs that might have been flowers or birds were all worn off. We sat in an uncomfortable silence with the plates clacking against the table like we were strangers with those “hello-my-name-is” stickers on our chests. I quietly scrutinized her as she moved mechanically around the kitchen. I was expecting apologies and instinctive sparks of love to come shooting back. But, watching Ava, with gray starting to creep into her temples and worry lines creasing her forehead I felt more curiosity about her than anything else.
She didn’t look at me or Leslie. Ava didn’t look at any of us or say another word as she scooted into the seat across from me. The chair groaned under even her tiny bit of weight. Her back went drill-instructor straight. The veins snaked along underneath the skin on her hands and forearms as she folded her napkin into her lap. I wonder if that means she has high blood pressure or diabetes. She’ll probably get pissed if I ask. Don’t ask.
She glared at my napkin on the table before tilting her head and then glaring down at my lap waiting for me to do the same. I snapped it off the table with so much gusto I’d have made a magician proud. The thin coarse material rested lightly on my lap. This cheap heffa didn’t even have real napkins. They were old as day thrift store men’s handkerchiefs. Boy, she had some nerve, have us sitting up in the middle of a pigsty while she’s acting like she’d been trained at the academy for spoiled rich bitches. Ava’s eyes were hardened like someone used to having things held just out of her reach. I kept staring at her looking for something, anything to make me feel love or some kind of connection but I couldn’t find it.
My stomach complained extra loud. At least the food smelled good. Ava could always cook. She used to turn powdered milk and eggs into a five star breakfast. Dinner definitely was not what I’d consider much of a birthday feast. Mostly because none of the foods were things I liked and they didn’t really go together. There were candied yams, Mexican corn with cheese and cayenne, nasty bitter turnip greens which none of us liked, but I remember them being Ava’s favorite. She’d made two small glazed hams with pineapple rings and a cherry top. From my angle one looked kind of charred. The other one didn’t look as bad which is probably why there were two. Deacon said grace and Ava insisted on fixing our plates. As we ate it was so quiet you could hear the cob webs shifting in the corners.
I was trying to work down a stubborn piece of ham when Momma Rose’s fork clattered to her plate. She started pointing wildly, tapping Deacon’s arm. Leslie and I both giggled when she spit her food into her napkin, I looked over curious to see if she’d bitten into a roach. Now, that would have been priceless. Deacon’s fork clattered to the table then Sue’s. I stopped mid-chew. My fork was frozen in a death grip. My brain was telling my mouth that only Daddies came with tattoos that read, “Do Royal Deeds or Pay Royal Dues,” not hams. I got that watery feeling in my mouth around the piece of mystery man-meat. It was the same lettering, spacing, even the same size as the tattoo I’d seen on my daddy’s upper thigh.
Deacon bucked up out of his seat. “Ava! Tell me this is your idea of a sick joke. Tell me this isn’t what I think it is!”
A brief smile flashed across Ava’s face as she raised her fork to take another bite. She pointed the bent prongs at Deacon.
“No Deacon, not what, but who you think it is. Psi with his all his lies, he was never good enough to marry our baby-girl and you know it. I was hoping you’d choke on his stinking ass. That is where the meat came from since he was mostly fat.” She stood up and slapped her hip.
“Your what?” Momma Rose suddenly blurt out. Her chest was heaving as she stared between Ava and Deacon.
Sue launched into what must have been every Japanese curse word in the book.
The rickety wooden chair splintered when Deacon slung it out of his way. He charged around the table with the greasy carving knife gleaming in his hand.
My mouth unhinged in slow-motion. The achy hole that’d just opened up in my soul blocked out the sound of Leslie crying next to me. I used the back of my hand to wipe my eyes.
Ava laughed. It was more like a stole-the-winning-base cackle. “Oh, let me guess. You never told Rose about us. Never told her Eva is your daughter?” She teased him, dancing out of his reach with more oomph than we’d seen the entire meal. “Don’t look so shocked sis. Ain’t like you was ever good with men, but you always had a way with money. Ozias, you could talk a nun out of her habit and into a bad one couldn’t you Deac? So, how much of our inheritance did you sink into this black hole of a nigga Rose?”
“Enoug
h!” Deacon roared lunging at her with the knife.
Ava twirled away from him. She spun past the counter turning to face him with the black barrel from memories past pointed at the center of his chest.
That was the same gun from my real life nightmare all those years ago.
It was too much to process at once. I stared at the sliver of Papa Psion meat on Deacon’s plate back to the piece of my daddy on my own. The salty ham but not quite ham taste was becoming more obvious by the second. My chest felt tight. He wasn’t my daddy. Deacon was my daddy.
Ava waved the gun around taunting Deacon.
I wavered between wanting her to shoot him and fear that a stray bullet would hit me or Leslie.
The room spun, everything went black. And suddenly I was eight-years old again standing outside our old house in Norfolk.
A scream came from inside. It split the air open like a vocal lightning bolt, spooking the finches out of their nest in a nearby snowball bush. Sweat tickled its way down my forehead. It burned my eyes as I squinted up at the white hot ball of heat in the sky. The flimsy crown I’d been braiding out of dandelions dangled from my fingers. If there was anyone in this world crazy enough to hurt the Devil, it was my momma. I’d never heard a man yell like that in all my life. He sounded like he was hurtin’ so bad it made my stomach hurt for him. She’d brought the Devil in and was just a smiling all in my face. Then she ordered me outside to play.
It wasn’t fair. Leslie got to stay inside. She was taking a nap in her crib where my Polly-Pocket princess castles used to be. Momma gave away half my toys to make room for “the new baby.” Then she spanked me and made me promise not to give the new baby away. I’d tried twice. The mailman laughed at me and walked off shaking his head. Mrs. Tomlinson, the lady next door took her just so she could call my momma and give her back. She had three babies in diapers; one more wasn’t gonna make a difference. Snitch. Nobody even bothered asking if I wanted a new baby.
“Hey pretty girl, your momma inside?”
Trisha, momma’s old best friend, slinked from around the side of the green truck parked in our driveway, the Devil’s truck. Her sugary-sweet voice didn’t match the hard look on her face.
I started to nod but stopped. She hadn’t been coming over since the day I heard momma call her the b-word on the phone.
She stopped in front of me long enough to pull her bright gold weave back into a black scrungee. It matched her baggy black sweatsuit.
I looked from her to the bomb-pop-blue sky and back.
“Don’t lie to me little girl, you can burn in hell for lying. Is your momma in there? I just wanna’ ask her about my shit over here in y’alls driveway.” Her face furled up into an ugly frown as she stared at the truck blocking my usual play space.
“She’s busy.” I lied, I don’t know why momma had Trisha’s man inside but if momma didn’t like her anymore, I didn’t like her either.
“Busy? I bet they “busy.” She laughed. “Stay your little ass right here.”
My answer had the opposite effect of what I’d hoped for.
Trisha went barging up into the house and I waited for the roof to blow off. Minutes ticked by and I dreaded the moment the door would open again. Now I’d catch it from Momma for letting her in and from Trisha for lying.
A tiny squeak slipped out of my mouth as hands grabbed me around the waist lifting me off the ground.
“Why is my Poodah-poo out here sulking all by her lonesome?”
The sound of daddy’s voice made my cheeks feel like they were about to explode from smiling so hard. I squealed. “It’s not chicken chow-mien day yet. You’re back early.” I squirmed around until I could wrap my arms and legs around him like a baby koala. The Navy had sent him away for work right after Leslie was born and it felt like he’d been gone forever.
A deep laugh rumbled up through his chest. “Chicken chow-mien day girl?”
I pulled my face out of the warmth of his neck. He smelled like iron ships and soapy aftershave.
“Yeah, I was using my school lunch calendar to cross off the days until you got back.”
“Well, I flew in ahead of the ship. Couldn’t wait to surprise my three ladies. Where’s your momma and the baby?”
He sat me down scooping up his big sand-colored sea-bag. The sun made the perfect waves in his hair look like black ocean water. He still had on his dark blue work t-shirt and matching camouflage pants.
I glanced towards the house twisting up my mouth. “It’s non-denominational pizza day. She was beating up the devil, and then Trisha came over. She seemed kinda mad.” I eyed his sea-bag curiously.
He eyed the green truck.
I poked at the bag in his hand. “So, did you surprise us with surprises too Daddy?”
He quirked an eyebrow up in my direction and started walking. “You’ll see. Tell me where you learned a word like non-denomina . . . wait, what is your momma doing?”
I shrugged taking two steps to match one of his. “You missed it. We had a spelling bee at school, I won first place. Non-denominational was my word. The Devil brought yucky from-anywhere pizza, it just says “pizza” on the box. Not Pizza Hut or anything. I didn’t see who he is though. The doorbell rang and momma handed me the pizza and told me put it in the kitchen.” I scrunched up my nose for emphasis at the frown creasing his forehead.
His cream-soda complexion was turning about as bright red as the greasy pepperonis I’d just been subjected to. He looked like he could tear down the walls with his bare hands.
“Then she said, I had to eat my pizza out here so she could watch a movie. I don’t know what movie he brought. But, when Momma opened the front door I heard her say, ‘you are the devil.’” I mocked her voice. “Just like that, and then I went out in the backyard but came up here because there’s only dirt back there. No flowers. Then Trisha came over.”
He dropped his duffle bag and skipped all four of the stone steps landing square on the front porch. He glared back at me, holding up his hand like Willie-fo-five the hall monitor at school. Willie got a paper badge that said he was supposed to count to five whenever a class lined up to drink out the water fountain. That made him act like he was directing four lanes of traffic with a five-point sheriffs’ badge pinned to his shirt.
“Stay out here Eva. I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”
At least he didn’t say five minutes. That would have made me scream. I sulked kicking a dirt clod into the side of the house. It was quiet, too quiet. Daddy had probably sat down and started watching the movie or worst, giving out presents.
The storm door was noiseless as I slid inside closing it softly. The living room was semi-dark with the blinds closed and the curtains drawn. The TV wasn’t even on which was weird. I tip-toed down the hall, the purple barettes at the end of my pigtails clicked together with each step.
The sound of the shower running was all I could hear while standing outside my parents’ room. The door was cracked just enough for me to not be able to see a dern thing. I tipped closer pressing my face up to the gap so I could peek inside. The smell of cherry blossom body wash drifted through the room. Steam crept out of the bathroom. I’d turned to go see if Daddy and Trisha were in my room with Leslie when I heard a weird bumping sound. Somebody was breathing super-heavy in between each thump.
I inched into their bedroom like I was walking on a tight rope.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
My heart synced up thudding heavily with each thump even though I couldn’t figure out what in the world the sound was.
Momma was soaking wet, sitting naked on the lid of the toilet. She usually pinned her weave up when she took showers but it was plastered to her forehead hanging down her shoulders like black seaweed. She rocked back and forth holding herself tight.
I jerked to a stop like I had on an invisible leash.
Her big midnight-black devil was butt-naked with Trisha limp underneath him on the bathroom floor. His shoulders heaved. He banged her head against
the tile one last time. She was limp in hands, her head lulled from side to side. Trisha’s bright gold hair was this fiery reddish orange. My eyes played connect the dots with the streaks of blood smeared all over the tile. Daddy was sitting propped against the wall. He looked like an old G.I. Joe someone got tired of playing with. His head was down with is chin on his chest.
The devil’s back was to me as he walked over and stared down into his face.
“See what you just made me do soldier boy? You want to be playing detective from all the way out there in the middle of the damn ocean? Why would you tell my side woman to come to my other woman’s house all disrespectful like that?” The devil questioned him.
Daddy groaned.
The devil shook his head. “C’mon D.J.,” he called him by the letters in our last name. Desjardin. “I know you ain’t think Ava was all yours. We’ve been watering the same hole for years bruh. She’s carrying my seed right now. Tell the man sweetheart.” He tilted his head waiting for her respond.
She swallowed hard before finding her voice. “He . . . he’s right.”
Her eyes were wide and blank as she stared at the wall in front of her. When I dragged my eyes back momma’s devil had pulled a gun from I don’t know where and pressed it to daddy’s forehead.
“Let’s make a deal D.J. I help you turn over your half of what you’d inherit from your father’s church to your big brother Psi and I won’t even charge you for Trish.”
The devil turned the gun towards momma. The crack that the bullet made as it jumped out of the gun was so loud it shook the house, made my spine tingle, and my ears ring. He was a black blur that knocked the wind out of me when he came bulldozing out of the bathroom.
When I came to, Ava’s screams from my memory were still ringing in my ears as she squirmed on the bathroom floor. The way her blood looked soaking through her towel as it turned my hands bright red was fading away. All hell was breaking loose around me. I didn’t want to wrap my head around Deacon being the devil without a face from way back then but he was and he was more so the devil now. Everything slowly came together in my brain as the bright spots faded from in front of my eyes.
Church Girl Gone Wild Page 3