by Desirée
“Auntie!” Baby Girl shrieked, rushing into her arms.
She looked at us with a smile, looking like she was trying to cover up her hangover. “Y’all looking so depressed over there!” She laughed, coming to the table, picking food off my plate.
Looking her over, I watched her jerky movements. My sister could dress better than most females in Atlanta, and she was classy about that shit, but she was high as fuck right now. Her clothes were barely on, and her movements were too erratic. She was hype for no fucking reason.
“What you on right now, Livie?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest with a smirk.
“What are you talking about, Elijah?” She laughed, sitting down in the chair next to me, nearly scooting me off of it.
“Yeah, she high as fuck right now. I can tell.” Jahiem laughed. “Around the kids, though? Like, really?”
“I have a hangover, but I’m not high. I swear!” She giggled. “Honest, I’m just happy to see y’all all together. I don’t even do drugs like y’all do. Weed occasionally, but that’s it. Besides!” she shouted, hand in the air as I cut my eyes at my brothers knowingly.
They might have fell for that shit, but I knew she was on something other than weed. I’d fucked with cocaine, pills, acid—all of that—a couple of times in my day. My sister was on something, because this was my first time seeing her like this.
“Grandma’s birthday is tomorrow. We can—” Shiloh pushed himself away from the table to stand up, grabbed his coat, and walked out without another word to any of us.
“What’s wrong with Shiloh?” she asked, hazel eyes looking at me.
“I don’t know. I never know,” I said. “The nigga stays mad at the world.”
Noelle
“Hold on! I’m coming!” I screamed, wrapping the towel around my soaked body. Who in the world would be knocking on my door this late in the evening anyway? “Shit!” I hissed, touching my wet hair. I didn’t want to open this door, letting the cold in, knowing I had nothing on underneath the towel.
The knocking went off again, and I snapped, “I said hold on! Who is it?” I cut the lights off, so I could look through the peephole without any distraction. The moment I saw Shiloh standing out there, I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest to keep the towel close.
“Noelle, can we talk?” he asked in a low voice.
“Looking for your money still? Huh?” I let out. “Still think I stole it? I got a couple of dollars in my bag now that I can—”
“This is serious, shawty,” he groaned. “I’m not the type of nigga to beg and chase behind no female, but can you just please let me in?”
I remained quiet, looking at the door before deciding to unlock both main and screen doors. He stepped in with a bouquet of roses in his hand, dressed like he was ready for war—camouflage pants, cream-colored long-sleeve shirt, with a black Polo coat on and brown Polo boots buckled and strapped. I could see the imprint of his gun in the front as I closed and locked the door.
He turned to look at me with those sleepy eyes and curly hair trying to grow back in, holding the flowers out. His eyes, for once, showed some type of emotion. It was fear.
“I got these for you,” he said softly.
I took the roses, opened the door, and tossed them out in the front yard before closing the door back to look at him. Noelle London was not playing any games that night.
“What the fuck do you want, Shiloh?” I asked, sitting down on the couch, keeping the pink towel close. “You want to talk, so talk.”
I watched him take his coat off. He sat down with a heavy sigh on the opposite couch, looking at his hands in a nervous state. Talking wasn’t his strong point with me, so I planned to make him as uncomfortable as possible by just being silent.
He looked at me with sad, puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sorry, Noelle,” he said. “I apologize for my actions last week and for accusing you of taking something that belonged to me. I should have had more trust in you.”
I remained quiet, just looking at him, watching him take that deep gulp.
“Can you say something, shawty?”
I just stared at him, my face blank. I had all the time in the world. It was Saturday night, and I planned on watching all the seasons of Living Single and eating a bowl of ice cream. I had originally planned on being caught in my feelings, but this was much better.
Getting up, seeing he wasn’t going to say anything else, I just pretended like he wasn’t there. I continued on with my nightly rituals in the bathroom, coming out with my hair wrapped, wearing a T-shirt and panties. I slipped on my socks and cut the TV on.
“So, you just not gonna say shit back?” he asked.
Cutting the kitchen light off with my bowl in hand, I plopped down on the couch and started watching my favorite show. It really did feel like he wasn’t there, to be honest.
“I need to fucking talk to you, Noelle. You ignoring me ain’t gonna get us nowhere,” he snapped.
I paused the TV and looked at him with a soft smile—fake, of course. “I’m listening,” was all I said, and his eyes softened up.
“I don’t . . .” he started, dropping his head. “Can you stop acting like this? Go off on me, yell or scream. Something,” he begged, looking back at me.
I just stared. It was time for me to talk now. Delicately placing the bowl on the table, I cleared my throat. “You honestly think you can walk in my house, apologize, give me some cheap-ass roses in the dead middle of winter, thinking I want to watch that shit die in my house, then give me some weak-ass apology? Nigga, you antisocial, mood-switching-having ass, scared to open yo’ mouth around me unless it’s about money, mothafucka can’t cook but stay begging for food, think I’m supposed to be scared of you because of your fuck-ass last name, dick-curving-having . . . all yo’ brothers lame like you! How dare you step in my house and tell me to talk? Tell me we not going to get nowhere if I’m ignoring you. I’m not trying to get nowhere with you no more! Get out!” I screamed, throwing the remote. He was shocked. “I said get out! Don’t sit there acting like you don’t know fucking English, nigga! You got that GED in prison, nigga, so I know you can read, write, and hear correctly! Get out!”
He looked so hurt, I had to check myself, because I was about to give in to that face, but seeing he wasn’t moving, I stood up to stand in front of him. “I’m not playing with you tonight, Shiloh. You—”
“I said I was sorry, Noelle!” he let out, taking my hands.
“You can’t possibly love me if you don’t trust me, Shiloh!” I cried, feeling him pull me down toward him on the couch, wrapping his arms around me. “I wasted so much energy and time with you.”
“No, you didn’t. I—”
I pushed him away from me before sitting on the couch, facing the opposite direction of him. Arms crossed, I stared him down. He just kicked his shoes off, propped his feet up on the small love seat, and grabbed my feet.
I’d been wanting him to massage my feet for the longest. After seeing Talin do it for his pregnant wife, I wanted in on that action. I used to tell him real men did it, but he refused. It’s amazing what guys will do to get back on their woman’s good side.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked, rubbing my left foot.
I felt myself calming down. “I’m assuming you found out who took your money,” I stated in a dull voice, watching his hands.
“Not important, shawty. Can you forgive me? I won’t ever question your trust, love, and loyalty again, baby. I made that mistake, and I’m trying not to make the mistake of losing you for good,” he pleaded, sounding sincere.
Resting my head against the couch, I pulled my feet from his hands with a sigh. He leaned forward onto my body, bringing me close as he kissed the side of my face repeatedly.
“Shiloh!” I shrieked, trying not to laugh. “I am still mad at you!”
“But you love a nigga, right?” he pressed, kissing my neck. “Long as you love me, I know you not going nowhere, just like I’m not going
nowhere,” he mumbled against my skin before kissing my chest.
“Shiloh, it shouldn’t be that easy,” I breathed, closing my eyes as he playfully bit at my nipple through the thin shirt. I should have worn a bra. It was a small percent chance I knew this was going to happen.
Lifting his head up, he looked at me before sliding up to kiss me on the lips. It was our first kiss since our first big fight. The spark was still there, and the emotions were still there, if not stronger than before, since we’d been apart for so long.
“I love you, and I’m sorry, baby,” he said against my mouth, looking me in the eyes.
“I love you too,” I said, touching his hair as we kissed again.
Turning over, he laid his head on my stomach, placing himself in between my legs, with my thighs up, as he reached for the remote that I threw at him. He pressed PLAY.
Looking down at the man I love to hate and hate to love, I smirked. “You would watch Living Single with me?” I asked curiously.
“Maxine is my bitch,” he said casually, and I smiled.
I have a man that watches Living Single. Wonder if he’s into Sex in the City.
“Was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?” I asked.
“Yeah, but not now. We’ll talk about it later on. Let me enjoy being with you.”
I smiled as I turned my attention back to the TV, rubbing his head. We didn’t last ten minutes without us going to my bedroom and making it up to each other in the best physical way possible.
Slow, steady, and sensual was his mood that night as he repeated over and over how sorry he was. My nails dug into his back, with my legs wrapped around his body. We rocked up and down together slowly, kissing and apologizing to each other.
This man was probably the craziest person I’d ever met. He had a temper unlike any other, yet he was the only man I saw myself with for the rest of my life. Protector, provider, and a lover was what I needed in a partner. I was the right amount of sweetness against his cold personality, but I could stoop to his level if I ever needed to check him. We were perfect together.
Eyes locking once more, he pressed hard in me as we both released at the exact same time, our eyes never leaving each other.
“I love you, queen,” he said in a shaky voice, kissing me as my body jerked against his.
I love it when men go out of their way to be so nice, so overly romantic, to stay on your good side. It’s the best feeling in the world.
* * *
The next day, Shiloh, his grandmother who I finally met, and I went to church together. All three of us were in the car, with me allowing her in the front seat as I listened to them talk.
“Yeah, I told yo’ uncle I wasn’t having all them fancy drinks at my house. We gon’ have babies walking around there, too?” she said, hand on Shiloh’s arm as he drove smoothly out of the church parking lot. “Noelle, you went to Bible school when you were younger, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and we began passing Scriptures back and forth, with Shiloh rolling his eyes every so often.
I could tell he was not a believer in God. He claimed no religion. I guess he rolled one too many times, because she caught him out the side of her view and popped him hard in the face.
“What I do?” he shrieked as I laughed.
“Boy, don’t be rolling yo’ eyes to the Word. I see you over there!” she retorted. “Honey, these boys here about to make me crazy. They used to run me ragged.”
“Oh, I bet.” I smiled, with Shiloh glancing back at me.
We continued to drive, until we made it to her house, seeing cars were already parked. It was such a beautiful Sunday, with the sun shining and somewhat warm weather on this winter day. I had to bring a change of clothes. I wasn’t going to be wearing this dress all day. I wanted to be comfortable.
“Noelle, baby, when you get changed, I want you to meet everybody,” she said as Shiloh helped her out of the truck.
I could already hear the music going, and I could tell this was going to be a good old-fashioned old folks’ get-together, just like back home. Yet, the moment I walked through the door, I was sadly mistaken. These people were literally attempting to turn up. Earth, Wind, and Fire were playing. I could smell weed in the air, and the grill was going on in the back, with people dancing. There was a table for the older guys playing spades.
Shiloh greeted everyone, introducing me as his woman. All the women sitting together on the couch were swapping stories, and the kids were running in and out of the basement. I followed Shiloh up to his room, where he closed the door so I could change.
“Your family is so beautiful,” I said as he sat down on the bed.
“Shit, that’s just one side. You ain’t seen the Carters yet.” He yawned, laying back on the full-size bed. “That’s when the bullshit begins.”
Looking around the dark room, I smiled at all the basketball posters and pictures of naked women. Just like a boy’s room. I wondered how many girls he brought in there. I looked back at my man, seeing his eyes were closed, and he had slipped his shirt off, just leaving his jeans and socks on. I smiled.
“How many hoes did you sneak in here?” I asked, slipping out of my dress.
“Not as many as you would think.” He laughed.
Putting my hair in a ponytail, I slipped on some dark blue skinny jeans and my sorority T-shirt, and I swapped my heels for pink Air Max sneakers. Removing the church makeup, I applied just a basic eye color and foundation, with Shiloh no doubt watching me.
“What, babe?” I said, fixing my hair.
“Just watching you,” was all he said as the door opened.
One of the little kids that had gone with us on our date barged in before running back out, laughing. I heard the feet paddle down the stairs.
“Let the bullshit begin, shawty. The Carters are here.” He sighed, getting up.
“Does your family not get along with your dad’s side?” I asked.
“My daddy got three baby mamas, Noelle,” was all he said, and I nodded. “They love all the kids as one, but nah, fuck nah.”
Following him down the steps, my mouth dropped at the wave of people I’d never seen before come walking in with drinks in their hand. Some were arguing, while the kids nearly knocked people over with their running. Shiloh grabbed one of the little boys to reprimand him as I hugged his brothers.
“Noelle! I’m glad you decided to take this foolish nigga back!” Anthony said with a laugh as we hugged. “Came to my house in the middle of the night, crying over you, shawty.”
“Bruh! You know goddamn well I wasn’t—”
“Are you serious?” I laughed just as an older woman stepped in between us, resembling Anthony.
“Since my boy is so goddamn rude, can’t introduce me to—”
“Mama, I was finna do it.” Ant sighed. “Noelle, this is Ontrell and my mama—”
“Heeeey, people! Where the drinks at?” I spotted Elijah’s mom walk in, with Trent in the wheelchair and Elijah pushing him. “Where’s the birthday girl at?”
“Oooh, I can’t stand this bitch,” Anthony’s mama mumbled with a roll of her eyes.
Oh my Lord, what have I gotten myself into?
Everything started happening at once. People were talking over each other, and the men claimed they could throw down on the grill. The spades table got a little violent, but once I realized there were some old Greek heads in the house, I started to build on that. As soon as they played “Atomic Dog,” all the guys who were Greek got in on it.
I was sitting on Shiloh’s lap outside in the backyard with a beer in his hand as I watched his uncles start to hop, with Trent hyping them up.
“Pretty boy over there can’t move in that wheelchair! Look at ya!” one of them cracked, and Trent laughed.
“I can call up my people now if you want me to, Unc! You know I would do it!” Trent laughed.
“Nah-uh!” one of the aunties said as she started to stroll.
I instantly re
cognized it, jumping up behind her, following her lead.
“Ayyyeee!”
“Where is Olivia at?” someone called out.
I locked eyes with Shiloh, who was smiling, watching me.
“Y’all really about to have a stroll-off without the best sorority?” another lady asked. I was eyeing that royal blue shirt she had on.
Taylor, with her plate in her hand, joined in, too, and we all strolled around the yard, doing our calls like the old times.
“Bruh, I will never understand this shit,” Shiloh said to Elijah, who shook his head.
I watched Anthony, Jahiem, Trell, and Talin walk out the back door to find a seat. Shiloh dug in the cooler to pass them each a beer. As soon as the song changed, we all laughed it out, catching our breath. I took my seat back on Shiloh’s lap.
Everything came to a calm as the evening started to take over the sky. We were listening to the older generation tell stories. The men on both sides of the family got along well, but the women barely spoke.
“Oh, yeah, I remember back in my day when people sold that shit because they had to. Not because it was a cool thing to do,” one of the men said. “You sold dope back then to make ends meet.”
“But you selling it to your own people,” another argued as they tossed some wood into the center of the yard. Giant rocks were placed in a circle as someone set the wood on fire, creating a bonfire.
“It doesn’t fucking matter who we selling it to, youngin’,” the man snapped. “That was the game back then. People nowadays doing that shit because they think it’s cool, but don’t know the first thing about dope, crack, any of it. All they know is sagging their pants and listening to this tired-ass rap music.”
I looked at Shiloh, who was listening closely before glancing at me.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“My dad’s brother Christian,” he said softly, smoothing my hair back.
“He sold drugs too?”
“We all did. It was the family business for the longest. Still is,” he said, pulling my hips closer to his waist to adjust my weight. “You just haven’t seen all of them yet. This family shit runs deep as fuck, baby.”
