"Well, just take the chicken out! We can eat the sweet potatoes later!"
Davanté's Aunt Thelma was ordering her daughter, Kendra, around the kitchen. Aunt Thelma was a formidable woman who lacked the usual feminine graces. She never spoke, only commanded. She looked and acted like the worst drill sergeant a child could ever imagine.
"Kendra, put some oven gloves on or else you'll burn yourself!" barked Aunt Thelma.
Kendra scurried around her mother to find the drawer that contained several oven mittens. She slid one on each hand and returned to the oven.
"Okay, now open it slowly," said Aunt Thelma.
I know, I know," said Kendra.
She cracked the oven door open to let out the smoke. Then she gradually opened it and took out the pan containing Aunt Thelma's best baked chicken.
"Good. Now set it over here. Hurry up, now. We all hungry!" said Aunt Thelma.
Kendra did as she ordered. Mother and daughter worked busily to gather the silverware and dinner plates and set the dining table. Once the food and drinks were spread on the table, Aunt Thelma walked around the house and called out to everyone present that dinner was ready.
"I said, come on!" yelled Aunt Thelma.
Davanté, his cousins, aunts and uncles gathered around the table. Aunt Thelma ordered them to hold hands. She waited until all heads were bowed before she said the grace.
"Lord, please bless this food that Your hands have made. Bless our souls and bodies. And bless my sister, Sandra Williams, Lord. Help her through these trials. May You heal her in her sick bed and bring her back to her son, Davanté. Lord, remove that scourge on her body and set her free," said Aunt Thelma.
"Amen," mumbled the family in sloppy unison.
Davanté tried to push the thought of his mother out of his mind. It had been a week since she was brought into the hospital. When he visited her two days ago, she looked so bad Davanté could not stand to look at her for long. She had developed severe pneumonia and would repeatedly cough up blood and mucous.
"Vanté, stop daydreamin' and eat!" ordered Aunt Thelma.
She was eyeing him from across the table. Davanté acquiesced to her demands and began to eat. Eventually, he forgot about his mother and joined in on the family conversation.
"Looks to me like the Kettles are doing it again. You hear they just bought up that big ol' plot of land just outside the city?" said Uncle Jake.
"Yup. I heard they gonna turn it into an office building," said Uncle Eddie.
"What? Aw, naw. It’s not gonna be an office, they turning that into a club!" corrected Uncle Cedric.
"A club? I didn't know they was into that type of entertainment?" asked Aunt Gilda.
"The Kettles is into anything that makes money," said Uncle Cedric.
"Well, at least they doin' something. That's more than you can say," said Aunt Thelma to Uncle Cedric.
"Thelma, don't start, okay?" warned Uncle Cedric.
"Start what? You have yet to start anything! Did you find a job today? No!" snapped Aunt Thelma.
"It's hard out here. It's not like they just givin' jobs away," said Uncle Cedric.
"You sound as if it's been one or two months. You been out for two years. Now, I know it ain't that hard," said Aunt Thelma.
Uncle Cedric chose not to respond. He stuffed his mouth with a spoonful of macaroni and looked away.
"Well," said Uncle Jake hoping to change the subject. “What's going on with you kids? It’s three of you here that will be graduating high school. What are your plans?"
Davanté remained quiet while his cousins took turns talking about their plans for college and future careers. When they were done, Uncle Jake turned to Davanté and gestured for him to chime in.
"Um, we have a senior project that we have to work on. And I, uh, decided to do something," said Davanté.
"Interesting, what?" asked Uncle Jake.
"Well, I decided to make a collage of paintings and sketches on, like, a big wall," said Davanté.
"Oookay. So, you want to be an artist?" asked Uncle Jake.
Davanté shrugged his shoulders. "I guess," he said.
Uncle Jake smiled. He was the only sibling of Davanté's mother that had graduated high school, went to college and landed a job as an engineer for the city. Although not wealthy, he earned a steady salary and often supported his extended family members.
Among family gatherings, Uncle Jake always made an effort to encourage the young adults of the family to make something of their lives.
"Vanté, I think that's great. I really do. Some people say you can't do anything with art, but you can. If you work it right, you can do something," said Uncle Jake.
"Vanté, what kind of art are you going to do?" asked his cousin Kendra.
"Oh, I don't know yet. I just submitted my proposal last Friday. So now I have to work on the details," replied Davanté.
"See, I think that's good. If you apply yourself, you can do anything. In fact, you should make that senior project more than just an assignment. Make it your first masterpiece," said Uncle Jake.
Davanté nodded his head in agreement. The truth is, he had not taken the time to think about the project. When submitting his proposal, he had quickly scribbled his idea on the submission form and turned it in.
"You're right Uncle Jake. That's a good idea," said Davanté.
"Well, if you ask me, that ain't nothin'. Black folks been makin' art for years and ain't nobody cared. The only way you get your art in a museum is if you dead or something," said Uncle Cedric.
"Well," quipped Aunt Thelma. "That's why nobody asked you."
"Why you always gettin' on me?" said Uncle Cedric.
"Cuz, you been outta prison for two years and you still layin' up on my couch. I'm sicka seein' you shiftless and lazy. And now you tryin' to crush somebody’s dreams cuz you ain't got any," said Aunt Thelma.
"I ain't crushing that boy's dreams. I'm just sayin' how it is," replied Uncle Cedric.
"Your life ain't how it is. It ain't normal for somebody to do nothin' and get arrested and still do nothin'. That ain't normal!" said Aunt Thelma.
"Man, get off my back! I ain't takin' this!" said Uncle Cedric.
He angrily pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.
"Thelma, you gettin' on my last nerves!" he cried.
"Get a job. Get a job, then I'll get off your nerves," replied Aunt Thelma.
Uncle Cedric grabbed his plate of food and stormed off. He disappeared down the hallway and into an open bedroom.
"Boy, I can't wait for him to get it together! Vanté, don't pay him no mind. I like your idea and if you work hard on it, I think it’s going to be really good for you," said Aunt Thelma.
Davanté smiled and continued to eat. He engaged with the usual discussions among his cousins until Aunt Thelma cleared the table and brought out the ice cream for dessert.
"Mamma? Is Vanté gonna stay with us?" asked Kendra as she scooped out ice cream for herself.
"Well, it’s up to Vanté. Vanté, you wanna stay here until your mamma gets home?" asked Aunt Thelma.
Davanté shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess," he said.
"Well, there's your answer, Kendra," said Aunt Thelma.
"Children," said Aunt Thelma as she addressed all the youth in the room. "When you finish the dessert, I want you to help out with clearing out the guest room for Vanté, okay?"
Everyone nodded their heads, then quickly turned to finishing off their sweets. By evening's end, Davanté had been properly set up in Aunt Thelma's guest room. He laid on the bed on his stomach while sketching in his sketch book. He had been drawing a strange rose. It almost looked like an alien rose, with wild and oddly shaped leaves.
Davanté skillfully shifted his pencil in different angles as he worked. He made sure that each line was perfectly connected to another. At times, he would stop and turn the notebook around. If he noticed a lin
e out of place, he would erase it and start again.
Davanté was so focused on his work that he did not hear the telephone ring. Several minutes after it rang, Kendra suddenly poked her head in the doorway of his bedroom.
"Vanté, my mom wants you," she said.
Davanté quickly tucked his sketch book and pencil underneath the bed. He stood up and left the bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him.
"Yeah, Aunt Thelma?" he said when he reached the living room.
Aunt Thelma was sitting on the couch holding a cell phone in her hand. She motioned for Davanté to sit down next to her.
"Vanté, baby, I got to tell you something," she said.
Davanté immediately tensed up. He had never heard Aunt Thelma address anyone so tenderly. He noticed that her eyes were red. There were tear stains on her cheeks. She looked at Davanté with a sorrowful expression. This could only be bad news, Davanté thought.
"What is it?" he asked tersely.
"Baby, your momma's gone. She went on to Glory. The hospital just called me now. Oh Lord, my baby sister is gone!" cried Aunt Thelma.
Davanté sat frozen for a few minutes. He did not know what to do. He felt like himself, yet he suddenly sensed an incredible wave of sadness wash over him.
He finally leaned over to Aunt Thelma and allowed her to envelop him with her heavy arms. She embraced him tightly and gently rocked him back and forth. Aunt Thelma's loud wailing drowned out Davanté's whimpers. She sung, she cried, she barked out unintelligible words.
Davanté let the flood of tears come out. He slightly trembled in Aunt Thelma's arms. His premonition about his mother had actually come true, he thought.
Somewhere, he started to feel guilty, as if he had willed her to die. He was not even given a chance to say goodbye. His last encounter with his mother was so brief, Davanté remembered he had barely hugged her.
Davanté felt ashamed for how he had treated his mother on her dying bed. Maybe, if he had behaved more loving towards her, she would have kept on fighting. Maybe she would have lived, he thought.
Despite the family around him, Davanté realized how lonely he suddenly felt. He just wanted to crawl into a fetal position and never live life again.
Four
Being Davanté Page 3
