“Okay,” he said to me as he nodded, then turned to Zynique. “You know what? You keep on, and I promise you that you’re going to be looking for a place to stay. If your mother doesn’t handle this, I’m gonna show you how tough I really can be. I’ll send your little tail packing. Let you see how it feels to be out there on the streets with nowhere to live. I bet you’ll be glad to get up and fix me some breakfast from here on out.” He nodded as he smirked.
“Zeke—” I said.
“Hush up, woman!” He snapped at me. “There’s no need in you trying to step in now. You wanted to stand there like a cat was holding your tongue. Well, you keep standing there with your mouth closed while I handle my business.”
I tried again. “But, Zeke—”
“I told you to hush up!” Zeke said to me. “I don’t know why you women can’t be obedient the way you’re supposed to be. Submit. Have you ever heard of that word while you were in church? ‘Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands, as unto the Lord.’ Yeah, that’s in that Bible you be toting around all the time.”
Zynique started clapping and singing. “Yay! Daddy knows a scripture! Daddy knows a scripture!”
I gave Zynique my look that told her “Don’t go overboard.” She knew that look; all of my children knew it. It’s the look that doesn’t require you to open your mouth, but the one receiving the look, knows precisely what’s being said.
Zynique turned back to her father. “Do you know what the rest of that scripture says?”
“You mean where it explains to the wives that the husband is the head of the wife?” Zeke said.
“Not that one, Daddy. I’m talking about the one farther down that tells the husbands to ‘love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.’ That one.”
I was impressed. My baby knew her scriptures. Go on, Zynique!
“And FYI: the word submit there, Daddy, merely means to respect. But I was told you earn respect. And to get respect, you had to give respect. You don’t respect Mother. You treat her like she’s gum under your shoe.”
“That’s not true,” Zeke said. “That’s not true.” He shook his head and glanced my way.
“Okay, when is the last time you took Mother out?”
“What?”
“Oh, I’ll wait; I have time,” Zynique said. “When was the last time you took Mother anywhere? To a nice restaurant, out to a movie, to a concert, a play, for a walk in the park? Okay, a nice restaurant may be too much to ask of you. So how about McDonalds, Burger King, Arby’s, Rally’s? When was the last time you opened up a can of soup for her when she was sick? Helped her bring in the groceries? Oh, that’s right. You can’t help with groceries because you’re too busy not being here when she comes home with them. Mother buys the groceries, loads the groceries, brings the groceries home, unloads the groceries, puts the groceries away, and cooks the groceries. And what is your part in this whole grocery process?”
Zeke looked as though he was really taking in what she was saying and seriously trying to come up with a rebuttal.
“I’ll tell you what your part looks to be from my viewpoint,” Zynique said, continuing without missing a beat. “You eat what she cooks and complains if it’s not to your liking. And you think I’m going to be like Mom, here? Waiting on some man hand and foot the way Mom does? When she can’t even get a thank-you out of you?”
Ouch, now that stung a little.
“Oh, and Daddy, had you allowed Mother to speak when she was trying to tell you something a few minutes ago, I’m pretty sure she was about to tell you that it really won’t hurt me if you put me out. Right now, today, if you like.”
“Is that right?” Zeke said.
“She’s right,” I said, deciding it was time to bring this little exercise to an end.
“And why is that?” Zeke said, turning to me with a smug look. “Because you think this is your house and I can’t put her out?”
“No,” I said. “Because, my dear husband, your daughter has her own house now.”
He started laughing, reaching a level of sheer exaggeration. “Zynique?” he said, pointing at her. “You’re talking about that daughter right there? So Zynique has her own house. Oh, wait a minute. Let me guess.” He laughed. “It’s already paid for and everything. Right?”
I smiled while Zynique smirked. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
His laughter began to temper. “So what did you do? Buy her a house? I mean you seem to give your children, especially Zynique, everything else they want.”
“Nope, I didn’t buy her a house.”
“Had you gone with me last night you would know what happened,” Zynique said, folding her arms.
“All right, Miss Smarty Mouth. What happened?”
“Madame Perry left me her house,” Zynique said, then grinned.
“She left you her house?” Zeke said. “What do you mean she left you her house?”
“Just what I said. She left her house to me. She also left the dance studio in my care,” Zynique said.
Zeke looked at me. I nodded.
“What about her son? Didn’t she have a son?” Zeke said. “I’m sure that’s not going to go over well with him. If I were you, Missy, I wouldn’t start counting my chickens before they hatch.”
“You are always so . . . corny,” Zynique said.
“Clichéd,” I clarified.
“I’m just trying to tell Little Miss Uppity here that she might want to watch her mouth with me until the deed has been transferred into her name,” Zeke said. “ ’Cause I know how folks can be when it comes to relatives and inheritances, anything associated with someone getting something that someone else thinks they should have gotten or are entitled to. So Zynique, you might want to wait and see if that child of hers doesn’t contest the will or something before you start rising up at your mother and me.”
I frowned, wondering how he was all of a sudden including me in this.
“Okay, Daddy. Whatever.” Zynique waved him away.
“All right now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just keep on . . . you hear?”
Zynique huffed, then left the room.
“Do you believe that?” Zeke said to me.
“Believe that you called me from my place of business for something like this?” I said.
“So you knew about this already,” Zeke said. “And just when were you planning on letting me in on this piece of breaking news?”
“Who, me?” I patted my chest. “I planned on telling you last night after I came back from Zynique and me meeting with the lawyer. Let me see now, why didn’t I happen to do that?” I snapped my fingers. “That’s right! You weren’t here when I got home.” I started walking toward the front door.
“Hey,” Zeke said. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I stopped and turned around. “Back to work,” I said.
“Back to work? Well, who’s going to fix me my breakfast?”
I walked back over to him, lifted his hands, and began to examine them.
“What are you doing?” he asked, glancing between my face and his hands with a slight look of concern.
“Oh, just checking your hands. They appear to be working fine to me, too,” I said.
He snatched his hands out of mine. I again walked away. Just as I opened the door to go outside to my car, I heard him yell after me, “And I have too brought in groceries! A few times! I have, too!”
Chapter 32
Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.
—Philippians 4:11
Christmas was only a week away, and I didn’t even have my Christmas tree up and decorated. Everything had gone smoothly with the transferring of the deeds on the house to Zynique. And since it was fully furnished, she’d already moved in. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her being in a house by herself. But she was grown now, technically speaking. And as she and I had discussed even before she ended up blessed with th
at house, it was time for her to be getting out on her own.
In the past, I was always excited about Christmastime. Especially when the girls were young and looking forward to what would be under the tree. We had our own ritual coming up to the big day. We would turn on Christmas music, put up the tree—each year having purchased one new ornament to put on the tree. Each child had her own special ornament that marked the day she was born. We would drink hot chocolate and have the best time. Memories . . . precious memories.
Of course, Zeke had never participated in the decorating of the tree. The most I could ever get him to do was to bring the boxes of decorations upstairs from the storage room. So it was no surprise that he didn’t feel funny about this year.
Zanetta wasn’t going to be there this year. She had decided to make the Air Force her career and was stationed too far away to come home for a few days and get back in time even if she had wanted to. Zion called, right as Zynique was moving her things into her new home, to inform me of her good news.
“You say what?” I said, stunned.
“Married, Mom,” Zion said. “I got married!”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying that you’re getting married, so I need to start planning a wedding? Is that what you’re saying?”
She laughed. “No. I’m saying I’m already married, so you won’t have to worry about either the planning or the expense, not when it comes to me, anyway.”
“Who was worried about an expense? I was looking forward to it.” I had to sit down. I was utterly disappointed. “So you’re telling me that you got married?”
“Yes, Mother. And he’s a wonderful man!” I could hear the love oozing from her voice.
“So . . . is he Haitian?”
“He’s not, but his father is. He’s in our group. And guess what else, Mom?”
I was afraid to even try to guess. “What?” I said putting a swift end to the guessing game before it got started.
“I’m a mother!”
“You’re a what? A mother?! Oh, baby. You were pregnant.” I couldn’t help but be disappointed and it showed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you have the baby over there? Is that why you got married? You know you didn’t have to get married just because you were pregnant—”
“Mom! Mom! Slow down. I didn’t get married because I was pregnant.” She laughed. “You get so wound up and nobody can shut you down. Malik has a son.”
“So is Malik the name of my new son-in-law? A son-in-law you didn’t think you should bring home for us to at least meet before you tied your souls forever together?”
“You’re too much,” Zion said with a chuckle. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”
“I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“Mother, I’m only joking,” Zion said.
I released a sigh of relief. “I have to give it to you. For a minute there you had me going. I thought you’d married some river-rat your daddy and I had never met and that you were now a mother. Whew! Thank God you were only joking.”
“No. The part about me being married and a mother is all true. I was joking about you telling me what you really think. I can tell you’re not that excited about this. Of course, I also expected that from you. Listen, I can’t talk long. I just wanted to let you know that I’m married to a wonderful man named Malik Merisier, I’m Zion Merisier now, and I’m the mother of an amazing three-year-old son named Jonah.”
“All right. Then, I suppose congratulations are in order,” I said, trying my best to sound happy for her. There was no purpose in ruining this conversation trying to get her to see what a huge mistake I believed she may have made. Besides, the spirit of Christmas was upon us, a time of glad tidings and good cheer. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” Zion said. “Is Dad around?”
“No, honey. He’s not here.”
“Okay. Well, tell him that I called and that I’m sorry I missed him.”
“Will do,” I said. “So when do we get to meet our new son-in-law and his three-year-old?”
“Our three-year-old,” Zion said, correcting me. “There is no ‘my and his’ with us; only ‘ours.’ ”
“Okay . . . your three-year-old. When are you coming home?”
“We’ll likely be back in the states sometime in March.”
“Are you coming home to stay?” I crossed my fingers and said a quick prayer.
“Maybe,” Zion said.
That was good news. Maybe I could grow to like this Malik after all. If he was bringing my child back this way, he couldn’t be all bad, right? Prior to this call, I had almost become convinced Zion was never coming back. Now, we were at a “maybe.”
“Mom, I’m going to get off the phone now. These calling cards don’t give as many minutes when you use them for international calls.”
“Well, thanks for calling. It was good hearing your voice.”
“Oh!” Zion said. “Have you put up the Christmas tree yet? What am I saying? Of course, you have,” Zion said. I could hear the smile in her voice. “You always put the tree up right after Thanksgiving.”
“Well, this Thanksgiving was a bit hectic. Madame Perry died.”
“Madame Perry died? When? What happened?”
“The Monday before Thanksgiving. You know she was up in age. Her heart just gave out. The funeral was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I was really busy that week with flower orders for the funeral and everything. It was something.”
“How is Zynique taking it? She loved her some Madame Perry, even more than the rest of us. The last time Zynique and I talked, she was working for her. Is Zynique doing all right?”
“It was hard, but she made it through. She even spoke at the funeral.”
“Zynique spoke? You mean little don’t-ever-want-to-speak-in-public Zynique spoke at her funeral? We’re talking about my baby sister Zynique?”
“Yes, your little sister Zynique. It was very touching, too.”
“So is she there now or out with that guy she’s been dating?”
“Actually, I don’t know where she is,” I said. “She has her own place now.”
“Zynique moved into an apartment? Is she sharing it with Iesha or Darlene?”
“It’s not an apartment; Zynique has a house. And she’s not sharing it with either Iesha or Darlene. It’s all hers; she owns it.”
“A house? Zynique is living in a house?”
“Yes.”
“Her own house?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s not renting it?” Zion said.
“No. She owns it outright. No mortgage at all. Free and clear. Owns it.”
“Listen, Mom,” Zion said hurriedly. “The voice just said I only have a minute left. Tell Zynique to write me and tell me what’s going on with her. I’ll see you all soon, I hope! I love you. Tell Dad I love him, too.”
“Love you, too, baby,” I said.
“Oh, and Mom? Merry Christ—”
We were disconnected.
And that’s about how I felt with all of my children right now—disconnected. Everyone was going about . . . living their own lives the way they chose. Zanetta would not likely be settling down anytime soon. I was a little worried about her, especially since we were at war now. I thought Zanetta might be in a prime position to be flying in a combat area. She and others assured me that there’s a 1994 combat exclusion policy banning women from ground combat units. Zanetta mentioned it when she was fussing about the unfairness of it. Other people brought it up to make me feel better about her doing this at all.
Zanetta stated women have, for years, served in ground combat situations. “They just don’t get credit for it,” Zanetta said, which she contended hinders women from getting promotions. . . senior flag ranks, the three and four stars primarily.
Zeke was the first person to mention anything about Bin Laden even before the news said the attack was most likely orchestrated by him. I’d never heard of a Bin Laden before. But Zeke watched that type of s
tuff on television, so he was familiar with Bin Laden and what he’d done in the past. When it was official that Bin Laden was the one that had orchestrated the 9/11 attacks, Zeke couldn’t stop talking about it, telling every bit of information he thought that he knew about him. I just wanted Zanetta to get out of the military and do something else.
But Zanetta has always been headstrong. She’s going to do what she wants, no matter how nervous it makes me.
“Mother,” Zanetta said. “God has not given us the spirit of fear. Isn’t that one of the scriptures you like to quote to reassure us that we should never be afraid?”
“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying that I’m in fear. I would just prefer you not put yourself in harm’s way of any kind, if you can at all avoid it. You’re a woman, who, of all things, managed to make it to a position where you’re allowed to fly planes, likely now over hostile territory. What if you get shot down and taken prisoner? Do you have any idea how—?”
“Don’t, Mom. Don’t speak that negative on me. ‘For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’ That’s what Second Timothy, one-seven says.”
“I know, I know. And you’re right.” I let out a sigh. “ ‘Life and death is in the power of the tongue.’ So I’ll not speak or think anything negative on this again. I believe God has charged angels to watch over you. So I’m going to be content in knowing that a thousand may fall at your side and ten thousand at your right hand—”
“ ‘But it shall not come nigh me,’ ” Zanetta said, finishing Psalm 91:7 she and I began quoting religiously the first day I learned she’d signed up for the Air Force.
“Okay. I’m good,” I said, reassuring myself more than her. “I’m content.”
And that’s what I was doing right now. Learning to be content in whatever state I found myself. Our girls had all flown the nest. And I was by myself now, with the exception of the few times Zeke and I passed each other coming and going.
This Christmas would be the first time that I would not have a Christmas tree up in our house. Not because I was too busy; but because no one, except me, was there to care. I was good though. The shop was busy and it had a festive look. All in all, I was content. I was content. Or so I thought.
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