Pushing Pause

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  I nodded, but the first thing I noticed when he talked was that he said the word all right and not a’ight. She must have gotten to him, too. “She’s my grandmother.”

  “Really, then you’re Jade’s sister?” he asked.

  “Cousin,” I corrected him.

  “Do you dance, too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “At Freeman?”

  Okay, that was enough. “What is this, twenty questions?” I asked, for some reason getting annoyed with him, but really annoyed with myself.

  “Chill, shorty, I’m just asking.”

  “A’ight, then stop asking.”

  “What’s up with you?” he asked with a seriously smug smirk on his face.

  “I don’t talk to strangers, okay,” I said crisply, then looked away, back to the shed. He burst out laughing. I turned back to look at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “You sound just like Jade.”

  “Whatever, bye,” I said dismissively.

  He laughed again. “Yep, just like her.”

  “What is your problem?” I asked.

  “I could ask you that same question.”

  We looked at each other, I glared, then rolled my eyes to look away and ignored him. He was too cute. “I saw you checking me out.”

  “I was not checking you out, I was looking at the shed,” I said, lying my butt off, then I turned and looked at the shed again as if to reiterate my point.

  “Yeah, right,” he said obviously not believing me.

  “Yeah, right,” I repeated childishly, then looked back at him. He smiled. “So, are you and Jade together?” I kinda asked.

  “Nah, she’s out of my league. She’s cool, though. She can dance her butt off.”

  Whatever, I thought but instead I nodded, having no idea why everybody kept saying that, ’cause as far as I could see, she was just cold and mean.

  “So where did you say you were from?”

  “I didn’t say, goodbye.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you didn’t.”

  “You’re like a cockroach, you just don’t go away.”

  He laughed. “Did you go to the Tyrece Grant video shoot?”

  “More questions,” I said, and he smiled and chuckled again. It was kinda nice hearing him laugh. “Yeah, I was there.”

  “I thought I saw you there,” he said knowingly, then looked up behind me and smiled. “You’re all set, Mrs. King. The hostas and astilbes are getting thick behind the shed, and you should check your roses on the side of the house, they’re a little buggy. It looks like there’s something going on there.”

  I turned around and saw my grandmother standing at the back door looking out. She had an apron on now as she smiled and nodded. “Thanks, baby, I noticed that and picked up some spray earlier,” she said.

  “Cool, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  “Anything else you need?” he asked her.

  “No, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, then he looked back at me and said, “See you later, shorty, take care.”

  “Bye,” I said, then watched as he went down the short path, then around to the side of the house. He turned once, smiled, then kept going. He obviously knew I’d be watching him.

  “Kenisha, do me a favor and go tell your mother dinner is almost ready, and while you’re upstairs make sure those movers put everything exactly the way you wanted it. I believe they’re still around here somewhere, so don’t be shy about speaking your mind and telling them what you want. Your mother’s paying them good money, so they need to put everything exactly where you want it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I heard myself saying, mimicking the lawn mower guy, then stood to follow her back inside. I went into the kitchen and smelled something seriously good then I headed to the front of the house then upstairs.

  I went to my room and saw a ton of boxes already there, piled on the floor against the wall. My bed was put together, along with my dresser and my computer table. It was strange looking around and seeing all my stuff there like this. It was my room all over again but different. I’m not saying I liked it, but it could have been worse.

  My mom was already in my bedroom and she apparently got the movers to put everything in place. She was looking out the window when I walked in.

  “I remember this view being incredible when I was young. I would sit here for hours just looking out at the different houses. Being the four-corner area, the houses are all so varied, singles next to row next to twins next to what could be mansions. I guess back in the eighteen-hundreds it didn’t matter what kind of house you had.”

  “Grandmom said that dinner is almost ready and that I should make sure that the movers put everything in place.”

  She turned to me, then looked around the room and nodded silently. “The movers just left. I think this will do fine. What do you think, how do you like it, nice, huh?”

  “Yeah, it’s nice,” I said, looking around again.

  “Kind of looks like your old bedroom, doesn’t it?”

  “But it’s not,” I said, feeling myself getting mad.

  “No, it’s not,” she said then paused. “We should go downstairs, your grandmother cooked something special. I told her how much you like fried chicken, so she made an early dinner for us.”

  “So this is it. I have to stay here and that’s it. I don’t get a say in my life or nothing.”

  “Or anything.”

  “Whatever. I can’t believe this, this is so wrong and you know it. You decided that that’s it and I don’t even get a say. You walk out and drag me with you. Now I’m stuck here to do what? No friends, no boyfriend.”

  “Kenisha, don’t start. Look, I’m sorry your life didn’t work like you expected, but neither did mine. I didn’t expect to have to move back in with my mother at this age, but I have no choice.”

  “You have a choice, you just didn’t take it. We can still go back.”

  “No,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I made a choice long ago and now I have to live with it. I’m only sorry that you and Jade have to, too. And I’m not discussing this with you anymore.”

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about. You don’t even want to discuss it. Like what I say doesn’t even matter.”

  “I didn’t say that and I’m not going to argue with you. I’m tired and you just need to get used to this so come on, dinner is ready.”

  She walked out. That was it.

  So then I was sitting there trying to figure out what had happened to my perfect life. A few minutes later I went downstairs to the kitchen table that was seriously spread out—fried chicken, potato salad, collard greens and cornbread.

  Everybody was already seated. Jade was there. I sat between her and my mom. Jade reached out and took my hand, as did my Mom and Grandmom. They bowed their heads, I did, too, and Grandmom said a prayer of thanks pretty much centered around Mom and me being there.

  With my head bowed I wasn’t sure I should have been thankful for it. I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it. We don’t exactly go to church, but still I offered a request to have everything back the way it should be. Just in case.

  So we started eating and everything was fine. Mom and my grandmom were talking about the neighborhood and Jade was saying something, but I didn’t say anything.

  “I hope you like your room, Kenisha,” my grandmom said.

  “Yeah,” I said, then corrected myself. “Yes, it’s nice.”

  “Good. If you need anything or can’t find something, just ask Jade. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help out.”

  “Okay,” I said, but got the feeling that I was on my own. I noticed that Jade didn’t say anything after that. As a matter of fact, she said very little throughout dinner. Mom and my grandmother kept talking about the good ol’ days, when she had lived there, but me and Jade were just eating. I guess we both couldn’t care less.

  After dinner I went into the living roo
m while my mom, Jade and my grandmother stayed and cleaned up the kitchen. I was standing there looking at the old photos on the wall, trying to see if there was a family resemblance or if they were just old photos on the wall.

  “Your past becomes your future.” I turned around; my grandmother was there beside me. “Remember that,” she said.

  “What does it mean?” I asked her.

  “It means that once you’ve witnessed someone standing on a live land mine, you should be leery of repeating the action.”

  “So don’t stand on live land mines?” I asked.

  “No. Well, yes, that, too,” she said, then smiled. I was shocked. I swear it was the first time I’d actually seen the woman show any kind of emotion other than anger or frustration. “It means seeing someone else’s mistake should hinder you from repeating it.”

  “Oh, I get it. Where’d you learn that?”

  “Pearls of wisdom from many years of experience.”

  I nodded, then turned back to the photos on the wall.

  “That’s my great aunt, your great-great-great-aunt Harriet. She roamed the globe, married, divorced, then married a few more times. She spent most of her life running away but never really going anywhere. And that’s Julia, her older sister, born at the turn of the last century, in the year 1900, worked all her life till the day she died, penniless. That’s Anna Mae, she was a civil rights activist in the sixties, a real hell-raiser who spent more time in jail than out, and that’s your great-great-uncle Lawrence. I don’t know a lot about him other than the fact that he was married to a woman named Pearl. He walked away from her and six kids and no one heard a word since.”

  “That’s so sad, why do you keep their photos on the wall if they were all so…tragic?”

  “Land mines to future generations, but know this, appearances aren’t always what you see.”

  I nodded, then moved over to the next photo of a young girl with two long, thick braids, sitting alone against the backdrop of a painted landscape. She looked timid and nervous, but mostly she looked sad. Dressed in a nautical outfit with a wide white collar, she held her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “That’s Vivian, she was the youngest, also your great-great-great-aunt. She died at sixteen of a leaking heart.”

  “A leaking heart, I never heard of that, what is it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, frowning.

  “She looks just like Mom.”

  “Yes, she does, especially around the eyes.”

  I looked closer into her eyes. My grandmother was right, they had the same sadness in their eyes. Unmistakable.

  “I have more photos if you’re interested.”

  “No, but maybe later,” I said, not in the mood to see more tragic family photos.

  She nodded, then walked away. I had seriously gotten depressed, so I decided to go outside and take a look around. It was late afternoon, but kids were still outside playing in the street. I stood and watched them, thinking how good it would be to be back home, where I belonged.

  “Why don’t you go for a walk?” my mom said, standing behind me.

  “Nah, maybe later,” I said and just stood there.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, great, fine,” I said. She turned to leave, but I stopped her. “Mom,” I said. She turned back to me. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” I said.

  “I know, I’m just, too…”

  “So, Grandmom’s photos on the wall, what’s with them?”

  “Family.”

  “Yeah, I know that part, but why, if they all lived such tragic lives, why display them on the wall like that?”

  “Tragic to us, but not to them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As one of the few black female pilots in her time, Harriet traveled the world and experienced more things than we can possibly imagine. Julia worked hard, amassed a fortune, then, having no children, gave all of it away to a children’s charity before she died. They renamed it after her.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know that.”

  “Anna Mae marched with Dr. King for our civil rights and was one of the few female Panthers, and Lawrence, well, I have no idea about him. But there is greatness in our family, remarkable women who stood above their challenges.”

  “Grandmom said that they were land mines, like lessons to be learned from their lives.”

  “In a way they are. What looks like something tragic might also be someone’s victory. We can’t always see that right away.”

  “Like you leaving Dad?”

  She didn’t say anything, but we both knew that she didn’t have to. I smiled, feeling better, then started chuckling. “You know at first, after talking to Grandmom, I thought I came from a family of nuts.”

  Mom reached out and hugged me. It felt good. “You do.”

  We laughed and for the first time in days I felt okay.

  “You know Freeman is about four or five blocks down.”

  “It’s that close?” I asked.

  “Yep, why don’t you go over for a while, loosen up?”

  “What about my punishment?”

  “Let’s call this a clean slate.”

  I nodded. It was the best idea I’d heard all day. Having not danced in almost two weeks because of being grounded, it would feel good to get back out onto the boards again.

  A half hour later I was walking into the building. I went to the office and signed out one of the private dance classrooms on the top floor. I turned on my music and started stretching, then I did one of my old routines just to feel the movement and work out any stiffness.

  Afterwards I worked on my latest dance routine, then made some changes, incorporating a few steps I’d seen the other night. I watched myself in the mirror and saw that it was working, so I started again from the top.

  It felt good to be back on the floor again. Dancing always made me feel free and alive and I knew that nothing bad could happen when I danced. As soon as I finished the routine, I heard applause and looked around.

  “Not bad, shorty.”

  It took me a second to figure out who it was, lawn mower guy. “What are you doing here, you following me or something?”

  He laughed and that stupid dimple flashed at me. “Nah, I came to drop off my little cousins. Are you always this paranoid?”

  “Always,” I said, just in case he got any ideas.

  “I guess that’s because of where you grew up. My guess is some snobbish neighborhood in Maryland or Virginia.”

  “You need to chill on that, okay, ’cause you don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you’re not from around here anywhere.”

  “Duh…you saw me move in.”

  “Unless of course you are and you’re just naturally stuck up.”

  “For your information, I grew up as far away from here as possible.”

  “It shows.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It shows,” he repeated louder.

  “I heard you the first time, I just didn’t think you had nerve enough to repeat it. And for your information, I am not stuck-up.”

  “My mistake,” he said, and smiled, obviously enjoying the prickly conversation.

  “Exactly, now if you don’t mind.”

  He started laughing again. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

  “I like it,” he said.

  I tried hard not to grin or show any emotion, but something inside smiled. “Whatever, do you mind?”

  “No, not at all, help yourself,” he said, then walked over to the only furniture, a desk and chair in the far corner, and dropped his book. “You won’t disturb me, unless of course you have the music up too loud.”

  “I’m asking you to leave,” I said, then looked at him hard like he was some kind of moron or something.

  “Sorry, but this is my room and my time, shorty.”

  “What?”


  “I reserved this studio,” he said.

  “No way, I reserved this studio for one hour, hence the words, private dance studio,” I said, then walked over to the desk, stepping up to him.

  “That’s all well and good, but time’s up, sweetheart,” he said, nodding up at the clock over the door.

  I looked up at the clock. He was right. I’d been dancing and as usual lost track of time. I’d reserved the studio for an hour and I was already ten minutes over.

  “I’m not finished.”

  “Too bad, go next door, it’s empty.”

  “Why don’t you go next door?” I said.

  “The light’s better in here,” he said, looking at the early-evening sun streaming through the uncovered windows.

  “Light for what?” I asked, glancing down at the book on the desk, trying to read the cover.

  “It doesn’t matter for what,” he said, losing the joyous lilt in his tone, then guardedly picking up the book and holding it to his side. “The point is I reserved it and your time is up.”

  “Do you dance?” I asked.

  “Nah, not really.”

  “So why do you need the studio?”

  “Again, doesn’t matter, it’s reserved.”

  “Fine,” I said as amicably as I could, then marched over, grabbed up my bag and empty water bottle, then left. I was getting tired anyway.

  Having not seriously danced in weeks, my body had stiffened, and having not done my usual stretching afterwards, I was really stiff by the time I walked back to my grandmother’s house. I took a hot shower and relaxed.

  The rest of the evening was quiet. I stayed in my room and watched TV and chilled out mostly. I tried calling my dad and LaVon again, but neither one was picking up, haters. I called Jalisa.

  “Hey, how’d it go?” she asked as soon as she picked up the phone.

  “Okay, fine, I’m here.”

  “How is it?”

  “It’s all right, noisy sometimes.”

  “Did you catch up with your dad?”

  “No, not yet. I left another message.”

  “He’ll call you back. Are you going to dance class on Monday afternoon?”

  “Yeah, my punishment’s been reprieved.”

  “I know you can’t wait to get back to dancing.”

  “It’s actually just a few blocks away. I can walk there in a few minutes. As a matter of fact, I was just there this afternoon.”