by Love Belvin
And I could tell she liked this scene. It was the start of winter, but we were out here, over a fire pit and under gas heat post lamps. She was covered in a chenille blanket and I wore a heavy coat with gloves and was good. Grandmother liked this. I brought her out here the first year the house was done and invited her to the back outdoor lounge—an extension of the deck—for tea. She was hesitant, believing it was too cold and not to mention, she didn’t like tea much. But after ten minutes out here and me singing a few of her favorite hymns to her, she relaxed. Now, she requested being out here for praise and worship.
“Yes, God!” she cried, still with the body jerks. And I was comforted by her spirit and His. “If Your people, who are called by Your name would humble themselves and pray and seek Your face and turn from their wicked ways, then we will hear from heaven! Aye! Gloray!” Both hands were in the air and her face tilted to the ground.
I will forgive their sin and will heal their land…
From the corner of my left eye, I saw Jake, the gardener, rolling the salt spreader along the brick walkway around the back of the house. He nodded with a smile, never stopping. My eyes went to the lake, catching the moonlight dancing on the sheet of water. The whole body looked like a mirror, reflecting the lights of the house and constellations of the sky. It was majestic out here. God-scaped.
Movement at the right side of me had my head whip in that direction. Wynter was standing there shivering with a plastered smile. I’d forgotten all about her. It was easy to when you were ushering in God’s presence with Pastor Alberta McKinnon.
“Hope I didn’t take too long.”
“No.” It sounded as though my grandmother was angry, but it was only because she’d been caught up in praise seconds ago. “Come join us.”
Wynter’s eyes sparkled when they moved to me. She giggled soundlessly, temporarily changing my perception of her being around. I found my hand patting next to me, inviting her to sit. Then my brain kicked in and I stood to go over to the waterproof trunk and grabbed a blanket.
“That’s right, Gee-Gee,” my grandmother approved. “Make sure she stay warm. The blanket feel good.”
I opened it up and spread it over her lap and legs. Wynter straightened it, pulling the blanket to lay from her shoulders to feet.
“We was just out here, talking about the goodness of Jesus and remembering His promises.” My grandmother bent over to grab her tea from the edge of the brick pit. “Want some tea, daughter?” she offered.
My eyes rolled over to Wynter. I didn’t know how she’d play this. I knew she could be vulgar and hoped she curved in the presence of clergy.
“No. I’m fine.” Wynter giggled again. “I don’t want to move much. Don’t wanna lose this heat when I start collecting it.”
“Amen.” Grandmother sipped from her mug before putting it down. “Tell me something about yourself, daughter. Gee-Gee ain’t never let me in on his private life.” Her voice was sweet. Humbled. She chuckled. “He told me to ask you about you. He could be a lil smart mouth, too, ya know.” She gave her tender laugh. The one she gave to strangers.
Wynter’s eyes brushed against mine again, mine open wider. “Ummmm…” She turned to face my grandmother again. “I’m twenty-eight and from Garfield. I was raised by my grandparents for most of my childhood.”
“Your family belong to a house of worship?”
“No.” Wynter shook her head. “I have to admit. Sorry about that.”
“No!” My grandmother’s pitch was alarming. “No need to apologize, baby. The Word says, ‘For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband.’”
…else were your children unclean; but now are they holy.
I snickered to myself, looking toward the lake.
Kids. Yeah, right…
“Thanks!” Wynter spit out at a volume that didn’t match her tone. She pinched her lips, faking a smile. I could tell my grandmother spoke over her head. It was another reason why this whole situation was so effed up. “Well, other than that. There’s really not much to tell. I went to Rutgers. Got my Bachelor’s in psychology and stayed there to get a Master’s in sociology.”
“Ohhhhh,” grandmother sang before Wynter could finish her sentence. “You must be smart.” Her eyes landed on me. “Like my Gee-Gee here. You know…he skipped the sixth grade. Graduated a whole year early.” Her eyes dropped and she mumbled, “Trouble came to him in high school. You know those years can be testing for kids.”
I sat up in my chair, feeling crazy uncomfortable, silently praying for this conversation to move forward. I didn’t talk about my past, and definitely didn’t want my grandmother doing it in front of strangers. Not this one.
“Oh.” Wynter turned to me, shock wearing on her face for the first time.
“Yup. He was the smartest out of all my babies coming and going through my house. And I had some smart ones,” her voice traveled. “The Lord ushered some good people in my doors. More good than bad.”
I twisted in my seat, throat feeling tight. Worst of all, I could feel Wynter’s eyes on me again.
“I wasn’t the smartest,” I reminded her, trying to switch gears in this conversation. “Remember Leonard?”
“Oh! My lil Leonard,” she cried. “I forgot about him ‘cause I lost him so young.”
I never forgot about Leonard. Never forgot about any of the people running in and out of my grandmother’s two-family house. Especially blood family members. Now with my thoughts traveling there, I didn’t want to stay on this topic either.
“Who’s Leonard?” Wynter faced my grandmother, but her eyes were on me. They were glassy all of a sudden.
“One of my foster kids. He was gifted. Princeton ran tests on his intellect. But he was a sickly child. Died of a bad asthma attack. Learned a while after that, I had mold in my walls.” This time, her eyes shot out to the water. “House was old. It was all I had to serve the people of God.”
“Raj, you adopted?” That sharp blurt snapped me out of the dark memory lane my grandmother was taking me.
Wynter’s face was wrinkled, lips pouted as her eyes bounced between my grandmother and me.
“Oh, God no!” My grandmother giggled. “Oh, God no. You must ain’t tell her much, Gee-Gee.” She laughed again before explaining. “The Lord made it that I housed a lot of children and wayward adults. But Ragee here is my own. He’s my oldest daughter’s child. He ain’t my only grand, but one of many.”
Wynter’s mouth formed an “O,” but those eyes were growing more and more chinky as she struggled to stay on top of this conversation. How could she not? She was getting little known details about my childhood. Things I didn’t want out there.
“Gee-Gee,” my grandmother’s brows were meeting. “You checked on Kevin?”
I licked my lips. “Last week. I called. Supposed to be seeing him soon.”
“I tarried in prayer years and years for that relationship to mend. I’m glad it finally is.”
“Grandmother, I won’t say all that. We’re in touch ‘cause we have a common interest.”
“And what’s that?” Another blurt by Wynter, her eyes dancing between us again for the first contributor to her inquiry.
“Well, aren’t you a curious lil thing!” My grandmother laughed, peeping it, too. “Gee-Gee, I see you still like to keep secrets. Still playing mouse, huhn?” I hit her with a blank face, but she was used to that from me. “My Gee-Gee here was a boxer. Started in high school. I stood before the Lord many days and many nights, petitioning for that not to be his profession. It’s so dangerous. I wanted him to be a minister of song, and I guess God had other plans. But, at least he didn’t make him a boxer because his daddy been knocked up side his head too many times,” she mumbled, seeming upset as she usually was when this came up.
Next to me, I could hear Wynter hum, “Ohhhhh. Upper Cut. His father…”
My eyes closed as I fought to keep myself together. It’s not that it was
the biggest deal in the world. My father’s reputation as a trainer had been documented before via in depth interviews.
“You know, daughter, it’s okay you ain’t saved yet. I’m sure my grandson working on it. Do you read the Word?” Grandmother’s eyes sat determined at that question.
Wynter turned my way silently for a few seconds. “A little,” she answered with her eyes on me. “That’s rubbed off on me from him.”
What the…
“That’s good.” My grandmother’s night was made. “What’s the Lord been ministering to your spirit about?”
No…
My grandmother had to stop believing everybody was on the same level spiritually. Most people who start the Bible don’t have the knowledge or discernment to understand and interpret it.
“Right now I’m at the book of Ruth. I guess you can say it’s been troubling my spirit.”
My face fell.
“How, daughter?” Grandmother was game for it all. Genuinely. It’s what she’d devoted her life to, expounding the Word of God.
Wynter leaned over, putting her elbows on her knees. “I think a tale like that is outdated.”
“How?” I couldn’t help myself.
“C’mon. The story of a young vibrant woman, clinging to her dead husband’s mother? The fable started out with the whole family moving from their home, a barren land, in search of a better life.” Fable? “Then slowly, all the men die, leaving the women helpless.” She clapped her hands and shrugged with a smile. “What woman in this century is helpless in the absence of a man? Marriage isn’t the institution it once was.”
“No?” my grandmother asked, already engaged.
“No. It was clearly so serious back then because the daughters-in-law were too afraid to go out and start over again. What woman nowadays do you know who would feel after one relationship is done, they can’t move on? I mean, back then it was so bad they clung on to their mother-in-law. The smart one eventually said, ‘bye’, and chucked the deuces. Ruth was too afraid. She was so afraid they left the place”—she snapped her fingers to jog her memory—“Moab with Naomi and went back home. Together. Like helpless kids. And you know why? Because that’s how imperative it was to be with a man. A woman alone could not make a living.”
“But the beauty of the story…” Grandmother sat up in her seat, getting ready, “…was the ministry in Boaz’s generosity and the romance that appeals to young girls like you. The young people…single people I preach that to seem to get it.”
“Not this one. There’s no romance in that.”
Not that I thought it was myself, but I wanted to know. “Why not?”
“Why should it be?” Wynter laughed bitterly, but not withdrawing. “Boaz wasn’t even checking for ol’ girl when he laid eyes on her. Romance stories usually have that element. Yeah, he looked out for her, didn’t kick her off his property, but never invited her over or to dinner.”
“In Chapter two, he asks his servants who Ruth belonged to. That ain’t checkin’ for her?” I asked. “I could take that to mean he was checkin’ shawtie out.”
Wynter shook her head. “After he offered her to pick up the scraps his men left behind, that chick thanked him a lil too thickly, said a special prayer for dude and all. No!” She swung her head to emphasize. “We don’t do that in this day and age. We move on. We get our own. If that’s what marriage was necessary for back then, for women to eat and have a roof over their heads, it sure ain’t necessary now.”
My grandmother and I locked eyes. What could have, at first, been a panic on my part, yielded to compassion. Wynter missed the ministry in that story.
“Boaz was a guardian-redeemer. It was his responsibility to care for family on hard times,” my grandmother tried.
“Yeah. And about that,” Wynter piped up, index finger raised in the air. “Those roles don’t exist anymore. Everybody’s out for themselves. I see you were sorta one with opening your home and such, but trust me, as the needing party, people look out for themselves, no matter how well off they are.”
“You missed every nugget in that jawn.” I tried to hide the laughter in my voice. Wynter’s glassy eyes were big again, questioning. “Marriage back then may have been about survival for women, but it was also about structure for a man. A woman fixed a home, cooked needed food, kept him clean, and stretched the money he made. Without that woman, the man would be useless. Men only knew how to work. To labor—that one thing. Women knew how to cultivate. How to grow and prosper. How to sow seed and bring it to harvest.”
“Speak it, son,” my grandmother pushed unnecessarily in the background, clapping her hands.
I wasn’t ministering to anybody. I was enlightening her. She viewed it one dimensionally.
“I don’t see that changing much in this generation.” I rubbed my cold itchy nose, sitting back. “What’s crazy is the gods of today, tryna teach us we’re independent of each other. How men and women don’t need each other—even to have babies now. Nah.” I chuckled. “Some women don’t need men to eat, but we need each other to survive this…” I almost cursed, “…backwards world we’ve made, somehow.”
Wynter’s eyes squinted and she whispered, “Since when have you been pro-marriage?”
I leaned in close, keeping my voice just as low. “Since when haven’t you needed me to eat?”
A phone ringing broke our gaze. Wynter jumped in her seat then pulled the phone from her pocket.
“Ut!” She yanked the blanket from her lap. “This is that call. Gotta take this.”
She took long lunges back to the house and slid inside with the phone to her ear, already talking. I wondered was it to her man. She was a weird one. When I turned back to face my grandmother, she was looking at me already, something in her eyes. I wouldn’t go there. Didn’t want to open that discussion.
“You got ya hands full.” A smile played at the corners of her dark lips.
“You ‘on’t know the half,” I breathed, relaxing into my seat.
“You just hang on in there—and pulease try to keep your nose clean,” I begged. “It’s one thing to get your lawyer’s attention from out here. It’d be another to have him walk into more charges once he finally steps into the courtroom.”
I rolled my eyes, ambling out of the study.
“Girl, chill. I ain’t new to this,” Donovan tried playing tough. “Ain’t nobody in here fucking with me.”
“Yeah.” I snorted. “Let’s hope not.”
“Just take care of MaMa for me.”
“I’m trying, Van. But you know she ain’t no Wynter Blue subscriber.”
“A what?” he squealed.
A smile crested on my face. “Nothing. I’m doing my part. I got you.”
“A’ight. Gotta go.”
“Peace, beast. See ya lata!” I disconnected the call mid his chuckle.
The house was peacefully quiet on my way back to the master suite. I wondered if Raj and his grandmother were still outside having church. I was tired. The lack of sleep was catching up with me. By the time I arrived at the top of the steps and rounded the corner, I was winded. The doors were closed and when I crossed the room, I saw the balcony door off the sitting room was ajar.
Hmmmm…
Music softly flowing in the brisk air hit me immediately. There was another gas heat lamp out here, a patio set, and…the distinct aroma of a cigar. My nipples stung at that scent, something about experiencing the fumes of a stogie on a dark grayish blue night with the sharp strum of strings from Ameerah flowing and the soft gold glow stirred my groin. Raj sat with his back to me, his head tilted to the side, and a two-inch stack of papers in front of him. From the amount flipped over, I could tell he was once in a read.
“Hey, Gee-Gee! This her violin or cello?” I bounced onto the patio, catching a view of the lake en route to him. “Wow…” I breathed, my eyes caught in the sharpness of the reflection of the water.
“Violin,” he answered my question first then addressed the view.
“Gorgeous. Right?” he husked.
With my eyes locked, mesmerized on the unmoving sheet of the lake, I nodded. “I didn’t have this view from my room…” I caught myself. The room Pastor McKinnon now occupied wasn’t exactly my room.
“It ain’t supposed to.” I turned to him. Ragee tapped the body of the cigar, dumping its ashes into the silver metal tray. He brought it back to his mouth, eyes squinting from the smoke. “My room should have the best view.”
Observing him in his relaxed environment and state, I noticed the mountain of papers had formatted lines on there and loads of words. His phone lay beside it, lighting up with alerts and messages successively. Several candles were lit, and there was a tumbler with familiar brown hued liquid inside.
“Hey, that’s that Mauve from downstairs?” Raj nodded. “That shit is official.” I laughed. “I had like three shots after dinner, and my head ain’t hurting, mouth ain’t dry either.”
Raj’s head cocked to the side, his brows met. “You were tipsy, kickin’ it with my grandmother?”
My face froze and eyes circled. “I wouldn’t say tipsy. Just nice.” I took the seat across from him. “I needed to relax and have a minute alone,” I shrugged, “so I found my way to your bar and discovered Mauve.” My eyes lit. “I’d never heard of it before. It looked close to Henny, so I gave it a shot.”
My smile was goofy as I shrugged again. Raj hadn’t moved an inch. He seemed stuck. Was I not allowed to have his liquor?
Oh, god…
This is going to be such a miserable ass time.
“You drank just before sitting down with Pastor McKinnon.” His voice was low, staccato crisp. “You crazy?”
My eyes blossomed. “No. Is Pastor McKinnon crazy?” Raj snorted and shook his head. He sat up to dump ashes and god knows what. My palms pushed out. “Raj, easy. I’m not trying to rag on your grandmother. I’m just not used to this church thing or having to put on for someone’s grandmother.”
“Yeah, well, you been putting on for everybody else just fine, from what I can tell.”
