A House Is Not a Home

by James Earl Hardy

  “Well, maybe one day we can go to the zoo to see some.”

  “Okay. I would like that.”

  “Well.” It was Mitchell’s aunt Ruth. “I decide to surprise my nephew and I get a surprise. How are you, darling?”

  Raheim put Destiny down to give Ruth a hug. “I’m jood. And you?”

  “Honey, I can’t complain. No, scratch that: I could complain, but what’s the use? It ain’t gonna change a thing.” She took him in, head to toe and back again. “You are still the cutest chocolate thang I’ve ever seen.”

  Raheim blushed.

  Mitchell’s mother kissed Raheim on the cheek as they hugged. “Mitchell didn’t tell me you’d be here. It’s so good to see you.”

  Destiny took Raheim’s left hand. “You mean jood, Gran’ma.”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. Jood.”

  Ruth inhaled the aroma. “That food smells jood. Is it ready, Honeysuckle?”

  “In about fifteen minutes.”

  “That’ll give me just enough time to have an appetizer.” She took a pack of Virginia Slims out of her pocket. She looped her arm through Raheim’s. “While you and Ann get things ready, Raheim and I can catch up.”

  “Can I come?” asked Destiny, still holding on to Raheim’s left hand.

  “No, Sugar Dumplin’,” Ruth replied. “This is grown-up talk.”

  “Oh,” she sighed, disappointed.

  “You need to get that voice ready. I still wanna hear that song.”

  “Okay. Uncle Raheim, you have to stay after dinner and hear me sing, too.”

  “Of course. You know I wouldn’t miss that.” He pinched her right cheek. She giggled.

  “You don’t mind if I borrow him for a moment, do you?” Ruth directed toward Mitchell.

  “No.”

  “Where we goin’?” Raheim inquired.

  She swiped an ashtray off the hall stand. “The smoking section.”

  They sat opposite each other on the stoop’s top railing.

  After some small talk and a picture show of her five-year-old identical-twin grandsons, Ruth cut to the chase. “So . . . how long you been single?”

  “What makes you think I’m single?”

  “Why else would you be dressed so sharp, havin’ dinner with your ex?”

  “I could be dressed sharp for Destiny,” Raheim argued, unconvincingly.

  “Uh-huh. Like, Destiny loves the way you look in bright-colored clothes . . . ? How long . . . ?”

  “Six months.”

  “What took you so long?”

  “Uh . . . I . . . he . . .”

  “Let me guess: You didn’t want it to seem like you were on the rebound; you didn’t know if he was involved with anyone; and you weren’t sure, even if he wasn’t, he’d be interested.”

  He looked at her in amazement.

  “Honey, I ain’t get this age bein’ stupid. I had a feelin’. I never woulda guessed it would be about you.”

  “Whatcha mean?”

  “It’s rare that I am at my sister’s on a Sunday—or leave the state of New Jersey. So, when she called to see if I’d take the trip to bring Destiny home, I knew there was a reason why I was supposed to visit. I’ve been watchin’ you.”

  “Have you?”

  “Mmm-hmm. As Billie once crooned, you’ve changed. I know it’s not just an act I’ve seen on TV. And I’m sure he can see it, too.”

  I hope she’s right . . .

  “Goin’ through what you went through . . . it must have been hard, without him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know how tough it can be.” She jiggled her cigarette. “I’ve gone from a pack a day, to one a day, to one a week.”

  “Wow. Congrats.”

  “Thanks. And I joined the ranks of the divorced four years ago, too.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Ain’t no need to be sorry about it. I’m not.”

  “Did you want to get divorced?”

  “No.”

  “Then he wanted to . . . ?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “We had to. Sometimes two people may love each other, may still be in love with each other, but love ain’t enough to keep them together. You know what I mean?”

  I sure do . . .

  “Tweed and I became different people with different journeys to take. And we had to accept that we’d have to take those journeys without each other as husband and wife.” She sighed.

  “You sound sad about it.”

  “We were married for thirty-seven years. I was sad to see it end; I still am. But in order for us to be happier, it had to.”

  “Happier?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t that we didn’t make each other happy; it was that we both knew we would be happier if we weren’t together. And we are. In fact, he’s gone on to find happier times: last June, he remarried. And that makes me even happier.”

  “It does?”

  “Of course. Just because he’s no longer with me doesn’t mean he should be unhappy. Love means you wish that person well no matter what. Just because the union died doesn’t mean the love you have for them does.”

  Amen to that, too . . .

  “Besides, he ain’t the only one with somebody new. I’m currently seeing a man.” She grinned. “A younger man.”

  “Really? How much younger?”

  “Try fifteen years.”

  “Damn. You got your sister beat.”

  “And after teasin’ her so much about Anderson, you know she never lets me forget it.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Freedom. Free for short.”

  “And I bet he sets you free,” Raheim joked.

  She slapped him on the hand. “Hush yo’ mouth, chile. You ain’t old enough to have that kind of conversation with me—are you?”

  They laughed.

  “Let’s just say that his mama must’ve known the power he would unleash, for she gave him the right name. If Tweed could put it down half as jood as Free, we might still be married.”

  “How long y’all been seein’ each other?”

  “Like two years. I never thought I’d be dating at my age. A grandmother.” She puffed. “But Free has shown me that, you can think your life—or a part of it—is over, but it ain’t over till it’s over. Another chapter can start with someone new.” She leaned in. “And, sometimes, with someone old.”

  Destiny tapped on the second-floor door. Ruth opened it. “Yes, Sugar Dumplin’?”

  “Daddy says it’s time to eat.”

  “We’ll be right in.”

  “Okay.” She went back inside.

  Ruth took the last drag on her cigarette. “You two have a lot to work through, a lot to work on. It ain’t gonna be easy. And it’s gonna get frustratin’ and sometimes you’re gonna wonder whether it’s all worth it. But it is. Love is always worth it.”

  “I appreciate this. Thanks, Miss Ruth.”

  “Honey, please, call me Aunt Ruth. Your son is practically my great-stepnephew—if there is such a thing.” She stood up. “So, are you ready for the third degree from your ex-but-soon-to-be-once-again mother-in-law?”

  “I suppose.”

  “She’s gonna have a lot of questions for you. She’ll be trusting you with her son and her daughter this time. And that’s why I wanted us to have this chance to talk. I won’t be able to get a word in once she starts.” She stood up. “But don’t you worry: I got your back.”

  After washing up, Ruth and Raheim came into the dining area. She gawked at the spread. “Am I dressed for this?”

  Mitchell placed a platter of ham on the table. “What do you mean?”

  “I have on an old housedress. I didn’t know I was comin’ to Thanksgiving dinner. The only things missin’ are the cranberry sauce and the pumpkin pie.”

  “Oh, Ruth,” Ann said, filling their glasses with iced tea. “We do have a lot to be thankful for.” Ann glanced at Destiny. “Don’t we, Sweetie Pie?”


  “Uh-huh,” Destiny agreed.

  “And what is a woman with hypertension supposed to eat?” Ruth asked.

  “Mmm . . .” Mitchell pondered. “Well, the greens were made with turkey. The stuffing is made with whole-wheat bread. And I used vegetable oil for the peas and rice.”

  “And you can eat the yams. They have raisins in them,” added Destiny.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Ruth. If I had known you were coming, I would’ve made a garden salad, too.”

  “It’s all right, Honeysuckle. I’ll just have small portions.”

  As Raheim pulled out the chair next to Ruth, Destiny grabbed his right wrist. “No, Uncle Raheim. You sit over here, next to me.” She pulled him to the other side of the table.

  Mitchell sat at the head, turning to Destiny. “Would you like to say grace?”

  “Okay.” She took her father’s right hand and Raheim’s left. Her grandmother took her father’s left and Ruth’s right. Raheim and Ruth completed the circle. They all bowed their heads.

  “God is great, God is jood”—she squeezed Raheim’s hand on the emphasis—“thank You for our food, a-men.”

  “Amen,” everyone repeated.

  “Raheim, would you carve the turkey?” Mitchell requested.

  “Sure.” Raheim stood, picked up the utensils, and went to carving. “What part do you want, Destiny?”

  “A wing, please.” He placed it on her plate. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You can give me a leg, honey,” Ruth informed him.

  Ann surveyed Ruth’s plate as she passed it to Raheim. “I thought you said you were going to have small portions?”

  “Those are small portions.”

  “Heaping tablespoons are not small portions.”

  “They were hardly heaping.”

  Ann motioned toward Destiny’s plate, which Mitchell was fixing. “A couple of teaspoons of each would’ve been more appropriate, Ruth.”

  “I’d like to see the food I’m eating without a magnifying glass.” Ruth noticed Mitchell, Raheim, and Destiny staring. “What y’all lookin’ at? Haven’t you ever seen two sisters argue before?”

  Mitchell gave her back her plate. “Yeah, but not you two.”

  “Oh, please. We’ve argued more times than I can count.”

  “We haven’t argued that much,” Ann protested.

  “No? Are you sure I’m the older one? I remember things quite differently.”

  “We’ve had our disagreements, but you make it sound like we argue all the time.”

  “I guess that depends on what you mean by argue.” Ruth winked at Raheim; he picked up that this was her way of keeping the focus off of him.

  After “arguing” with her sister for another ten minutes about how much they hadn’t argued, Ann zeroed in on her former son-in-law. “If I remember correctly, Raheim, you don’t have a sister or brother, do you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I have a brother,” Destiny offered, feeling left out.

  Everyone stopped chewing.

  “You do?” her grandmother asked as Mitchell lowered his head, afraid of what her answer would be.

  “Uh-huh. Errol.”

  They were all embarrassed; what else would she say?

  Her grandmother nodded. “Why, yes. I forgot. He is.”

  With that type of familial connection being made by her own granddaughter, Ann couldn’t put Raheim through the ringer—not just yet. So the rest of their dinner conversation revolved around Destiny and what she had done with her grandparents over the weekend.

  Ann rose with her plate. “Son, that was one terrific meal.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “That wasn’t a meal, it was a Last Supper,” Ruth exclaimed, following her.

  Mitchell smiled at Raheim as he finished off his third plate of food. “Would you like some more?”

  Raheim placed his fork on the very clean dish in front of him. “No thanks. Everything was better-than-jood.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Daddy, may I have my cake now?”

  “Yes, you may. Raheim, would you like dessert? Or, should I ask, do you have room for it?”

  Raheim rubbed his belly. “I think I got a little room left. Do you have any more of that birthday cake?”

  “No, just Destiny’s piece. But there’s cherry pie. And I made a chocolate cake today.”

  “That chocolate cake sounds even jooder. I’ll have some of that.”

  “Okay.” Mitchell took away Raheim and Destiny’s plates.

  “Thank you,” Raheim and Destiny sang.

  “You’re both welcome.”

  “I can share my cake with you, Uncle Raheim.”

  “That’s okay, Baby Doll.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just have a little taste.”

  Mitchell was loading some of the dishes Ruth had wiped off into the dishwasher when his mother stopped him. “We got this.”

  “You two don’t have to—”

  “Yes, we do,” Ann insisted. “You have company to tend to.”

  “Thanks. Would either of you like some pie or cake?”

  “No, we don’t,” Ann answered quickly.

  Ruth frowned. “See, this is what you have to look forward to: your younger sibling gets to be middle-aged and thinks she can tell you what to do.”

  After gobbling down their dessert, Raheim and Destiny went upstairs to get her karaoke machine (a Christmas gift from her grandparents). It was in her bedroom, which is a little girl’s paradise. The wallpaper was powder blue with yellow elephants, and was adorned with posters of Raven-Symone, Little Bill, Blue of Blue’s Clues, Dora the Explorer, Bob the Builder, and Clifford the Big Red Dog. A pink doll town house and a giant turquoise elephant were on the right side of her closet door; a five-day clothes-organizer tree was on the left. Her blue personalized items—a rosebud trunk, rocker, and floor pillow—were under her windows. Her small bed, which had drawers around its base, was wrapped in a sky-blue comforter with elephants. There were photos of her with adults on one nightstand (her daddy; her grandparents; her uncles Gene, Babyface, and B.D.; and Raheim) and little people on the other (her “cousins,” Elijah and Elliott; her “nephew” and “niece,” Gabriel and Garcelle; Korey; Errol, holding her as a baby when he was nine; and a redheaded, freckle-faced white girl). Near the door was a small oak bookcase, with a collection of Blues Clues/Little Bill books and videos on the top shelf and the movies The Wiz, Cinderella (Whitney’s version), The Lion King, Dumbo, Babe, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory on the bottom; and her desk, which had an iMac and an Oscar the Grouch bank (both passed down to her by Errol; the latter was a birthday present from his uncle D.C. in 1993), as well as a mini-globe and a clear bowl with a single goldfish.

  She palmed the bowl, placing her face close. “Hi, Goldie.”

  Raheim hunched down. “She’s pretty.”

  “Goldie’s a he, Uncle Raheim, not a she.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Most people think he is a girl.”

  “When did you get him?”

  “For my birthday. Uncle Gene gave him to me. Daddy says if I take jood care of him, he’s gonna get me a clownfish, like the one in Finding Nemo.”

  “Ah. Did you see Finding Nemo?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Oh, I loved it. Did you see it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Daddy didn’t see it, either. We all can go see it together.”

  “We?”

  “Uh-huh. You, me, and Daddy.”

  “But you already saw it.”

  “I wanna see it again.”

  “You really loved it, huh?”

  “Uh-huh. It made me cry.”

  “If it made you sad how can you love it so much?”

  “I didn’t cry because I was sad; I cried because I was happy.”
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  “Happy about what?”

  “That Nemo’s daddy found him. Sometimes happy things can make you cry.”

  “Yeah, they can. Who did you see the movie with?”

  “With Errol and Tammy.”

  “Who’s Tammy?”

  “She’s my best friend.”

  “Is she the girl in the picture?”

  “Uh-huh. She’s in kindergarten with me. She cried when Nemo’s daddy found him, too.”

  “Mmm. I guess the movie makes everybody cry.”

  “Not everybody. Errol didn’t cry.”

  “Ah. I remember when Errol was your age and we went to see The Lion King. He cried when Simba’s father died.”

  “Oh. That made me cry, too. Did you cry?”

  “No. But it did make me feel sad.”

  “Well, if you feel sad when we see Finding Nemo with Daddy, I can hold your hand.” She grabbed it, giving him a preview.

  Raheim smiled; she intended to make that movie date with her father happen.

  Destiny performed Stacy Lattisaw’s “Don’t Throw It All Away” in the great room (recently she’s tackled another Stacy remake, “Love on a Two-Way Street,” and Taral Hicks’s version of “Silly”; her signature tunes are Alicia Keys’s “Fallin’” and Whitney’s “Greatest Love of All,” which she’ll be performing at her kindergarten graduation in two weeks.) Her father silently reminded her to breathe and provided a little background vocal support. When she hit high notes she stood on her tippy toes, and she had watched enough music videos to know when to sway her body, cock her head, and flail her arms. She had been practicing the song for a month, and while she sounded like Stacy, you could detect her own vocalese.

  After she finished, she clutched the mike with both hands against her chest and bowed her head for each audience member—and each one clapped, cheered, and screamed louder than the one before.

  Her daddy, though, was too busy bawling like a baby to scream (he did clap). They hugged. She wiped his tears.

  “See, Uncle Raheim. I told you you don’t have to be sad to cry.”

  “Yeah. I see.”

  “Well, I think this is cause for a celebration,” announced Ruth. “How about an ice-cream toast?”

  “A ice-cream toast?” Destiny queried.

  “Yes. We’ll all get a spoonful of ice cream and toast you.”

  “Ooh, I want chocolate and strawberry on my spoon!”