by Styles, T.
“Where are my grandbabies?” She scanned the room. “My sisterskids are about to punish the food if they don’t grab something to eat.”
“You know they getting ready for the show, Mamma. She’d been up all day and it was taking its toll on her body. She hated the celebration with a passion. “Relax, they coming.”
“Don’t tell me to relax,” Elise rebutted. “Now I know Mia can skip a few meals, but the rest of your kids are almost skin and bones.”
“Mamma, they’re coming,” Brownie said, growing tired of her mother’s over-protectiveness. “You wanted them to perform, so all they thinking about is the show right now.”
“Well, where is Farah? Since you told her she can’t participate, she should at least be here.”
“She still not participating. After that stunt she pulled by coming in the house late again the other night, she’s lucky I don’t kill her.” She slid back into her shoes. “I told Mia to keep an eye on her right now. I don’t feel like dealing with her.”
Every year at the celebration, the grandkids would get together and compete in a competition with their cousins. Mia and Shadow hated it because they were damn near adults, but Chloe always got a kick out of throwing her hips from side to side and popping her ass just to see everybody’s reaction. Usually they danced to music from The Jackson Five, The Supremes, the Temptations, and the like, since the show was clearly for the amusement of the elders, and not the children.
“Well, set them some plates to the side.” Elise looked into her daughter’s eyes, which seemed to be getting colder. “Are you and Ashur having problems still?”
Grateful she was asking about her instead of the kids, she said, “I’m sick of his shit. He’s driving me insane. We don’t have sex and he’s barely home. He don’t love me no more.” She looked as if she wanted to cry. When it came to Ashur, she was vulnerable. “If I can’t have him, I don’t want nobody else to. I’d rather see him dead or in jail!”
“Stop talking like that!” Elise warned. “God grants wishes when you think He’s not listening. Now you gotta be present for your kids.” Brownie rolled her eyes. “All men act up, but the good ones come back around. Only you know which one you got. You gotta be careful, though, because Farah is watching you and you’re giving her the wrong impression.”
When Elise heard the noise rise in the room she knew the family competition was underway. The kids of Elise’s oldest sister, Irma, were first up. Irma’s grandsons chose to sing the Temptations classic “My Girl” a cappella, as Irma stood proudly on the sidelines with her hands clasped over her chest. She was always amazed at how talented they were. It was just a matter of time before one of her four grandchildren got discovered, the family was sure of it.
“Go find your kids. My babies are going to kill it! I just know it,” Elise said.
Unenthused, Brownie said, “You do know they just lip syncing, right?”
“As long as they perform from their hearts, I don’t care what they doing.”
When everyone clapped, the first performance was over. “You’re up, Elise,” Irma said with a sly grin on her face. “Where your grandkids?” The moment she asked, Mia, Shadow, and Chloe glided into the room dancing to “Never Can Say Goodbye.” Shadow held a boom box on his shoulder and a black Kangol was tilted on his head. Although both Mia and Shadow thought the events were lame, whenever they saw the looks on their great auntsfaces they felt better. Shadow set the box down on the floor behind them.
They lined up and pretended to be The Jackson Five with only three members. But because the routine was so well put together, everyone enjoyed the show. The only awkward part about the evening was that both Shadow and Mia kept looking at the door, as if they were waiting for someone else. “What are they looking for?” Elise whispered to Brownie.
“I don’t know, Ma. Maybe that’s part of the performance.” She shrugged her shoulders. The only thing on her mind was Ashur Cotton and his whereabouts. “Just enjoy what they doing.” She looked at her kids. “Whatever it is.” The family was cheering and singing with the threesome, until Farah came through the door doing signature Michael Jackson moves. The applause simmered down and everyone leaned in to see her clearly.
Elise, not believing her eyes, took a closer look at her granddaughter. “Oh, my dear God,” she said to herself. “What did you do to your face, baby?”
Seeing her face, Brownie was overwhelmed with Farah. She was a fucking curse ... a way for God to get her back. How could this bitch do this to me? she thought. Farah, in an attempt to fit in, used permanent brown Magic Markers to color in her entire face and hands. She took what Shadow said to heart when he said tanning would not be indefinite but she was certain a permanent Magic Marker would. But because she ran out of ink, her yellow neck remained its natural color. “What the fuck are you doing?” Brownie asked, walking up to her. “Why are you trying to ruin my life?”
“Why are you mad, Mamma?” She backed away, and into a table full of food. “I wanted to be brown like you said so I could do The Jackson Five routine. I don’t want you mad at me no more. I’m sorry for coming into the house late but these girls tried to jump me. And I’m sorry for staying on the roof that day, trying to get a tan. I know I mess up so much, but I’ma do better. I wanna make you happy.” She was beside herself with emotion. “I thought this would work, Mamma. I really did. So you could love me more.”
“Bitch, you not answering my question! Are you out of your fucking mind?” she screamed. “You think it’s funny that I was born with this skin color and you weren’t? Huh?”
“No, Mamma.” She shook her head. “I really thought you would like it! I wanna look like you. I wanna be like you.” She sobbed. “I didn’t stay out in the sun this time so I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. I thought you would be happy.” Tears ran down Farah’s face and she wiped them away, causing the marker to smear. Now she looked unrecognizable.
“Brownie, let me take her to wash her up,”.Elise said, wanting to take her daughter and grandkid somewhere more private so that the rest of the family could enjoy the event. Besides, she understood Farah, since it was obvious Brownie did everything in her power to make her feel like an outsider. “It won’t take me but a moment.” She extended her hand. “Come on, RedBone,” Elise continued. “Let me take you to go get cleaned up.”
“No!” Brownie slapped her mother’s hand away, and looked at her with contempt. “I’m tired of you stepping in my fucking business.”
“I’m not stepping in, Brownie,” Elise said, trying to maintain her composure. In her younger years, Brownie would’ve been dead and dumped where they couldn’t find her. “But this is my granddaughter and I wanna help.”
“I’m gonna give her what she deserves this time,” Brownie continued. “And I don’t give a fuck what you or Ashur have to say about it.”
“Don’t hit that child, Brownie,” Elise warned, pointing a finger in her face. “Your husband already told you about disciplining them in that way ... especially while you mad.”
Brownie laughed. “Look around, Mamma, the nigga ain’t here. Besides, you and me both know he don’t need to say shit about Farah!” With that she snatched Farah’s arm and stormed out of the party.
“Dear God, please be with that child,” Elise said to herself. “I’m begging you.”
Chapter 8
“Well, you better get a third and a fourth job while you at it, nigga!”
—Ashur
Ashur was speeding down the highway, holding a bottle of Courvoisier in one hand and the steering wheel in the other. Personal demons haunted him on a consistent basis, and he was starting to think that if he died, his family would be better off. It disgusted him that instead of being there for his wife at her family affair, he elected to receive a blowjob from a homeless man he’d known no longer than thirty minutes. The moment the man swallowed his nut, Ashur stole him in the face so hard he passed out on the filthy alley ground beneath him. A closeted bisexual, Ashu
r chose to deal with his secret by taking his problems out on people who weren’t deserving. Hiding his bisexuality from the woman he vowed to spend the rest of his life with killed him inside.
Ashur couldn’t tell Brownie that he begged for Tommy’s forgiveness after hurting his only son. How could he, when she didn’t even know the real reason for the hit on young Theo? All because Tommy said he could no longer live a lie and sleep with another man. Upon hearing his words, Ashur went mental. It wasn’t until Tommy’s isolation that he realized he was in love with him, and that losing the friendship would hurt him on the deepest levels of his soul.
When he came to a light, he took a huge gulp of liquor. Some of the alcohol fell down the sides of his mouth and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Maybe I should go to that bullshit with my wife, he thought. He reasoned that although Brownie might be mad now, the fact that he showed up would go a long way later. Ashur was still in his thoughts until he heard a noise on the back of his car. When he adjusted the rearview mirror and looked out of it he saw a teenager, not watching where he was going, bump into his car. “What the fuck?” Ashur said to himself.
Although the light turned green, Ashur hopped out in the middle of the road. People bonked their horns, but eventually went around him to get to their destination. Ashur couldn’t give a fuck; he had tunnel vision as he approached the couple sitting at the bus stop with the boy.
“So what ... you can’t control your fucking kid?” Ashur asked the man and woman who pushed the boy behind them. The teenager looked angrily at Ashur. “I mean ... look at my shit! He ruined it!” Ashur pointed to the slightly chipped paint job and grew angrier.
“I’m sorry about that, man,” the father said. “I didn’t see him do it until you parked the car.” He looked at his son and saw fire in his eyes. It was obvious he wanted to fight Ashur. “Sit down ... now!”
“Well, sorry ain’t gonna get my car fixed now, is it?”
The man bit his tongue and said, “If you wanna take it in to see how much it’ll cost to get repaired, I’ll see what I can do. I’m working two jobs right now, but I’ll take on a third if I have to. Seeing as how it was my boy’s fault.”
“Well, you better get a third and a fourth job while you at it, nigga!” Ashur said, stepping closer to his face. He wanted to fight so badly he was being unreasonable. “’Cause I didn’t pay for a nice ride to have my shit fucked up by your brat.”
The father was just about to step to him until his wife said, “Joseph, come over here! Please!” Joseph didn’t budge. “We don’t have time for this. He ain’t worth it.” She looked at Ashur. “Let it go.”
Joseph looked back at his wife and then at Ashur and said, “I know you mad about your ride, and I respect that. But if you disrespect me in front of my family again, I swear on everything I love, I will kick your mothafucking ass out here today!”
Ashur heard the seriousness in the man’s voice and slowly backed away. For some reason, he felt fighting the man may prove to be more trouble than he felt like dealing with at the moment. After all, he’d been drinking and wouldn’t be at his best for a brawl. Not to mention that the nick was small, and blended in with the other one Brownie made when the button of her jeans scratched up against it as he fucked her from behind. Although the car was old, it was the same car he was in when he first met Brownie, drove his first child, Mia, home from the hospital, and fucked Tommy for the first time. Like it or not, the car held memories and it was important to him.
Stepping back in his car, he pulled back into traffic and took a swig of liquor. Always a hothead, the vision of the teenager falling on his car swelled in the spaces of his mind. The liquor wasn’t doing anything but making matters worse, so when he was two blocks away from the scene he thought about how the man played him and decided to do something about it. Besides, there was no way he could face his wife, knowing he’d punked out in the worst way. So he bucked a U. Pulling up to the bus stop, he rolled his window down and saw the look in the man’s eyes as he raised his .45 in his direction. The sound of three shots rang out as he executed the family in broad daylight, before speeding away from the scene of the crime.
Chapter 9
“I don’t wanna see them ... They tried to jump me.”
—Farah
The pillow underneath Farah’s head was wet with tears from hours of crying. Her mother did the unthinkable and she would never, ever forgive her. All she wanted to do was make her happy and it seemed as if nothing she did worked.
Earlier that day, when Brownie snatched Farah out of the event and walked her toward the rec’s restroom, she had no idea what she had in store. Alone with her horrible mother, Farah watched her turn the water on before smacking her multiple times in the face. Brownie’s blows were so heavy that her hand burned, but instead of stopping she alternated from right to left. Farah was stunned at the rage she expressed, and for a while, she didn’t feel anything but extreme pressure on her cheeks.
After about thirty blows, Brownie sat on the pissy public toilet, no tissue, and pushed down as hard as she could using her stomach muscles. Fifteen minutes later, she was able to make a bowel movement, but instead of flushing, she put her hands in the vile bowl and picked up a chunk of her shit. She walked toward Farah and she backed up into the door. “You still wanna be black like me?” Brownie laughed and cried at the same time. “Then here you go.” She smeared the soft feces all over her face. Farah moved her head swiftly back and forth, but eventually Brownie was able to hold her head in place. She didn’t care where she put it and that included her daughter’s eyes, lips, and nose. She snapped a long time ago. “How you like that, bitch? Huh?”
Farah’s body temperature rose, and she could feel herself breaking out into hives. The humiliation she endured in the restroom was nothing compared to what Brownie put her through when she made her walk back into the party. Her younger cousins, older aunts, and grandmother looked upon her with pity and she wanted to die. No matter how many years passed, this would be the moment they’d all remember. People covered their mouths and noses as the smell of shit rose from Farah’s face and Brownie’s hands. Irma, unable to control her bodily functions, ran toward the door so she could throw up outside ... She couldn’t make it. Two feet from the door she lost everything she ate an hour earlier, as it splashed to the floor.
“Now ... how does she look, everyone?” Brownie grinned, showing her crazed maniac side. “Isn’t she still the cutest Cotton of us all?”
Farah’s chest rose and fell as she sobbed and looked upon the adults for help. Someone ... anyone ... do something, please.
“Brownie, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Elise said, rushing toward her with a murderous look in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Mamma. She’s all yours.” Brownie ran away, leaving Farah alone in the middle of the floor.
“I’m sorry, child. I really am.” She watched her daughter scamper away, and hugged Farah tightly before ushering her out of the party. Elise couldn’t hate her daughter more at that moment if she tried. Rage, confusion, and sadness filled her heart, and their relationship would never be the same. Brownie would pay for this in life, but Elise didn’t know how.
At a phone booth outside the rec, Elise called Cosmo, Farah’s cousin on her father’s side, to pick her up. She figured the change of location for a few hours would do her good, plus she wanted a few moments alone with Brownie that she doubted would be nice. When Cosmo saw what Brownie did to his kid cousin he flipped. Since Elise didn’t give him the heavy on the phone before he came, he had to leave her outside the rec until he could go to the grocery store to buy some trash bags. Laying them all over his seats, he scooped her up, and took her to his mother Angie’s house. It took them two hours to clean her up, and Farah enjoyed the time she spent with her aunt and cousin. Angie was into holistic medicine and looked ten years younger than her actual age. She never got so much as a cold and hadn’t been sick since she was a kid. When she went to make them dinner,
Farah decided to ask Cosmo a question as they sat at the dining table.
“Cosmo, did Grandma tell you what I have? The Porpia?”
He laughed at the way she pronounced it. “Yeah. That’s fucked up that it’s hereditary, but that’s all I know about it. That and that it makes your skin look bad.”
“I wish I didn’t have it.” She looked down at the wooden table. “I can’t go out in the sun sometimes, and nobody likes to hang out with me because I can never leave the house. All I want to be is normal.”
He felt bad for her because he knew she was given a tough break in life. “Look ... I don’t care how long it’s gonna take me, I’ll find out more about this shit. And when I do, I’ll get you the help that you need.” She believed him.
Cosmo had been there for her many times before. Like when she suffered from extreme headaches when she was five, and nothing seemed to work. He felt if she calmed down they would go away, after talking to his mother. He told her how she said she should breathe, but they still wouldn’t go away. Thinking on his feet, he suggested she drink orange juice with chocolate syrup and things would be fine, and it worked. The concoction had nothing to do with getting rid of her headache, but Cosmo knew she needed to believe a remedy would do the trick. Farah was so destroyed that it was hard for her to fathom that she alone was able to make things better. To her, he was very close to God.
