by Mz. Robinson
“Well thank you.” she said.
“I am serious about my offer,” I informed her. “I know you have been trying to recover from being unemployed, and it’s hard to maintain on a fixed income.”
“Baby, you have no idea,” she said. “Since I have to pay for my insulin, sometimes it’s a toss-up between eating and sleeping in my own bed.”
It hurt me to think about how many of our seniors are struggling. I was thankful my parents were set for life, thanks to my father’s savings and the money I had set aside. But what about people like Contessa whose children have made mistakes and can’t provide for them? The way the government is looking, there isn’t going to be shit left for the elderly in another ten years!
“If you live here, you wouldn’t have rent to pay,” I said. “You wouldn’t have to buy food either, so you could use your income to take care of your existing bills and medicine and still have plenty of money to enjoy yourself. And just so you know, this is not completely a selfless act,” I said quickly. “It will also take some worry off me, since you won’t be distracted and stressed while you’re looking after Jasmine.”
Smiling, Contessa nodded her head. “I know I told you I have a lot I’m dealing with,” she said, “but trust me, I won’t ever let anything happen to that little girl.”
“I know,” I said sweetly. “I’m just trying to make things better for all of us.”
“I would love to accept,” Contessa said, “but if I move here, my nephew will have nowhere to go.”
I had forgotten about Contessa’s nephew who was staying with her; he’d be booted out of the Towers if Contessa moved out. I opted not to say what I was thinking: He’s a grown-ass man. Why the hell doesn’t he go out and get his own shit? “Is he working?” I asked. “Is he able to get a job?”
“He’s been trying, but he hasn’t been able to find anything permanent,” she said sadly. “He’s either overqualified or doesn’t have enough experience.”
Bullshit, I thought. If her nephew could pick up trash, flip a burger, or scrub a damn toilet, he was qualified for at least three different positions. Whether or not he wanted those positions was another matter, but if you ask me, minimum wage bread is better than no bread at all! “Maybe he should consider applying for jobs outside of his field,” I said gently, trying hard not to be inconsiderate, even though I really wanted to tell Contessa that there was no justifiable reason for any healthy young man to be sitting on his ass, living rent-free off his auntie or his mama in the city of Huntsville. I wanted to tell her that we could swing by Krystals, McDonald’s, or even Ruby Tuesday’s and pick him up a damn application. I know I might seem harsh, but I have a serious problem when it comes to healthy, able-bodied men sitting on their asses and sponging off the hard work of others.
“He has been,” she said, “and I know it might not seem like it, but my baby has always been a worker.”
“Um…”
“I’m serious, Tavia,” Contessa said, straight-faced. “If you knew him like I know him, you would not be thinking like you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?” I asked.
“That he’s just a sorry ass,” she said. She’d hit the nail on the head, because that was exactly what I was thinking. She shook her head then frowned.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Contessa,” I said. “I know I’m on the outside looking in, and I have no room to judge anyone.”
She reached over and patted my hand lightly. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
The two of us sat basking underneath the August sun in silence for a moment.
“So why don’t you tell me about him?” I decided to try and keep an open mind about the brother. The more I thought about it, the truth was I didn’t know the extent of his struggle.
I listened intently as Contessa went into an in-depth spill about her nephew’s struggle to recover from the loss of his daughter and how trifling his baby’s mother was. She shared with me his work history and how he almost lost himself when his little girl died from cancer. I knew a portion of the story Contessa shared with me because I had heard it before. “Kelly is a good person,” she said, wiping her eyes. “He’s just had a few setbacks.”
“What? Did you say his name is Kelly? Not Kelly Baker?” I stated.
“Yes,” she said. “You know him?”
“We’ve met.” I said. Flashbacks of Kelly’s face and beautiful gray eyes ran through my mind. “Was he the one who told you about this job?” I asked.
“He sure did,” she said, “and I’m grateful. Did he apply at your restaurant?” she asked. The look on Contessa’s face, combined with the innocence in her voice, told me she truly had no clue about my interview with her nephew.
“Something like that,” I said. “He does seem like a good guy,” I told her.
“He is, he is.”
The wheels inside my brain started turning “He has some landscaping experience, does he not?”
“Yes.”
“So if I could hook him up with a job,” I suggested, “he could conceivably get his own place.”
“Don’t tell him I told you this…” Contessa said lowly; I chuckled on the inside because only she, Jasmine, and I were there, yet she insisted upon whispering. “His credit is a little bad right now,” she said. “His score took a lot of damage because of all the medical bills that piled up when Ciara was in and out of treatment centers.”
If Contessa had been a salesperson looking for a sucker, I’d have bought anything from her. I should have left well enough alone and just dealt with things the way they were, but that would have been too easy. Instead, I parted my pretty lips and said, “I have a suggestion.” Once I enlightened Contessa, she was grinning from ear to ear, and I was happy that she was happy.
***
I asked Contessa to have Kelly call me so the two of us could arrange a sit-down to discuss the job offer. I figured he would be thrilled about it, and as long as his background check came back clear, we’d be in business. That night, I lay in bed with the phone pressed to my ear, talking to my husband. “You’re really going to like her, Damon.”
“So it seems like Contessa is going to work out?” he asked.
“Yes, I think she is.” I said, stretching my legs out across the silk sheets. “She’s great.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” he said, “and I can’t wait to meet her.”
“She’s anxious to meet you too,” I said. I was preparing to drop the news on him that Kelly would be working for us and that I wanted to help him get his own apartment, but he advised me that his battery was about to die.
“Talk to you tomorrow?” he asked.
I hesitated for two reasons: one, I wanted to discuss Kelly immediately in the event that Damon had any issues with my offer; and two, because although there was nothing that could compare to having him next to me in bed, hearing his voice as I drifted off to sleep was at least a tiny bit comforting. “You better,” I said. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Less than sixty seconds after I hung up with Damon, my phone began to ring. I took a quick peek at the caller ID and saw Contessa’s name and number. I assumed it was Kelly calling to confirm a time for our meeting. Part of me was admittedly anxious to hear the excitement and gratitude in his voice since he’d undoubtedly be happy not only to have a job, but also to have a nice place to sleep until he got on his feet. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Kelly replied. He sounded less enthusiastic than I anticipated, but I chalked his tone up to being overwhelmed and speechless.
“Would you like to meet in the a.m. or tomorrow afternoon?” I asked.
“Neither,” he said flatly. “My aunt told me about your little offer, but I’m gonna take a pass.”
“Oh?” I said, slightly disappointed. Since I had decided to offer Kelly the position, I had been brainstorming, thinking of a few projects I wanted him to complete at our home. One was a small rose garden. I figured ros
es are foolproof, so in the event that Kelly turned out not to know a damn thing about landscaping and beautification, at least I’d have something to enter into evidence when Damon went ape-shit on me. “So you got another job?” I asked, trying to sound happy for him.
“Nope,” he said, “but I’m good.”
I don’t know of any grown men who would be good broke and sleeping on their aunt’s couch! I thought to myself. “You’re good being unemployed?” I asked. “What, you don’t want to work?”
“Oh, I want to work,” he said quickly. “I just don’t want to work for you.”
“And exactly what is wrong with working for me?”
“First, you didn’t hire me because I don’t have a pus…er, a vagina,” he said sarcastically. “Now you can’t wait to get me on your payroll so you can move my aunt in as your live-in slave.”
No the hell he didn’t! “First of all—”
“Third,” he said, loudly cutting me off, “my attorney advised me it’s in my best interest to refrain from contact with you until after the hearing.”
I didn’t know if he was being honest or just a smartass. Either way, I was not feeling the ungrateful sarcasm in his voice. “I have gained a mutual respect for your auntie, and I would never treat her like anything less than a part of my family, as long as she continues to be the person of integrity that I feel in my heart she is.” I was attempting to remain professional with him, but there may have been a small hint of sarcasm in my voice—okay, there was a lot of sarcasm in my voice, mixed with a big ol’ drop of who-in-the-hell-does-he-think-he’s-talking to. “Now, are your reservations because you fear that your aunt will be unappreciated, or is this really about our first encounter?” I asked.
“Who knows?” he said nonchalantly. “It could be a little bit of both.”
“You know, Kelly, there is nothing more unattractive than a bitter brother,” I said, sucking my teeth.
“That’s a lie,” he said. “There is something much more unattractive.”
“Oh? Enlighten me,” I said.
“A sister who thinks that because she has money, everyone else is supposed to bend down and kiss her black ass.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not that sister.” I laughed, the only thing that could keep me from cussing his ass out.
“Yeah, right,” he chuckled, “and I ain’t bitter.”
Click.
The sound of the dial tone echoed in my ear while I know he didn’t! ran through my head.
Chapter 9
Octavia
My mother always used to tell me, “A hard head makes for a soft ass.” Well, just call my ass Charmin, because I was determined that even if Kelly didn’t work for me, he was going to hear me out—so determined that the next morning, when he came to drop Contessa off, I was outside standing in the driveway, waiting patiently by the car as he held the passenger door open for his aunt.
“Good morning, sweetie.” Contessa smiled at me. “You look pretty.”
Normally, I came to the door with one eye open, my hair bound down with a scarf, sporting one of Damon’s shirts or a robe, but not on that morning. That morning, I intentionally set my alarm for five a.m. so I would have time to shower and get dressed before Contessa arrived. I had straightened my hair and pulled it back into a nice ponytail that hung below my shoulders then slipped on an above-the-knee fitted t-shirt dress. The dress hung slightly off my shoulders and was one of my favorites for lounging around the house. “Good morning, Ms. Contessa.” I smiled. “And thank you. Jasmine’s still sleeping, but you’re welcome to fix yourself some breakfast or anything else you’d like in the kitchen.” I told her sweetly. “Make yourself at home. Our home is your home.” Cutting my eyes in Kelly’s direction, I waited, hoping he had something to say.
He shook his head and slammed the door shut. “Have a good day, Auntie,” he said, walking around to the driver side.
“Thank you, baby,” she said, waving at Kelly. “See you this evening.”
I waited for Contessa to go inside before I marched up to the side of the car.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Kelly said flatly.
“You don’t want to hear what?” I asked, confused.
“Your little spill on how I’ve got you all wrong,” he stated, looking out the window at me.
I crossed my arms across my chest, listening in heated silence as he continued.
“How money means nothing to you or that you grew up poor and know how it is to struggle.” He smirked at me while his grays stared me down. “You can save whatever little spill you were contemplating dropping on me.”
I’d had enough of Kelly and his piss-poor attitude. “Let me just drop this,” I said, raising my voice. “First of all, I didn’t grow up poor. We weren’t rich, but we were quite comfortable. My parents worked damn hard to provide for me. I know what it’s like to want for things, but my needs were always taken care of, and for that I am very thankful.” I cocked my head to the side, looking him directly in the eyes. “And money does mean a lot to me,” I continued. “For one, it means I’m doing something right, that I’m handling mine instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, having a damn pity party. It means my family can eat, and they eat well. It means that when they lay their heads down, they lay them on the finest linens our money can buy. It means that when I see someone in need, I can reach out and help them, but that’s only if they have enough balls to want to help themselves. Lastly, it means that despite all the wrong I’ve done, there is still a God who loves me and has enough mercy for me to look beyond those wrongs.”
The stone-hard expression on Kelly’s face softened slightly.
“I won’t apologize for the things I have,” I said, lowering my voice, “just like you shouldn’t apologize for the things you don’t.” I gave him one last look before walking away.
***
My work day went by without a hitch. I was grateful for that, because after my morning conversation with Kelly, I was in no mood for any problems or complications. After work, the only thing I wanted to do was kiss my daughter, eat, and take a nice, long soak in the tub while I waited for my hubby to call. I had barely made it through my front door before I kicked off my heels and removed my blazer. After laying my things down on the foyer table, I went off in pursuit of my daughter and to see what smelled so good.
Jasmine sat in her high chair in the kitchen, knocked out. I smiled, thinking to myself that if I could see an angel, it would probably look just like that—absolutely beautiful.
I was surprised but not disappointed to find Contessa had dinner sitting on the table waiting for me. I normally felt some kind of way about other people cooking on my stove, but this was not the case with Contessa. I had been so busy that I had skipped lunch and was going on fumes from the banana I’d had earlier for breakfast. “It smells delicious,” I complimented, staring at my plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and crescent rolls. She had even made peach cobbler for dessert. I was a semi-happy woman—the only thing missing was Damon.
“I hope you like it.” Contessa smiled. “I know you’re a professional and I’m just a lil’ ol’ country cook, but I hope you don’t mind if I put together a dish or two from time to time.”
I dug into the food on my plate, and my taste buds were instantly satisfied. “Ms. Contessa, I do not think I will have a problem at all with that,” I mumbled between bites.
Contessa smiled brightly. Sitting down at the table, she looked across at me. “So, will I be taking the bedroom opposite the nursery?” she asked.
Wiping my lips, I looked at her. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“If the offer still stands, I would like to accept,” she said.
“Of course it stands,” I said. “What made you change your mind?” I asked.
“I love it here,” she said, “and if I can just learn how to work that fancy screen in the theater, I’ll be doing it big.”
I laughed and shook my head. �
�I’ll be happy to teach you how to work the television, and you can choose any upstairs bedroom you like. We also have a fully equipped guesthouse that you are welcome to.”
“If I get me a man, I may have to take you up on the guesthouse,” she said, winking her eye. “Ms. Tessa may have to get her freak on!”
I swear I was blushing at the thought of Contessa getting her swerve on. I dropped my eyes and shook my head. “You and my mother are going to get along very well.” I laughed.
“Good,” she said, removing her glasses. “I need me a good friend.”
“Well, she’s one of the best.” Speaking of my mother brought to mind that I hadn’t spoken with her that day. She had advised me the day before that she and Daddy were going to Birmingham to do some shopping, but she normally always checked in. I made a mental note to call and check on the two of them. “What about your apartment?” I asked, tiptoeing around asking her about Kelly. As much as he had rocked my last nerve, I still wanted to make sure he would be straight.
“I called the Towers people today and told them I am going to be moving,” she said. “My lease has been up for a while, and I’ve just been doing a month to month.”
“Are you paid up for this month?”
“I am.”
“So you’ll lose that money?” I asked. I knew Contessa had no money to spare, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her losing a dime. I decided at that moment that I would include the money she’d lost in her first paycheck.
“Yep, but they say they will give me my security deposit back, even though I didn’t give a thirty-day notice,” she said happily.
“Really? That’s nice of them.”
She had a look of guilt on her face as she gave me a small grin. “Not exactly,” she said. “I sorta stretched the truth and told them I am moving out of town with my previous employer.”
“You are moving.” I giggled. “Just not out of town. So you only stretched the truth just a little,” I said.
“Naw, sweetie, I told a bold-faced lie,” she said, shaking her head, “but it worked.” She raised up her hand to give me five.
