by Jade Alyse
The largest one caught her attention first: a portrait of Jack and Mrs. Greene, and their four sons, baby Brandon in his mother’s arms with surprising auburn hair, and the toddler Greene boys, each of which, Natalie could not place a face with his brothers' names, placed around his father’s feet. The next, of two young boys, dressed in soccer uniforms, and the taller of the two Greene boys, looked strikingly similar to Brandon, with the exception of his eyes, which were brown, instead of Brandon’s trademark blues. The third was surely Brandon, a pre-teen at best, with his father on a boat, holding a fishing rod. His Caesar-style haircut and obvious braces made dear Natalie snicker quietly, finding it hard then to imagine Brandon ever having an “awkward stage”. Yet, the boy’s face held promise, his smile just as warming to the soul then. This Brandon that stared back at her, who could have been no older than thirteen or fourteen felt like a stranger to her.
Natalie exhaled deeply, folded her arms tightly across her chest, and continued to look at his life, photo after photo, depicting a life before she ever existed, of birthday parties, of vacations, of bad haircuts, awful attire, braces and glasses, of soccer games and baseball tournaments, of the things that she never knew about, of a life that he failed to mention…
“We thought he’d never get out of that awkward stage…”
Jack Greene startled her, she gasped a little, and he extended his hand to her arm to settle her.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you, dear,” he told her, chuckling.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie Chandler said shyly. “I didn’t know anyone else was in the house…”
Jack Greene scoffed with a wave of his hand. “Doesn’t bother me any…gets kind of lonely around here when Martha goes off to speak with her mother at the home…you’ll get to meet her tonight…”
She nodded. “Looking forward to it…”
“You needn’t be afraid, Natalie Chandler,” Jack Greene smiled. “I don’t bite…my wife on the other hand…”
“Exactly why I’ll keep on my toes…”
Jack Greene chuckled, looked toward the wall of frames and sighed. “They grow up so fast,” he said lowly. “Last time I checked, they were fighting about who got to eat the last cookie.”
They both laughed.
“Yes, it’s very quiet around here,” he told her. “It’s hard, not getting to see your kids everyday like you used to…”
Natalie only nodded.
“Do you have any siblings, Natalie?”
“Two. Sidney and Maya.”
“And where do you rank in age?”
“I’m the middle child,” she began. “Sidney’s the oldest and Maya’s the youngest…”
Jack Greene nodded then. “And when will we get to meet them?”
Natalie’s heart warmed. “Whenever you’d like…”
“The summer?”
“I’d like that…”
They looked at the pictures together.
“The boy’s crazy about you, I can tell…”
She felt her cheeks heat up. “I hope so…”
“Surely you find it as funny as his mother and I do…”
Natalie sighed. “Actually, I hadn’t really thought about it until I came here…I’ve never seen Brandon as anything different than my friend and the man that I love…”
“And I’m sure he feels the same way?”
“Of course…”
Jack Greene cleared his throat, and it reminded her of the times Brandon did the same, whenever he was uncomfortable.
“And how long have you known Brandon? Five years?”
“I think that’s right…”
“What a funny meeting…”
“I blame fate…”
“Right,” the father said. “A long time for young folks such as yourselves…”
“A very long time…”
“Ha,” Jack Greene said. “Try forty years, and see how you feel about him then…”
“I’m sure that I’ll love him as much as I did when I first fell for him,” Natalie told the father confidently. “And I’d say that a congratulations is in order…”
“I appreciate it,” he told her. “I’m sure that Brandon’s elated that you’ll get to meet his brothers…”
“That’s all he talks about these days,” she laughed. “That and the idea that we might be impoverished for the rest of our lives…”
“Oh?”
“He hasn’t found a job yet…”
Mr. Greene fell silent. A clearing of the throat followed.
A few moments later, the brown-skinned peach told the father, “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go lay down before dinner…”
He nodded in her direction, and she headed back toward the staircase.
. . .
When old Margaret Abbott, almost eighty-two, widowed at sixty-three, in her drunken, white-haired stupor, called Natalie a “colored” over baked cod and lima beans, everyone fell silent, and the young brown-eyed girl grabbed her fiancé’s thigh under the table, Brandon choking on his glass of pinot grigio, Natalie wiping her mouth with her napkin in shock.
Brandon Greene cleared his throat, lowered his glass, and patted his girl’s hand atop his thigh, and said, “Grandmother, we don’t say things like that anymore…”
Old Maggie, draped in something that looked like an decadently decorated floral bed sheet, picked up her glass of wine, took a long swig, wiped her mouth with her hand, and narrowed her eyes in Natalie’s direction.
“Didn’t the boy go to UGA?”
“Yes, Mother,” Martha Greene began. “That’s correct…”
Old Maggie nodded slowly, her eyes still on the poor young girl. Natalie swallowed hard.
“She’s a pretty little colored girl,” the old woman said. “But the boy certainly had some white girls to look at…what ever happened to that little blond slut?”
“She’s gone,” Natalie said proudly.
“This is the one that Brandon has chosen, Maggie,” Jack Greene said, nodding in Natalie’s direction. “We must respect our son’s decision…he’s a grown man…”
“Decision, my ass,” the woman said. “What happened to the way things used to be? Didn’t there used to be some order around this goddamn place?”
“Mother,” Mrs. Greene began. “You shouldn’t curse like that…think of your blood pressure…”
“Oh, fuck my blood pressure, Martha…I said the girl was pretty, didn’t I?”
Natalie felt a little sick then.
“Precisely what I said,” the old woman continued. “A pretty little colored girl…what’s your name, girl?”
“Natalie…”
“Natalie, what?”
“Chandler?”
“And where are you from, Natalie Chandler?”
“Decatur, Georgia…”
“I knew it,” the old woman said. “I knew the girl was from the south. You see, she tried to hide it, but I always have an ear for it…”
“Natalie’s going to medical school, Grandmother…”
Old Maggie now pursed her wrinkled lips in the girl’s direction. “Which one?”
“Duke University…”
“And what do you want to do?”
“I would like to be a pediatrician…”
“Ah,” the woman laughed, gulping her wine this time. “A smart and pretty colored girl…”
“Pretty? Why not,” Natalie began, dropping her fork. “Colored? I don’t think so…as your grandson said, we don’t use that word anymore.”
Natalie, having had enough, huffed, pulled her napkin from her lap, placed it tabletop and excused herself from the table. She had enough time to get outside, had enough to get away, felt the lump rise in her throat, knew that tears would soon follow.
But she never cried, did she? She only sucked it up inside of her, reminding herself that she’d prepared for this situation.
Brandon found her moments later, perched lakeside, her knees gathered in her arms, her cheeks reddened, the
sun setting ahead of her. He sat beside her on the grass, wrapped his arms round her without hesitation, kissing her temple.
“Give it time,” he whispered close to her face. “Give it time…”
. . .
Jack Greene apologized for Old Maggie’s antics the next morning over bagels and juices. This followed the arrival of the three Greene brothers, who’d flown in together and were sitting in the dining room for breakfast by the time that Brandon and Natalie made it downstairs that next morning.
They each stood up, smiled in Brandon’s direction, and wasted no time in grabbing onto him like little boys, and they began wrestling, making their mother nervous, her, too soft-spoken and delicate to stop them. Mr. Greene stopped them, telling them that they each would have to do chores if they didn’t, and they all turned their attention to Natalie. She was amazed. They all stood in a line, and they all held similar features, stood tall at no less than six feet, Brandon the tallest, certainly, and each held the same masculine stature that Brandon and their father possessed.
Brandon left the line of brothers, came to her side, smiling, and said, “Guys, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is John [Brandon pointed to the one with dark hair like Brandon’s, with streaks of shimmering grey, a slimmer build and dark green eyes], Mark [he pointed to the one closest to John, the same one that Natalie had seen in the picture in the hearth room, who looked just like Brandon], and this is Matt [Brandon extended his long arms to the shortest Greene boy, with the lightest brown hair, and big brown eyes]…”
Natalie shook hands with each of the boys, each of them smiling, except for the eldest, John, who gave her a strangely cross look, who only gingerly touched her extended hand, who gave Brandon the same look thereafter.
She sat down on the veranda overlooking the lake with the Greene family at lunchtime, Mrs. Greene, having prepared cold sandwiches and a fruit salad, John and Mark’s childhood favorites. She observed their interaction, warm of course, but different from the way that she interacted with her family in Georgia. There was an obvious sense of reservation among the Greene boys, different from the rambunctious men that Natalie first met. Brandon, shockingly quiet, poked at his fruit with his fork. She placed her fork down onto her plate, rubbed his back slowly, as they listened to a story from the cordial Jack Greene.
The story was about Old Maggie, of course, a name given to the old woman by the retirement community, which she’d lived in for almost ten years, following her third husband’s death. Natalie noticed the way Mrs. Greene’s face looked, as Jack Greene recalled a time in the boys’ childhood that their crazed grandmother did this or their batty grandmother said that. Mrs. Greene, who’d barely touched her fruit, looked at her husband as if she wanted to keep him from talking about her mother that way, but the Greene boys seemed to enjoy it so much, each of them not being able to recall these occurrences so long ago.
“That sounds like Grandmother to me,” Matthew Greene said, throwing his napkin in his plate.
The breeze picked up then, carried Natalie’s waved bob into her face, and Jack Greene, said, “The wind is cooperating today…”
Each of the boys nodded. “Do you still have our fishing rods around here?” Mark Greene asked.
Jack Greene’s faced curled in thought. “I think so…they might be in the boathouse…”
“I think it’s a good day to go fishing,” Mark Greene suggested.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Matt Greene said.
“I’ll be captain this time,” Brandon said, smiling.
“Yeah…right,” Mark Greene said. “Surely, you remember the last time we let you steer, you twit…”
“Mark, don’t call your brother a ‘twit’,” Mrs. Greene told his son.
“Bottom line is, you’re not driving the boat,” Matt Greene told his younger brother.
“Yes, I am…”
“Father can decide…”
Jack Greene smiled. “Natalie will drive the boat…”
Natalie sat up, looked at Brandon. “No,” she smiled nervously. “I don’t think so…”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Brandon said. “And I’ll help her…”
“Brandon…no…”
He pinched the back of her neck, gently. “Don’t worry, baby,” he told her. “It’s a cinch, trust me…”
“Don’t listen to him,” Matt Greene said. “If it were a ‘cinch’, how would he have managed to capsize the boat?”
Jack Greene owned a 19-foot white pontoon with beige and navy trimmings, named Martha. It had been given to him as a birthday gift about seven years ago, by Mrs. Greene herself, when all of his boys were still living home. It was housed in a small, wooden boathouse, just off the pier. He kept it there in the off-season, when the lake froze. He ordered for his boys to retrieve the bass buggy, while Natalie watched, and they steered the boat to the side of the pier so Natalie could climb on, Brandon, reaching for her hands to help her down.
Matthew Greene then plopped a quirky, worn bucket hat atop her head, laughing at her, saying, “Now, you’re really part of the experience.”
She adjusted the hat so that it fit snuggly atop her head, and watched as the Greene brothers, retrieved their own fishing rods.
Jack Greene took Natalie’s hand, pulled her up, and moved her towards the steering wheel at the bow of the boat. Natalie shook her head in rebuttal.
“I think one of you guys should drive it,” she told them.
Jack Greene shook his head too. “Nonsense, Natalie Chandler, it’s a cinch…”
She’d heard that before, surely…
She looked in Brandon’s direction for help, and he started to move in her direction, as if wanting to, but his father stopped him, saying, “Now, now…she can do this by herself…”
No, she couldn’t. She needed Brandon. Yes, she could pretend like she was steering and then he would actually be doing all of the work.
But Jack Greene placed her hands on the silver wheel anyway, instructed her on how easy it was to start up the engine, got a little nervous when she felt the boat sway to the right a little.
“Don’t worry about that, Natalie,” Jack Greene coached. “It’s only normal…that’s it, you’re doing great…see, you didn’t need Brandon after all, did you?”
Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. But she loved the way the breeze blew off of the water and hit her face, loved the way it smelled, loved the way the midday sun fell down on her, couldn’t believe that she was actually driving a boat! Ha, she was actually captain of a boat! Mama would flip if she found out. Those white people have finally done you in, haven’t they, Nattie?
Yes, Mama, yes. She was becoming one of them, and what a strange feeling it was, wasn’t it? She looked back at Brandon and he seemed pleased, smiled slightly, and winked at her. Yes, she was doing this all for him, wasn’t she? For the way his dark hair blew carelessly in the breeze, for the way he slouched carelessly against the side of the boat, for the way he stood up to his parents for her, for that sweet, sweet, lake air, reminding her of that amazing weekend at Hartwell that seemed like ages ago. She was only twenty then, and she and her Brandon were still so new, the feeling inside of her when he was around was fresh.
Ha…
She liked Jack Greene. He was carefree, possessed an easy smile, and had no reservations about touching her, about guiding her, about making her feel instantly welcome, had the same charm that made her go wild with Brandon, was inadvertently warm, lacking the coldness that his wife seemed to cling to for dear life. In short, Jack Greene seemed completely unaffected by the northern snobbishness that could potentially swallow him whole, a man of experience, warmth…
“Good girl,” Jack Greene told her, smiling patting her back. “You did much better than these guys right here…”
Natalie, feeling proud, returned to Brandon, who still sat while his brothers reached for their poles, and she sat next to him, allowing him to put his arm around her.
“Good job,” he whispered i
nto her ear, kissing the side of her face.
“Thank you,” she replied into his face, kissing his lips lightly.
“Oh, please,” Matt Greene said, covering his eyes playfully. “Will you two cut that out?”
“He’s just jealous, that’s all,” Brandon whispered into her ear. She smiled, recalling what he said about Matt never wanting to get married.
“I think he might be…”
Brandon let her hold his fishing rod, and he stood behind her, showing her how to hook the bait, showing her how to cast it just right, watching the line go far, far into the lake, making a distant plopping noise. She was reminded of the picture in the hearth room with Brandon and his father, standing on the boat.
They held the rod together, and each time she felt a little tug, she squealed and said, “Brandon, is it time?”
And he’d only laugh, shake his head and say, “No, Tal, no…be patient…I’ll let you know when…”
“How’s it going over there?” Jack Greene asked, casting another line into the iron-colored water.
“Great,” Brandon said, pushing his body into her further. “She’s a natural…”
“Good to hear,” Jack Greene said. “Because if Natalie’s going to be a part of this family, she’s got to know how to fish…”
By dinnertime that second evening, she was able to distinguish whom each Greene brother was, what made them special and what they were doing with their lives. The oldest was John Abbott Greene, who had just turned thirty-one in the spring of that year, who’d gotten married two years prior, to a real estate broker from Albany, named Chloe, who was seven months pregnant. Deep-voiced and painfully reserved, Johnny, as Martha called him, appeared as if he was in on a scandalous secret that he would never tell.
