by Jade Alyse
He would coach himself to breathe. He would take each insult that was flung at him in stride. Hell, he felt he had to. He was going to be there for another three weeks.
The Chandler family adhered to the tradition of going to Granny Marie’s each Christmas Eve night, at the brick house at the end of Hargrove Street, decorated with white lights in the naked crepe myrtles, fake, cotton-like snow draped on the shrubbery, and a Black Santa welcome mat beneath an artificial green wreath with bright red poinsettias on the glass storm door. The night was chilly, and Brandon entered into a warm, amber-lit interior, that smelled instantly of food, with its living room, occupied by a small circle of male family members, playing cards on the couch, next to a white brick fireplace, and a tall Christmas tree, decorated with lights that played holiday tunes, and a mantle, dressed with garland and nameless stockings, beneath a row of baby pictures. He walked toward the baby pictures and smiled, recognizing his Natalie instantly, with her long pigtails, and buckteeth. Maya’s picture sat to the left of her older sister’s, and he consider her to be the most attractive in her younger years, with slightly darker skin than Natalie, coarser, lighter hair, a pug nose and an impeccably bright smile. He could tell that Maya’s light shone even before he met her. To the right of Natalie’s was Sidney’s picture, and though she couldn’t have been more than ten when the photograph was taken, he could tell that she was certainly the most mature of the three sisters. Her hair had a slight wave to it, and her skin complexion reminded him of a Hershey’s kiss. In that picture alone, she looked most like Evil Mother. Strangely, Natalie looked the least.
“Here, Brandon,” Sidney said, reaching at his collar, startling him. “Let me get your coat.”
“Thank you,” he replied, watching Natalie and Maya disappear into the kitchen after they greeted their family members in the living room. He stood awkwardly by the Christmas tree, hoping that he didn’t step on any of the presents below him, hoping that someone acknowledged him soon.
Moments later, one of Natalie’s uncles glanced up from his playing hand and chuckled, nudging another one of Natalie’s uncles seated next to him.
“Helen didn’t scare him off yet, Joe,” the uncle said.
Uncle Joe chuckled. “I see, I see…you like cards, Boy?”
“Or do you want to go into the kitchen with the women and cook…you aren’t one of those kinds, are you?”
Hell no. If only they knew how terrible he was in the kitchen.
“What are you playing?” he asked.
“My kinda guy,” Uncle Joe said. “Hot damn, grab a seat…”
He did as he was told, and they had to re-deal the hand. “You know how to play Pitty Pat, son?” one of the Uncles asked him.
Brandon shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t…”
Then men in the circle all made a noise. He couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well then, son,” Uncle Joe said. “I’ll teach you…I’ll teach you how to whoop all these boy’s asses…I taught Nattie, you know…”
“Yea, she told me,” he smiled.
“Good, good,” the uncle said. “Now here’s what you gotta do first…”
Uncle Joe was probably the best drunken teacher that he’d ever had, and in a matter of minutes, it seemed, he was winning every hand, beating Uncle Joe and Uncle Ron and Uncle Marty, and Uncle Joe’s sixteen-year-old son Marcus, then Uncle Marty’s thirteen-year-old son Cory, then comical Marcus again, then shy Cory again.
“Oh, this white boy is good,” Uncle Joe said. “Ain’t he good, Martin?”
“Yea, Joe,” Uncle Martin began. “If we were betting money, I’d be broke…”
They all shared a laugh, and Natalie entered the room again, wearing the black Guess sweater that Asha helped him pick out for her twenty-third birthday this past fall, wearing that high ponytail that he always loved. She placed a hand on his head.
“Y’all better not be in here giving him a hard time,” Natalie warned, stroking his head slowly. “What are y’all playing?”
“Oh, what else, Nattie, my girl?” Uncle Joe said. “Pitty Pat…”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “Oh, my, Lord. Are you kickin’ tail, Baby?”
Brandon nodded confidently.
“He’s doin’ a lot better than Natalie ever did in Pitty Pat,” Young Marcus teased.
“Oh yea?” Natalie began, laughing a little. “Last time I checked, Marcus Chandler, Maya and Sid and me beat you three times in a row…each…was that last year?”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Well, I bet you that you can’t beat me again…I’m older now…you can’t boss me around like you used to…”
Natalie patted Brandon on the back. “Baby, my grandma wanted to speak with you…go and see what she wants, and I’ll bet you that by the time you get back, I’ll have whooped my cousin’s behind three times over…”
Brandon entered a kitchen of wood paneling, old carpeting, a breakfast bar with vinyl topping, images of Jesus on the wall, the sound of boiling pots, and at least six women, some with smaller children around them, sitting at a long maple kitchen table, staring at him.
Marie Chandler stood by the stove, dressed in a red apron with the image of a Black, rosy-cheeked Santa on the front, with her arms extended in his direction.
“How dare you come into my house and not speak to me!” the grandmother said, enveloping him in her embrace. “You almost hurt my feelings.”
He was glad to see her the most, he was sure of it. Granny Marie’s touch was so inviting, so warm, and her giggle and sweet drawl made him laugh.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Chandler…”
“Boy, what did I tell you? Call me ‘Granny’…”
“Granny,” he said, trying it out. “I’m sorry…I was playing cards in the living room…”
“So I heard,” Granny Marie smiled. “Got you playin’ Pitty Pat, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am…”
“Well, I have to get in on a game after I finish all of this cookin’,” she said, winking at him. “My son’s and grandson’s don’t have you bettin’ money, do they?”
“No, ma’am,” he replied.
“Good, good,” she said, peeking into a pot. “You want some eggnog, Brandon? It’s homemade…it’s got rum in it…strictly for adults…Nattie tells me that you like to go out and drink…”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, wishing Natalie hadn’t told her grandmother that. “On occasion…”
“Well, grab yourself a cup, boy and have at it…then go sit down at the kitchen table and get to know your family…”
He did as he was told. Within minutes, he’d met Uncle Joe’s wife, Susanna, and their seven-year-old daughter, Alicia; Uncle Marty’s wife, Rhonda and their five-year-old boy, Michael; and Uncle Ron’s second wife, Anita. He was then informed that Aunt Miriam’s husband, Gerald and Aunt June’s husband, Willie were downstairs in the basement, watching basketball on the big-screen television. He was then invited by Aunt Miriam, who wore several gold rings and a Santa hat on her head, to go downstairs and watch the game with them if he wanted. He declined the offer, opting to stay closer to the grandmother, and even closer to the living room, where he could hear Natalie laughing with her uncles and cousins, while “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” dinged on the Christmas tree.
And while the ham baked, Granny Marie made her way into the living room, loosened her apron and sat down in between Natalie and Uncle Ron, signaling for one of her sons to deal her a hand.
“Granny, don’t beat me too bad,” Natalie teased, readjusting the cards in her hand. Brandon stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, and only watched until one of the uncles looked up at him, and said, “Boy, come sit down here…we got a hand ready for you…it’ll make things more interesting…”
He sighed and sat down next to Cory.
“Never thought you’d play against me, baby,” Natalie teased, peeking up from her hand.
He grinned, winked at her and said, “Don’t worry, Tal
lie…it’ll feel even worse when I beat you…”
The rest of the Chandler family made some sort of “Oohing” noise then chuckled.
“We’ll see about that,” she replied, plucking from the deck.
Ha, neither of them won. But that didn’t stop them from laughing at each of the uncles because they thought that they were winning, or hearing Uncle Marty complain constantly about how annoying he thought the musical tree lights were. Granny won, and she finished off the rest of her homemade eggnog to celebrate, before walking into the kitchen again to finish cooking.
#
If anything, he was glad that he would marry into a family that knew how to cook food and knew how to celebrate Christmas. Before anyone could eat, they stood in a circle and each grabbed hands, and Helen elected that he say a prayer for them. He discovered that the last person to pray over the family was Granddaddy Joseph, who’d succumbed to lung cancer five years prior. He couldn’t remember the last time that he prayed so formally. Could it have been at Mass a couple of Christmases ago? At least…
He knew nothing about the way that Baptists prayed, with the exception of the times that he’d overheard Natalie praying just before bed. Still, he took a deep breath anyway, felt Natalie run her thumb along his hand for comfort, and he began as the family lowered their heads and closed their eyes.
“Dear Lord [Jeez, was that even right? Evil Mother struck again]…thank you…thank you…for…thank you for allowing us to meet this Christmas Eve [phew, he didn’t think that he would get that one out]…safely…thank you for allowing us to meet this Christmas Eve safely…thank you…thank you for my fiancée…Natalie…she is perhaps the most incredible person that I have ever met…and thank you…thank you for placing her into my life…[wow, it just got easier and easier]…thank you for allowing me to spend time with the Chandler Family…and I pray that…that…we can continue to become closer and closer as each day passes…thank you…um…Amen…”
The family said a collective “Amen”, raised their heads, opened their eyes, and Granny Marie said, “Well done, Boy…couldn’t have said it better myself…”
Natalie kissed him on the cheek and reached for his arm. “You hungry, Greene?”
He nodded.
“Well, go and sit down, and I’ll fix you something…”
Good because he was starved, and maybe Natalie could distract her mother, and that way she could stop looking at him in such a way that suggested that she wanted to kill him or perform some sort of sadistic act on his testicles.
Stop it, Brandon, stop. Just relax…
He took a deep breath, and looked at Natalie, hovering over the stove, laughing with her sisters. Ah, he could breathe again. Just by looking at her, just by looking so relaxed, so in tuned with spending time with her family. God, he respected her so much for that, and he could understand why Christmas was so important to her, why she spent so much time explaining to him their traditions, and how they kept them alive. When he looked at her, he certainly wasn’t the neurotic head-case that sensed that his future mother-in-law was out to get him, he was a man who couldn’t wait for the future, a man who couldn’t wait to make that girl his wife, a man who heard “This Christmas” in his mind, and was almost certain that he felt her soul running rampant inside of him.
After everyone had eaten, the Chandler Family, traditionally gather in the living room to exchange gifts, and each of the grandchildren—which included Natalie, Maya, Sidney, Cory, Marcus, Michael and Alicia—were each allowed to open one present from Granny Marie before morning. Alicia sat on Natalie’s lap as she passed out the gifts that she’d purchased for her family, giggling, “Are you ready for Santa Claus? Are you? I bet you’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?” Alicia would nod, would smile giddily and clap her hands. Granny Marie who’d disappeared into a back room, returned with a trash bag, and dumped it out on the floor in front of the Christmas tree.
“Dig in, children,” she instructed. “They’re all labeled, so I don’t want to hear any gripes. And remember…size does not matter…”
Brandon watched a Granny Marie looked in Natalie’s direction and winked.
Once the other grandchildren had retrieved their gifts, Natalie dug in the bag for hers, and after shuffling through for a moment, she came up with a white envelope with her name on it. Then, she looked at him.
“Open it, baby,” he told her, nodding in her direction.
“No, no,” Granny Marie said with the wave of her hand. “Natalie, you should wait till you get home…”
“But Granny…”
“Don’t ‘But Granny’ me,” she said. “Just do as you’re told…”
“Yes ma’am…”
Natalie felt she’d waited long enough when they sat on the couch together a couple hours after leaving Granny Marie’s, in front of a roaring fire, in the shadowed house on Green Hill Street, encircled by the whistling winter wind. Her mother and her sisters had gone to bed several minutes prior, after Helen threatened his life if he ventured into the back bedrooms where Natalie was in the middle of the night. So, Natalie opted to stay on the couch with him…well, at least until he fell asleep…or, at least until he found out what was in that envelope. She pulled a blanket over her legs, rested her head on his shoulder, and juggled the envelope between her fingers.
“So, are you going to open it?” he asked her, nudging her slightly.
She only sighed. “I suppose…it can’t be much…there’s not much that you can fit into an envelope…”
“Remember what she said, ‘Size doesn’t matter’, baby…”
“I know, I know,” she said. “But when you see Maya and Sid get these big ol’ boxes, you kind of feel…you know…”
“Shitted…”
“Not on Christmas Eve, Brandon…”
“Sorry…ripped off…”
“Yes, that’s better…”
“Just open it, Tal,” he said. “It can’t be that bad…you’re being overdramatic…”
“You’re right, you’re right…why don’t you open it?”
“Me? It doesn’t say Brandon on there,” he told her, rolling his eyes.
“Natalie, Brandon…potato, potato…”
“I like the way you think…”
Natalie huffed and spoke a little louder. “Brandy, open it…”
“Shhh, you’ll wake up your mother…”
“Open it…”
“Fine, you big baby, fine…”
He snatched the envelope from her, sighed and opened it swiftly, gliding his finger along the back. “See?” he said. “Not that hard…”
“What’s in it?”
He reached inside and pulled out a white sheet of paper. “Look, Tal, there’s a note…”
“Really? Read it to me…”
He exhaled heavily, unfolded the paper and cleared his throat. “My sweet Natalie: I love the woman that you’ve grown into. You make your mother and I so proud. May God bless you in your future endeavors, and you know that your family will be here to support you. I wish you and Brandon a lifetime of love and happiness, and to get you started, I’m giving you a little something to help…I hope that you have the wedding of your dreams…Love you always, Granny…”
“It really said that?”
“No, Natalie, I made it up…of course it said that…”
“Well, what’s inside?”
Brandon pulled out a check. Silent once he’d looked at the check, he then handed the check to her, clearing his throat again.
“Bran, what is it?’ she asked, taking the check from his hands.
He sucked in his breath as he watched her eyes widen as she looked at it. She then proceeded to cover her mouth with her hand as she sucked in her breath.
“Yea, I know,” he said to her, understanding.
“It has your name on it too,” she replied, showing the check to him.
“I can’t believe it…five thousand dollars?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Wait a mi
nute…”
“What?”
“You sneaky little…”
“What on earth could I have possibly done…?”
“You know what you did,” she whispered to him, reaching out to poke him in the chest. “You always know…”
Of course he did. Which would explain why he smiled so grandly at her at the moment. But she shouldn’t have spoken so quickly, right? The night that they scrambled over their finances, trying to find any kind of money to pay for a wedding, he’d felt embarrassed, felt like less of a man, felt his stomach curl at the way she looked at him when he’d told her that he was plumb broke. Not only had he wasted his affections on Sophia, he’d also wasted his money on that silly girl too, with the exception of the money he’d spent on the engagement ring on Natalie’s finger. Nonetheless, he was penniless, and he knew that Natalie was disappointed. And he was so paranoid of her disappointment, that he not only thought that she wouldn’t marry him, he also went so far as to run to his father and beg him for the money.
The bastard cleared his throat and paused before answering, after he’d poured his heart out, explaining how much Natalie meant to him, and said, “I’m sorry son…but we’ve given you enough money these past years to last you a lifetime…and after you left graduate school, your mother and I decided to stop giving you money…unfortunately, you proved to us that you cannot manage money very well…we’re sorry…I’m sorry…”
He swore that he almost cried then and there, and in the days following, the more he heard Tallie talk about the wedding to him, the more he ached.
And with his pride nowhere in sight, he called Maya, and he asked for her Granny’s phone number.
“What for?” she’d asked.
So, he told her. She’d told him that she would help if she could.
He knew that she would. There was always something angelic about those Chandler girls…
His hands were shaking when he called Marie Chandler two weeks before Christmas. His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely breathe and he’d thought of the ways that she’d receive him, considering the fact that he hadn’t spoken with her since the cookout back in the summer.
