We didn’t get out of the rental office until after midnight. I welcomed his thought that it was too late to visit his parents’ house, so we rode straight to the Hyatt and checked in.
Tremel had no problem getting to sleep, but all I could think about were his parents, his three sisters, and two brothers. It didn’t stop there. Both sets of his grandparents were alive. He had a total of eight uncles and six aunts who would be there too, not to mention all of his cousins, too many to count.
I was from a very small family. My father had no brothers or sisters, so I didn’t have uncles, aunts, or cousins, and his parents died long before my birth.
My mother’s family was in Utah. Savion and I saw our maternal grandparents once a year, but they both died before we were ten. Once they were gone, no one bothered to keep in contact. Thanksgiving was always just a Cornish hen, Daddy, Savion, and me. Big family gatherings were new to me.
When Tremel rolled over at six and started rubbing my arm, he thought that he had woken me, but I was up, never down.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Hey.” I turned over slowly. “How did you sleep?”
“I was out for the count,” he said. “I can’t even remember saying goodnight to you.”
“You didn’t. When I came out of the shower you were gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
The previous day when he got in from work, all he had time to do was take a shower before we hit the road to the airport.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
I wanted to pretend that things were fine, but I lied to him enough. “I haven’t had a moment’s rest.”
“Why not?”
“I’m nervous.”
“Baby, I thought we were past that.”
“I thought so too, until we got off the plane.” I laughed.
“Get some rest, baby. We have a long day ahead of us.”
He hummed softly and rocked me to sleep.
When I woke up, it was after 11:00, and he was looking out of the window, completely dressed.
As I stretched, he walked over to the bed. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you.” I smiled.
“Good.” He looked at his watch. “Now get your ass up and let’s get out of here.” He lifted me out of bed.
The next stop was the bathroom, where he dropped me off and closed the door behind him.
Damian and a few other ex-boyfriends all had Tremel beat financially, but they paled in comparison to Tremel’s love for me. In just a few months, he had outdone everyone in my past. If his family was anything like him, they’d love me just as he did, but the guilt of what I did behind his back made me believe that it’d be written all over my face and they’d sniff me out.
“Stop the car. I think I’m going to be sick,” I joked right after Tremel announced that we were less than five minutes from his parents’ house.
“You always have a bunch of mouth”—He touched me on the cheek, “but you’re nothing but a scaredy cat.”
“I don’t wanna go,” I whined jokingly then reached for the door handle. “I’m gonna jump out.”
He laughed. “Go ahead. I’ll slow down.”
I smacked him playfully on the arm.
A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of a light-blue two-story house. The violets carefully planted all around the house played up the color, and so did the beautiful, freshly cut, thick, green grass.
As we walked up the sidewalk, I became even more curious about what was going on being behind the frosted oval glass of the white French doors.
“There is no turning back.” Tremel looked at me and slid his key into the lock. “Don’t be scared.” He kissed me on the forehead and pushed the door open.
As the air inside rushed out past me, I smelled turkey, dressing, macaroni, potato salad, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, and much more. He didn’t have to beg me. I wanted to run inside. As I entered, I heard a lot of talking, laughing, pots and pans, but over everything was the loud voice of a sports commentator describing the last play of the current football game.
The white tiled floor sparkled as if diamonds were scattered over it. A chubby little boy about three feet tall peeked out of a door and pointed. “That’s Uncle Mel.”
Before he could put his finger down, people flooded the hallway with hugs and smiles.
I was introduced to everyone but couldn’t remember a name if my life depended on it. Right after learning a name, I had another new name and another new face to smile at. I shook hands and said, “Hi, nice to meet you,” or “Hello, I’ve heard so much about you.”
Tremel’s father didn’t look like I imagined he would. He was very light-skinned and tall. He was also thin enough to fly away with a kite on a not-so-windy day. I blushed as Tremel introduced me as his girlfriend.
His father talked to me a while, before he yelled for his wife to come out of the kitchen. “This is Sarai, Mel’s lady friend.”
His mother was about my height, with long, straight, brown hair combed into a neat ponytail. She weighed more than her husband, but who didn’t? She was peanut-butter brown like Tremel and me.
I felt faint for a split second, as she stared at me.
“Nice to meet you, honey. Welcome to Thanksgiving at the Colten’s house.” She wrapped her arms around me. “I told Mel that you have such a pretty name. Did he tell you?”
I looked at him. “No, ma’am, he sure didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell her what I said?” She embraced her baby boy. “I missed you so much.” She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed him again.
We stood in the corridor talking until some other family members strolled in and we had to move out of the way.
Tremel held my hand and started to show me around the house. As we were going upstairs, his mother sideswiped us. “I need some help with the greens,” she said to me.
My eyes widened. “You mean collard greens?”
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“Okay,” I said and looked at Tremel, who offered me a look of concern then smiled at his mother, who in turn took my hand away from his.
“Don’t worry, I just need you to strip the pot.”
He kissed me on the cheek and watched me walk away to the kitchen.
Sabrina Colten was as sweet as she could be. After spending time with her, I saw that she was no one to fear. We weren’t alone. Her mother and mother-in-law were both sitting at the kitchen table giving their old-time recipe instructions. Two out of her five sisters were also present, and though they were twice my age, they looked like they were clueless about cooking.
Tremel’s three aunts on his father’s side were burning right alongside his mother. She really didn’t need me to do anything; I think it was her way of breaking the tension.
It was obvious that Tremel’s father’s sisters thought that they were master chefs. So by talking to me every once in a while, Mrs. Colten didn’t have to pay them any mind. Along with asking me about myself, she’d throw in a “Baby, pass me the salt,” or “Sweetie, let me get some sugar,” or “Do you see that spoon I left over there?” every time her sisters-in-law got on her nerves.
I heard the front door open and close many times, but if someone didn’t come into the kitchen, I wasn’t going to meet them. It was my golden rule. I found comfort in the family members I had already met.
Before long, I was walking through the garden with the grandmothers. They loved me already. Mrs. Colten, Tremel’s paternal grandmother, was eighty-one, and Mrs. Hall, Tremel’s maternal grandmother, was seventy-nine. However, they both had a lot of spunk in them. There must have been something in the Ohio River. As we strolled, they talked about Tremel being such a mischievous child. In his younger days, he was always playing tricks on people and starting up some form of trouble.
Everyone in Tremel’s family was shocked that God would give such a sweet singing voice to such a little clown. No one even knew that Tremel’s li’l bad butt could sing
until he was ten years old and was in the Sunday school Christmas play. When he opened his mouth to sing “Silent Night,” the church folks were on fire. The boy had them shouting like the pastor had just delivered the Word three times over.
Once we were back inside, it was almost time to eat. Tremel’s mother issued me the task of walking through the house to count how many people were present. She instructed me to open any and every closed door so that she’d have an accurate headcount. The older people were watching football in the family room. I counted fourteen folks there. Eight teenage boys were in a bedroom flipping back and forth from the football game to BET videos. In the kitchen, there were eleven people including myself. In a bedroom down the hall, I found ten children playing, and I ran into seven teenage girls upstairs.
I saw a closed door at the end of the upstairs hall and sashayed toward it. I knocked on it twice, before I tried to turn the knob. It was locked, so I shrugged my shoulders and turned to leave.
Less than a foot away, I heard the lock click. “You need something?” I heard a man ask.
I turned to say no but ended up not being able to say anything at all—the man I was staring at was Norman Hall, better known as the cameraman. I was frozen, and when his eyes focused in on who I really was, his face reddened with anger.
It took him one step to get into my face. He grabbed me by the neck and pulled me into the room. “What the fuck are you trying to do to me?”
Before I could say a word, his hand squeezed even tighter around my throat. “Don’t you think sending those fuckin’ pictures did enough? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I couldn’t talk; I couldn’t even breathe. I was losing oxygen, and he didn’t give a damn. I reached for his hand and tried pulling it away, but I couldn’t. I shook my head from side to side. My eyes were pleading with his, but it didn’t matter. I had never been so afraid of anyone in my entire life, and in a split second things got worse.
There was a knock on the door. “Uncle Norm.” I heard Tremel’s voice outside the door. “Uncle Norm, you in there?”
I wanted to scream for help, but I couldn’t. And even if I could, I’d have a lot more explaining to do.
Norman’s eyes got even wider, like they’d pop out and roll to the ground. “Gimme a minute,” he yelled, then held his finger to his mouth and pushed me inside the closet.
Through the vent, I watched Norman’s shoes trail back to the door.
“Hey, what’s up, Mel?” he said as he opened the door. “How you doing? When did you get here?”
I saw the bottom of Mel’s jeans move closer to Norman. They hugged quickly.
“Me and my girl flew up from Miami last night,” Tremel said.
“All right. Good to see you again, man. Damn, you’re pretty buffed. You still lifting?” Norman asked.
“Yeah, I’ve been doing a little something.”
“So how are things with your music?”
“Well, I finished my demo. I’ve been sending it out to different labels, but getting in there is a bitch.” He paused. “My girl has been helping me get in contact with the right people. Hopefully by the time we get back home, we’ll have some good news.”
“So what’s up with you and Aunt Sheila?—Mom said you’re staying here for a while?”
“Yeah, for about a week. I’ll be in an apartment soon. Sheila is trippin’ over some stuff she heard and saw. She kicked me out. Came home and my shit was on the lawn.”
Tremel laughed. “Told your ass to settle down. You better start listening to your nephew, boy.”
I heard them slap hands then watched Mel’s jeans disappear past the door.
“I’ll see you downstairs. They told me to tell you that the food is almost ready.”
“All right. Give me a minute, I’ll be down there.” He closed and locked the door and made his way over to the closet. “You need to get your ass out,” he whispered and pointed at the window.
I spat out, “I’m Tremel’s girlfriend,” before he reached for my neck again.
“What?”
“I’m his girlfriend. We came from Miami together.”
“Ah shit. You?”
“Yes, me.” I pushed my way past him and kept my voice down. “I didn’t come here to start any trouble. I had no clue that you’d be here, so don’t put your damn hands on me again.” I marched towards the door.
“What’s your price tonight, bitch?” He laughed. “Wait until I tell him.”
I abandoned the doorknob and walked back over to him. “Please don’t do that.”
“Fuck you,” he said with an evil laugh. “My wife is staring at pictures of me fucking you, won’t let me see my kids, and she’s filing for a goddamn divorce because of you, and you think I’m not going to tell him?”
“Please don’t say anything. I don’t even work for the Elite anymore.”
“That’s all right. You used to, and that’s all that matters.”
“What can I do to make you shut up?”
He groped himself through his pants. “I’m sure something will come up.”
My head swung from left to right. “No, I’m not doing that. I’ll pay you.”
“How much?”
“Anything.” I was willing to do anything except sleep with him again. “I’ll write you a check. Just please don’t mention what happened.”
“You sure you don’t want this dick?” He pressed himself up against me.
I pushed him away. “How much should I write the check out for?”
Looking down at me he said, “Well, your pussy was fat and good as fuck, so it’s probably been selling well. I think you can afford ten grand.”
“Ten thousand dollars?” I wasn’t whispering anymore. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Mel!” he yelled. “Hey, Mel! Come here.”
“Okay.” I swiftly placed my hand over his mouth. “Okay. Okay. I’ll write you out a check for ten thousand.” I was nervous. “This is a deal, right?”
“Money talks.” He offered me his hand as a signature to our contract.
We shook on it.
“Thank you.”
“Bullshit walks,” he said. “Don’t walk out of Cleveland with my money.”
“The rich would have to eat money if the poor
did not provide food.”
—Russian Proverb
Bank Statement # 15
Account Balance: $50,639.87
Out of all the families in the world—in America, in Cleveland—Norman had to belong to this one. He was Tremel’s mother’s baby brother. I couldn’t get my head right. The house quickly became a maze; getting to the stairway was nearly impossible. Though I could see it, I just couldn’t get there. I was freaking out. I remembered how to walk, one foot in front of the other. Soon I was skipping down the steps like I had just seen a mouse.
My stomach muscles tightened, when I heard Mrs. Colten’s voice.
“What’s the headcount, sugar?”
“I—” I couldn’t remember. “I counted fifty-seven.” I made up a number and prayed that I was close.
She rounded up the bunch. “All right, everybody. Let’s meet in the dining room.”
I followed her down the hall to the large dining room. It seemed built just to host this occasion. Draped in white linen, the long, rectangular table could seat twenty people, and four round banquet-sized tables would hold eight each. The room was dressed with festive fall colors: orange, brown, yellow, and green. Artificial cornucopias adorned the round tables, but the main table had two fruit baskets on it. The sterling silver utensils and place settings were perfect, even at the kids’ table.
When everyone was in their seats, Mrs. Colten, her daughters, and I rolled three long carts to the room from the kitchen and arranged the Thanksgiving buffet alongside the wall.
Smelling the apple, cherry, and sweet potato pies, the children dashed toward the cart.
“Uh-huh, no, sir. Y’all know we don’t do it like that.” Grandp
a Colten clapped his hand. “Go sit down.”
They obeyed his command and took their seats.
He struggled to stand, and when he did, the room fell silent.
“Everyone stand, please. Hold hands and let’s say grace.”
I was at the main table, next to Mel. We held hands, then I bowed my head and reached for Paula’s hand, his sister, now standing to my right.
Grandpa Colten began his prayer. “Father God, we come before You today thanking You for the many blessings that You’ve given us. Lord, we thank You for yet another day. Heavenly Father, we thank You for allowing our family to be together one more Thanksgiving Day. Lord, we’re thankful for the clothes on our backs, shoes on our feet, food to eat, and a roof over our heads.”
He took a deep breath. “Jesus, we come before Your throne this afternoon to say thank you, thank you for dying on Calvary’s tree. Oh Lord, You thought it not robbery to hang Your head and die for sinners like us, and we thank You today. Jesus, for You I live, and soon, Lord, soon for You I’ll lay down my life.”
He breathed deeply again. “Thank you, Lord, for life, strength, and good health today. Without You we’d be a bunch of nobodies, and we wanna thank You, Father.” He paused. “Oh Lord, bless our homes, bless our family, bless the food which we are about to partake. Bless it Lord. May it do our bodies good. Bless the hands that labored so that our bellies can get fat.”
The kids giggled.
“And Lord, when this life is over, give us a home in Your kingdom. In Jesus’ name I pray.”
We all closed the prayer together. “Amen.”
Grandpa Colten cleared his throat and spoke once again in his deep voice. “Look at the food. Look at the meat . . . my Lord, it smells good. C’mon, kids, let’s eat.”
The children cheered and rallied around him, and surprisingly, they let him be first in line.
My heart was still racing, but I had forgotten why, until Norman walked into the dining room.
He stared at me and suddenly winked.
Going Broke Page 22
