by Brick
We tried to suck it up, because we needed shelter. But when Mr. Wilks broke a broom on Cory’s back then turned and whacked me with it, leaving me with a bloody face and a cut down my chest, I knew we had to run to survive. For months we took a little coin here and there, until we had enough for bus fare. We took the Greyhound to Atlanta and a taxi, ending up at Auntie Claudette’s house. Once there we had no idea what we were going to do next. She wasn’t home. We had no key, we had nothing, so we hid on the side of her house waiting.
“I ain’t going back to that fucking place, Von! Where’s Auntie? I’m hungry,” Cory harshly said in between rocking back and forth on the ground with his knees pressed against his chest.
My tiny shoulders shook in exhaustion as I stood over my brother keeping him protected. Digging in my backpack, I pulled out my last PB&J sandwich. It was just a corner piece that we both had been nibbling on during the trip here. There were three chips left and only a splash of water in a Big Gulp cup I took from the trash, cleaned in the bathroom, and filled with water.
“I don’t know where she at. But I know if she comes home she’ll take care of us. She has to.” Looking at the gun I had in my backpack, I glanced back at my brother with a frown. “Ain’t no bitch putting their gotdamn hands on us again a’ight? So don’t worry ’bout it. I’ll keep us safe for now.”
In our talking and cussing in English and Tagalog, we didn’t hear when our aunt showed up. “Who’re these foulmouthed children hiding beside my house huh?”
Quickly turning, I moved by Cory, who stood up and dropped his sandwich. Both of us stared up at our aunt with our dirty faces, ratty, disheveled hair, and torn clothes. She stood over us in a light yellow, almost white, sleeveless dress and a big, floppy hat. In her one hand was a blue Mason glass with clear liquid in it, and in the other was a fan with a handkerchief. She stood in an odd way with it, holding it toward us and closely studying us.
“I know these aren’t my little boys talking like that. Bitch what? You say that, boy?”
Ashamed, I quickly held my hands up. “No, ma’am. Who said dat? I don’t know who would say something like dat.”
Claudette gave us a once-over. She slowly dropped a lid on the top of the Mason jar and sealed it tight while holding the handkerchief. “Was that you, little boy?” she asked motioning toward Cory.
“Nah-on. No, ma’am. I wouldn’t say nothing like dat either,” Cory said. “I don’t want a whooping, so I wouldn’t say nothing like that. I know better.”
“Good, because I know I taught y’all about not having a foul little mouth. My little boys don’t do that,” she said still eying us.
Behind her was our uncle Snap. He stood, legs akimbo, with a smile on his face and his arms crossed over his broad chest. I didn’t know what day it was, but he was dressed in slacks, suspenders, and a white crisp shirt, with wingtip shoes.
“Y’all lucky she didn’t light your asses with a king switch,” Snap said in amusement. “Or hit you with that acid moonshine of hers in that glass.”
Claudette turned to chuckle at Snap and hand him the glass. “I know my boys. I wouldn’t do that. But yes, they are lucky. If they were any other heathens, it would have been on. Would have taken it old school and threw it right at’cha feet.”
I glanced at Cory, who stood watching with big eyes and his hands up. “Oh no! I don’t want a whooping now. We’ll be good.”
“Can we get some of those cinnamon pancakes you make?” I added feeling my stomach tightening in pain.
Uncle Snap chuckled then walked ahead of us some. “I’ll head out and bring back some clothes and things. And put this back,” he added sloshing the liquid around while holding it up in the sunshine.
Dancing beams of light flickered from that blue Mason glass to swirl around our faces, our feet, our hands, and the area. I kept my gaze on my uncle, watching him walk away and noticing the gun tucked behind his back. Uncle Snap, from what I heard Toya used to say, was a protective man but also a mysterious man. When she was a kid, she almost was raped by an old goon in the street everyone knew back in Augusta. Supposedly, Claudette learned of it and went through the neighborhood to find the old hood at a local bar hiding from her. From what I heard from Toya and when the other old ladies who visited Claudette said when we were around, my aunt almost cut that man from his throat to his asshole.
But it was Uncle Snap who stopped her. He told her something like, “Sista, I got this.” Then he took his blade, cut the man’s clothes and ear, and then dragged him out never to be seen until a week later when his body was found by some local police, bloated and laid out on the train tracks. The old goon’s body was laid out in the baking sun disemboweled by being run over by a train. When the police came in that old neighborhood—and by “come” it meant they took bullhorns and announced themselves because that old Augusta community, Creek Town, used to scare even the hardest racists and Klan men from coming into that area—everyone acted like they knew nothing.
All of that knowledge played in my young mind. I knew never to get on either one’s bad side and knew that if anything happened to us they’d protect us.
Sucking her teeth, Claudette gave us a stern look then motioned to us. “Come on out from behind my house. Where’s your mother? I haven’t see you two in years.”
Relief filled me up as we followed the woman who, whenever we were around her, would clean us up, buy us fresh clothes, feed us until our bellies stuck out from being full, and who gave us a clean bed to sleep in. As we stepped in her home, all of that emotion overcame me until I blacked out on her floor.
I woke up literally hours later, hearing her curse out a caseworker in Ohio. I wasn’t sure how she figured it out that we ran away and from where, but she did. Claudette battled for us, and Cory and I ended up being the first fosters in the house.
That memory was always with me. As I thought about it now, I gathered she learned everything from the ticket stubs in our backpacks. The gun I had disappeared that day as well.
This house held a lot of good memories. My fingers ranover the banister that carried the carved names of every kid who came through Claudette’s house. Back then, that was when we stopped calling her Auntie and began calling her Mama. For Cory and me, from that moment on, Toya was just a female who pushed us from her vagina. When she died, we were sad, but that lasted only a day. We were raised by the streets, and eventually educated by Mama Claudette.
My world wasn’t making sense right now. I had to get it together.
“Remember when she chased us around the house for stealing her purse?” I heard at my side.
A light chuckle came from me matching my baby brother’s and I gave a nod reliving it, seeing the image of two little boys running from an older lady, quick as hell, across the front lawn.
“Yeah, and we weren’t even trying to steal it,” I said with a weak smile.
“Nope, we weren’t. We were putting in some money we made in the streets, selling old books and things we found in the trash,” Cory explained.
My baby brother stood at my side. His long locs were pulled back and he leaned a fisted hand against the beam that attached to the banister. The smile at the memories of us growing up here slowly disappeared and was replaced with sadness and pain.
“What are we going to do with this place? What are we going to do now?” he asked in concern and grief. “My heart hurts.”
Rubbing the front of my shirt, I felt that same sharp pain. “Mine too.”
I wasn’t sure what we all were going to do. For now, I was reacting and in my pain, but with the memory of that glass falling underneath Mama’s picture, I realized that we as the remaining family had to heal.
“Let’s go back inside and get us kids back in check,” I gently said, reaching out to clap a hand on my brother’s shoulder and squeeze.
“Uncle Snap is—”
Interrupting I gave a nod. “I know. I know.”
Seeing the devastation on our uncle’s face was anothe
r reminder about our mother. Since the repast began, he had been in the kitchen sitting at the little table there, smoking and cradling a bottle of White Henny, pouring it in a blue Mason glass. The man lost a piece of himself and it was apparent from the slump in his back and how his head hung low.
As the eldest, it was my responsibility to keep us all in line. Uncle Snap was a part I’d have to work on after this. Back inside, Cory went to bring back Naveen and Jojo. As he handled that, I saw that Shanelle was still cleaning while Inez and Melissa watched her in concern. She mindlessly searched around for more broken glass, kneeling in the process. There was nothing there. I knew it was her working through her emotions.
Taking several strides her way, I kneeled down by her side. “Baby, I think you cleaned up very well. Thank you for that,” I gently said staring into her eyes.
It was that fight and softness in her amber eyes that first drew me to her as kids. At first, it was nothing but a friendship thing. Eventually, we fell into the sloppiness that was adolescent teen lust and experiencing love, the type of thing that carried on into our young adulthood. Through it all looking out for Shanelle was my priority. A lot of us kids in Mama Claudette’s home related and linked together like family because we came from abusive situations. I think that Shanelle and I connected in an intimate way because of that too.
Because of how I felt about how Toya raised me and Cory as children, I was always angry about that. Angry about scrapping in the streets. Angry about all the fights I had to endure to protect myself and my brother. Angry that he had to do the same in order to protect me. Angry about the many nights we went hungry and couldn’t get new clothes because Toya only used money on herself. I grew up suppressing and managing my anger in a quiet, white hot way. Shanelle understood it in some crazy way and I always respected that in her.
Helping Shanelle stand, I used the pad of my thumb to wipe her tears away.
“I hate that we’re fighting like this,” she whispered where only I could hear her. “But . . . but, Navy is right.”
My inner thoughts agreed, but the way my stomach clenched, I knew that I had to be the bigger man and not allow the family to dump on Jojo.
Stepping back, I guided Shanelle’s hand to put the broken tumbler in the trash. “I know, baby, but we’re wrong too. Thank you for fixing Mama’s picture, too.”
“I had to, but you’re welcome,” she said with a sullen tone. “It’s still a little crooked.”
Our eyes locked on one another as we spoke with no words at that point. She softly exhaled and she moved behind me as Naveen and Jojo walked in with Cory.
Neither would look at the other.
Jojo kept his gaze on his feet and Naveen looked everywhere but at my face. It was wild but it was like seeing myself and Cory when we were their age. In my mind, I could hear Mama Claudette whispering that, though she was gone, everything still was the same and we had to protect each other at all cost.
We were family. I had to do this. So, I swallowed my own disappointment and need to blame Jojo for her death; then I addressed the family. “We all are going through it. We all feel some type of anger, disappointment, and remorse through our shared pain. Yeah, we know Jojo didn’t step up to his responsibilities; but, if he had, we don’t know what could have happened, family. Think on it.
“They still could have gotten hit in passing. We just don’t know. That type of street life we can’t control, so we can’t dump our angst on Jojo like this. He needs us. We all need each other,” I said spreading my hands out as I spoke. “Mama wouldn’t want us to be this way, and we all know it. Am I wrong?”
Lamont, who came from the kitchen with Uncle Snap, dropped to take a seat in an old wooden chair, his long legs stretching out as he stared up at the picture of our mother. Melissa, who could sometimes be like a little mother bear, next to Shanelle, stepped up to Jojo and wrapped her arms around him sniffling as she hugged him.
“No,” Inez said walking up to Lamont and holding his hand.
I watched Cory throw his arm around Naveen and we all stood glancing at each other, with Shanelle sliding next to me to hold my hand.
“We’re all we got. So if we break up, then we really lose,” I said staring at every one of my family.
“I . . . I didn’t mean to leave her like that. It wasn’t on purpose,” Jojo said finally speaking up. He stepped forward, then tripped on the corner of a side table where he stood. As he did so, Shanelle rushed forward.
The picture of Mama Claudette shifted again then fell forward causing me to turn and catch it. As I did so, my hand flew to the mantel of the fireplace it hung over it. A sound like a latch clicking drew our attention. Behind Lamont, an old bookshelf that held all our childhood accomplishments/awards, books, and other trinkets pushed open.
Every one of us stood confused and baffled looking sidelong at the bookshelf. Because a good portion of us grew up black, and in the black culture, no one made a move forward at first. We all just stood, looking like a congregation who just witnessed the pastor being caught with his hand in a cookie jar; then we glanced at each other. I mean, our mouths were agape, and our eyes wide in shock about the Tomb Raider–like secret lever or whatever it was that just opened up before us.
Shanelle helped Jojo up, who wiped at his glasses and wet eyes. I put the picture back in place, then Cory with Lamont walked toward the bookshelf.
“What is that?” I asked at the same time as Inez.
It wasn’t a literal question that I was asking everyone, because I knew that none of us knew what it was; however, anxiousness hit me at what could be in front of us.
“Go look, Jojo. You did it,” Inez said backing up.
One of us laughed and my brother Lamont gave a shrug then pushed at the bookshelf. He was always the type to explore dumb crap for fun. It was in his nature not to be afraid of the small stuff. From our view, it slid out and to the side. There was nothing there but a wall, or so we thought. When Cory knocked on it, nothing out of the ordinary happened.
“It’s just a wall,” he said looking back our way.
But it was Naveen’s sharp eyes and mind for mechanics that sorted it out. “That’s a trick. The door is right here,” he said pointing to where Jojo had fallen.
In front of the fireplace, a panel of wood sank into the floor. Inspecting it, Naveen pushed at it and watched it slide to reveal spiral wooden stairs as if a wine cellar could be below. Whatever was there, Naveen’s also fearless personality took the lead before I could.
“If something comes out of that place and tries to kills us. I’m beating everyone here asses for being stupid right now,” Shanelle said behind us, yet she was inching closer in curiosity.
Shaking my head, I quickly followed Naveen. I glanced at Cory in a way only he and I got as brothers, and he moved to close off the room by pulling out the pocket doors, and locking them just in case. Once Cory headed down, Melissa followed. Inez ended up being the last to go with her scary ass, so that she could close the door that led to the kitchen in order to give Uncle Snap privacy and keep what we were doing on the low.
One by one, we made our way below. At first, everything did appear to be an old wine cellar with various books and things as if Mama Claudette had just finished Bible Study or tutoring classes. But, as I glanced around the dark place, finding a light switch, I saw that Naveen was gone. Panicked, I moved around until I found a hallway. To the right was a fancy shower and, as I kept going, another wall popped up with a bookshelf that was slid to the left.
Following it, I heard the others behind me.
“What the hell is this,” I heard Melissa say. “Is this some type of maze?”
“Feels like it,” I heard Shanelle say. “At least it’s clean. It seems as if this has been used regularly. What was Mama doing?”
“Thank God Mama was a clean freak. If one spider or mouse jumped out, every last one of y’all would be kissing my ass, because I’m out! Dios!”
Shanelle’s solemn chuckle
filled the tunnel as she sharply whispered, “Shut up, Inez.”
Ignoring them, I cupped my hand to my mouth and shouted, “Naveen! Where the hell are you, man?”
Moving quickly the deeper we went, I stopped when I saw light. Making a quick left, I was surprised yet again when I stumbled into a massive chamber. The place was so big that it looked like a condo apartment. I mean it had everything. A modern chef’s kitchen, fancy furniture, a sky light, expensive art, and in the middle Naveen stood with wide eyes. Turning to where he looked, I saw on a wall a glass marker board with pictures, red Xs, addresses, money amounts, and next to it, on a pop-out wall, guns, stacks of cash, and bags of various types of drugs.
“Fuck out of here,” I muttered, walking into the place. “Why the hell would Mama have this place . . . and this shit?”
I stood next to a large flat-screen television that turned on showing us the inside of Mama Claudette’s house, outside of her house, the neighborhood, several other areas where we lived, and areas I couldn’t place.
“Because, Claudette was murdered. She was one of the biggest queen pins in Atlanta, and all of you she chose to groom to take over her empire; and one of you to take her place in the Syndicate.”
Shanelle and Inez’s, “Oh, hell no!” basically summed up everything we all were thinking.
Looking around as one, we saw Uncle Snap standing in the tunnel entryway where we all had come from. Straight up, I was tripping on how casually he moved around the place as if this was nothing brand new to him. In his hands were his bottle of Henny, and that Mason glass. The old man took slovenly sips, then moved to a pillar in the room. With a deep grunt, he slapped this palm against the pillar, revealing a side panel that brought the rest of the chamber alive all around us. All the sadness in his eyes seemed to partially melt away as a stern seriousness replaced it.
The old man moved away from the pillar, walked in front of a large black reclining chair then dropped down in it. Taking a seat in front of us as if he were a king, our uncle stretched his legs out, took another deep swig from his jar then watched us as if waiting for us to respond.
