by Xavier Neal
Carly nods and makes an attempt to smile.
The two of us get out of my truck and link hands on our way towards the front door.
We’ve barely stepped foot on the yard before my mother comes barreling out the front door hollering, “No! Off! Off my property!”
Her shouting stumbles us both backward.
“Off my property! I know my rights! Off!” She continues squawking. “Off! Off! Off!”
“Momma!”
“Off my property coon! I’ll get the broom!”
“Momma!”
“I will! I’ll get the broom ‘til Randy gets the shot gun! It’ll work! It’ll work!”
My brain can hardly comprehend what she’s screaming, but the sound of my excited nieces only amplifies how wrong it is to be yelling such hatred.
“Coons! Where?!” Lacey giggles from the open doorway. “I love raccoons!”
“Grandma we love raccoons!” Lyndsey agrees.
“Not them kinda coons, girls,” she reprimands at the same time she blocks them from moving forward.
“Stop sayin’ coon,” I bite.
“Don’t you tell me how to talk, boy,” my momma snaps. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“Aunty Carly!” The girls sing her name at the sight of her.
“That is not your aunty!” Momma huffs.
Lacey argues, “But-”
“Not now! Not ever.”
Lyndsey makes an attempt, “But-”
“We do not let niggers into this house or this family,” she continues to chastise though now I’m not sure at who.
The grip on my hand vanishes and my face snaps towards Carly’s. To my surprise there’s not tears or disdain in her eyes. Her face isn’t fallen nor are her shoulders drooped. She doesn’t look pissed. She doesn’t look defeated. She doesn’t even look remotely affected, which causes a newfound confliction inside. Is she unaffected because she knew this would happen? Is she unaffected because this isn’t the first time somethin’ like this has happened to her? Or maybe…jus’ maybe her love for me is actin’ like her shield and she knows nothin’ will stop us from being together. I’m hopin’ like hell it’s that one.
Momma continues her shouting, “It’s bad enough we had to let them in this town!”
“Lady that’s enough!” Lynette barks, grabbing the girls’ hands. “You will not teach my daughters such hateful words.”
“Nigger is not hateful, it’s accurate. Descriptive.”
“Momma….” Shock settles even more apparent on my face. “Stop.”
“Mommy, what’s a nigger?” Lyndsey quickly questions.
“A word you will not say or use ever,” Lynette growls.
Lacey continues where her sister stopped, “But if Aunt Carly is one-”
“She isn’t!” Lynette snips at her children.
“Don’t lie to those children!”
“Momma, enough!”
“Wow,” Carly mumbles under her breath, slowly backing up towards the truck. “Maybe I should go?”
“That’s right! Go! Get off my property and don’t you dare think about steppin’ another foot on it! You’re lucky I haven’t called the sheriff yet! I heard all about you stealin’ from Paul!”
Our time in the supply store yesterday was brief, but obviously not brief enough if he wrongfully accused my girlfriend of stealing. She didn’t wanna touch anything inside of it. Why would she steal? And she probably makes enough to buy the damn thing from him, so again, what would be the need to steal?
“I didn’t steal anything, ma’am.”
“You did!” She screeches. “And don’t you speak another word to me mud monkey!”
“I love monkeys!” The twins shout together.
“Stop sayin’ that kinda shit, momma!”
“Don’t make me get a bucket of soap and water to wash your mouth out!” She narrows her vision at Carly. “Probably should get the bleach so I can wash your damn hide, too!”
“You are unbelievable right now,” Lynette sighs and shakes her head. “Girls, go wait with Aunt Carly, please.”
“Don’t you dare go over to that thievin’ tar woman!”
“Now!” Lynette hisses to her children. They come running towards her at the same time I abandon Carly to join the argument. “You don’t get to tell my children what to do. More importantly, you don’t get to decide who they do and do not call family. Most importantly, you will not teach them how to hate.” My sister-in-law snaps her attention to me. “I will take Carly back to your place-”
“Don’t you take her there! She’ll probably steal somethin’ when you’re not lookin’! Steal somethin’ jus’ like she did from Paul!”
“Momma, that’s enough.” My tone is deep and my growl dark. “Say another ugly word about Carly, and I’ll walk away right now and not look back.”
“You wouldn’t,” her voice sizzles.
“You’re lucky I’m still standin’ here at all.”
She makes a displeased sound, stomps her foot, and darts into the house.
My stare lands on Lynette who’s still seething. “You sure you don’t mind takin’ Carly back to my place while I try get this settled? Try to make this right?”
“Not at all.” She folds her arms across her chest. “But hear me and hear me loud, Dusty. As long as she says shit like that, as long as she treats Carly like that, the girls will not spend time around her. I don’t give a fuck if that’s their grandmother or not. I’m not gonna let anyone, and I do mean anyone, fill my girls’ head with that kinda racist dribble. Understand?”
I quickly nod.
“Did you know she was like this?” When I hesitate to answer she snaps, “Did you have the decency to warn your girlfriend about it?”
“Honestly, didn’t know she was gonna respond this way.”
“What? You thought she might make a few backhanded comments and go on about the day? That’s not exactly better, Dusty.”
I make an attempt to respond but quickly receive a harsh hand to hush.
“Go check on your girlfriend while I get the girls’ things.”
With a heavy sigh, I spin on my heels, and jog back to the driveway where Carly is cuddling them both.
My eyes immediately lock with hers and the words fall breathlessly from my lips. “I’m sorry, baby…I didn’t think this was how it was gonna go.”
She gives me a slight shrug. “I’m sorry, too.”
“You have nothin’ to apologize for.”
“Oh really?” Her sarcastic tone squeezes my heart. “Pretty sure I just started a Civil War in your family.”
“Carly-”
“Don’t.” The word is followed promptly by a deep exhale. “Try to enjoy breakfast with your parents. I’ll be fine waiting at your place until you get back.”
“I want breakfast,” Lacey whines.
“I want breakfast, too!” Her sister echoes.
Shifting Lyndsey into my arms, I warmly say, “Sorry, you can’t stay at grandma’s for breakfast, but I have waffles in the freezer and I bet if you’re really, really nice to Aunty Carly, she’ll cook ‘em and spread chocolate on ‘em for you.” The girls giggle their giddiness at the same time I explain to my girlfriend, “It’s that Nutella stuff.”
She lets the corner of her lip move upward. “I can handle making them that.”
“Can we have bacon, too?” Lacey mischievously adds, toying with Carly’s necklace.
“Give these girls an inch and I swear they’ll beg for the whole mile,” I tease.
The front door slams shut and Lynette is storming across the yard with a backpack slung over each shoulder as well as her purse.
Her irritation seems to have soared to a new level. “FYI, your mother has locked herself in the bathroom and is crying hysterically, while begging God to cast the demon out of you.”
My face falls yet again.
“Awesome,” Carly grumbles.
I sidestep her sarcasm and assist in strapping the girl
s in. Distracting them from what my mother said is, thankfully, easy and by the time they’re ready to leave the driveway the only thing on their minds is adding candy to their waffles.
My face leans through the passenger window towards Carly. “You know I love you, baby.”
She slowly nods.
“Give me a couple hours to see if I can get this….fixed.”
“And if you can’t?”
The idea of having to choose between her and my parents swells the lump in my throat. “Let’s be hopeful I can.”
Carly doesn’t say another word. We exchange a soft kiss and goodbye before Lynette pulls out of the driveway.
Once they’re down the road I head inside with a heart so heavy it sinks to my stomach.
This shouldn’t have spiraled like it did. My momma’s always had a flare for the dramatic, but even this is a bit much for her. I knew Carly’s skin color would matter to an extent. However, I never imagined in a million years it would have her head spinnin’ ‘round. Damn sure never thought she’d say the shit she did, especially not in front of her grandchildren.
The sounds of my momma’s wailing increases with each step I take past the living room. Her bedroom door is wide open, but the one that connects to their bathroom is shut.
Leaning against the frame, I call out, “Momma everyone’s gone. You can come out now.”
Her hysterical noises stop. “Did you tell that coon to go home and never speak to you again?”
My lips press firmly together to prevent myself from completely losing my tongue. “No, because I love her, and whether or not you like it, we need to talk about it.”
She launches into full-fledge crying again, and I slink back out of the room.
For the first couple of hours, I lounge around on her outdated floral couch and watch reruns of Lawless Lives, mentally preparing all the things I’m going to say when my mother finally comes out. I practice puttin’ her in her place. The defensive speech I should’ve made in front of my girlfriend. The way to lecture her about how intolerance is unacceptable, as is behavin’ like we’re from some backwoods uncivilized culture rather than the friendly community I was raised believin’ we were. I spend a few minutes sending Carly messages to let her know it might take longer than I anticipated, and she sends me sweet pics of the girls having breakfast. The photos give me momentary peace of mind.
At least they’re happy.
At least their lives aren’t completely turned upside down with no clue as to when it’ll ever turn right side up.
Dad comes through the front door on the cusp of hour three turning into hour four. He offers a polite nod. “Hey, Dusty.”
“Hey, Dad.”
His eyes scan the living room in confusion. “Where’s everyone else? Thought you were all comin’ over for breakfast?”
“Well-”
“Tell him!” Momma shouts, racing into the room. “Tell him how you ran everyone off!”
My father’s attention drops back to me. “What happened?”
“Tell him! Tell him how Paul wasn’t lyin’ about you holdin’ hands with that coon! Tell him how you tried to bring that nigger into this house!”
“Stop fuckin’ usin’ those words!” I yell at the top of my lungs.
“Watch your mouth, boy,” Dad practically growls. “That’s your momma. You don’t talk to her like that.”
“But he has been Randy,” she overdramatically sniffles, leading my eyes to roll of their own accord. “Speakin’ to me like I ain’t nobody important. Like I ain’t his momma.”
I grit my teeth to stop from commenting.
“It’s that heathen he’s let into his bed,” Momma continues to complain. “She taught him to speak like that. To act like he doesn’t have any manners. Her terrible influence is already startin’!”
Another sigh shakes my shoulders. “She’s not a terrible influence, momma. In fact, she’s one of the best damn things to ever happen to me.”
“Hush it!” She chomps. “It is bad enough your brother married a tramp. I will not have my baby boy runnin’ off with some jungle bunny!”
Rage rushes through my vocal chords, yet her choice of language leaves me too stunned to snap.
“He’s not rushin’ off anywhere, Lady. Relax,” Dad calmly states. “He just needs a good talkin’ to. Some wise words to get his head on straight.”
A cell phone starts ringing, and Momma marches to the kitchen to answer it.
I lower my volume but not my conviction. “There is nothin’ wrong with my head, Dad.”
“There sure is if you tried to bring a colored girl into this house or if you think for a second we would approve of your bringin’ one into this family.”
Anger boils to the brim and I prepare to tear into them, starting with my moving to Highland to be with Carly when momma comes rushing back into the room. “We have to go. Right now. Right now!”
“Go where?” Dad immediately asks.
The tears falling from her eyes no longer feel false. “To Dalvegan City Hospital. Cody’s in the ICU.”
I stand to my feet, push everything else to the back of mind, and announce, “I’ll drive.”
Chapter Thirteen
Carly
Dusty: I need time and space with my family. I’m sorry.
My thumb hovers over the delete key like it has every day for the past ten days.
His final words to me. Words I can’t blame him for sending. Words I didn’t even understand the full force of until Lynette later sent me a message to inform me Cody died from injuries he sustained during a rescue that Sunday I was busy tearing his family apart. He was heroically saving children, and I was trying to sever his from their grandparents….
Tears threaten my eyes again, and I turn off the screen message untouched.
I know I need to delete it. Delete him. Delete our memories and move forward. That’s what I tell my clients when they’re coming into our services fresh off the heartache express. I encourage them to cleanse their lives by establishing new routines. Branching out to new restaurants or new experiences they had been denying themselves in the past. I thoroughly explain the significance of removing old photos or their previous lover’s lingering items, such as clothes or collectables. You can’t fall in love with someone new while still holding on so tightly to someone old.
God, I don’t ever wanna fall in love again.
There’s a knocking on my front door that, thankfully, pulls me from the spiral I was slipping into. I place my boot shaped mug down on the counter and promptly answer it.
Three unexpected faces force themselves to grin widely. “Hey….”
I step back to allow Art, Audrey, and Cordie into my apartment.
Avoiding everyone had been easy up until this point. Turns out, when your friends are dating, they’re easily distracted by their own relationships, leaving you to wallow in the ashes of yours in peace.
“You look like hell,” Art sighs as I shut the door behind them.
“You really do,” Cordie agrees. “That’s, what? Two-day old eyeliner and mascara?”
Oddly enough her guess is accurate. It was the only day I decided I could stomach stepping foot into the office. Thankfully, I managed to push back face to face meetings until next week, leaving this one to rifle through paperwork, study social media behavior, and cry in the privacy of my own home.
“We brought wine,” Audrey meekly announces, lifting the bottles into vision.
“I’m gonna order Chinese,” Art adds.
“And I’m gonna pick the movie since we all know the one in an emotional crisis isn’t the best candidate for choosing.” Cordie winks.
Their collective efforts urge me to smile, yet I don’t. Each one of them is displaying similar distraught postures, wrinkled foreheads, and worry ridden eyes. It’s obvious they care, however, if they would just take one long look at me, it’s more than obvious I’m not in the mood to deal with guests.
I wrap my arms around my lower stomach
and sigh, “I appreciate this but-”
“Nope,” my big brother swiftly cuts me off, draping an arm around my shoulder. “You have been sulking in solitude long enough. Time with your friends and family is healthy. Especially with the level of sadness you’re feeling.”
Bitterness gets the better of me. “Shouldn’t you all be out with your boyfriends? Doing dinner or movies or picking out swatches or something?”
“Look, Carly, you’ve been the third wheel…the fifth wheel…plenty of times over the past couple of months without complaint,” Cordie begins, unexpected kindness in her tone. “You need us now, and we’re here for you.”
The tears I pushed away earlier dart to the corner of my eyes ready to be fully displayed. “I’m fine….Really.”
Scoffs escape all three of them, though it’s Art who speaks, “We may not have your highly sharpened behavior analysis skills, but we’re not morons. We can see how depressed you are. How you’re far from fine, which is completely understandable, sis. But if you want my opinion on this whole thing, I don’t think it’s over.”
I instantly shrug out of his touch and sulk towards my couch. “Just because you and Dennis have turned making up and breaking up into a sport, doesn’t mean the rest of us have.”
“Can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I think Art is right,” Cordie states on her route to the kitchen. “While your brother is generally wrong about everything-”
“Fuck you, too, Cordie.”
“-he’s not wrong about this.” The sound of wine glasses clinking together stirs my stomach. “I’ve met Dusty,” she continues on her walk back into the living room, “and I’ve witnessed his love for you firsthand. And you know what? That’s not the type of shit you find every day. It’s the type that hits you once in a lifetime, which I think is why I’ve always been jealous of what you two have. Because when I see Dusty look at you, there is not a shred of doubt he loves you more than he loves his own life. And I want that. I want someone to look at me that way….I think we all do.”
I tuck my knees to my chest and rest my forehead on top of them.
Except he’ll never look at me like that again….
