Download Drama

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “Yeah, I saw it. How you gonna put me on blast like that when I specifically told you not to. Are you out of your friggin’ mind?” I snap as soon as he’s closer.

  “Whoa, hold up, girl. You don’t need to be coming at me with all that hostility when I’m just trying to do you a favor.”

  “A favor,” I repeat, astonished by his plan.

  “Yeah, a favor. This video is gonna open all kinds of doors for us. With you dancing and me producing, we’ll be famous. I’m talking pulling down some serious cash money.”

  He looks at me all innocent and then he starts laughing. I swear I am two seconds from beating him down right here and now. “What is wrong with you? I can’t believe you did that to me. I told you no taping, didn’t I, and you did it, anyway. You need to take that down now.”

  “Take it down, no way. Come on, girl, you said I could put it up. You said, ‘Yeah, right, you do that.’ So I did.”

  Crap, I remember I did say that. “I was being sarcastic.”

  “Seriously, you looked great up there or else I wouldn’t have taped you and uploaded it in the first place. Do you see all the hits we’re getting already? You went from over two hundred views yesterday to almost a hundred thousand views in only two days. You’re on track, girl. You’re on the front page of YouTube and I swear we’re about to go viral.”

  “I don’t care about getting hits and going viral. It’s not supposed to be there. Get rid of it.”

  “Okay, now we need to talk percentage here. I think as your promoter, videographer, producer, editor and manager I need to be pulling down, like, forty percent of the take, right.”

  “Are you deaf now or something? I just told you to take it down. You can’t just video tape someone without their knowledge or permission and put it up on the internet.”

  “Sure I can. People do it all the time.”

  “Take it down,” I insist.

  “See, you wrong. You’re just saying that now, but as soon as we go viral and everybody hits it up you’ll be thanking me.”

  “Hell, no, take it down now!”

  He looked shocked. “What do you mean?” he asks innocently.

  “Did I stutter? What do you mean, what do I mean? It’s simple. The same way you put it up there you can take it down.”

  He looks away and shrugs. “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t? Just do it.”

  “I don’t know how,” he confesses.

  There’s no way I believe him. “Yes, you do,” I say.

  “No, seriously, I don’t. I’ve put things up before, but I’ve never had to take anything down.”

  “Well, just do the opposite of what you did to put it up.”

  “You know it don’t work like that. It’s not that easy.”

  I give him one of those looks, so that he knows I’m serious. “I’m not playing, Jerome Tyler. Take it down.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. But seriously, the least you can say is thank you.”

  “Thank you for what?” I ask. “For messing with my life even though I specifically told you not to?”

  “Girl, you don’t even know, I’m about to make you famous. Do you know how many people made it big by doing a YouTube video and it going viral? Look at Taj. She did it the same way and look how famous she is.”

  “Do I look like I want to be famous? I didn’t ask you to put it up there, so why should I thank you for taking it down? Just do it.” I start walking away from him ’cause he’s getting on my last nerve right now.

  “Yeah, a’ight, fine, whatever…” he calls out as I keep walking away. “But see, I was only trying to do you a favor. I was gonna make you a star. And don’t tell me you don’t want to be famous. I know you do, everybody does.…”

  He keeps talking his talk and I keep walking away. I’m so not listening to him anymore. I said what I had to say and now I’m done. I don’t care if he’s pissed. I’m pissed, too.

  So as soon as I turn the corner I see my dad’s car parked in front of my grandmother’s house. Shit. I figured I’d have enough time to get in and out before he got here, but apparently I don’t. Now I don’t have a choice. I have to deal with him. But for real, whatever he wants, I don’t want to hear it.

  I get closer and see him standing on the front porch with his back to me. I walk up the path and up the front steps. He’s on his cell phone. As I get closer I can hear him talking softly to someone—obviously female and obviously not Courtney. It sounds like he’s making plans for tonight. No big surprise.

  I step up on the porch, lean back against one of the columns and just wait. I wasn’t listening to his conversation on purpose, but then again, I wasn’t not listening, either. It was typical Kenneth James Lewis—cheating and stepping out. For real, I have no idea how my mom dealt with his ass for so long.

  “I’m sorry, baby girl, but you know I got that thing to do,” he coos softly.

  I just shake my head. Did he just call one of his part-time hoochies “baby girl,” the nickname he’s been calling me all my life?

  “Nah, baby girl, we got all weekend. Just give me a few hours to take care of this thing. I have to make a quick drop-off, okay? Then I’ll come and pick you up, I promise. We’ll do dinner, a club and then we’ll go back to the house and I’ll do you.” He pauses a few seconds and laughs. “Yeah, all night long, just you and me. And wear that little red thong thing I like. You know how I like to slap that ass with my…”

  Oh, my God, gross. I think I just threw up in my mouth. Twice. Okay, I seriously don’t want to hear anymore, so I start down the steps to go around to the back door. I get to the last step. I can still hear him talking his old-school player bullshit, then he stops midsentence. I look back. He’s looking at me. I guess he’s shocked. I turn back around and keep walking.

  “Baby girl,” he calls out, apparently forgetting my request for him not to call me that anymore. Especially since I know that’s what he calls his hoochies. “No, not you, baby girl,” he says in the cell phone, then realizes his confusing mistake. “Hey, let me hit you up later. Yeah, I’ll call you.” He closes his cell phone fast, then calls out to me again. “Baby girl.”

  I turn and reluctantly go back to the front porch. I look up at him. “Who, me or her?” I question sarcastically, and glance at the phone still in his hand. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. See, I have zero respect for my dad. But it wasn’t when he threw me and my mom out of the house or when he stood at her grave site acting like he was all torn up. No, it was when he and I stood watching Courtney, his current baby mama, damn near spread her legs and screw him out of everything and not say a damn word to her afterward. “Baby girl, when did you get here?”

  I didn’t answer his question. “Hi, Dad,” I say instead.

  He stares at me a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell me your grandmother’s going to Georgia to visit her sister next week? Do you think you’re staying in this house alone?”

  “I’ve been in this house alone before.”

  “Not for seven days,” he points out quickly. “Do you really think I’m gonna let you stay here by yourself all week? Pack your bags. You’re coming with me to Virginia.”

  “What? Dad, it’s no big deal. When mom was alive and went on her trips I used to be alone in the house all the time ’cause you were never there.”

  “Not this house and not this neighborhood.”

  “Dad, it’s no big deal,” I insist.

  “This isn’t up for discussion. Get in the house and pack.”

  Okay, see, this is what I’m talking about. He’s got it into his head that after sixteen years of ignoring me, he can just step into my life now and start acting like a father. Please. “What about school next week? How am I supposed to do that?”


  “I’ll drive you into the city in the morning and you can meet me at my office afterward and I’ll have someone take you home. Mrs. Taylor can do it,” he says, opening the front door and heading into the house.

  “Mrs. Taylor is your receptionist, not a driver. Besides, I have a job after school. How am I supposed to get back and forth from work?”

  “A job!” He turns and yells. “When the hell did you get a job! Where is it, that pizza place again?”

  My grandmother comes to the kitchen doorway instantly. She heads down the hall toward us. I don’t answer him. Okay, I’ve heard my dad yell before, mostly when he was arguing with my mom and now with Courtney. He’s never really yelled at me, not like this.

  “What is all this yelling about?” my grandmother asks.

  He whips around to her. “She has a job. What, nobody thought I might like to know what my daughter is doing these days? The only way I found out that she had a job and was damn near killed in a robbery was when my receptionist told me and two police officers came into my office. Nobody tells me anything anymore and I’m sick of it. I’m her father, understand? You’re just her grandmother. Everything, and I mean everything, she does goes by me first, do you understand?” he demands, pointing his finger at my grandmother for emphasis.

  Shit. Not a good idea. I take a step to the side and see my grandmother’s eyes narrow just like my mom’s used to when she was pissed off. Only my grandmother looks ten times fiercer. She looks like she’s about to kick ass.

  “First of all, Kenneth, don’t you ever come into my home and raise your voice at me. I’m not my daughter nor one of your female friends, so your yelling doesn’t move me. This is my home, you respect it. Second, you need to have a care about pointing your finger in my face. That’s how fools come up short. I’m not too old that I can’t kick your ass up and down this damn street. And believe me when I say, if I can’t do it I know others who certainly will.”

  “Are you threatening me?” he asks with a smirk on his face.

  “Shut up,” my grandmother yells.

  “Don’t disrespect me in front of my daughter. I’m her—”

  “I don’t give a damn what you are or who you are. Don’t you dare raise your voice in my home. Ever! And I’m not finished yet. Third, if you would have paid at least half the amount of attention on this child as you do on running the damn streets my daughter would still be alive and not rotting in a premature grave. You did that to her, no one else, you did!” she accuses.

  Oh, shit. I didn’t see this coming.

  “Are you blaming me for Barbara’s death? She took those damn pills and killed herself. I had nothing to do with it. I wasn’t here when it happened, you were,” he says.

  “You knew damn well what those pills were for and what she was going through. For the last five years of her life she was suffering alone while you ran the damn street acting like some teenage jackass.”

  “I loved Barbara,” he insists.

  “Bullshit, if you loved her you never would have treated her like you did. You didn’t love her and you damn sure didn’t deserve her.”

  “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you’re a selfish, self-centered asshole.”

  “Woman, you need to get up out of my face before I—”

  “What? Before you what?” she interrupts him instantly.

  Shit, even I take a step back on that one. My grandmother’s eyes and lips narrow to thin slits of rage. Her face is flushed red and her fists are balled tight on her hips. My mom was a hitter. She’d slap someone in a split second. I have no idea what my grandmother might do. I half expect her to pull out a gun and just start shooting.

  “You need to change that attitude right now and know who the hell you’re talking to. I’m not one of your hoochie-mamas.”

  Seriously, the words hoochie-mamas should not be coming out of my seventy-something-year-old grandmother’s mouth—ever.

  “You’ve been all up in my business for the past seventeen years and I put up with it. I’m sick of this drama with you. I don’t have to put up with it anymore. I don’t need you. I’ll take care of Kenisha.”

  I laugh out loud. Oops. They both look at me. Shit.

  “How the hell are you gonna take care of her when you can barely take care of yourself, let alone the family you got living in Virginia and Maryland and God knows where else.”

  “Whoa, back up, in Maryland?” I actually butt in, forgetting I need to be quiet. “What family in Maryland?” I ask my dad.

  “Do you want to answer that question or do you want me to?”

  My dad doesn’t say a word. He just glares from me to my grandmother, then back at me. “Go upstairs and pack your bags, everything. You’re leaving this house tonight.”

  Of course I don’t move. “Dad, what family in Maryland?”

  “Get your stuff and get your ass outside now. You’re going to Virginia,” he says as he turns to the front door. “I need to get out of here.”

  This is so typical for my dad. He’s a bailer. Whenever things get tight or uncomfortable and he can’t take it anymore, he walks out. I look at my grandmother. She nods for me to go upstairs. I drop my backpack on the bottom step and head upstairs to my room. When I get to the second floor I hear the front door open and my grandmother talking again.

  “No, you don’t. You’re not running from this. Have a seat.”

  I hear the door close. I don’t know if my dad did what she told him or if he did his usual—walk away.

  Eight

  Out of the Loop—Again

  kenishi_wa K Lewis

  WTF? Are you friggin’ kidding me? Why is it that I’m always the last person to know anything? I swear I hate being in the dark as much as I hate knowing too much.

  27 Apr * Like * Comment * Share

  I call Jade as soon as I get to my room. Somebody’s gotta tell me something. Thank God she answers on the first ring. “Hey,” she says, “I was gonna call you tonight. We need to talk about what I found out.”

  “Yeah, but before we do that, Jade, tell me the truth. What the hell’s going on? Does my dad have another family in Maryland or what?”

  “Another family? Who told you that?” she asks slowly.

  Her voice was laced with caution. Right then, I know he does. Seriously, WTF is his problem. I just shake my head. Here I go again. “Grandmom and my dad were arguing and she said it.”

  “They were arguing about what?”

  I took a deep breath. “About me not staying here at the house alone next week. I didn’t tell him Grandmom’s going away.”

  “And let me guess, now he’s pissed and wants you to go back to the house in Virginia for good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You should have told him.”

  “Why? For what reason? He doesn’t care. My dad and I haven’t spoken in almost three weeks. So, like, whenever he wants to step up and play paternal I’m just supposed to be quiet and play along. Nah, bump that shit. I’m sick of it. He’s the same part-time dad he always was. He’s got his thing and I’ve got mine. It’s no big deal. I can be here in the house alone. It’s only seven days.”

  “What do you mean? Kenisha, you’re not gonna be at the house alone. I’m gonna stay there with you and commute to my classes. Grandmom and I already talked about it.”

  “Are you sure?” I say, a lot more hopeful and relieved than I thought I would be. “What about you being at the dorm—isn’t it more convenient to be on campus?” I ask.

  “Probably, but Grandmom and I already decided.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell my dad that you’re gonna be here with me next week. Hopefully that will calm him down,” I say, then pause a few seconds. “Ja
de, did you know Grandmom blames my dad for Mom dying like that? She said that Mom was suffering.”

  There was a long silence on her end, and then she finally answered. “Yeah, I kinda knew or rather suspected.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask her.

  “And say what, Kenisha? Guess what, I think our grandmother blames your father for Mom’s death. How’s the weather?”

  “Yeah, well, I just didn’t know. It surprised me when she said it. I thought she was over it. She never speaks about Mom or wants to talk about her. Once in a while I see her looking really sad, especially when she’s in the living room and looking at the family pictures on the wall.”

  “She’s still grieving. She blames herself, too. Plus, I think Mom was actually sick when she died. That’s what I was gonna call you and tell you about later. The more I look into it the more I get the feeling those hospital bills you found belonged to Mom and not to Grandmom.”

  “To Mom—wait, what makes you think that?”

  “I have the medicine bottles I took from you that time. I did a Google search on the names of some of the prescription pills she was taking. They weren’t just for her nerves like she said. They were serious pain pills.”

  My stomach clinches into a knot and my heart starts to beat fast. I start thinking about the dreams I’ve been having about her. My eyes get watery and I can feel all the emotions coming back again. I know Dr. Tubbs says to just let the emotions go, but I still can’t. “What was wrong with her?” I ask just above a whisper.

  “I don’t know. I asked them but they won’t tell me. But whatever it was I think it was serious, real serious.”

  “Did you know she was sick?” I ask her.