Chapter Ten

 

 

When You Receive The Answers To The Test

The Blacks were a trip. Tonya's parents, Cyrus and Cynthia Black, reminded me so much of my mama and Pops in how loving they were to each other and their children, yet they had a lot of differences that I appreciated. From the moment I walked through the door of their home and Cyrus introduced me to Cynthia as their son-in-law, at no point did Cynthia descend on me with a million different questions about where I came from and where I was trying to go. That is the reaction I would have expected from my mother, and it was definitely the one I would eventually be getting from her the moment I informed her that I’d not only gotten married but to a woman she’s never met.

All Cynthia wanted to know was whether I intended to be the man her daughter deserved, and I have so much respect for that, for the two of them. Another difference between them and my own parents was that Cynthia didn't cook. She could but she told me that she didn't want to.

“I hate cooking,” she told me as she chopped vegetables for whatever Cyrus intended to prepare for dinner. “My mother died when I was nine-years-old, and my father made me cook the meals for our family every, single day until the day I left that house. When I moved out the day after my seventeenth birthday and married Cyrus, I said I would never cook again.”

She laughed, expertly deseeding jalapeño peppers and chopping onions without a hint of a tear falling from her eyes.

“Cyrus told me he'd cook all of our meals as long as I washed the dishes, and that was when I knew that he was the one for me. That feeling was reinforced after he bought me a dishwasher when we’d been married for about six years. To this day, he's never asked me to do so much as heat him up a piece of toast, even after all this time.” Glancing over her shoulder, she caught my eye from where I stood next to the stove where Cyrus was stirring something in a pot while his wife spoke. She stared me right into my eyes, and I found myself frozen under her serious scrutiny. “It might seem simple to anybody else, but to me, it means the world that this man made a promise to me thirty-three years ago and has kept that promise to this day.”

Her words were important; I could feel that. Everything she was saying to me, there was meaning in it. She wasn't just sharing a funny anecdote about their life. She was imparting wisdom to me, and I would be remiss if I let it fall away. I held her eye without looking away.

“Be a man of your word, Jereth Hawkins. If you say that you're going to do something, do it. Stand firm in those vows that you made in front of God and those strangers in that chapel in Las Vegas. Do that and everything else will fall into place. Do the opposite, and everything will fall apart, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

While she returned to her task, I silently mulled over her directive. A man of my word. Was she speaking generally or did she mean a literal interpretation of our wedding vows? If she was being general then that would be easy. I tended not to say things I didn’t mean and made it a point to never make promises I wasn’t certain I could keep. If she meant the vows…well, while I wouldn’t say that would be hard, it would surely take hard work and effort. Much of honoring those recited oaths would depend on learning who Tonya was as a person so that I could care for her as her husband. I had no intention of backing down from the challenge. My impulses had led me here for a reason.

♥♥♥♥

When The Tribe Is The Prize

When dinner was nearly finished, Cyrus had excused himself to the bathroom when the front door opened and the slap, slap of tennis shoes hitting the hardwood flooring diverted everyone’s attention to the kitchen door where a young boy appeared with a wide grin on his face.

“Grandma, Grandpa, we're here!”

Gangly arms wrapped around Cynthia's torso from behind as she stood at the sink washing the cutting board and knife she been using for her sous chef duties as well as the mixing bowls that Cyrus had used for his cornbread batter. She placed the items in the dish rack next to the sink and dried her hands on a paper towel before turning around and hugging the boy just as tightly as he’d hugged her.

“Hey, baby! I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. Look how big you've gotten.”

“Wisdom was with his father this past week.”

I turned to see Cyrus leaning his hip on the counter on the counter next to where I stood, his eyes on the two people in front of both of us.

Oh, so this was Wisdom. Tonya’s son. I nodded.

“During the school year, he spends one week a month with his dad, and during the summer, he spends one week a month with Tonya. They call all that flip-flopping co-parenting.”

I snickered but didn't say anything. The emphasis that Cyrus had put on co-parenting was hilarious as if it was a foreign word he'd never heard of. We both watched as the boy looked around the room and saw his eyes land on Cyrus. He ran over and gave him the same treatment he just gave Cynthia, a tight hug and choruses of I missed you. It was touching to witness, and I found myself missing my own niece, who was about Wisdom's age. She had a cell phone now and texted me every now and then, but I hadn’t seen Ja’Mya in person in about three weeks.

Pulling out of his grandfather’s grasp, Wisdom stepped back and eyed me curiously.

“Hello.”

I nodded at him. “Hey.”

Neither Cyrus nor Cynthia opened their mouth to introduce me to him. From what I saw today, that seemed to be a running theme with this family.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I held out a hand. “I’m Jereth Hawkins. What's your name, lil dude?”

He shook my hand vigorously, grip pretty firm for a youngin’. “Wisdom Cyrus Black. I'm eleven.”

“Nice to meet you, Wisdom Cyrus Black. Can I just call you Wisdom?”

With a smug grin he said, “Well, it’s ‘May’ you call me Wisdom, but yeah, I guess that’s fine.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you the man my mama married in Las Vegas?”

Cynthia gasped and my eyes widened with surprise. I looked over at Cyrus but he was no help, offering nothing but a shrug and raised eyebrows. Well, shit; with no suggestions, what else was I to do but tell the truth?

“Well,” I began, “if your mama is Latonya Black then yes, I am.”

Nodding slowly, he seemed to scrutinize me further. “Yeah, that’s my mama. You're very tall. What's your height?”

“I think I'm average height for a man. I'm only six feet and two inches.”

Wisdom’s brows furrowed, and he tapped a finger on his chin. “Well, the average height for a man is actually five feet ten inches, so that means you are pretty tall.”

“Word? I didn’t know that. How tall are you?” I inquired.

“I'm four feet seven inches. I'm actually kinda short compared to the other kids in my class. My dad is of average height and my mom is only five feet three inches, so I'm destined to be a short man when I get older.” He shrugged. “Luckily, I don't need height to be a genius.”

This kid was very articulate. “Are you a genius, Wisdom?

“No,” he said forlornly, dropping his shoulders. “But that is on my agenda of things to achieve before I die.”

I glanced at Cyrus who just shook his head with a smile on his face. “Uh, isn't it too early to be thinking about death and bucket lists? You have a long way to go before that. I mean, you just told me that you’re eleven.”

“My mama says the only guarantee in life is death, so that means it's never too early to think about it.”

“Speaking of your mama, where is she?” Cynthia voiced the question, interrupting what would have been me commenting on how morbid it was to discuss the inevitably of death with an eleven-year-old. Wisdom had obviously inherited his mama’s penchant for loquaciousness.

“Oh, she's outside, probably on the phone with my dad, fussing about Ava.”

Cynthia pursed her lips. “Well, you gon’ on to the bathroom and wash up for dinner. I'll handle your mama.”

Cyrus clapped a hand on my shoulder as Wisdom ran out of the room. “Wait a minute, Cyn. Why don't you let her husband handle her?”

Cynthia grinned. “You sho right. Gon’ on and see about your wife then, Jereth.”

Laughing, I made my way out the front door and down the driveway, where I could clearly see Tonya through her tinted windows having what looked like a heated discussion. I stood outside of her door, waiting for her to wrap it up, but once I saw her chest heaving, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. Gripping the handle, I wrenched the door open and held out my hand.

“What's taking you so long to get out this car, woman?”

She stared at me, mouth agape, eyes disbelieving.

“Jereth?”

“The one and only.”

Her eyes widened further. “Wha—what are you doing here?”

“I came to see about my wife.”

“No,” she shook her head, “I mean, what are you doing here—at my parents’ house?”

“I got into town this morning and went by your family’s coffee shop. I met your father and uncles when I was there, and he invited me to dinner. He thought it'd be a great opportunity for me to meet the rest of the family.”

I wasn't sure what her reaction would be to hearing that father had invited me over. It could have gone several different ways, many of which ending in her being pissed that I even went behind her back and talked to her father. Though that wasn't how things played out, I wasn't naive enough to pretend that it couldn't be read that way. But when her face broke out into a huge grin, I knew that I was right where I was supposed to be. Leaning forward, I stretched out my hand and waited for her to grab it. Then I pulled her out of the car, closing the door behind her.

Man, I wrapped her up in my arms and squeezed her to my chest, burying my face into her neck.

“I know it's only been a few hours, but I missed you. I know it sounds crazy, but it is what it is.”

I felt her shake her head against my chest. “If it's crazy, have us both committed because I missed you too.”

Hearing her compassion brought a warmth to my chest. It felt so damn good to know that she felt just like I felt; that I wasn't in this by myself; that this spontaneous thing could take a hold of her just like it has taken a hold of me. I pressed my lips to hers, sipping from them and taking what I could as gently as possible, knowing that her parents and son occupied the house behind me and could easily look out at us through the window.

“Aww,” a bodiless coo came out of nowhere. “Look at the newlyweds.”

Breaking apart, we both turned to see her sisters walking up the driveway. Natasha wore a big grin, indicating that she was the one who’d spoken, and Latoya eyed me warily.

Tonya grinned at her sisters. “Hey, brats! Look who’s here.”

“We know,” Latoya stated flatly. “We saw him earlier.”

“Damn, Toy, can you sound any drier?”

Latoya shrugged. “Sorry that I’m not happy-go-lucky like Tasha.”

Tonya frowned and Natasha shook her head. I’d had enough of this shit. Facing Latoya, I folded my arms across my chest.

“Okay, man. How do we move past this churlish attitude you’re holding on to?”

She blinked at me. “You can go back to Las Vegas or wherever the hell you came from.”

Her sisters blew up.

“Wow, Toy! What the actual fuck?”

“That’s not cool at all, Toy.”

I shook my head. “Does Tonya’s desire for me to be here not matter? What about her happiness and what she wants?”

Latoya scoffed and shifted her weight to one foot, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You just met her; you haven’t even been around long enough to know what makes her happy, let alone pull it off! Oh, and newsflash, dicking her down ain’t enough.”

“Oh my god. Toy, I don’t need you to speak for me!”

“Yes you do!” she snapped. “You’re up in la-la land right now, drooling and shit and not looking at the situation for what it is. He turned me down! He said he absolutely would not fuck you then turned right around and asked you to marry him! What kind of crazy shit is that?”

Natasha pursed her lips, staring at me thoughtfully. “That actually sounds very romantic.”

“Exactly,” Tonya added.

Latoya made a loud sound like a buzzer going off. “Nope. Not at all. It’s not romantic; it’s suspicious. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t get got.”

I held my hands in the air, wishing I had a white flag to wave. “You’re trying to protect her. I get it. How about this, though? You give me the opportunity to not disappoint her, and the minute I fuck up you can ride my ass. Until that happens, you gotta cut me some slack though.”

She glared at me. “How about I don’t?”

“Toy—”

Laying a hand on her arm, I cut Tonya off gently. “Hold on a minute.”

Latoya’s eyes flashed angrily. “See! You won’t even let her finish talking! That’s that controlling shit already starting. Don’t try and tell me you’re a good dude when the red flags are already waving.”

Chuckling, I rubbed at my chin. “I cut her off because I don’t want her to waste her energy trying to argue with someone who is hell-bent on disagreeing with her. She’s been telling you how she felt from the jump—well before there was any ‘dicking down’ as you called it—but you aren’t trying to hear her.”

To my surprise, she didn’t have an immediate response. Taken aback, Tonya was astounded and Natasha jumped into the empty space.

“Let’s go inside, you guys. I’m hungry.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, lifting Tonya’s hand to my mouth to place a kiss on the inside of her palm. “Whatever Cyrus hooked up smelled amazing.”

Instead of saying anything else, Latoya stomped up the driveway and entered the house, and we all followed in behind her. Cyrus, Cynthia, and Wisdom had already taken their seats at the long dining table, and the four of us filled in around them. Once everyone’s plate was full of the stewed oxtails, fried cabbage, and buttered rice Cyrus cleared his throat.

“Well, now that the cat's out of the bag,” he nodded at me and Tonya, “we can go on with our lives.”

Tonya pursed her lips. “The cat was never in the bag, Daddy; I just hadn't had the chance to tell you guys yet. That's all. Motormouth over here,” she hooked her thumb over at Latoya, “wouldn't even give me the courtesy of being the one to break the news to you guys.”

“You were taking too long!”

Tonya narrowed her eyes and muttered lowly, “What is with everybody clocking my schedule?” Turning to look over at Cynthia, she said, “What time did you get that text message, Mommy?”

Cynthia stared at the ceiling as she thought about it. “Hmm, I think it was about seven forty-five in the morning. Maybe it was eight. Cyrus, what time did I get that message?”

“It definitely wasn't seven forty-five in the morning. We were just leaving out of the house, heading over to Chicken or The Egg. You got the message when we were sitting down and eating so it had to be,” he trailed off in thought, “almost nine.”

“Don't forget that Las Vegas is an hour behind us, so if it was nine here, it was eight there,” Natasha offered helpfully.

Cynthia looked over at me. “What time did you two get married?”

I cleared my throat. “We were pronounced husband and wife at seven twenty-six a.m.”

“Awww.” Natasha cooed, shaking Toya’s arm as she gazed at her eldest sister. “He remembers the exact minute that you guys got married. Isn't that romantic?”

Cynthia turned to her husband. “Why don't you remember the exact minute that we got married?”

Cyrus grunted. “If we had gotten married yesterday, I guarantee you I would remember the time. Hell, I don't even know the doggone phase of the moon last night. Ask him again in thirty years what the exact hour and time that they got married and see if he remembers then. Hmph.”

I laughed. They were a trip. Every single one of them.

“Mama?” Wisdom spoke up from his seat on Tonya’s left. “Do you remember the time, down to the minute, that I was born?”

Cutting her eyes at him, Tonya answered, “Of course, boy. I'll never, in my life, forget that; all those hours I lay on that table trying to push your big head out.”

“This big head is for my big brains, Mama.”

Tonya laughed. “I know, baby.”

“I know that's right, Wisdom!” Toya held her hand out to high-five her nephew.

Once the laughter settled down, everyone dug back into their food, but Wisdom wasn’t finished.

“I don't know, Grandpa. If my mama can remember the exact time that I was born and that was eleven years ago, maybe you should be able to remember what time you and Grandma got married.”

The whole table bust out in laughter at the cheek of the little boy.

“Exactly!” Cynthia gave Cyrus a look that wasn’t too hard to decipher.

The older man shook his head, dragging his fork across his plate and scooping up rice covered in brown gravy. “No, those two are not the same. One day I'll explain it to you.”

Wisdom shrugged. “You can explain it to me now, Grandpa. I'm pretty smart. I understand things.”

Tonya leaned over and hugged her son to her chest, placing a kiss on his temple. “I will explain it to you one day, baby boy. For now, let's just finish up our dinner so we can get away from this table and head home. You have school in the morning.”

The table became relatively quiet with everyone silently agreeing to focus on finishing up their meal. After dinner came to an end, I convinced Cynthia to let me wash the dishes and after that was done joined everyone in the front room of the house. As Tonya had said, Wisdom did have school in the morning, so we didn't stay much longer. Toya was gone before I had finished the dishes, followed by Natasha who gave no one but Wisdom a hug and yet managed to tell me it was good to see me again before she left out of the door.

That left me, Tonya, and Wisdom. Mr. and Mrs. Black were nothing but kind and courteous to me, giving me hugs and kisses on the cheek and handshakes with slaps on the back, telling me that they were happy to meet me and that they looked forward to seeing me more often. It was actually quite surprising, the lack of threats, the lack of disappointment, the lack of demand for information. Tonya had lucked up with her parents. Hell, I’d lucked up with her parents.