Chapter 29
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Bang . . . bang . . . bang!

The pounding sound woke Keyshia and Clyde.

“Mama said it was time ta get up so we could prepare fo’ the reunion!” Kenya yelled on the other side of the door. Bang, bang, bang! “Get up!”

“All right, Kenya!” Keyshia yelled and they both collapsed back on their pillows.

“Don’t lay back down! Mama said now!”

They both sat up and looked at each other, wondering how Kenya could tell what was happening through a closed door.

Keyshia’s mother had stayed up most of the night cooking and preparing the food for the cookout. Keyshia chided her mother for not asking for her help. Her mother told her that it wasn’t a problem and that she was used to cooking big meals by herself.

By eight o’clock, Keyshia’s other aunts arrived with food and to help with the arrangements. They could hardly believe their eyes when they saw their niece, whom they hadn’t seen in years. They all marveled about how tall and beautiful she was, and when she opened her mouth to speak, they commented on how she talked like them “white folks.” They made a big fuss over Keyshia, telling her that she needed to come stay over at each of their houses so they could put some meat on her bones. Keyshia’s mother pulled aside her three rather large sisters and told them what Ninny had done to Keyshia, and they grew livid. Since Ninny was the youngest of the five sisters, they had all virtually raised Ninny after their mother and father passed away when Ninny was seven years old. The sisters had sacrificed everything for their baby sister, working hard to put her through school and send her to New York. When she got a great-paying job and was on her feet, she turned her back on her southern upbringing. When she did visit, she tried to make her sisters feel as though they were ignorant because they spoke “geechi,” a thick South Carolinian dialect.

Kenya had bugged her big sister all morning to borrow something that she could wear to the reunion. Even though Keyshia towered over her little sister by at least five inches, they were the same clothing size. So Keyshia went in her bag and found something for her to wear and even gave her a pair of coordinating sandals and brought out the old-fashioned hot comb to straighten her little sister’s hair. After her sister was fully dressed with her hair done, Keyshia looked her over and thought Kenya needed one more thing and brought out her makeup kit. When she finished with her little sister, she looked exactly like an African princess. Even her brothers, who joked with her endlessly, told her how nice she looked. Her mother put her hands over her mouth when she saw her baby model and show off her new look.

“How do I’s look, Mama?”

“You’s looks absolutely beautiful, baby, beautiful, I’s say!”

“Thank you, Mama.” To be sure, Kenya ran to find Clyde, on whom she had developed a crush. When she found him in the room playing the Xbox that he and Keyshia had brought them, she said, “Clyde, how do I’s look?” She smiled widely as she pranced back and forth like a top model.

“You look just like them models I see on television, Kenya, just like them.”

Her eyes lit up. “You think I can be a New York model, Clyde?”

Clyde nodded. “Hell, yeah. You still got some growing to do, and if you grow anything like your sister, which is most likely, you definitely can be one.” Kenya smiled from ear to ear. She ran up to Clyde and gave him a big kiss on the cheek and ran out of the room with high hopes.

Family members by the dozens began to arrive in cars and trucks.

All their smiles were wide and happy each time any familiar face—or unfamiliar face, for that matter—showed up at the reunion.

Clyde grew amazed at all the genuine love that Keyshia’s family gave him—it was almost as if he were their blood family. He was even more happy for Keyshia, who was holding court with all her young female cousins, who asked her question after question about New York City.

“Do you know any rappers?”

“How much it cost ta get your hair did like that?”

“You think I’s can get a boy like you got if I’s comes to New York?”

“How’d you get ta sound so white soundin’?”

“Can you take me back there wit’ ya?”

Keyshia answered each and every one of their queries, separating fact from fiction and telling them that they shouldn’t believe everything they see on television.

Within the next couple of hours, the family reunion was in full swing, and the back and front yards were congested with over a hundred black faces. The men of the family all rallied together and set up nearly twenty barbecue grills and had the place smoking with hamburgers, franks, and, of course, spareribs. The women laid out the tables with huge plastic bowls full of potato salad, macaroni salad, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, turnip greens, cabbage, deviled eggs, rice and peas, lima beans, and more. They even had a huge pot of boiled crabs. Beer and alcohol flowed freely, and there was even a batch of homemade corn liquor.

Children ran around playing, and the teens were content to play video games. All was happy and joyous.

Suddenly the announcement was made: “Food is ready, line up for yo’ plate!” With that, people lined up at the table, plates in hand, to fill their stomachs with savory food.

Keyshia sat on Clyde’s lap as they listened to music and watched everyone dance and have a good time. New York and all their problems seemed a million miles away, as neither could recall in recent memory a family event being so fulfilling. In fact, this was Clyde’s first experience at any kind of family function, and he realized what he had missed. But now that he had Keyshia and her family, who accepted him as one of their own, he knew that this one would not be his last.

“All right,” the DJ said as he cut the music, “y’all know what time it is now . . . it’s stepping time with R. Kelly. So I want everybody, and I mean everybody, to get up and ‘Step in the Name of Love’!”

With that everyone got up and got in line and began the dance that went along with R. Kelly’s song. Keyshia stood up and pulled Clyde by the arm and tried to get him to join in, but he protested.

“Naw, Keysh, you know I’m a gangster, and gangsters don’t dance.”

Still pulling at his arm, she joked, “You ain’t no gangsta no more. Remember, that mean you normal now.”

Clyde wasn’t budging. “Come on, Keyshia, you know I don’t know that shit.”

“Then I’ll show you,” she offered.

“Naw, that’s all right.”

Keyshia called to her mother, and Mrs. Simmons came strutting over doing the damn thing, and Keyshia said, “Ma, Clyde said that he want to dance with you.”

Her mother smiled and said, “Okay, come on and let’s do the thing with yo’ old mama-in-law, son.”

She grabbed him by the hand, and he couldn’t say no to her. As Keyshia watched her mother show Clyde how to do the dance, she smiled so hard that it hurt, and she put her hands over her mouth because she couldn’t contain her happiness. Keyshia looked off in the distance and saw a man by a car holding a little girl by the hand. The little girl wore a colorful dress with red ribbons in her hair, and even from afar, Keyshia could see how beautiful she was.

Keyshia’s mother saw that something was wrong with her daughter and followed her eyes to where she was looking. Mrs. Simmons touched Clyde’s hand and walked over to where the man and child stood. Not a word was exchanged as the little girl took her grandmother’s hand and followed her. The music stopped playing, and all eyes were on the older woman and child. The closer they got, the more Keyshia’s insides began raging and growing tense. Her mind began growing cloudy and gray. Could it be? she thought.

The huge, silent crowd parted as Keyshia’s mother and the little girl approached her. Clyde was emotionally overwhelmed, and tears welled in his eyes. Keyshia didn’t know what to do as she stared down at the most beautiful little girl who looked so much like her. In her hand, the little girl had a brown teddy bear, and she raised it up to Keyshia and said, “My name is Christina. Is you my mama?”

Still speechless, Keyshia simply nodded.

“Well, my daddy say this is for you.”

Keyshia accepted the teddy bear, which read, “I love my mommy.” Keyshia fell to her knees and embraced her child for the first time. Then she pulled herself together and looked in her daughter’s eyes through her tears. She said, “Yes . . . yes, baby, I’s your mommy and I’s love you.”

Her daughter threw her arms around her and said, “I love you, too, Mommy.”

Love never fails.

Keyshia picked up her daughter and carried her into the house to spend some quality time with her. As she walked toward the house, she watched Christina’s father, who had bandages and bruises all over his pitiful face, nod, back into his car, and drive away.

After Keyshia entered the house, a car pulled into the driveway and two boys jumped out of the backseat and ran toward the gathering. “Don’t you boys go far. And don’t get your clothing dirty, and let me see the food before you eat it! You hear me?” The boys nodded and continued on. Everyone watched as Ninny exited the car. She frowned as she stepped uneasily through the spotted grass and dirt. She was dressed very conservatively and looked as if she were going on a job interview. When she noticed all her folks staring at her, she asked sarcastically, “My God, who died? I thought this was a family reunion.” The crowd parted, and there stood her four older sisters with their arms folded, staring at her grimly.

Ninny smiled and waved and looked around at everyone’s faces, “Hey, Sissy, hey, Carol, Marie, Mary. Why is the music not playing and everybody looking at me like this?”

Sissy—Keyshia’s mother—approached her and said coolly, “Hey, Ninny, we got to talk.”

Surprised, Ninny asked, “Talk about what? Girl, I just got here, driving for all them hours.”

Her sister Mary said, “Oh, chile, it ain’t gonna take but a second.”

Marie interjected, “Yeah, we just going in the house, that way you can rest a li’l.”

Ninny smiled and said, “Yeah, that sound nice, I do need to change into some slippers. My feet are killing me. Let me just tell my boys to be careful out here.”

Carol, the oldest and biggest sister, said, “Now, Ninny, dem boys is just gon’ be fine. Let ’em be boys, I’s keep an eye on ’em.”

Ninny nodded and joked, “I see you guys is still speaking country as hell. When are you going to learn proper English?” All the sisters remained silent as the five of them walked into the house.

Clyde watched everything unfold and smiled.

When they got in the house, the four surrounded their sister as they shut the door and locked it. Perplexed, Ninny suspected something wrong and asked, “What is this about, and why is everyone looking at me that way?”

Sissy said, “Ninny, you’s gots ta answer ta Keyshia!”

“What?” Ninny stammered as she feigned ignorance. Just then Keyshia and her daughter exited out of one of the bedrooms. Ninny’s eyes widened as a huge lump formed in her throat.

Sissy nodded and said, “Yeah, you do remember my daughter Keyshia.”

“Our niece!” Carol said loudly.

Sissy walked up to her face and questioned, “You made my daughter sleep in the closet and put your fucking hands on her?”

“I . . . I . . . ,” Ninny stuttered.

“I, what?” Sissy asked. “She’s a black dirty bitch, and she ain’t going to amount to shit? Nobody gonna want her?” The sisters stared at Ninny, incensed.

“Ninny, we raised you and raised you well,” Sissy said angrily. “I quit school ta take care of you when Mama and Papa die, put you through school, and sent ya ta New York fo’ a job and everything, and you pay me back by treating my daughter like a dog?” The more Sissy spoke, the angrier she got. “Keyshia, take the baby out of here, ’cause I’s about ta show yo’ aunt some of this here furniture. Excuse me . . . I’m sorry, that’s not proper English, is it, Ninny? Allow me to rephrase myself: Please excuse us, Keyshia, because we are about to kick your aunt’s ass!”

“Ooh, Mommy, Grandmommy cursed,” Keyshia’s daughter said.

Keyshia smiled, picked up her daughter, and exited the house quickly.