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David felt very ready to deliver the speech.
Everybody was happy; aided by the heavy-handed punch David had made.
He moved to the stereo and rigged up his dad’s 1980s microphone to the stereo. Some people were watching, not exactly knowing what he was up to, but his brother did. The toast was to be the big moment of the night. And Adam was immediately disturbed that his brother was stepping up to do it. First of all, Adam felt as the oldest it was his right, and secondly he just knew his brother was going to mess it up.
Adam moved to intercept his brother. “What are you doing?”
“Frying eggs. What it look like?”
“Ha. But you are not getting ready to make the toast of the night. I’ve worked too hard for this and you-”
“Damn, calm down, man. I’m just the opening act. Just let me say my peace. You can have the mic after I rock it. Besides, ain’t all your white people gone?”
Adam stood away, bitter, while David took center stage in the room. He caught the glare from his mother. He saw that she knew he was hating on his brother and that she wanted this for her baby boy in her pleading eyes. He cursed before softening; shit, he thought, this ain’t my party and it ain’t his either.
David went to tapping a glass.
“Hello...testing...” was how David began. His voice is loud and clear in the room. Everyone mingling and mixing turned toward him. Verdie and Patricia came in from the dining room. Grandmomma, LaQuan, Marc and all the others looked on. Rev Penny and BeBe stand near the tree, the Reverend took the chance while everyone’s eyes were elsewhere to get a good look at Bebe’s body.
“Lord have the mercy.”
“Yes, right?” Bebe responded.
“It is right. Yes it is.”
“Ah, excuse me folks. Well, this is my first time doing the toast. I’m really up here introducing my brother Adam and his thing, but I just wanted to say a few words first...I, um...”
David looked out among all the people and gets even more nervous; especially when he saw the sparkle in Ginata’s eyes amongst the crowd. She stared at him with anticipation, giving him a smile.
“...You know, this party is about a boy from, or a family from the south side of Chicago. They lived in the projects and every year at Christmas time they would...they would gather, because they were hungry. I mean, they didn’t have much to eat because they were poor. And so they played music and danced on Christmas Eve...and this got them through a lot...I mean, this meant a lot to them...”
“What in God’s name of hell is he talking about,” the man in the wheelchair said too loudly.
Verdie looked on, concerned. “Take your time, baby.”
Adam looked down, ashamed for his brother’s failure. And he looked up, willing David to pull it off, to comeback and finish strong.
“Go ahead, man you got it,” LaQuan said.
And Adam felt ashamed for himself that he hadn’t tossed out words of encouragement.
“...Because the holidays is a time for people to come together and celebrate...” He was reading what he wrote as if he had never seen the handwriting before. “...being together.”
David looked up, he was getting hot, and the street caught his eye, his attention, the star on top, then the blinking lights, and then the Reverend’s head turned licking his lips at the sight of his aunt’s breasts.
He swallowed, trying to get his might right, He looked back at his prepared speech and started in again, damned because he didn’t know where he had left off.
“...Christmas is not just about baby Jesus and Santa Claus, it’s about giving and receiving presents and music and not always getting the present you wanted because the person giving it to you was too cheap or didn’t care enough to put out the extra loot and...”
People were staring at him like he was speaking in Hebrew.
His mother had a blank stare, seemingly not really looking at her son bomb. Patricia smiled and nodded, when they caught eyes, trying to be encouraging. But when he looked at his brother, Adam was smirking with his arms folded across his chest, and shook his head in mock.
LaQuan can’t stand to see his boy struggling like this. He looks away; scratching his head.
David took a deep breath. “So, I mean, I was saying, after a while...this family...which was my father’s family if ya’ll didn’t catch that before...became so popular with their Christmas party, people came from miles around to sing and dance.”
Grandmomma said, “That boy is perspiring worst than a South Carolina slave at harvest,”
Reading his words he began to feel as though he wasn’t making sense. He wasn’t, he was sure, and he couldn’t get himself to go on. His body heated and his mouth went dry. He was sweating like it was August in Atlanta instead of Christmas time.
“...ah damn. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing up here...Fuck.”
“Ha ha,” one of his cousins mocked him like the bully on The Simpsons.
He moved through the crowd and heard a few giggles and whispers.
Then his homeboy yelled out, “Go, playboy,” LaQuan had a hand at his mouth to hid his laugh, “but you still my man, a hundred grand.”
LaQuan turned to the next man and said, “My man, he my man, but he was downright awful.”
“Shut up,” Ginata said, her arms folded and a foot bouncing from crossed legs.