KINGSTON
•••
I walked through the screen door and was surprised to see my nana, my mom, and both of my Nana's remaining siblings, my uncle Bradley and my aunt Victoria. Well, my great aunt and uncle, but they weren't that old. My nana was only a few months shy of sixty, and the oldest of her mother's three children. But while she was a fine fifty-nine, her younger brother was forty-eight and her baby sister was thirty-nine.
My aunt Vicky was only three years older than my mom and they grew up like sisters since my nana raised my aunt. But they went down different paths, clearly. At thirty-nine, my aunt was a social worker, wife, and mother of ten-year-old twin daughters, Naomi and Rose. My mom on the other hand, well, at thirty-six, she was a heroin addict with no house, an old car that she lived in, a kid she didn't want, a family who turned their noses up at her, and nothing to call her own.
"Sak pase," my uncle Brad greeted immediately as I walked in and I chuckled as he held up a bottle of E&J in one hand and a blunt in the other, and it was reminding me of how much I missed seeing everyone together. We didn't get shit like this often. My aunt Vicky was too boujie to come to the hood and I was just surprised my uncle Brad was finally out of jail for a holiday.
"N'ap boulé," I responded as I kissed my little cousins on their cheeks. As far as creole went, that's as far as I could go. "Hey, Nana,"
"Hi baby," she beamed and I chuckled. She was so excited. And drunk. If she wasn't sick and confined to an oxygen machine, I know she would be on the move, smoking with my uncle and taking shots with my aunt like she usually would, but her special occasion wine coolers were enough for her. She was beautiful, especially back in her day. Tall, slender, tender chocolate thang is what she called herself. "Where's Siena?"
And just like that, I was annoyed again. Siena was the last thing I wanted to think about.
"Home, what y'all been doing all day?" I asked, quickly ending that conversation before it could begin.
She eyed me slightly before deciding to drop it. She worried about me too much, and it was borderline invasive, but she meant well.
"Kingston," I heard from behind me, but still looked at my grandma for confirmation like a child before I turned around. It was muffled, but people still stopped talking slightly to hear the interaction like it wasn't only a handful of people anyway. It was like the most anticipated segment once we were all together. The King & Kimora show and I hated being the entertainment.
My mom was the black sheep in the family and she knew it, so to watch her feel so uncomfortable around her family made me remember why I didn't interact with them regularly in the first place. Especially my aunt, who was also my godmother.
I walked toward the door and sighed before looking behind me to make sure she was following me. I knew I was going to regret this, but I couldn't stomach her being hurt, as pitiful as it sounded. That's why I hated when she came around.
I stopped in front of her busted up Honda but watched her quickly turn her head to my car instead and I blinked with realization. She was ashamed, not upset or outraged like she usually was. And it hit me.
This was my mommy.
I walked her to my car and opened the passenger door for her to get in and we both stared straight ahead in silence once we were settled. I didn't know what to say, and apparently, neither did she.
