NO LONGER THERE

CLUSTER ONE

PARTY LIKE IT'S CLARENCES BIRTHDAY

Bryce Allen Phillips did more than save a life that day.

He stole the show. Nana loved him. Hershey Kiss adored him. Roxy was already a fan, and we all knew how Lillian felt.

Instantly, Clarence called him, 'son.' He had a way of winning people over, Bryce Allen Phillips did.  after all, he had me in his hip pocket within twelve hours of discovering my existence. He was genuine and kind. That's why I loved Bryce Allen Phillips.

We made our rounds, introducing him to family and friends while stealing missed kisses along the way. We last laid eyes and lips on one another six days before the party, it felt like six years. I loved my fine ass man. Bryce Allen Phillips and I were headed to the forbidden 'grown folks section' when Clarence arrived with his usual 'bull riding' flair.

Manuel's pearl white, big lifted, F 150 rolled up laying on the horn like the Dukes of Hazard. All the cliques migrated to Gigi's front yard so they could witness Clarence 'The Bull Rider' James Reed, hop out of that bad boy like he was a Rodeo King.

On pins and needles we all cheered when we saw the hat. Clarance let down the tinted window of that pearl white, F 150 just enough to stick that tan cowboy hat out of it. After the ruckus subsided, the tinted window went up. After which, Manuel blasted Garth Brooks, Rodeo, while he flashed his lights and laid back on his horn. Noise and praise, the entrance fit for a sixty year-old African American, former Bull Rider in Ft. Worth, Texas, my daddy, Clarence James Reed.

He hopped down from that big lifted, pearl white, F150 with the tinted windows decked out in his chaps, spurs and vest decorated like a five star general. With a smile on his face, Clarence nodded, winked, placed his tan cowboy hat back on his head, then grabbed his rope and bell.

Clarence rang that bell and the entire yard filled with people who loved him, in front of Gigi's light pink house with the dark pink trim with the chain link fence, went wild. He lapped up that gracious welcome like a pig eating slop. My daddy was a star and relived his glory days as the Rodeo King all evening. 

 We laughed, talked, danced, ate, argued, made up, talked shit and reminisced about family no longer with us.  Kids cried from fatigue. Old and young family members leaned across picnic tables, slumped over in chairs, found corners in the house to nod off, all sleepy because their eyes were bigger than their stomachs and the misquotes had a feast.

The electric slide slid its way into the rotation of Marvin Gaye, Billy Paul, Bobby Womack and Ben E. King classics blasting throughout my Gigi's neighborhood. No one called the cops because we were too loud. Everyone within four blocks was there.

By dusk, Daddy and Uncle Jessie were three sheets in the wind. They started talking shit to Bryce Allen Phillips as we forgot where we were and had a glorious three-second grind in the middle of the back yard turned dance floor.

"Look a here boy, I like you, but don't push it, just like you ain't pushing nothing inside my babygirl tonight." 

Clarence shouted he as laughed and two stepped his way towards us. My mocha skin turned beet red. Uncle Jessie, didn't say much, but even he shouted, "Clarence, you better watch 'dem edumacated pretty boys. Come in here looking like a baby Barry White. You gone have two knuckle headed grand-babies running around by the time your old ass turn sixty-one."

Bryce Allen Phillips' chocolate skin was pale. He was scared, lost to the fact that Clarence and Uncle Jessie were joking. Which made their antics that much more entertaining.

Daddy stole me from Bryce Allen Phillips when Cousin Randolph mixed his way to The Temptations, My Girl. What did Bryce Allen Phillips do? He gripped Nana and Gigi's hands, pulled them both to the backyard turned dance floor and became a fine ass man sandwich with two of the women I loved most in the world. It was weird, but after three Hennessy shots, it was certainly okay. Gigi pinched his butt and Nana licked her lips while they flailed around the backyard turned dance floor, with their red Solo cups and green cigarettes. I was glad to be home.