Teenage Summer. . .
“Make sure you eat, Nee-Nee. I’on know how your daddy feeds you when you’re over there. I have to make sure you eat before you leave here,” P’Nee’s grandmother, Margie, fussed.
It was the summer, and P’Nee was in Clover, South Carolina, to visit her grandmother and father. This had been the routine for the last seven years since she was five years old. Her mother, Pam, moved them from Clover to Augusta, Georgia, to pursue her teaching career. At least that was what Pam told everyone.
The reality was that Pam was embarrassed that she allowed herself to fall for a man that she knew was full of shit. Jordan Nichols was everyone’s man. She knew that about him since they were in middle school. He had his first child, Joshua, when theywere in high school. Pam felt foolish that she came behind that and had a daughter with him three years later. A weak moment, well, a few weak moments, led to the creation of P’Nee Margie Anderson.
Jordan was not a horrible father, but he lacked in other areas of manhood that strained his ability to be a productive father. His son’s mother, Gina, was of the country, hood variety. She felt that Jordan was hers and only hers. She would fight any bitch that said otherwise. Pam didn’t have time or patience for the bullshit. She wanted to be a college professor one day and couldn’t risk the dumbness of others rubbing off on her.
P’Nee sat at her grandmother’s table with a plate of liver pudding, grits, sausage, and bacon. There were two things that were unequivocal about Margie Anderson. First, her love for her daughter and granddaughter was impenetrable. Finally, she would never leave you with an empty stomach.
P’Nee chuckled at her grandmother’s foolishness. “Grams, my dad feeds me good when I’m there. If him or Joshua doesn’t cook, then I do, or we order in.”
Grams rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. If that man don’t feed you, make sure you call me. I’ll be over there faster than his next ho can take a penicillin pill.”
It was no secret that Jordan was not Margie’s favorite person. While Pam lived in the delusion, as thought by Margie, that he was a good father, her mother would say the opposite. In Margie’s opinion, he did just enough to not be considered a bad one.
Jordan gave preferential treatment to his son, but that was expected to a point. Joshua lived with his father since he was twelve. Now at sixteen, they had a bond that was solidified. Jordan was a true boy dad, but he had no idea what to do with a girl. That didn’t negate that he loved P’Nee. He just didn’t know how to be a dad to her.
“I will, Grams. Joshua is going to be there, so he’ll make sure I eat. There’s a game tonight, so he’s gonna be there with his friends watching it.” P’Nee loved her older brother. When the summer came, she was more excited to see him than her father.
Joshua made a cautious effort to include his sister as much as he could when she came to visit for the summer. He was popular in the small town of Clover, but never too popular to hang with his baby sis when she was in town.
“I don’t like it when you’re there and all those boys are there. I don’t want to have to send someone’s son to hell with fireballs,” Grams quipped. Just the thought of P’Nee around all those hormone raging teenagers made her nervous. When P’Nee mentioned that other females would be there, that further disrupted her soul. “Lil girl, do you think telling me that some young hooker hos are going to be there is going to make me feel better? That’s the foolishness that I’m talking about right there. Why would a single father let young girls all up and through his house?
“He’s gonna learn when one of those hot ass girls said he or one of those boys did something to them.” She was outdone by the foolishness of boys. She felt Jordan should have known better, but it was clear that he moved how he wanted to.
“Grams! Daddy and Joshua won’t let anything happen to me. When people are there, I’m usually in my room reading or just in the room with them, reading in my favorite seat.”
P’Nee never felt unsafe at her father’s house. Yes, when she was there, it was rare that her father was there for the entire time of her stay, but he was there. During the summers, she primarily stayed at her grandmother’s house. She spent the night at her father’s house sparingly because he still loved the allure of the clubs and whores.
Jordan was a hard worker as the third-generation owner ofNichols Chicken Farms. They were the largest privately,Black-owned chicken farm in York County. Their farm supplied smaller grocery chains in the area as well as a larger one with chicken, meat, and eggs. The Nichols were one of the top families of small Clover, South Carolina. The Nicholas boys, Jordan and Jacob, were hell when they were younger, and still were.
There was a seven-year age gap between the brothers, with Jordan being the oldest. Their father died when Jordan was eighteen years old, during a lover’s quarrel with another man’s wife while his wife was at home cooking dinner. Their mother died two years later from grief and a self-inflicted gunshot. As far as most of the people in the town were concerned, the Nichols’ men were whores and no good to any woman.
Margie sat down with P’Nee to eat breakfast. It wouldn’t be much longer before Jordan came to pick his daughter up for the weekend. P’Nee loved her grandmother because she knew that Margie would end the world if she had to so that she was protected. Less than an hour later, Jordan was at the door to get his baby girl.
“Good morning, Margie. How you doing today?” he asked when she opened the door. He knew exactly how she felt about him.
Margie glared at him before her finger went in front of his face. “Look, I know your hot in the ass son is going to have his friends over with hussies. If any of those boys fuck with my granddaughter, I’m going to shoot you in your throat.”
His head bucked back. “Damn, Margie. You don’t trust me to protect my daughter? I know you don’t like me, but respect me enough to know that I’ll protect my daughter.”
Her head tilted toward one shoulder, rested for a second, then tilted toward the other. She took in what he said and gave it a moment to marinate in her mind. Once it settled, she gave him the response that sat on the tip of her tongue. “Jordan, fuck you.When it comes to my granddaughter, I don’t give a damn about your respect. You better respect the fact that her mother lets her come to see your ass. She’s better than me.”
This was one of the main reasons that Jordan didn’t want to be bothered with the Anderson women. They were a tough set. He loved his daughter, but sometimes it wasn’t worth the hassle he dealt with, because of her grandmother. Pam wasn’t the real issue for him; it was her mother. She said something smart and never showed him the basic respect as a man.
“Dad, I’m ready!” P’Nee came out with her overnight bag just in time. She knew the contention between Grams and her dad. She felt the tension in the air. “Grams, I’ll see you when I get back.”
Grams settled her sharp tongue for P’Nee’s sake. “Alright, baby girl. Remember what I told you. I’m a phone call away. I’ll be ready to come get you or send niggas to hell with fiery balls if needed.”
Jordan cut his eyes to her. As much as he wanted to curse her out, he refrained. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s stop at the store before we go to the house. You want me to make you some wings?”
“Oh, yes. I can make cornbread,” P’Nee offered. She loved to cook. Her mother had her in the kitchen since she was five years old. At thirteen, she could cook an entire Thanksgiving dinner by herself.
Jordan wrapped his arm around her neck to pull her out of the door. He kissed her temple. “Let’s get to the store so we can make a meal.”
“Damn, is that my baby sis’s cornbread I smell?” Joshua asked in a boisterous tone as soon as he walked through the front door. He loved her cornbread. Hell, he loved anything that she cooked. As quiet as it was kept, she taught him how to cook.
