By this point, everyone in the church had their eyes on us, and we weren’t too far away from where Allison’s body was. I was just trying to be as respectful as possible, but the look that was on his face, he was going to make that hard for me.
“Pay your respects? Man, you didn’t respect her when she was alive, so don’t stand here, and try to respect her in death. Get out! Get out before I put you out!” he roared, coming even closer.
He looked as if he was ready to reach out, and put his hands on me, but the deacons intervened. A few men had come over too, so that they could help out with whatever was getting ready to go on. My daughters cries were getting louder, and my two youngest sons had come over as well, going to have their brothers back.
I could tell that I was making this situation worse than what it needed to be, so I threw my hands up, and I was going to bow out, even though it’s not what I wanted to do.
“I’ll leave. Out of respect for my wife, I’ll leave,” I said.
The deacons had to escort me out of the church, and the entire time, Garrus Jr. was behind me talking a bunch of mess. I knew he wanted to tackle me in this sanctuary, but he knewthat his mom would more than likely be rolling over in her grave later, so he didn’t do it.
I was out of the church at this point, and I was offered the opportunity to sit up top, where my boys wouldn’t see me, but I turned it down. I felt it in my soul that it was best that I left. I came, seeking closure, and I got the closure that I was seeking once I saw Allison lying in that casket.
Feeling like shit, I walked over to my car, got in, and I immediately pulled out of the church parking lot. I thought about the places that I wanted to go, and ultimately, I decided that I was going to just take my ass back home.
As I was pulling up into the driveway of my home, I saw that the front door was opened, and right when I was getting ready to question what was going on, Easton, my little cousin came walking out, and he was holding a big shipping box in his hands. The rental car that belonged to my business, that I allowed him to drive around in while he was here, he had the trunk opened, and he was loading the box in the back of the trunk.
I didn’t have a clue what he was doing. The relationship that I had with Easton was rocky these days. Truth is, I was still annoyed with him because of the shit that he did to Dionne’s dog. I hated the fucked-up position that it put me in. It was reckless, and I learned a valuable lesson, which was to do my dirty work on my own.
Him, and I never really recovered from that. When he was around the house, we barely said two words to each other. When he came into work, so that he could help out with washing the cars, we wouldn’t speak, either.
Seeing him with the front door open, and now that I was closer to the car, and I could see that there was other boxes in the trunk, it made me want to speak up, so that I could see what was going on.
“What’s up? What are you doing?” I asked him, standing on the side of the car.
“I’m about to take these boxes to the post office and ship them back to Chicago. I got a flight tonight. Ima go ahead, and head back home man. Ain’t shit going on down here in Maimi for me. I came out here, thinking that shit was going to be different for me, and that I could get on my feet, but I’m in the same fucked up position out here that I was in back in Chicago. I’m standing in front of a millionaire, and you can’t even help put me on. You got a nigga washing cars, and I been doing that shit for months, without my position being raised. If I was in a position where I had it like that, and I could give somebody in my family a chance, especially when I see that their trying, I would have done it already,” he finished, and all I could do was shake my head at that shit.
“The thing that kills me with you young dudes is the fact that ya’ll always want some shit handed to you. During the time that you’ve been here, and have been working for me, what the fuck have you done differently than the rest of the men at the shop that I have on duty, washing cars? If anything, when you wash the cars, I always know when it’s your work because you always do a half ass job with cleaning the cars out. I don’t reward slack ass work. Just because we’re family, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to just hand shit down to you. I never handed anything down to my children, either. Both my wife and I had good careers, and we made good money, but my kids still went out, and they made names for themselves. They took their asses to college, and they did what they needed to do to be successful. Life isn’t a handout. You gotta work for what the fuck you want!” I snapped at him, feeling like this was a conversation that I was constantly having with him since he moved in with me.
“Yeah man. That’s another reason why I’m ready to get the fuck from out of here. Everything with you gotta come with afuckin lecture,” he snapped, and I laughed at that, while shaking my head.
“And that’s your problem right there, nigga! You weren’t lectured growing up. The way you act, the way you move, the way you talk, shows that there was never a father, or any other father figure in your life, but go ahead. Chicago didn’t work out for you the first time, and it won’t work out for you the next time. It’s niggas that would have dreamed to be in this position that you’re in. All you had to do was do the work, and I would have moved you up, man. I don’t have a good relationship with none of my boys. Even if I did, the career field that I’m in, that’s not something that my sons are interested in, so this was never going to be something that was passed down to them. All you had to do was stick up under me, prove that you wanted this, and I would have walked you through everything, and ultimately handed this shit down to you. I’m getting older. I ain’t got the energy to be at that shop late hours like I used to, and going at it with ignorant, reckless clients. I would love to put this business in the hands of someone else, and retire, but I don’t have anyone to pass it down to. Good luck in Chicago though,” I finished, putting my hand on his shoulder, and then I headed inside the house.
I walked right in, and instead of going upstairs, I chose to walk through the house, going for the family room, where the patio sliding door was off to the side, and I slid it open.
I took a seat in one of the chairs, slouching down, and I ran my hands over my face. Today went exactly how I predicted it would go. I had a strong feeling that my kids would see me, get upset, and would want me out of the church. I got the chance to lay eyes on Allison and seeing her in that casket was a hurt like none other.
I didn’t have a clue where I was going to go from here, but I just prayed that one day, my kids found it in them to forgive me because this was something that I was truly apologetic for.
Chapter 8
Dionne Henry
Follow My Lead
I’d just pulled up to my grandma’s house, and I was prepared to get scolded. This was my dad’s mom that I was coming to see, and I already knew that she was going to lay into me the second I walked in her house. I haven’t been making it my duty to come by and check on her. My dad didn’t ask me for much, but every time that him, and I would talk over the phone, or when I visited him at prison, he would always tell me to go and visit my grandma because she was always asking about me. Going to see anyone on my dad’s side was always a struggle for me, and always something that I had to build up the courage to do. It was just a lot of negativity on that side, and a lot of folks that weren’t where they wanted to be in life, so when I came over, of course, I was always talked about. It was always comments from them, saying that I thought that I was better than everyone, and a bunch of other bullshit.
That environment isn’t where I wanted my daddy to go when he was released from prison. I didn’t want my dad around all that negativity. I didn’t want him at a space where it was going to be crowded, either. My auntie Paula, who was my dad’s younger sister, was still living there with her children. Mind you, my auntie Paula had three grown children. One was my age, and theother two were just a few years younger than me. She was living there with her oldest son, Mark, her middle son Jalen, and Jaz, who was her youngest daughter. Jaz was the only one that I was somewhat cordial with.
I was coming over today because my dad had his parole hearing in two more days, so I just wanted to come over, talk with the family, so that they could be up to date on what was going on, and what time they needed to be at the hearing. I had an hour long conversation this morning with Sevyn, and he walked me through step by step on what was set to take place at the hearing, and one of the things that he told me was that my dad was going to need all of the support that he could, and that’s why I called Jaz, asking her if she could get all the family to my grandma’s house today.
My dad had my auntie Paula, his big brother Darnell, and his little brother Keon. All their children would be in attendance as well. You had to know how scary and intimidating this was for me, but I was doing this for my dad.
Everyone’s cars were pulled into the driveway, so I had to park on the side of the house. I grabbed my black Saint Laurent purse that was casually resting in the passenger seat. I took one last look in the mirror, making sure that everything was in place. It was a little chilly, so I opted on wearing a soft, powder blue turtleneck sweater. It had that oversized look because I didn’t want a baby bump to come out and play in front of anyone, even though I wasn’t showing yet. I chose to pair the turtleneck with black leather trousers, and they looked great on me because I had them tailored. The black, pointed toe Saint Laurent boots went perfect with the look. My long hair was pulled back into a low bun, and I only wore a little bit of make-up.
I only dressed up the way that I did because when I left here, I was meeting with a mid- wife about a possible home water birth. It was the option that I wanted. See, back then, when Iwould psych myself, and say that I didn’t want children, I would always say that if by some chance that I did have one, I wanted it to be a home, water birth. I wanted that intimate moment with my man. I wanted something where I felt like I was in control. I knew that I was drama filled, and I knew that labor, and delivery would be hard for me, so with that, I didn’t want to be at a hospital, filled with strangers, where I’m forced to keep my screams down. I felt like being home, where I could control having a calm setting, would be the best route for me. There are so many other reasons why I felt like the water birth was more fitting. I had to put together a whole Canva presentation for my man last night and convince him why this option was better.
Tank wasn’t feeling the water birth option. Even though he wasn’t, he was still hearing me, and being optimistic, and supporting coming with me today to meet the midwife. When I asked him why he wasn’t feeling the idea, he truthfully told me that he was scared, and that he didn’t want anything to happen to me, or our baby. He said that he felt more of a sense of security, knowing that I would deliver at the hospital. That’s why we were meeting with the midwife though, so that she could rid him of all those fears.
