I let out a long breath. “Yeah…you’re right.” Then I asked, “Where have you been all day? You were gone when I woke up.”
“I went to the gym. Had to get it out the way early ’cause I got a lot to handle today.”
“You could’ve at least let me know you were leaving.”
He chuckled softly. “You were drooling, baby. I didn’t want to wake you up for nothing. You already had a long night.”
“Mmmph,”I mumbled, still feeling frustrated.
“Look,” he said gently. “Don’t let Mia’s mess get to you. She’ll figure it out, and everything will calm down.”
“All right,” I said reluctantly as a I blew a heavy breath. “I’ll try.”
“Good girl. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
“Yeah.” I hung up and sat there for another moment because my frustrations were still simmering.
Broken, I climbed out of my Jeep and made my way toward my parents’ house on 109th and Vernon. Despite the familiar sights and sounds that surrounded me, there was an eerie stillness that hung in the air. It was a temporary calm. The block was resting after a Friday night, but soon the storm of activity would inevitably descend upon the neighborhood again.
But for now, on this quiet Saturday morning before noon, the neighborhood was sleeping, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what the day would bring. I paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the familiar houses and streets bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Despite the changes that had swept through Roseland over the years, there was still a sense of home here, a feeling of belonging that anchored me to this place and its people.
I used my set of keys to let myself into the house. As I stepped inside, the savory scent of sausage greeted me. My mother sat on the couch nearby in the living room. Her warm smile lit up her face. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey, Mama.” Entering the living room, I bent down and kissed my mother on the cheek. She lifted her hand, holding my cheek as she pressed hers into the kiss.
“C’mon. Let’s eat. We were waiting for you.”
Nearing her late sixties, my mother’s body was starting to show its age. She wasn’t able to stand as quickly. Seeing her body’s resistance, I looped my arm with hers and helped her stand, then we made our way through the small living and dining area toward the kitchen.
The house was unchanged, frozen in time since the day I’d left at nineteen. Every piece of furniture, every picture on the walls, remained exactly as I remembered it. It was as if time stood still within these walls, preserving the memories of years gone by.
In the kitchen, my father rushed about, which was a familiar sight. Cooking had always been a ritual he took pride in. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of food on the stove filled the air.
Standing at the stove, he looked over his shoulder with a smile. “Hey, baby.”
I smiled as I unhooked my arm from my mother’s and approached him. I hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek. “Hey, Daddy.”
I closed my eyes for a millisecond, appreciating the nostalgia of being home. I needed the embrace of my parents and the familiarity of this place. I needed the reminder of who I was, my morals, and the flash of reality because Mia’s fury had caused me to forget.
“I’ll make your plate, baby,” my mother told me. “Have a seat.”
Sitting down at the table, I felt the relief of the homey, familiar surroundings.
“Aviana, did I tell you that Reverend Johnson’s daughter is having another baby?” my mother asked.
I chuckled, shaking my head, as my mother went on. “She insists on embarrassing her father.”
“That’s what PKs do.” My father laughed heartedly as he sat down across from me.
As I listened to my parents gossip about Reverend Johnson’s daughter, Sheila, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. I too had been a preacher’s kid, so I understood the urge to act out.
“Can you believe it?” my mother exclaimed as she set a plate with an omelet with a side of sausage and grits in front of my father. “This is Sheila’s fourth child with her fourth baby’s father. She’s making a mockery of her father’s position in the church.”
My father nodded solemnly with his brow curled in dismay. “It’s a shame, really. Reverend Johnson has always been so strict with Sheila, but it seems like she’s determined to defy him at every turn.”
“I can’t help but feel sorry for her,” I interjected quietly as my mother set breakfast in front of me. “She’s only twenty-one. I’m sure there is a lot of pressure on her from her parents and the church.”
My mother sighed. “I know, Aviana, but Sheila has always been fast and defiant since she was a little girl. She doesn’t realize that trying to go against her father is only making things harder for herself.”
