Chapter 9
“ F uck! Fuck! Fuck!” I curse lowly as I try to walk to the door. My legs are still rubbery from those two mind-blowing orgasms. “Fuck!”
I love Monae down, but at this very moment, I don’t like her. She’s stopping by at the wrong damn time. I needed that; I need him. Yesterday was a nightmare and today…I can’t even process today at all, and honestly, I don’t want to. Who wants to discuss burying her mom? Not me. I want to stay in bed with Rex and let him continue to take me to the place where my grief momentarily disappears. I was content, no tears were in my eyes, and I was in a state of pure euphoria. My reality was pushed aside and I didn’t feel the sadness that blankets my soul. But I feel it creeping back now.
“I’m coming in,” she announces right before I reach my door.
“I’m here.”
I disarm my alarm then open the door. Monae stares at my face, studies it, then pulls me in for a hug. As we embrace, she inhales loudly. When we break, she turns her head to the side and raises one eyebrow.
“I know Creed Millesime when I smell it,” she utters. “Is he here?”
“Yes, and stop being loud.”
“I’m not,” she says as she pushes past me to enter. I close the door and turn around. She’s standing right in front of me with her nosy ass look on her face. “I came to check on you but I guess you are in good hands,” she whispers.
“I was. Wait here. Let me go t?—”
Seeing him fully dressed, rounding my corner, shuts me right up and causes Monae to turn around too. Quickly, her head swivels back to me. I just shake mine. Him in clothes is the last thing I want at this moment.
“Sorry. He’s fine fine,” she mouths then smiles wide as hell.
I roll my eyes playfully then walk around her and step to him. I place my hand on his chest as if to stop him. “You don’t have to leave yet,” I say, damn near begging.
His arm slips around my waist and he pulls me into his muscular frame. His hand runs down the side of my face and lands under my chin. He cups it then tilts my head up. As if Monae isn’t a few feet away, he kisses me, duplicating the passion and pinch of aggression he had in the room.
“You have…things to do,” he says. It’s clear he’s being careful with his word choice. “Your friend is here to see about you. Just know I’ll be thinking about you all day and I’ll check in on you.”
After leaning in and pecking my lips, he releases me reluctantly, holding my hand as we walk toward my door and Monae. She’s cheesing hard as hell as we approach. She actually introduces herself before I get a chance to.
“I’m her best friend, Monae. And you are?” she asks.
“Rex. Nice to meet you.”
“Sorry it wasn’t at a better time. My bad.”
“You good. Just take care of her,” he says.
“Always,” she says assuredly. He turns around, kisses me again, then releases my hand. He opens the door and leaves. After I close it, I lean back and sigh.
“I like him for you.”
“Me too,” I admit because I do.
He was here when I didn’t even know I needed him to be last night. From the moment they pronounced my mother dead, I went into my normal handle-business-and-take care-of-Daija-and-my dad-mode. My protective walls went up and I didn’t allow myself to accept the news and grieve. Neither were options. Getting Daija and my dad home, grabbing my mom’s stuff out of that room, contacting the funeral home, and telling my team at Redmond’s were my priorities.
However, once I told my staff, my walls shattered and my emotional levees broke. My sadness and loss hit me like a ton of bricks and I crumbled, broke all the way down, and he was there. He literally picked me up, brought me home, and allowed me to cry myself to sleep in his arms. And this morning… My god! My body and pussy have never been treated so masterfully.
“So, I’m guessing I interrupted som?—”
“You definitely did,” I cut her off then sigh again at the beautiful memory and promise of what would have been next.
“Oh shit! For real, I’m sorry. But in my defense, I called you four times. When you didn’t answer, I was really worried and needed to make sure that you were good.”
“I wasn’t but he was here. He stayed with me.”
“He’s definitely a keeper. I really worry about you,” she says with so much sincerity. “You try to be everything for every damn body and I don’t think you save any time for yourself. Looks like he will though, and take care of you like you deserve. Please let him.”
“I was trying to,” I say and she laughs.
“Don’t kill me with it. I’m so sorry, sis. Damn! Charge it to my head, not my heart. I came with all good intentions. I’m your driver and shoulder to lean on today. Breakfast, then we go…well, we meet with Kaamal.”
“You don’t have to go with me; I’ll be fine.”
“But if you aren’t, I’m here. Go take a shower and get dressed. I’m hungry.”
“Thanks, girl.”
“We don’t do that. No thanks; just love.” I walk over and give her a hug, thankful that she is here. I just might need her today. “And take a cold shower,” she adds while grinning. “That man is so fine.”
“Yes he is,” I utter before grabbing my tote from my chair and walking to my bedroom.
I need to check on Daija and my dad and make sure they are up for this morning. If they aren’t, I’ll go to Greyson Funeral Home and take care of everything. Although I never wanted to even imagine this day, I am somewhat prepared. My parents planned for everything, including their departures from me. Their final resting wishes are very clear and even detailed in writing.
Before placing my tote in my chair, I pull out my phone and call my dad. As always, it takes two calls before he answers. He never has his phone near him.
“Morning, sweetie,” he says solemnly.
“You up already?”
“Didn’t sleep at all,” he says and my heart breaks. I have no words, nothing to console him.
What can I say?
“Your sister in there fixing something to eat but I’m not hungry. I’m ready to go over to see your mom.”
“Daddy, I don’t think we’ll be able to see her today.”
“I’m not leaving there without seeing my honey. Whatever needs to be done needs to happen, Truce,” he says with finality. In his mind, no other options are viable and I will make sure he sees my mom today.
“I’ll talk to them.”
“Good. What time will you be over here?”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Alright,” he says then ends the call. I hit Daija next.
“Hey,” she answers, sounding more somber than my dad.
“Daddy said you were cooking?” I question that because Daija really isn’t a cook. In fact, she showed no interest in learning the family recipes. Even when she worked in the restaurant, she avoided the kitchen and only worked the cash registers.
“Oatmeal and I think, sausage,” she sighs. “And all she has is the plain kind and not instant either. Where did she keep the brown sugar? Damn! I can’t even find that,” she huffs, sounding frustrated as hell. I can also hear cabinets slamming.
“It’s in the canisters under the cabinets by the fridge,” I say calmly. “But you don’t have to cook. Daddy isn’t hungry and I can bring you something when I come.”
“He has to eat, Truce. He didn’t eat last night. He didn’t even sleep,” she mumbles and her voice cracks. “He’s not doing good and I’m worried about him.”
“None of us are doing good, but just like us, Daddy will be fine one day. It just takes time.” I try to assure her and my damn self. I’m really worried about him but would never admit that to Daija. Never! “Turn the stove off. Don’t cook. I can bring you something or you can order something.”
“I’m not even hungry. I ordered a pizza last night and ate a slice. The rest is in the fridge. Maybe I’ll eat later.” She pauses for a moment then speaks in an even lower tone. “I can’t see her, Truce. Please don’t let them have her where I can see her. I can’t handle that. I just can’t,” she cries.
“You won’t have to,” I assure her.
“Do I really have to go? You and Daddy can handle it and I can stay here at the house. People are going to try and come by anyway. You know how they do when someone…you know,” she says, pleading.
“If you really don’t want to go, you don’t have to,” I tell her and she exhales loudly, sounding relieved.
“Good ’cause I think someone should be at the house.”
Although I know my aunts, uncles, and even some cousins will definitely come to the house to receive people paying their respects, I don’t mention that. Instead, I let her have her way out of going to the funeral home. Hell, if the option was available for me too, I would probably take it.
“You’re right; it should be you. Stay. I’ll talk to Daddy and he’ll understand. Let me go get ready. Monae is here. I’ll be there to get daddy at ten-thirty.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.” I end the call then fall on my bed. This is going to be a long ass day.
When I inhale and exhale, I smell him. Rex’s intoxicating scent has infiltrated my sheets and pillows. Monae is right; it’s definitely Creed. After taking his aroma in again, I sit up, say a small prayer for strength, then walk into my bathroom.
After wrapping my hair, I wash my face, brush my teeth, and gargle. I remove my heat-resistant pad from my top sink drawer and place my two-inch curling iron on it. Once I power my curling iron on high, I start my hot shower, undress, then step inside.
Normally, while showering, I mentally scan my closets and determine my fit for the day. However, right now, my mind is drawing a fucking blank. What the hell do I wear to make final funeral arrangements for my mom?
As I shower, I allow myself to cry. I can’t shed tears and be too distraught with my dad because I have to remain strong for him. When the last of my tears cascade down my drain, I rinse the body wash from my body and exit the shower. After moisturizing my face, I oil my skin and curl my hair. My big curls are pinned when I exit my bathroom.
To my surprise, Monae is sitting in one of my oversized accent chairs. She’s obviously been in here for a while because my bed is made, my pillows are all in their proper places, and my black jeans and black wool sweater are laid out on the bed. She has even pulled out my favorite black boots with the shaggy shearling.
“Is your curling iron still on? The back of my hair is a mess,” she says.
“I just turned it off but it’s still hot. And my holding spray is under the sink. Spray a little before you curl; it helps.”
She stands. “And what’s that oil? I like that one. I smelled it as soon as you opened the door,” she says.
“The one you always ask about. Black Woman.”
“Well, if you would just buy me some, I wouldn’t have to ask, heifer.”
“It’s under the sink too. On the left. Grab a bottle. I have three.”
“I was gonna steal one anyway,” she says with a smirk before walking into my bathroom.
While she fixes the back of her hair and raids my shit, I get dressed and put my boots on. Right before I stand to join Monae in the bathroom to unpin my curls, my cell vibrates. When I grab it, I see it’s a text from him.
Rex: I’m here if you need me.
How can so much care and compassion exist in one man? I wonder as I walk into the bathroom. And how the hell is he single? Aryel’s mother has to be somewhere crying in a corner for letting him go.
Me:
In the bathroom, Monae and I finish up our hair. She indeed grabs a bottle of my oil as well as one of my C3 candle sets from Light My Flame. The set is our favorite and the company’s biggest seller.
“The set is on back order. As soon as my order comes in, I’ll pay you back,” she says when we walk out.
“I know, but if you don’t, I know how to rob you too.” I grab my cell and tote then we walk back into the living room. “Can we just pick something up? I don’t want to sit down anywhere. Not ready for people yet and I want to get to my dad.”
“Of course. Whatever you want,” she says while nodding.
After setting the alarm, we leave my condo and take the elevator downstairs. The moment we walk past the security desk, the day guard Marvin verbalizes his condolences, confirming my desire not to sit in any public place right now. There isn’t one person in Crescent Falls who doesn’t know or who hasn’t heard of Irene Redmond and while I appreciate the condolences, I’m not in the mood for them. Accepting them feels like accepting the fact that she’s gone and that is a pill I just can’t swallow. So, I merely nod in acknowledgement to Marvin as we head out of the door.
As I email Kaamal, the owner and operator of Greyson Funeral Home, and his assistant Gladys about my dad’s request, Monae drives us to the new chicken spot I’ve been hearing about, Savor da Flava. It’s a small hood joint with a drive-thru and pick up window. Everybody talks about their chicken biscuits for breakfast. As we wait in the small drive-thru line, we scan the large menu plastered on the wall. We both decide on the hot honey chicken biscuit and OJ. I order two extra sandwiches, plain chicken biscuits, just in case my dad and Daija decide to eat something.
Monae eats hers as she drives and I pick over mine. Although it tastes really good, the appetite I thought I had isn’t really here. So I close the foil wrapper and place my half eaten sandwich back into the bag. To my dismay, but not surprising, there are four cars in my parents’ driveway, including Taj’s. I sigh as Monae pulls in behind the last one.
“I’ll go in and get him,” Monae offers.
“No. I need to lay eyes on Daija too.”
After grabbing the bag with their biscuits inside, I get out and walk to the door. It opens as soon as I reach it. It’s Daija. She practically falls into my arms and I catch her. As I hold her, she sobs loudly, shattering my already broken heart.
I manage to walk into the house while holding her and the bag in my hand and when I do, my cousin Taj walks around the corner. She takes relieves me of the bags and I use both of my hands to caress Daija’s back.
“What are we gonna do now?” Daija mumbles between cries and for once, I don’t have an immediate answer. My grief causes a clash between my mind and my heart. What I know and how I feel aren’t reconciling so my answer is devoid of its usual confidence and doesn’t really answer her question.
“We’ll get through this together,” I utter.
I continue to hold her as she cries while keeping my own sorrow at bay. I’m preserving all of my strength to ensure I can make it through these next few hours. My dad is truly going to need me. He and Daija both, and when she lifts her head, I can see just how much I’m needed. Her entire face is distraught, from her puffy eyes and droopy eyelids to sagging lashes.
“Daddy is…” she begins but her sobs stop her.
“I know. I got him,” I tell her and she nods. “Where is he?”
“In the family room. People are already here.” She sighs.
“I saw the cars but Taj is here. She knows how to handle them, and if she doesn’t, you know Auntie Faye will be here soon. She’ll take over and you let them. Try to eat though. I brought you a chicken biscuit.”
“Okay,” is all she says, sounding like the little girl who used to idolize me.
With my hand on her back, I coax her to the kitchen. Taj is inside, slicing what looks like a pound cake. Her mother, my Aunt Faye, and my father are siblings. My Aunt Faye is younger than him but Taj is older than me by just fifteen months though and we are thick as thieves. I hand Daija off to her and she takes Daija by the arm.
“Thanks, girl,” I mouth and she nods.
Family is everything.
Comforted because I know Taj will, in fact, take care of Daija and handle the guests, I walk through the house to the family room. Miss Mattie, a bakery owner and close friend of my mother’s, is sitting on the sofa with her husband along with First Lady Jenkins. Reverend Jenkins is standing behind her. He has been the pastor of our church, Mt. Calvary Church of God, since I was five. I walk over and hug Miss Mattie first and she stands as we embrace.
“How you doing, cher?” she whispers into my ear.
“I’m holding on,” I admit.
“If you need me, I’m here.”
“I know. Thanks.”
When we end our embrace, I hug her husband then nod to the first lady and pastor. I begin to step away but the reverend grabs my hand. I take a deep breath and stop in my tracks.
“I know you have to go make the arrangements but we should pray before you leave,” he says then nods toward my dad.
“Daija! Taj!” my dad calls out before standing. Seconds later, they walk in and everyone stands and locks hands. Reverend Jenkins nods and we all bow our heads.
In his booming tenor, the pastor prays. “Dear Heavenly Father, in this time of sorrow and loss, we turn to You, Father God, for strength and comfort. Please wrap Your loving arms around this family and grant them the peace that surpasses aaaaallllllll understanding. Help them find solace, Father God, in the memories of our beloved sister, mother, wife, and friend, Irene Redmond. Guide them through this difficult journey of grief. In Your son Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” we all utter in concert.
My dad walks over to the pastor and thanks him before shaking his hand. My eyes stayed glued to his face the entire time. My dad is a handsome man with a salt and pepper well-kept beard, peanut butter colored eyes, milk chocolate skin, and eyebrows and lashes that clearly skipped me in genetics. He’s never looked his age. In a room full of men my age, he would have easily blended in and no one would have suspected that he’s actually fifty-eight. At least, not before today. Right now, he looks every bit of fifty-eight plus ten extra years. There are bags under his eyes, lines creasing his face, and wrinkles in his forehead that were not present yesterday.
“You ready, Daddy?”
“I’m going but I’ll never be ready to say goodbye to my heart,” he declares and the agony in his tone stabs me in my chest.
“ S he looks beautiful,” Monae whispers as we prepare to say our final goodbye to my mom.
Our private homegoing celebration at Mt. Calvary is coming to an end and I’m about to take my last look at my mom. True to my mom’s wishes, the church is filled with just family and her small circle of friends. While she loved Crescent Falls and the people in it, she did not want her homegoing services to be a huge spectacle. She wanted intimate and personal, no huge elaborate service.
As she requested, everyone is dressed in white except me, Daija, and my dad. We are in black and pink. The Greyson staff even respected the color choice and they are also in all white. Her casket is pearl and blush and she’s dressed in her favorite blush, two-piece skirt set. Her hair and makeup are flawless too; she looks like an angel, who’s sleeping peacefully.
The church is filled with minimal flowers and floral arrangements, another honored request of hers that. In lieu of flowers, donations were given on her behalf to the local women’s shelter Healing Hands and to the Redmond’s scholarship fund that provides housing and book scholarships to college students.
One of the attendants walks over to us. She stands in front of Daija, who’s between my dad and I. We are sitting on the first pew along with Monae, my Aunt Faye, and Taj. My uncles and other two aunts are on the two pews behind us followed by my cousins.
My poor dad has been stoic the entire service, no emotions, nothing. I don’t even remember him standing for prayer and my dad, the deacon, always stands in reverence to God during prayers.
“Are you ready?” she asks and he nods.
She steps back then motions her hand. Two male attendants approach the casket and start to open it for our final goodbyes. My heart starts pounding and the palms of my hands get balmy. When I inhale and blow it out slowly, Monae removes her arm from behind me then grabs my hand. She squeezes it and uses her other to rub my leg lightly. I inhale again, feeling my cries building in my stomach, rising to my throat and threatening to fall from my lips.
“Oh,” I hear myself lament.
Daija uses the crumpled tissue in her hand to wipe her face then she leans her head on my shoulder. I grab her hand to try and comfort her as I’m being comforted by Monae. I glance over at my dad too, but still, nothing. I don’t think he’s even blinked. When the attendants have the casket open, they step away and the choir starts to sing my mom’s favorite song lowly, “Take Me to the King”.
The female attendant motions for us to stand and we step to the casket. There are only six steps but it’s a difficult chore to take each one. I’m holding Daija’s hand but thankfully, my girl Monae’s arm is holding steady around my waist.
I’m doing my best to remain upright and somewhat together. However, when my daddy, who has been basically mute for the entire service exclaims, “Oh God!” in a tone that seems to originate from his soul, I crumble. My legs weaken, my breath hitches, and I feel myself slipping to the ground. Like a domino, Daija starts to falter too. Monae does her best to keep me upright but she needs help. The two male attendants who opened the casket quickly rush over. One grabs me by the waist and saves me from collapsing.
Something happens that I can’t quite explain but I feel like an outsider looking in on myself. I’m here but not really. This is happening to me but I’m observing instead of participating. Maybe I’m protecting my heart or maybe I’m securing my mental. Whatever the case, I coast through the remainder of the day, surfing through people and scenes. The most profound being when we exit the church.
Vehicles are lined up on both sides of the street. In both directions, there’s a sea of cars, trucks, and SUVs with their headlights on. Standing outside of them are the people my mother treasured, the residents of her beloved Crescent Falls. It looks like the entire city came out to pay their final respects to my mom. Words can’t even express this incredible sight.