17. Prodigy Moretti
PRODIGY MORETTI
Iwent to see my grandparents because I needed to get my mind off of Arielle. She had been on my mind for days. My father had been there longer than that. Every time I tried to focus on one problem, the other one stepped in front of it. I needed noise and family.
Knox rode with me because he claimed I shouldn’t be alone. I let him come because I needed the company.
My granny opened the door with a dish towel over her shoulder. “There go my baby.”
I bent down so she could kiss my cheek. “Hey, Granny.”
She looked behind me, smiling at Knox.
“How you doin’, Granny?” Knox greeted her.
“Hey baby.” Then she smiled harder. “Y’all are right on time. I’m cooking. You hungry?”
Knox laughed behind me. “She’s always trying to feed somebody.”
“Because y’all don’t have women at home to cook you a home cooked meal. Keep bouncing around with these floozies, instead of getting you a wife,” she fussed.
“Damn, granny, I just got here,” I laughed.
Her eyes narrowed as she swatted my shoulder with her towel. “Watch your mouth.” Then she stepped aside, “Come in. Y’all letting my good air out.”
“You remember that I bought you this air, right?” I reminded her as I walked inside.
Back when my grandfather finally got successful, he bought this house cash for my grandmother, but it didn’t have any central air.
They claimed they didn’t need air conditioning because it was bad for their bones.
I had finally convinced them to let me gift them an A/C unit a few years ago because I was tired of coming over in the summer and melting.
The house smelled like cabbage, baked chicken, and medicine.
Now, that last part always hit me first because it reminded me of my grandfather’s demise.
My grandfather used to have the house smelling like cigars and expensive cologne.
Then COVID came, and he started to change.
At first, it was little things like lost keys, repeated stories, calling me twice in the same hour to ask the same question.
We blamed stress, age, the world being shut down.
But it got worse, and he was eventually diagnosed with dementia.
Last year, pancreatic cancer joined the fight like dementia wasn’t already cruel enough.
My father’s parents were killed in a car crash when they were visiting the States right before my father disappeared. My mother and maternal grandparents were all I had left, so watching Grandpa Teddy’s demise was tough to say the least.
Grandpa Teddy sat in his recliner by the window, thinner than he had ever been with a blanket over his lap and the TV on a game. I gave my grandmother a kiss before she disappeared down the hall and back into the kitchen.
My grandfather’s eyes brightened when he saw me. “My boy.”
I crossed the room and took his hand. “What’s up, Grandpa?”
Then he grinned at Knox.
“What’s up, Pops,” Knox greeted him.
“You got it,” my grandpa nodded. “Yall got practice today?”
I glanced at Knox, then back at him. “Yeah, later.”
Then Grandpa asked, “Coach Evans insists on winning the championship this year.”
My throat tightened. Coach Evans hadn’t coached me since freshman year of high school, but we had learned not to correct Grandpa when his mind dropped him in another year.
It only embarrassed him, then frustrated him, then left him looking lost in his own house.
Granny said there was no reason to drag him back to a present that hurt more than the past he was in. So, we went along with it.
“Yeah,” I said. “He still be trying to kill us with those suicides.”
Grandpa chuckled. “That’s good. Builds character. You keeping them grades up too?”
“I’m trying.”
“Trying ain’t enough. Your mama said you got a math test Friday, and she was fussing because you haven’t studied.”
“I’m gonna study tonight.”
“You better.” He pointed a weak finger at me. “Can’t be pretty and dumb. World already full of that.”
Knox coughed into his fist, hiding a laugh.
I smiled even though my chest hurt. “Yes, sir.”
Grandpa looked down toward my shoes. “You still wearing them cheap gym shoes?”
I glanced at the designer sneakers on my feet. “For now.”
“I told your mama I was gon’ get you some Jordans when my check came.”
“You did.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I did?”
“Yeah. Black and red ones.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I knew I was a good granddaddy.”
“One of the best,” I said.
He squeezed my hand weakly, proud for a second before his eyes drifted toward the window. “Obama still in office?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Grandpa.”
“Good. Your granny won’t let nobody talk bad about that man in this house.”
Grandpa looked past me toward the hallway. “Your daddy didn’t come with you?”
I forced myself to keep my expression calm. “Nah, he stayed home.”
“With your sister?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah, he’s with my sister.”
I blinked back tears, hating to see my grandfather like this. Dementia had taken away so much from him. He didn’t even remember the car accident that my mother was in when that caused her to lose her baby at eight months.
He blinked at me and just like that, the moment left him. His eyes softened, drifting back to the TV. “You hungry?” he asked. “Your granny cooking.”
By the time Knox and I left my grandparents’ house, my mind felt like it had too many tabs open.
I didn’t say much once we got in the car.
Knox didn’t force conversation. He just sparked a blunt, took two pulls, and passed it to me like he knew I needed it.
I hit it with the window cracked, letting the summer air cut through the weed while the city blurred past us.
We hit a bar. I needed liquor, music, and noise loud enough to drown out my grandfather’s illness, Arielle and my father.
After the bar, I went to the home Novi was staying in. The house had been vacant too long. She had the basics, but not enough. Kash wasn’t here to help her, and since the Cartiers had placed her under our protection, making sure she was straight fell partly on me.
That was what I told myself when I drove to her spot, after dropping off Knox.
I stopped at the store for towels, laundry detergent, bottled water, paper plates, snacks, candles, extra pillows, a throw blanket, and a few other practical things the house needed.
When Novi opened the door, her eyes were red.
She tried to hide it fast, wiping beneath one eye before stepping back to let me in. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“My bad.” I lifted the bags. “The house still needed some stuff.”
Her mouth trembled for half a second before she caught it. “Thank you.”
She looked so sad that it made me feel like I shouldn’t have been there.
She still looked cute though, and I hated that I noticed.
She had on a sage green lounge set, ribbed crop tank with matching drawstring shorts, her blonde hair pulled up messy, chocolate face bare, grief sitting all over her like she’d been crying before I knocked.
I carried the bags to the living room. “You been eating?”
“A little.”
“That means you haven’t.”
I started putting things away because standing still, that close to her, felt too intimate. That was when I saw the bottle of Prenatal vitamins on the counter.
My hand paused on the pack of paper plates.
Novi followed my stare.
“You’re pregnant?” I asked.
She folded her arms around herself. “Yes.” then her eyes filled again.
The way I saw her changed immediately. She wasn’t only a beautiful grieving woman. She was carrying the last living piece of the man she had just lost, and that made her feel even more vulnerable than she already looked.
Novi wasn’t only mourning Kash. She was preparing to raise his child without him. The protectiveness I already felt heightened into something I didn’t have the right to touch. I wanted to fix things I couldn’t. I wanted to make sure nobody got close enough to hurt her again.
Then I reminded myself that the last thing she needed was another emotionally unreliable man stepping into her life while she was grieving and while bringing life into the world.
“You need anything for the baby yet?” I asked.
She smiled weakly. “It’s early, so I don’t know yet.”
“When you know, tell me.”
“You don’t have to do all this.”
“I know.”
The TV was on in the living room. Some crime show was playing low. I was sure she hadn’t been paying attention to it when I walked in. Her mind had been wherever grief took people when nobody was there to pull them back.
I nodded toward the screen. “You know who killed him?”
She blinked. “Huh?”
“Do you know who committed the murder? The husband did it.”
“You just got here.”
“I know a guilty man when I see one.”
For the first time, she almost laughed. So I stayed. I sat on the opposite end of the couch, kept space between us, and talked enough shit about the show to make her look at the screen instead of whatever memory had been hurting her before I came in.
She didn’t laugh much, but she didn’t have to. For a little while, she wasn’t crying. And for a little while, I wasn’t thinking about my bullshit.