Chapter 6
SIX
By the time I swing by The Metropolitan, get my shit, officially check out, and drive back to Diamond Falls, it’s almost seven. When I pull into my parents’ driveway in Brunswick Meadows, I spot my brother Shiro walking out of the front door. He sees me and stops on the porch.
I have four brothers in total and I’m the last born.
There’s a fifteen-year age gap between me and my oldest brother, Ace, and four years between me and Shiro.
Deuce and Tre fall in the middle. A true Hausa man, my father, Asali, wanted a big family.
Thankfully, my Black American mom agreed because they had five boys.
“What up, bruh?” Shiro calls out when I step out of my ride and I nod. Once in front of him, we dap and hug. “Shuga told me you got Ace out. I called that nigga but he didn’t answer.”
“He’s probably sleeping. He didn’t sleep at all up in there,” I say.
“Shit! I wouldn’t’ve slept either. Thank God we got a damn attorney in the fam,” he says and I smile.
“You leaving?”
“Hell yeah. I’m full and ready to lay up with something thick and fine,” he says before dapping me again.
I married something thick and fine, I think with a smile but keep my thoughts to myself. When I figure out how and when to tell my fam, it’ll be at one time. I’m not trying to explain this shit I barely comprehend more than once.
“Shuga cooked?” I ask just before he walks to his ride.
“She threw down. Asali wanted Zongo and she made it,” he says and I smile. Zongo is a bomb ass Hausa stew made with spices, beef, and love. It’s Asali, mine, and my brothers’ favorite traditional dish. She normally only makes it on holidays and birthdays.
“With the black eyed peas and rice?” I ask.
“All of it. The fried plantains too.”
“Damn, if she cooked that today, what the hell we gon’ have for Sunday dinner?” I wonder.
“Barbeque. She definitely said she ain’t cooking Sunday. We grilling,” Shiro says.
“Nah, nigga. Y’all grilling,” I say before opening the front door and walking in.
The wonderful smells of the stew attack my nose in a good ass way as soon as I enter.
It’s perfect timing too because today has been a mutha and all I had to eat was that pastry I grabbed in Mireya’s chambers.
My wife’s chambers. I still can’t get over this shit.
“Quintus,” Asali’s deep voice calls, causing me to look up at the staircase.
“Barka da yamma,” I respond, telling him good evening in his native tongue. Although me and my brothers were all born and raised right here in Diamond Falls, Asali tried to preserve a lot of his Nigerian roots. We are far from fluent in Hausa but we know the basic greetings.
“Ina wuni,” he returns, basically asking how my day was.
“Good but long. I’m hungry and I smell Zongo. As soon as I check in on Niya, I’m hitting that kitchen up,” I say, referring to my four-year-old baby girl.
My parents help me out with my daughter while I work. I didn’t trust daycare and my mother wasn’t having that shit anyway. Until she started Pre-K, Shuga kept her, and now she keeps her after school. My baby girl is the only girl in the family, and my parents… hell, my whole family, adores her.
Shuga has always been a stay-at-home mom.
After raising us boys, she moved right into Nana mode, helping with my first nephew.
Deuce had him at fifteen then Ace had his twins, Hassan and Hussain.
Deuce has three boys altogether—Travon, Deric, and Twon—and Tre has Tre Junior, TJ.
Shuga was surrounded by men until Niya came along, and after Niya was born, Shuga was obsessed.
She even named her Sarauniya, which means queen in Hausa.
“That baby is knocked out. She called herself helping Shuga cook, then she ate and went to sleep on the couch. I just put her to bed. Go eat. Your brothers have already been by,” he says once he’s down the stairs.
After patting me on my back with one hand, he says, “I’m glad you got your brother out.
Now, you just gotta get him outta that bullshit. ”
“I know, Asali. I got him.”
“I know it, son. Go see Shuga before she comes out here yelling. You know she heard you come in,” he says before stepping into the living room.
“I do,” I admit as I journey to the kitchen. When I walk in, she’s at the stove spooning some stew onto a plate. I step to her and kiss her cheek. “What you doing, Shuga?” I ask and she grins.
“Fixing you a plate. Wash your hands and sit,” she says and I damn near run to the sink. “You saw your brother leaving?” she asks.
“Yeah, outside right before he left.”
“You came right on time ’cause the twins ’bout to come get the rest of this. They go back to school Monday, so I made this for them, but Asali thinks it’s for him. Don’t tell him I told you.”
“As long as I get some, I won’t say shit,” I admit and she grins again.
Shuga is legit the happiest person I know.
She’s always smiling and laughing; she was like that when we were kids.
Asali had the firm hand and kept our bad asses in line while she balanced him.
To me, they have always been the perfect couple, full of love, compromise, and balance, which is how I pictured myself when I got married.
Marriage was always part of my plan. Growing up in a loving, two-parent household makes a man want that same shit.
Nobody can calm Asali like Shuga. Although Shuga seems happy all the damn time, nobody can make her smile as bright as Asali.
I’m sure it isn’t always sunshine and shit with them, but if they did disagree, they kept it from us and made up.
They showed us how to love and be loved and I knew I wanted that.
Hell, I thought I had that shit with Niya’s mom, Janis, but I was wrong, wrong as fuck.
“You want one or two eggs?” she asks. My brother Shiro and Asali love boiled eggs in Zongo but I’m good with just one.
“One is good,” I tell her as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
All five of us have our own lives and our own cribs but we always find our way back here in Shuga’s kitchen at her table.
The first Sunday of the month is non-negotiable though.
The whole family gets together for dinner at six o’clock sharp.
Not showing up for Sunday dinner is the only thing that elicits a frown from Shuga.
After grabbing my water, I happily get my plate from her and kiss her cheek again.
I’m hungry as hell and ready to devour these rice and peas, fried plantain, and Zongo.
When I slide onto the stool at the island, she opens the freezer and grabs a pint of butter pecan ice cream. It’s time for Asali’s late-night snack.
“You might as well let Niya stay. She’s already had a bath and her papa put her in bed. She can actually stay until Sunday. It just makes sense,” she says matter of factly.
“Shuga, you already had her last night and all day today. I appreciate that but she can come home. I know how to take care of my daughter.”
“Nobody’s saying all of that,” she says with a huff.
“I know you can. You held her the minute she was born and have been taking care of her wonderfully. I just love having her here and I hate to wake her. Besides, you’ve worked hard on Ace’s case.
Take your Saturday and enjoy it. Do your momma this one favor,” she adds, almost pleading.
I am tired as hell and Niya is definitely good here. Plus, I still need to figure things out with Mireya. Our conversations today basically went nowhere. We really need to talk and decide how we are going to do this, if she’s really going to do this.
“She can stay. I’ll bring her some more clothes tomorrow,” I say and Shuga actually rolls her eyes. “Damn,” I scoff playfully.
“You know I have plenty for her to wear here,” she says. She lifts the two bowls of ice cream then walks over to me. “Eat until you’re full. The twins are going to take whatever is left.”
“This is more than enough,” I assure her and she walks out of the kitchen.
Before leaving The Metropolitan, I sent a few texts to Mireya that went unanswered.
I’m not trying to stalk her or no shit like that but I do want to make sure she’s as good as she can be considering.
I also need her to know I really didn’t mean for this to go down like this either.
So after taking a few more bites of my delicious food, I pull my cell from my pocket and hit her again.
Me: This is my last text. I won’t bother you. But if you’re free tomorrow, we can talk. I’m on your time.
Just like my previous texts, this one goes unanswered too, so I get back to my food. About ten minutes later, my phone vibrates with her response.
107-686-1266: Ok. After 2. I’ll let you know.
Me: Bet. Have a good night.
Even though she doesn’t respond to my last text, I still smile because she answered and agreed to meet.
I’ll take it. A chance is all I need to convince her that we can make this work.
I don’t know why nor can I explain it but I want this to be a good thing.
As unorthodox, unplanned, and unbelievable as this whole thing is, something in me wants this to actually work.
I’m a man and there isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t want to be with a woman as beautiful, intelligent, and fine as Mireya.
Even when she glared at me with fire in her eyes and anger dominating her face, all I saw was her beauty.
Her scowl was even pretty. I just wanted to do or say whatever I could to remove her frown and make the gorgeous smile I saw when she walked into the ball last night reappear.
I don’t even know her, yet it really fucked with me that I was the cause of her anger and frustration.
Lowkey, it’s still fucking with me, but there’s hope, tomorrow after two.
“Unc!” I hear, jarring me from thoughts of Mireya. I glance over my shoulder and see Hassan followed by Hussain.
“Que,” Hussain greets.
The twins are identical but we can clearly tell them apart. Aside from Hussain’s slighter fuller face, he has locs and Hassan has a textured fro with fade. They are juniors at CFU, both majoring in computer science
“You saved us some?” Hassan asks as he opens the top to the stew.
“It’s plenty but wash your hands before Shuga beats your ass,” I tell him.
“Yeah, Nana don’t play,” Hussain adds while walking to the sink.
“When y’all going back?” I ask
“Sunday after dinner. Since Pops is home, we can go,” Hussain states.
“You were going either way. Ace is good. He can handle whatever and I’m taking care of the case. That’s nothing for you to stress over.”
“Yeah but Moms was pressed, crying and shit. I didn’t want to leave her like that,” he says.
“I wasn’t leaving either. The first week of the semester don’t be much anyway.”
“Y’all back on campus?” I ask, even though I know they aren’t. They are off campus this year, in their own apartment. That’s all they talked about this summer.
“Unc, now you know we got our own crib,” Hassan says. “Where our housewarming at? We got furniture and Moms hooked us up with food.”
“Then you sound good to me,” I say.
“We still got utilities though,” Hussain says. “Pops paid the deposits but them bills gon’ come in every month.”
“I’m proud of y’all, so I got you for the first few months. Send me the bills and I’ll handle them.”
“Or,” Hassan adds quickly. “You can just hook us up with the cash and we can handle it.”
“I can do that but don’t reach back into my pockets when you spend it on everything but your bills,” I warn.
“We’re responsible,” they reply at the same time, then dap each other up.
“Alright. Y’all both send me a request for two Gs.”
“Yo! Thanks, Unc!”
“Yeah, ’preciate it.”
They both pull out their cells and the requests hit my line in seconds. They don’t hesitate at all. As soon as I send the money, I look up.
“Don’t ask me for shit until Christmas,” I say.
“That’s a bet,” Hassan says.
“I won’t ask for nothing,” Hussain adds.
I just shake my head because I already know I’ll help if they ask.
I’m really proud of them. Out of all my nephews, they are the only two who went to college and they are actually doing well.
Ace’s business is doing well and he handles their rent and bills.
My money is really spending money for them.
They need a little money in their pockets on campus and I can help, so I do.
As they fix their plates, I finish my food then place my dish in the sink. Shuga walks in right as I turn the faucet on.
“I got it. I gotta wash these pots too. Leave that for me,” she says and I happily turn the water off.
“Okay. I’m about to go up and check on Niya before I leave. I’m tired. Thanks for dinner and keeping Niya,” I tell her before kissing her cheek. “Don’t let these two overwork you.”
“I’m just going to pack this food up and give them the toiletries I got them,” she says. “And don’t wake my little one.”
“She is mine, you know that right?” I wink and she smiles. “See you two Sunday,” I tell the twins before walking out of the kitchen.
Asali is still in the living room so I nod at him as I pass then head up the stairs.
This is the same house I grew up in. My parents built this and moved in when I was two.
My other brothers were born when Asali and Shuga lived in D-Ville, the projects before gentrification.
Mine and Shiro’s old room is now Niya’s and Shuga has completely changed it to fit a little girl, pinks and yellows everywhere.
Niya sleeps like a log. She doesn’t even move when I open the door and walk in.
She’s still motionless when I pull the comforter over her and kiss her forehead.
I swear I have the prettiest little girl in the world.
She inherited Janis’s button nose but everything else comes from me, well, Shuga.
If I place baby pictures of Shuga next to Niya’s, they look like twins.
“Daddy loves you,” I utter before kissing her forehead again.
Although it’s unlikely that I’ll wake her, I ease out of the room. When I make it downstairs, Asali is on the sofa, the twins are in the kitchen eating, and Shuga is washing dishes. I tell everyone good night then head to my place in Diamond Estates.