Chapter 6 Monique
Travel had scrambled Monique’s internal clock, yet she managed to fall asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She’d slept hard and woke to the sun high and a phone full of missed calls and texts.
Was it unheard of for a person to sleep in on vacation?
It was almost three in the afternoon. Her family must have taken her silence as something dangerous. But they all told her to rest.
So, she rested. What else did they want from her?
She made her way downstairs and through the lobby, back to the banana palm-protected café that bustled with afternoon diners whose tables overflowed with aromatic dishes and vibrant fruits.
Monique glanced around for a familiar face but saw no one. The array of skin tones and accents surrounding her, though, felt like her West Garfield Park block, once upon a time: kinetic and welcoming.
A server darted past her and toward what she remembered to be the kitchen. Monique got their attention. “Excuse me. I’m here for a wedding luncheon.”
The server paused and then nodded before pointing toward the now disappeared wall of windows she’d sat beside several hours prior. She stepped in the direction the server pointed and spotted a secluded dining room through the newly revealed courtyard garden.
Monique smiled her thanks to the server and followed the ancient cobblestones through the miniature rainforest. Deep green and waxy leaves brushed her arms, and orchids curved down in welcome. Hibiscus perfumed the air.
She took her time meandering along the path that led to the small, secluded dining room, following the sounds of familiar laughter that competed with the gentle trickle of a fountain and the sweet call of birds that made this sanctuary their home.
Monique thought about going back for her camera. “Later,” she told herself as she paused and peered heavenward, trying to spot the camouflaged creatures that surrounded her. Letting her eyes fall closed, she sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the warm and sweet humid air.
She was stalling.
The path eventually led her to a private dining room, half hidden by leaves.
She spotted them all there. Tommie holding court, Lanie patient and radiant beside him.
Her aunts there focused on each other. There was an older couple that she didn’t know but could tell were Lanie’s parents just by looking at them. And then there was him.
Maurice sat there with everyone but not really. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the garden. He was Tommie’s boy. Close enough to be best man, so why did he look so cagey?
She stepped closer, continuing along the path.
Everyone else remained engrossed in conversation and the food that filled the table. Maurice’s attention remained fixed on the garden.
The leaves cleared. His posture straightened, and Monique was now certain he saw her.
Another bend in the path broke their connection and led her to a wrought iron gate at the back of the secluded dining room. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
“Look who decided to join us!” Tommie called out, rising from his chair. Everyone’s attention whipped to her.
Maurice stood at her approach, as did Mr. Turner. The other two men remained seated, yet their eyes picked her apart.
Monique forced a smile, one she reserved for just such an occasion, and moved closer. “Hey, y’all.”
“Don’t hey, y’all me. Come and give your auntie a hug,” Aldonia Lane-Fairbanks said from the head of the table.
Tommie ruffled her hair as she passed. “This hair,” he said in a complimentary tone that always sounded hollow to her ears, “real dope.”
She pushed him off but smiled. Cancer curls folks called them. She wasn’t trying to be trendy. She was trying to survive.
“Monique Renee, don’t keep an old woman waiting.” Playfulness colored Aunt Don’s tone.
Monique nodded and played along, like Jasmine suggested. But the reunion scraped at old wounds that she thought were healed, reawakening the ache of love and longing that had dulled over time and distance. The cut was deep despite the promises she always found in her aunt’s embrace.
Aunt Don brushed her aged hands up and down Monique’s back. They swayed and nodded in a silent conversation that may have sounded like hummed hymns to the uninitiated.
She moved her small hands to Monique’s face, commanding her attention. “You’re gonna be okay, baby,” she declared, voice unwavering despite the unmistakable sheen of tears in her eyes.
It took every ounce of control for Monique not to burst into tears. The moment was too intimate to share in mixed company.
“Stop being greedy, Ma,” Tommie whined, now standing beside Monique. “Thank you for being here, cuz.” He pulled her into a crushing hug. “This wouldn’t be the same without you.”
He stepped back and grinned at her. That happy-go-lucky brutalist was about to shift into hype-man mode.
Monique braced herself.
Tommie took her hand and then spun her around. “You looking fly, cuz.” He twirled her again.
Monique’s expression morphed again into the nicey-nice smile that she kept handy whenever she was uncomfortable.
“You need to stop embarrassing her,” Lanie said, coming to give Monique a hug. “Glad to see you, love. Sorry about your cousin.”
“I’m not embarrassing her, am I, Monie in the Middle?”
She used to love that song. But with Tommie being Tommie right now, she had to work hard to act like she was amused.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, then,” Lanie said. Tommie stuck his tongue out at her. Forever a child… that was one of the best and most consistent parts about Tommie Lane, but also the wildest of cards.
Monique rounded the table, nodding at each person who looked her way as she eyeballed all the luscious plates piled high with dishes that looked familiar but better.
Auntie Deb caught her hand as Monique brushed it over her shoulder in passing, kissing her fingers.
Monique’s cheeks warmed, and a bashful smile spread across her face.
Her aunt’s wife was like magic. Small gestures with outsized impact.
She had a way to make a person feel seen.
It was a gift. “You hungry, love? Get whatever you want,” Deb said in her soft yet assertive way.
Moving on, Monique cleared her throat. “I could eat,” she said, noticing him slide the empty chair beside him out in a silent invitation.
He pulled it out more as she approached.
“Monie! That’s my boy Maurice. Mo, that’s our Monie,” Tommie announced with a Joker-like grin. Creep. Monique rolled her eyes, her hand on the back of the chair.
Tommie waved a hand around the table. “That’s Sunny and Ricky, Lanie’s sister-in-law and brother.
” He pointed his attention toward the catalogue-perfect couple sitting opposite him and Lanie.
Sunny waved and smiled in a way that didn’t betray her name.
Ricky looked up from his phone long enough to nod and take a large swallow from his cocktail.
“I’m Cassie,” a brown-skinned bohemian woman with a crown of roped locs atop her head spoke from beside Lanie. “And this is Taurion,” she said, introducing a much younger man who looked at Cassie as if she burped sparkles and rainbows and Dragon Ball Z.
Lanie, much louder than her petite frame should permit, shouted, “That’s my girl from way back when—we went to school together, right, Soro?
” They did that Skee-Wee thing Monique had witnessed at every family function her entire life.
The Divine Nine and that pink and green were a structural thread in her family’s tapestry, until she snipped it and didn’t pledge at all.
Jasmine hadn’t mentioned pledging yet, but if Aldonia Lane-Fairbanks had a say, her great-niece would be Skee-Wee’ing right along with them at the next gathering.
Nodding, Monique said, “Nice to meet you.”
“And, cousin, these are my parents.” Lanie moved behind an elegant couple whose faces looked like they’d been plucked from a portrait from a hundred years ago. Polished, poised, but kind.
“We’ll catch up later, sweetheart,” Mr. Turner said, just as his wife opened her mouth to speak. “Let the child eat first.” He winked at Monique, his mouth pulling into an indulgent grin that made her heart ache in remembrance of her grandfather.
All she could do was nod in a feeble attempt to forestall her emotions as she silently lowered herself into her chair.
Maurice smiled softly at her as he took his seat beside her. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mo… nie.” Was he trying to be cute? “The family’s told us all so much about you.”
Monique pinched her eyes closed. This trip was a bad idea. What had they said? Half the table was occupied by people she didn’t know: Lanie’s parents and brother, her friends. Monique was blood relation to everyone on Tommie’s side except Maurice.
Several hours ago, he was completely unknown to her too. “Well, there isn’t much to tell, so I guess they were short stories.”
Every time they’d crossed paths, he’d been in a state of shock.
His shoulders had just looked like he forgot to take the hanger out of his shirt.
So how was he all smooth as silk now, telling her the family said this and that about her?
Monique narrowed her eyes at Maurice. Something wasn’t adding up.
Maurice leaned back and stretched his arm over the back of her chair.
What was he doing?
She’d been in his room approximately seventy-five minutes. Alone, fully clothed, and trying to recalibrate. The standby jury in her head could kick rocks.
The seating was tight with the twelve of them at a table that comfortably sat eight, maybe ten.
Their knees touched. Maurice jerked his leg away.
He shot a glance at her and let his knee brush against hers again.
The warmth of his arm behind her enveloped her in an earthy familiarity.
It was unsettling. She fought the urge to lean in.
Mrs. Turner spoke up. “From what I hear, Monique, you’re a great cook.”
Monique leaned forward and away from the comforting security of Maurice’s nearness.