Chapter 11 #3
“Som’ ground rules need to be made. No mo’ explicit songs ‘round Azaria. She’on need to hear nothin’ ‘bout no dick gobblin’ hoe. She need to hear lovey dovey an’ educational songs. Do I make myself clear?” I announced, stepping into the front room, looking at my family.
“Yes, sir,” August Junior replied with no problem as he sat next to Momma.
Looking at my first lady, I noticed her right eyebrow was raised.
Momma’s head was in my direction. Interlocking her crumby fingers, she relaxed on the sofa and laughed.
“August Senior, how you gon’ tolerate lovey dovey music?
A female or male start whinin’ ‘bout love you gon’ turn a house or car out.
Now, I understand why you don’t want her young ears to receive those kinds of songs, but think ‘bout this … who’s ‘round her the most?”
Shit, I thought, shaking my head slowly.
“Me an’ Mona.”
“Right.” She laughed, causing August Junior to stifle his laughter.
“Mona don’t do lovey dovey shit. She’s hardcore, just like you, Son.
On our girl day, all she plays is that dick goblin’, robbin’, an’ toe-taggin’ music from males an’ females.
You know what kind of music you like. All kinds, especially the ones that you can strip to.
You might want to choose yo’ battles wisely, Son.
Those same explicit songs have clean versions.
She’s two, August Senior. She ain’t gon’ retain that shit.
Five a good age to tighten the reins. Again, I understand why.
You’ve heard the solutions. Don’t have the leash tight ‘round her neck when she get older. She gon’ be wild.
Raise her the same way you raised August Junior.
She gon’ obey you better. You do too much hollerin’ fo’ me.
Whoop that ass. Put just a lil fear in her.
She gon’ know who run shit twenty-fo’ seven.
Understand?” Momma said softly as I nodded, taking in all the parenting information.
“Yes, ma’am. I received yo’ take on it. Still, no mo’ dick gobblin’ songs, clean or not. Mona, better take notes,” I said, looking between Momma and Mona.
“Okay,” the ladies replied as Momma grabbed a barbecue skin from the bag.
No matter who was responsible for a bag to crinkle, Azaria ran to them. Nowhere near her grandmother, she extended her hand and loudly said, “Mm’som’, peez.”
“Guh, you just got them teeth. They ain’t strong enough fo’ them skins. Come get a yogurt cup,” I said, looking at the cutie dressed like her Momma in denim shorts and a yellow shirt.
Azaria swirled around and grinned at me. “Yoturt.”
“Yep. Yoturt.” I cheesed, extending my hand in her direction.
Looking at my smiling son, I ordered, “Flip the switch.”
“Yes, sir.” He laughed, lifting from the sofa.
While Azaria and I walked toward the kitchen and August Junior walked down the hallway, Momma whistled. She had something to mouth. So, I whistled back to let her know I was looking at her.
Slowly, she mouthed, ‘He ain’t gon’ say nothin’ but Amana came by wit’ some man she finna marry.”
“Um, who came by?” Mona hissed lowly as I shook my head. Anger consumed me as I wondered what the fuck Amana was trying to pull.
‘You read my lips right. She wanted him to meet her fiancée. That’s who she brought by,’ Momma mouthed as I had to give Mona the right to do whatever she saw fit. Amana violated by coming to our house without consulting with us. I didn’t receive an email or a phone call from her.
“Oh, that bitch is ready to see me,” Mona growled as I lifted Azaria from the ground. I needed to get Azaria’s yogurt and spoon, so I would not miss a single facial expression when I asked August Junior a question.
“It seem that way,” Momma spoke as I was in front of the refrigerator before I knew it.
“What he said to her?” I quizzed as my son stepped into the room. “Never mind, don’t answer. He gon’ answer. August Junior, fo’ Amana to pop up over here an’ not seek me … that tells me one thang … she been in yo’ face mo’ than twice. Correct?”
“She’s always in my face, and I’m always giving her the Heisman pose,” he offered as Mona sternly cleared her throat.
Before I could open my mouth, Mona said, “Son, call yo’ womb holder over here. August Senior, don’t argue wit’ me. I got time today to go toe-to-toe wit’ you.”
As August Junior slapped his phone to his ear and walked toward me, Mona sashayed from us, hissing, “Bitch, got the nerve to step on my gotdamn poach while I ain’t here. Oh hell, no. Oh hell nawl! Time to show her ass what time it really is when it comes to everyone who lives in this bitch!”
Smiling, I said, “Don’t get carried away. We got two churren in you nih!”
“I won’t!” she yelled from our room.
“Hey, Amana. Can you come over? I would like to further discuss our relationship,” August Junior said sincerely, causing me to look at him with a raised eyebrow.
Boy, I ain’t know you can act this good, I thought, smiling at the conniving young man staring at me and winking.
‘My boy’, I mouthed as he said, “Okay. See you in a bit.”
When he put his phone on the back of the sofa, August Junior cheesed. “Momma finna wear her out. I can’t wait to see this show. Wanna eat popcorn?”
“You so messy. I like it. Yep, but I need you to put Mona’s truck in the garage.” I grinned, walking toward the sofa.
“Nawl, I’m not messy. Just making good on a threat that I made a week ago while hooping,” he said, shocking me as I sat next to Momma.
“What was the cause fo’ the threat an’ what was the threat? Word fo’ word,” I asked as Momma extended her hand toward me.
As I placed my hand in her soft palm, my son rested his head on the sofa.
Looking at me, he replied, “She came to the park, told me that she needed to clear the air with me since her fiancé had learned that she had a child when she was fourteen. The threat was this: ‘Stay the fuck away from me before my momma tears you a new asshole. You shouldn’t be in my face because a man made you clear the air with me. You should be in my face apologizing because it hurts you to know how you did Dad. I won’t say me because I don’t know you, and I don’t want to get to know you.
Have a good evening, Amana.’ When she popped up today with a tall, lanky nigga, I closed the door in their faces. ”
Shaking my head, I pointed down the hallway with my left hand and patted his chest with my right hand. Smiling at the cheesing, shoulder-length loc’d-haired, young adult, I smiled. “You hear that lil fox back there?”
Momma and August Junior laughed hard as my son nodded. “I do.”