Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Graham
“I can't believe I'm gonna meet your folks,” I squealed, torn between whether I should go with the brown jumper or the green. Jaq was wearing a dark red, so ended up going with the brown. The last thing I wanted were for her folks to think I was trying to outshine her.
Pursing her lips, she sat up from the bed, confused.
“What do you mean? You've already met my folks.
Which my mom just texted me to tell you to leave all that sexy at home.
I'm texting her back, too late. Ma, he's wearing his glasses this time,” she joked, me dying inside if she were actually texting her mom that.
“Yeah, but that was different. It was at your book launch, and that night was more about you and your achievements.
Tonight, I'll be partaking in a holiday we don't celebrate in New Zealand, and I just want to be sensitive to your traditions while also sympathizing with the indigenous people the holiday was built on.
I don't want to say the wrong thing, and when I'm nervous, I tend to do that. It really ramps up my anxiety picturing the worst thing that can happen.” Jaq stood, wrapping her arms behind my neck, as my arms relaxed around her waist.
“Graham, take a deep breath. Relax. In all fairness, we don't even celebrate Thanksgiving as is.
It's just more like, we celebrate the time we get to spend as a family.
If it makes you feel any better, it's not like…
my entire family. Just an aunt on my dad's side.
Her family, which includes two of my cousins.
It'll be my mom's brother. His kids. Their kids…
hmm, let's see,” she pondered making the cutest face when she did.
“My dad's sister-in-law. She moved to New York after my uncle died, but you know she's still family.
There's nothing crazy, I promise. The stricter rules are more for the people bringing food, and we try to keep things nice and simple.
Leave the soul food up to the Black Americans, leave the Caribbean food to the Caribbean folk.
My auntie Jill tried to take on the mantle of making mac and cheese one year, and woo, I have never seen so many upside-down plates in my life.
Poor thing, ain't volunteer since. Other than that, we keep the diaspora wars out of our family bonding. Any other time, all bets are off,” she joked.
“Now come me on, it's time to get going. The Lyft prices are already higher than normal.”
***
Pulling up to her parents' place was a nice change from the city. It wasn't exactly green pastures and oceans like I was used to, but far from the hustle and bustle of the boroughs. Given how many family members she clocked might be here, I expected anything but quiet, at least for Queens.
Even from outside the door, you could hear the blended sounds of Soca, Motown, and top 40 going on in separate parts of house, as her aunt opened the door for us.
“Oh, who is this?” A woman with like, really noticeably hazel eyes that contrasted her dark skin answered the door, squeezing my shoulder, but directing her words towards Jaq.
“Hey, Auntie Jill, this is my partner, Graham. Graham, Aunt Jill.”
“Hey!” a man I recognized from Jaq's book launch, dragged out, happier than I thought he’d be to see us. But then again, I’d be that happy after not seeing Jaq after a while.
To my surprise, he came in to hug me first, before hugging his daughter. “Nice to see you again, Graham, isn't it?” he recalled, but I'm sure Jaq had mentioned me at least once after the bowling alley.
“Nice to meet you again, sir.”
“Call me Winston,” her father corrected. At least I was off to a good start.
“You have a lovely home, by the way.” As I didn't even get to finish that thought before a dog aggressively ran out past everyone else, trying to sniff and discover new bodies. The dog tried to climb up to my waist, as I bent down to greet them, and they crawled into my lap, licking my face.
“Aren't you a cute little anxious one? Look, how cute you are. What's your name? Cute little one.”
“Marshmallow Cocoa had babies again, and they all inherited the temperament of that damn mother of theirs. We may not keep them all, but we had a soft spot—well, my wife had a small soft spot for this one, so we named her Bacon.”
It didn't take long before a litter of pups, including the notorious Marshmallow Cocoa, limped up, all desperate, and seeking the attention of a stranger. “This is interesting,” Winston remarked.
“What?” so distracted by a mountain of pups and a mama bear, that I was dividing my attention between the two.
“Marshmallow Cocoa is very much like her owner. She don't like nobody,” Winston admitted.
“She especially don't like me,” as Jaq bent down, relieving me of one of the pups' attention.
“Well, she likes me sometimes. They got her a few years ago to replace me after having to deal with the painstaking devastation of losing me to Atlanta.
So, she side eyes me because you can't replace a damn original. Ain't nobody coming to see Otis,” she joked in Marshmallow Cocoa’s direction.
“I've tried to make it clear to her, but he has a hard time understanding.”
“Well, she makes such beautiful puppies,” as I scratched behind her ear and she laid her head on my lap. “Don't you make beautiful puppies, girl?”
“Now, are you breeding her?” Jaq asked her father. “Or are you just subjecting her to the strays on the street?”
“Jacqueline, we don’t have time to monitor who she mates with,” Winston followed up.
“So, she just be getting ran through?” Jaq joked.
Winston used a squeaky toy to get the puppy's attention to follow him as he whistled to keep Marshmallow Cocoa in line. “That's my daughter, a regular comedian. Why don't you come in the kitchen and backyard and meet everyone,” Winston offered, as I hopped up, anxious to meet Jaq's extended family.
We all passed a living room to a bunch of cousins watching American football, some on Jaq's mother's side, some on her dad's. “Graham, this is my aunt's son, Dwayne. This is my uncle's son, Denny and Caleb, and that stud in the corner is my cousin Nevaeh.”
“Man, fuck you, Jaq,” Nevaeh countered.
"You know, I'm just playing.” As she gave her cousin a hug, then facilitated our individual introductions. An inside joke about them going to the store broke out, as Jaq admitted that if she had been alone, she would have went to that store with them.
In the kitchen, some of her older family members were either checking on the food or playing dominoes at the table.
As the aunt I had already met sat down, Jacqueline’s mother stood.
“How nice for you to join us,” as she leaned in to hug me, which actually didn't surprise me.
Moms were more affectionate, and they gave the best hugs.
“Thank you for having me,” as I leaned out, bombarded by a firm handshake.
“You must be the boyfriend,” a man I learned was her uncle on her mom's side.
“That I might,” I smiled uncomfortably, after he wouldn't take his eyes off me.
“You play a sport or something, you got the build of a linebacker. Tell me that's not going to waste,” he accused.
“I wish I could say it wasn't,” I laughed. “I like sports, I just don't play any.”
“Oh, what sport do you watch? Football? Basketball?”
“Rugby, mainly,” I clarified.
“Rugby? They don't play that around here.”
“Well, it’s a popular sport where I'm from?” I noted.
“And where is that?”
“New Zealand.” That comment appeared to ring off bells in their heads, because it was like an instant interest was being taken on me all of a sudden. I think many of them had assumed that I was either Puerto Rican or a light-skinned Black guy.
The conversations that followed pretty much continued on from there until we were at the table sharing dinner with each other. “The food here has to be really different from what you eat, huh?”
“Um, I suppose naturally. I'm from an island, so we have the climate to grow things that would never survive here, but it's what I love about America.
I get to experience all these really cool foods from really cool cultures.
It's hard to make what I have back home, but with all this, I'm not complaining,” I beamed.
“Island boy,” Winston said, not masking his Bajan accent like most times.
At least I had that we could relate to. “When I tell you there’s so much fruit and wild things that you just can't get in the United States, and if you can, the quality just doesn't amount to one you could pick off a tree. It’s why I try to take my family every once in a while, so they can experience it for themselves. “
“Aw, I remember you telling me you’ve been to Barbados, but you don’t mention much about it.” Turning to Jaq, reaching for the back of her hand to kiss.
“That's because I don't want my pics from Crop Over to get shared amongst the class. The more you ask, the more people tell,” Jaq choked out.
“Oh, now I have to see. I will pay anyone for pictures of that,” I teased.
“Do you miss anything about New Zealand, son?” Winston asked.
“More than I can say,” I uncomfortably laughed.
“But time moves slower there. The things you could do there, feel disjointed here.
It's kind of weird admitting this, but there were days when it would rain, and I don't know, I would just run out into the street or in a yard and just feel the rain on my skin.
You can't really do that here. Folks will think you're nuts. But it is one of my better memories there,” I admitted.
“Speaking of folks, what do your parents do?” Jaq’s mom, who in time relaxed into letting me call her, Brenda.
Downplaying it, I gave my version of it, so it didn’t seem like I was bragging. “My folks own a farm back home, so growing up, I just helped them tend to it.”
“Oh, a farm. What's that like?” Brenda continued, curious.
“Honestly, a lot of early days and long nights. My life back home is vastly different than my time out here. Not better or worse, just different,” I added.