Chapter 8 #2
I just chuckled to save myself from the embarrassment because everyone in the room was still looking at me.
“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied to her, looking her right in her eyes.
“Yeah. We going to talk,” was all she said.
My cousin Jaz came over, and she hugged me.
I went around the room, giving hugs to anyone that looked like they wanted something to do with me, and for those that didn’t, I just waved at them.
There was an empty spot at the island, so I sat in the stool.
Jaz was right on the side of me, which I was happy about because at least I was sitting next to someone that probably liked me, and could keep me calm.
“Mark, go and get everybody from out back, so that we can hear what Dionne has to say about my baby coming home,” my grandma said, getting right to the point, once she moved back over to the stove, so that she could finish frying the food.
There was an aluminum pan right next to her, with a few sheets of paper towel lying inside, so I was able to look over, and see that she was frying some tilapia.
On the other eye of the stove, there was a big stainless steel stock pot, which I’m sure held grits inside.
My grandma could cook her ass off, so I was going to make it my business to stick around long enough to get something to eat.
“You look so pretty girl. You know that I follow you on social media, so I see when you post from time to time, but those pictures don’t really do you any justice. Your ten times prettier in person,” Jaz said to me, tapping my arm, so that she could get my attention.
I looked over at my cousin, and I smiled.
Jaz was younger than me. She reminded me of Tommie a little bit.
A hot head, said whatever she wanted to say out of her mouth, and she would fight in a second.
Jaz just didn’t have children like Tommie did though.
In the past, Jaz has gotten into trouble, which caused her to serve some time in jail.
A lot of her crimes were petty crimes, but still, because of it, it fucked up her record, making it hard for her to get a good job.
Last I heard she was working at Walmart.
When I launched my business on social media, she was one of the many who messaged me, telling me that she was going to come for an interview, and I let her know that I would be waiting.
Just off the strength of her being my cousin, I was going to help put her on.
All she had to do was show up, but she never did that, and I never reached out to her to ask her why she didn’t.
“Thank you, Jaz. You’re so pretty too. You know I always tell you that whenever I see you.
Speaking of social media though, you reached out to me, telling me that you were going to come for an interview, but you never did.
What’s up with that?” I wanted to know, picking up my baby cousin from my lap, and I changed the way that I was carrying him.
I cradled him in my arms because he was dozing off.
It’s crazy because he didn’t know my name, and I didn’t know his, yet he came to me naturally, and he was falling asleep on me like it was nothing.
“Because another position that I applied for ended up reaching out to me. It was the job that I really wanted. I’ve been trying to get put on at the airport for years, and I finally got a call back.
I applied for the customer service agent position.
I have a home girl that’s been working there for a couple of years, and she makes decent money.
The interview went well, and now I’m in training.
Just doing what I gotta do, so that I can get out of my grandma house, you know?
It’s too many of us living here. Then, Uncle Dionte about to come home, and that’s going to be another person living here,” she said, and I made a face like, ‘girl, no the hell he won’t’.
With no shade to my grandma, or anyone else that’s living here, but my daddy would not be moving in here.
My man put a five million dollar check in my hand that Garrus wrote out to me for the trouble that he put me through.
I was already doing walk through’s with my realtor, and I already had a couple of homes in mind for my daddy.
The second we found out that my daddy was coming home, the plan was to get in contact with my realtor and give her the green light to close on the home because I was going to make sure that my daddy had something nice to come home to.
Whatever legal business that he wanted to start up, I was going to fund that. I was going to make it my business that my daddy stays out of the streets, and out of trouble.
“That’s good Jaz. I’m proud of you, and I’m happy to hear that.
Me, and you have had deep talks, so I know how badly you want to get out of here and do great things with your life.
You can do that. My daddy not moving in here though, so you don’t have to worry about that,” I said, finishing it with a chuckle because I didn’t want her to take what I said the wrong way.
She laughed too, and suddenly, the patio door was pulled back, and Mark came back in, and he had my uncle Darnell with him, along with my uncle Keon.
“I know that’s not my bougie ass niece sitting over there. Dionne, what the fuck you doing in the hood?” my uncle Darnell said, coming over to me, and I could smell the weed on his clothes.
I damn near gagged. I never cared for the smell of weed, but I would endure it if people smoked around me.
These days, I think my pregnancy couldn’t handle certain smells because whenever I smelled marijuana, I would get this feeling in my stomach, where I felt like I had to throw up.
Even when Tank came back in the house, after smoking outside, I would get that same feeling.
I stood up from my chair, so that I could hug my uncle Darnell. Him, and my dad looked like twins. He squeezed me as he hugged me, and my uncle Keon came over, doing the same thing.
“Aight. What’s going on with big bruh? I’m ready for my nigga to come home.
I got all kinds of strip clubs and shit that I gotta take him to.
My nigga did 30 plus years in prison. I gotta show him the world,” my uncle Keon said, and I groaned, along with rolling my eyes in annoyance towards his words.
My uncle Keon was the baby. Only 50 years old, but he still moved like he was 29. Never got married, never was in a committed relationship, but he was just like Mark, who had a bunch of kids running around, with a bunch of baby mama’s.
“First of all, my daddy isn’t coming home to do all of that.
He’s coming home, and he’s going to be on the straight, and narrow.
My daddy didn’t do all that time in prison, just to come home, and get dragged back into a lifestyle that got him sent to prison in the first place.
So, whatever thoughts you, or anyone else might have about taking him out to strip clubs, partying, running the streets, or whatever else, I’m letting you know now that that’s not happening.
My daddy needs to come home to peace. He needs structure,” I snapped, not giving a damn who felt some kind of way about it.
“He can still have peace, and structure, but I’m taking my nigga outside at least one night. I get it that you grown now, but you ain’t about to tell me what I can and can’t do with my brother. Fuck is you talking about?” my uncle Keon snapped.
He was the uncle that I’ve always had a history of going back and forth with. He knew how to work my fuckin nerves.
“We’ll see,” was all I said to that.
“Dionne, don’t worry about him. Let’s talk about the parole hearing. What do we need to know about that?” my aunt Paula asked, standing in the kitchen, right next to my grandma.
“Okay, so for the parole hearing, the most important thing that my daddy is going to need is structure, support, and a sense of stability. They need to see the love, and the family that he has waiting for him on the outside. They need to see that he has somewhere safe to go if he gets to come home. Everyone doesn’t have to come, but if you can, it really does matter,” I went on to say, and I cleared my throat, kind of nervous to say the next part because I didn’t want to offend anyone.
“The way we show up for him matters. What you wear matters. I know that we all want him to come home, but can you please, please leave the ‘free Dionte’ shirts at home. It’s just not a good look.
No hoodies, no loud jewelry, and no slides.
For the men, can you please dress up in suits?
If you don’t own a suit, a simple button down, with a pair of slacks will suffice.
Ladies, we’re going to court. Not to the club.
A nice dress or skirt will do. They are going to judge and make their decision off the smallest of things.
I was already told that. Is that cool?” I asked, and surprisingly, no one fought me on this.
Everyone nodded their heads, letting me know that it was cool.
“The one thing that I’m worried about is the little bit of trouble that he got into while he was locked up. You think they going to bring that up during the hearing?” my uncle Darnell asked me.
You could literally see the worry in his eyes. It’s one of the things that I was worried about too.
“They will bring it up. In fact, it’s something that I’m worried about too, but my daddy hasn’t gotten in trouble in prison in years.
He has a story to tell, and part of his story is that he’s a changed man, and he isn’t the same person that he was when he went in.
That’ll be his selling point,” I told my uncle, and he nodded.
“Be honest D because you the one that’s been talking to him, meeting with the lawyer, and shit like that. What’s the chances of my brother coming home? That shit will hurt a nigga if they deny his parole,” my uncle Keon said.