Chapter 55.9: Will you give me a chance?
Lula’s POV
I’m headed back to Carencro for another visit. Lester’s ’bout to head to the Jersey Shore, something Steph’s doing with the company men. We talked yesterday and she seemed distracted so I decided to catch up with her later.
I know Batman is out the country so I’m wondering what’s up. She’s usually only that distracted when he’s around.
I really enjoy my time with Mrs. Carol Jean and it’s hard not to want to spend time with her. She’s fun and feisty and she likes to tell me stories about Tank’s childhood. It’s obvious that Tank’s her favorite and he loves his momma. We finally decided that maybe we should think about buying a house in San Antonio, so she joined us and she and I went house hunting every day.
Maybe I spent too many years being poor, but me and Tank got different ideas about houses. I think 3 bedrooms is more than enough. He thinks 3 bedrooms is a good start. I think 1500 square feet is massive. We looked at a house where the master suite alone was 1500 square feet. I reminded him of his house on Howard Street, in Trenton, and he looked at me, amused, and told me that he pretty much used the place as closet space. I said that was a lie. Closet space means you gotta have clothes to go in it. The all black uniform doesn’t count. He and his momma thought that was hilarious.
After a week of house hunting, I’m tired and I don’t care anymore. Tank and I don’t see eye to eye on this. We return to the apartment and Mrs. Carol Jean is, again, the mediator.
“Alright, let’s talk about this. Lula, what you want in a house? Tell me what you want to feel when you step in.”
I think about this seriously and just start speaking. “I want it to be intimate, cozy, just enough for us. I don’t want something Imma have to break my back to clean. I don’t want a thousand rooms. I don’t need a lot.” I look at Tank. “Honestly, the RangeMan apartment is enough for me.”
Tank nods. “I like space. I want to be able to have the family over for stuff and have enough room. I want to be able to have the guys over and have enough room. We usually do that kinda stuff at Bobby’s place in Atlanta, but I wanna be able to host a getaway for top management.”
I nod. OK, I see his point, but Mrs. Carol Jean breaks in here.
“I see yo’ point, Pierre, but baby, I want you to consider this.” He leans forward. “When we do family things, they end up at my house.” We laugh cuz she’s right. “Everyone comes home to Momma’s. So you need to think about you and Lula.” She smiles sadly. “No babies, right?”
I nod. I got checked out by a doctor here in Texas. He confirmed my chances of giving birth were somewhere in the miraculous range. Not out of the realm of possibility but if I want a baby of my own, I’m looking at getting a surrogate. I walked out, dejected, but Tank reminded me that he wasn’t marrying me for babies. He’ll still be happy as long as he has me.
Gotta love a man like that.
“So, you really look at having space for company retreats, which is good. Separate that from you and Lula and what do you need?”
He sits back and thinks and finally he says, “RangeMan apartment is fine for me.”
Mrs. Carol Jean and I smile. “So buy you some land and build you something that works for that,” she says. “Or buy you a house that’s big enough for that but remember that it’s for company stuff. Y’all ain’t really livin’ there.”
I swear, I love my future mother-in-law.
I’m scouting Lafayette County this week. Tank and I decided to have the wedding here, so he and Bobby are joining us Friday night or Saturday morning after they square the branch away. They nervous. It’s the first time they’ve left the men in charge with none of the partners there. The men are nervous too but the veterans are taking it in stride. They know how to run a branch and they’re determined to prove it.
It’s Tuesday and Mrs. Carol Jean is headed to the farmer’s market to pick fresh veggies. She ain’t that fond of grocery stores cuz she says they sell dead food (“Nothing’s ever fresh, baby. Buy local and buy fresh.”) and there might be some truth in that. I eat whatever the hell she puts in front of me, not just because I’m hungry or she’s an outstanding cook but because it just tastes better.
I’m losing weight, too. I’m eating all the damn time and losing weight.
I slip into my maxi dress and I’m headed to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I go to answer it and it’s Antoine.
Antoine is Tank’s opposite in every way. Short (well, 5’10”) where Tank is tall (6’6″). Thin where Tank is thick and muscular. He has long dreads and honey brown eyes, unlike Tank who is bald with black eyes. And he smells of weed. No, he reeks of weed.
Antoine is Bob Marley without the good vibes.
“So Sista, when was you gon’ invite me out to dinner?” he asks, grinning, stepping into the house. I shut the door behind him and he follows me to the kitchen.
“Why should I?”
He backs up and laughs. “Oh, so I see the sistas got to you too. Let me guess. Antoine ain’t bout shit. Antoine will sell yo’ ass out. Antoine is useless.”
I nod. “Yeah, you got that about right.” I pour two glasses of lemonade and look around at him, handing him one.
He drops all smiles. “And you think that shit is fair? You judging me on someone else’s say so. You don’t wanna be judged without a fair shake.”
I gotta give him that one. “I mighta given you a chance if I hadn’t heard about how you sold Tank down the river when he was a kid.” I move to the living room and again, he follows me.
He nods. “So, not only are you holding my sisters’ opinions against me, you holding some shit I did at 17 against me. I see.” He sits and motions for me to sit. I’m curious about what he’s gon’ say, so I sit.
“The shit I did, I see now it was wrong. I see it in my boys and I see where I fucked Pierre over. I’m trying to make amends but he don’t wanna hear that shit. Pierre holds grudges and once he has one he like a dog with a bone.” He snorts. “He’s a fucking pitbull with a bone.” He looks at me. “My sisters say anything else about how I treat family?”
I think. Nah, they just said not to trust his ass. I shake my head.
“Course not. They ain’t got concrete examples of some actual shit I done to show I ain’t bout shit, but since Pierre has decided I’m not to be trusted, they follow his ass. So you my only hope. I’m tired of being outside the family. I’m asking you to do for me what you want us to do for you. Gimme a chance. Dinner?”
I’m thinking about it. Ain’t nothing he said sound false, but I wish I had Steph’s instincts right now. I wanna give him a chance for some reason.
I hope I don’t regret this shit.
“Alright. Where?”
“Shit, this is Carencro, girl.” He grins and that’s all Tank. I smile. “I can have something brought to the music studio.” He grins slyly and I shake my head.
“You ain’t bout shit.”
He laughs. “I knew it! Damn! So you heard about that, huh?”
“Nah. I was just told that if I met with you on my own the story would go from a quick hello at Starbucks to me doing you and yo’ buddies at the music studio.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “That’s real fucked up. So, lemme see. That woulda been Thelma.” He looks at me, examines my face, and nods. “I thought so. Fucking teachers hear all the gossip first.” He sits back. “First of all, Carencro ain’t got a Starbucks. Gotta go to Lafayette for that. Second, I ain’t have nothing to do with that. Now, did I tell the story? Yeah, to clear my name, but believe me, she wasn’t innocent when she showed up and, if she was, she damn sure wasn’t when she left. Kid ain’t mine, though. I didn’t touch her.”
My eyes are wide. Holy shit! He grins. “Truth of the matter?” I nod. “She wanna make it big but she didn’t have money for studio time. She paid in kind.” I nod slowly. “Rule number one in the industry: Make yo’ contracts air tight. She didn’t and she learned a valuable lesson.”
“That’s shitty.”
He snorts. “That’s life.”
We agree to meet at Paul’s, a Carencro institution, for lunch. It’s just me and him and we get seated at a booth. It’s a nice joint, down home, and they got a good menu. Ms. Carol Jean got me spoiled with her cooking.
“What’s good here?”
“Gumbo’s pretty good. Anything fried is good.” He looks up. “Nothing is better than Momma’s. Lower your expectations now.”
I grin. The waitress takes our orders (two orders of gumbo, one fried seafood platter and two large sweet teas) and leaves us to it.
“Alright, you got me here. So, tell me about yourself.”
I’m surprised when he starts talking about his boys. It’s clear he loves ’em, although he admits he’s not a good Daddy. He tries, though. He tries real hard and his boys love him. He fiddles with his thumbs before finally saying, “I remember our Dad. Pierre hates him, but I remember the times when he wasn’t drunk. He didn’t turn into a drunk until Pierre was born and he wasn’t an alcoholic till Wilma was born.” He snorts. “Once Wilma was born, it was over. He just started beating the shit outta us. But I remember when he used to take me everywhere with him. Introduced me to all his friends. I was his little man.” He has a wry grin. “He hated Pierre.” He takes a sip of tea and sighs heavily.
“Rumor had it that Momma fucked around with a man named Marquise Fulmer. He lived a couple houses down and he was Daddy’s best friend. I called him Mr. Key.” He grins and leans toward me. “I wanted you to meet me here because I wanna show you someone.” He motions his head toward the kitchen and nods. “The man at the grill’s name is Marquise Fulmer, Jr. He’ll come out in about ten minutes. Take a look at him and tell me what you think.”
Our food arrives and we chow down. Ten minutes later, Marquise Fulmer, Jr. comes out.
He’s Tank’s fucking twin. Same height, same build, same looks. I’m so stunned the shrimp in my hand stops halfway to my mouth.
I look over at Antoine and he nods. “Yeah. You see why no one believed Momma? Now, I’m not saying my Momma fooled around. I prefer not to think it. But look at me and look at Chenae. Then look at Marquise and Pierre. Wilma and Thelma is a tossup.” He takes a sip of tea and nods. “I loved my Momma. I still love my Momma. But Daddy treated me like shit after Pierre was born and once Wilma and Thelma arrived, it was all over. Chenae ain’t got no bad memories because when she came out, it was clear she was Daddy’s. Now, Pierre and them don’t like to remember it, but Daddy loved Chenae. Chenae ain’t known nothing but love her whole life. He actually stopped drinking so much once she was born, but the damage was done.”
I nod. Damn. Nothing is ever simple.
“Yo, Key!” Antoine stands and Marquise comes over to the table. They man hug and he turns to look at me. “Key, this is my future sister-in-law, Lula. Lula, Marquise Fulmer.”
Marquise smiles and I’m looking at Tank. I have no fucking idea what to think, but I smile and reach a hand out to shake. He kisses my hand. “Lula, pleasure to meet you.” He grins and I’m struck dumb. Tank’s voice. “Never thought anyone would get Pierre close to a preacher. You must be special.” He nods at Antoine and heads back to the kitchen.
Antoine sits back down and we finish our meal. Antoine orders pecan pie and I sit back and pat my stomach. I was surprised to learn I lost five pounds last week. Then again, this part of the country would make Hell look like a ski resort. I’m just sweating it away.
“Here’s what you need to know ’bout me, Lula.” I look at Antoine and he’s serious. “I’m loyal to family, even though they don’t believe it. I don’t lie either. The truth is usually more damaging anyway.” I sip my tea and look at his face. He’s serious. “I’m not here to hit you up for money, but you need to watch out for my aunts. They will.” I’m surprised he said that.
“I know Tamika hates me but I love my sons. I do what I can for them. Tank’s money?” He snorts. “I own the music studio.” My mouth drops and he nods. “I hustled like hell to buy it. I been putting the same amount of money Tank gives Tamika for child support in a bank account.” He hands over a checkbook and I’m amazed. “Give that to him. Momma is a signer on the account. He’ll be able to verify how long I been putting that money aside.”
I tuck the checkbook in my purse.
“I’m tired of being thought of as shit for a mistake I made at 17. I want in.” He looks at me closely. “Lula, I want my little brother to stop hating me. Because of him, my entire family thinks I’m shit. Tank pays my child support because Tamika thinks he’s a better bet than me, but she ignores the fact that I’ve never missed a weekend visit with them and I buy the Christmas presents, birthday presents and all they back to school stuff. I smoke weed and somehow that’s equivalent to me being a crackhead ‘cuz my brother is Mr. Ultra Clean Living. I don’t have a degree like the rest of ’em and I don’t appear to bust my ass at a 9 to 5, so I’m lazy and I’m a leech.
Well, all that is bullshit. I hustled. I made good too but no one gives a fuck about it so I stopped fighting against the assumptions. I let ’em think what they want cuz they gon’ do it anyway. I got no one except my boys in this world. You ’bout it. You get him to change his mind and get to know me as a man and the rest of the family will follow his lead.”
I’m angry now. “This shit makes no sense. Why now? Why me?”
He sits back. “What are my other options, Lula?” I grind my teeth and think fast. “My momma think that whatever Pierre say is gold and I’ll admit, Pierre made damn good. He’s usually right. But like I said, once he got a grudge, he holds on to it. You here and I’m thinking that maybe, for the first time, somebody might look at me neutral and give me a shot. Hell, you got Pierre to cut Chenae off and that was a fucking miracle. I figured she’d be swinging from his wallet till the day she got married.”
I’m thinking about whether or not to do this and I finally have a test for him.
“Alright. You own the music studio?” He nods. “The girl who paid in kind. How did that go down?”
He nods, smiling. “You sharp, Miss Thang.” I give him a small smile. “Rule one in my studio: I’m not getting between artists. Bad for business and I’m a businessman. You wanna to negotiate for someone’s slot? You negotiate with them, not me. I posted that as a rule so no one could say they don’t know. That’s how she ended up flat on her back. She negotiated with the man who had that time slot and he and his buddies got their money’s worth from her. That’s why I know I ain’t the daddy.” He grins. “Ain’t nobody dropping my ass on Maury.”
I lean back and laugh. Still fucked up but he right. If that’s the truth, it was way more damaging than a lie.
I head back to Mrs. Carol Jean’s, head swimming. It’s hard as hell to un-know something once you know it, if that makes any sense. I walk in and take a quick shower. It’s Wednesday and she’s gonna head to church at 5:45p.m. I decide to join her and hope she don’t get too excited.
By 5:30, I’m in the living room, ready. Mrs. Carol Jean walks out, expecting to tell me she’ll be back, and stops dead. I got no idea what to wear for a Wednesday night service, so I’m hoping this wrap dress is appropriate.
“Tallulah, you comin?” She looks hopeful and happy and I nod. She grins big. “Alright then!” She scans me for a moment, then nods. “Girl, you love yo’ heels, huh?”
“Can’t leave home without ’em,” I reply, laughing. We head out and, while she locks up the house, I start the Escalade. She hops in and we set off.
“Now, not that I’m not thrilled, but what brought this on?” she asks.
I shrug. “You tryin’ and I ain’t been in years. Besides, we still haven’t decided on a place for the wedding. We said no church but you still pushin’ for yo’ preacher. Might as well go hear him.”
Mrs. Carol Jean grins and directs me through town. “Wonderful, baby. Wonderful. So, you had a good day today?”
I nod but don’t say anything. I’m not sure how to handle everything I learned and I still ain’t figured out how to tell Tank I met with his brother. I figure Imma need to put the sergeant in a coma before I tell him that.
We arrive at the church and it’s my childhood all over again. I was hoping that Mrs. Carol Jean was at least a Baptist but no, she’s Pentecostal. Lord help me. I wonder who’s gonna end up speaking in tongues before the night is over.
We walk in and all chatter gets quiet. Everyone is looking at me and I’m following Mrs. Carol Jean to her pew. She’s in the second pew, next to the aisle, on the left. Now, I remember that the First Lady usually has a prominent place and the senior leaders of the church do too, so I’m wondering if this is a power seat too.
Minutes later, I find out that it is. Mrs. Carol Jean is Deaconess LaPierre and everyone comes to her to say hello. She graciously and enthusiastically introduces me to everyone as “Lula Jackson, Pierre’s fiancée.” That causes a lot of raised eyebrows and smiles. Service starts promptly at 6 p.m. and the church is rocking. The in-house band is good, they take a million offerings (“I heard about the building fund,” I whisper slyly. Mrs. Carol Jean laughs. “Every black church in America is ready to kill Steve Harvey for that joke.”), and they have the normal twenty prayers.
The choir is outstanding and I’m shocked to see Thelma waving at me. She’s a soloist and her voice isn’t a soprano, it’s deeper, but she’s good. I’m moved to tears by the singing and Mrs. Carol Jean pats my arms and smiles.
Then we get to the part of church that usually puts me to sleep. The preacher.
Mrs. Carol Jean’s preacher is about what I expect. Late 60s or early 70s, graying and wearing glasses, he’s solidly built and has gorgeous dark chocolate skin. He looks out over the congregation and smiles directly at me, or Mrs. Carol Jean, and I’m confused. I check the program.
The Reverend Marquise Fulmer.
Seriously?! I’ve had enough of mysteries for one damn day. This man don’t look nothing like the man I saw at Paul’s. He’s not big enough.
The preacher is damn good. He preached on the virtues of telling the truth and the evils of bearing false witness. I’m more confused than ever because it’s like he’s speaking directly to me. I’ve been lied to or told the truth today, or told multiple versions of the truth and I don’t know which end is up anymore. Finally, service ends and we all move forward to shake his hand.
“Reverend, this is Ms. Lula Jackson. She’s engaged to Pierre,” Mrs. Carol Jean says, beaming.
Reverend Fulmer beams. “Well, you must be a blessing to both Pierre and Carol Jean. Congratulations, dear.” He hugs me and I’m struck, again, by this man. He sounds nothing like Tank or Key. He sounds like Antoine and but has Tank’s dark eyes.
“Thank you,” I reply. “You preached a powerful sermon today. Imma have to think on your message.” I mean that.
“Thank you, sister, thank you. Now, if you don’t already have someone to marry you and Pierre, I’ll be happy to officiate.” He smiles. “Pierre was one of my favorite neighborhood boys. Him and Antoine.” He turns to Mrs. Carol Jean. “How is Antoine?”
“Fine. He’s fine,” she replies. I nod at the reverend and move toward the choir, where I greet Thelma.
“Girl, you got a voice on you!”
She laughs and catches me in a hug. “Thanks, girl. Here, let me introduce you to my family.” We walk over and she introduces me to her husband Barry and their son and daughter, Barry Jr. and Lisa. They’re cute kids, but shy, and they seem happy to meet me, their future aunt. Barry simply stares at me.
“Nice to meet you, Lula,” is all he says before directing the kids out of the church. I turn back to Thelma and she’s looking at me, curious.
“I’m not sure what’s up, but rumor says you met with Antoine for lunch.” I blink, shocked. She frowns then nods. “I warned you. Call Pierre before the rumors reach him.”
“Didn’t nothing happen. We were in public the entire time. What’s the rumor?”
“Right now? That y’all met for lunch and had a good time.”
I shrug. “That’s true.”
Thelma raises an eyebrow. “You better hope no one decides to embellish that.”
I look at her. “I don’t need to hope. That’s the truth. Tank will believe me.”
Mrs. Carol Jean waves for me to join her and we leave. After we reach her home and prepare for bed, Mrs. Carol Jean joins me in the kitchen.
“So you met Key today, huh?” I look over at her, stunned, and she sighs and nods. “Yeah, the rumors are buzzing about you and Antoine meeting for lunch. Once I heard where, I knew why he took you there.”
I pour lemonade and she cuts slices of pound cake and we move to the living room. I turn on the fan and we sit and eat our cake in silence.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“What’s your heart tell you baby?”
I sip my lemonade and sigh. I look at Mrs. Carol Jean and I realize that she’s waiting on me to judge her. I can’t.
“My heart tells me that Antoine is serious about wanting to make good with Tank. My heart tells me that he resents Tank’s birth because he feels his Daddy stopped loving him. And I have no clue what to think about Key.”
Mrs. Carol Jean sits back. “And me?”
“You gave birth to five children. You say they all have the same Daddy. I wasn’t in your bed and I’m not going to say otherwise.”
She looks at me and finally she nods. I see the tears and I pass her the Kleenex.
“This is why I prayed for you, baby,” she whispers. “You like Pierre. You don’t pay attention to rumors.” She wipes her face and smiles. “My babies all got the same daddy. Now, Imma tell you something only two other people in this world know.” I lean forward. “Key is Antoine’s.”
I lean back. “He ran around on you,” I breathe, remembering what she said earlier.
“Right,” she replies. “Key ain’t the only one. He’s one of six in Carencro. I know every one of my husband’s other children in Carencro. There’s three more in Lafayette. I was the ‘lucky one’ he actually married,” she snorts.
“And Reverend Fulmer?”
“Mumps. Sterile. He didn’t find out till Key was born that his wife stepped out on him, but he kept his mouth shut cuz he had a son. That’s what he wanted.”
“Then why did Antoine . . . cuz no one knows that Reverend Fulmer was sterile,” I whisper, sitting back.
Mrs. Carol Jean nods. “Exactly. Antoine ain’t sure what to think, but the fact that Key and Pierre look damn near like twins when he and Chenae don’t look nothing like them makes him and the rest of the world wonder. Now, if you’d seen Reverend Fulmer when he was younger, before he found Jesus and got sanctified, you’d know how those rumors started. He was just as wild as my husband, which is why they was friends.” She leaves and returns with a photo album and sits next to me on the couch. She flips to a Polaroid of two men. One looks like Antoine. The other looks like a cross between Antoine and Tank. I look at the names. Antoine LaPierre and Marquise Fulmer.
“Now, this is where the history of Carencro gets dirty. Marquise, Reverend Fulmer, and Antoine, my husband, were cousins. They mommas was cousins but rumor had it they had the same Daddy.” She flips to another page and removes a different Polaroid. “Rumor has it that this is they Daddy.”
And I can believe it. You can see both men in this man. You can also see Tank, Antoine, and Key in this man. He’s got Tank’s height and muscles but Antoine’s light brown eyes and reddish hair. Yeah, now this makes sense. I look at Mrs. Carol Jean and she gives me a tight smile. I hug her and hold her close for a few minutes.
I have no idea what to say but I know one thing.
Antoine and Tank need to make up. If Antoine is right and Tank’s holding a grudge, it’s been damn near 20 years. Time to let that anger and hurt go.
Tank arrives on Saturday morning with Bobby. Mrs. Carol Jean is thrilled to see Bobby, but Bobby shoots me a look and asks to meet with me real quick before walking into the house.
Tank walks right past me. No kiss. No nothing.
“What’s up?”
“What went down between you and Antoine?” Bobby asks, looking worried.
“Nothing. We met for lunch. He asked for a lunch like the sisters.” Now I’m angry. “You mean Tank decided to judge me before talking to me?”
“He’s angry you met with Antoine alone and he’s angry that you didn’t call him and tell him about it. He felt blindsided because the sisters couldn’t wait to tell him. Once Thelma verified it with you, they were on the phone to Tank as quick as it could ring. He was waiting for you to call him.”
I’m furious. “Thanks, Bobby. I’ll handle it.”
He gives me a half-smile and a big hug before heading inside to see Mrs. Carol Jean. I stand out in the yard and try to figure out what to say at Tank. I decide that I’m not going to open this discussion. I was ready to talk to him this weekend about it, but he arrived acting like a fool.
Nope. He’s gonna have to talk to me about this and if he accuses me of shit, he’s getting his ring back. I’ll be damned if I marry a man who won’t trust me.
I walk back inside and sit on the couch facing the kitchen. Mrs. Carol Jean is catching Bobby up on all the gossip and news.
“Pierre is in the bedroom,” she says, smiling.
I nod but get comfortable on the couch. She and Bobby watch me but say nothing. After a few minutes, they pick up the conversation. 15 minutes later, a freshly showered Tank walks back into the kitchen and grabs a water from the fridge. He looks over at me and I look at him calmly.
No, so far you fuckin’ up. You come to me.
Tank’s jaw clenches but he kisses his Momma, takes a slice of cake, and joins me on the couch. Mrs. Carol Jean and Bobby are trying not to stare but they are. I bend forward and grab the remote. I turn the TV on and offer it to him. He shakes his head and I turn to Maury on the DVR. I’m getting fond of Maury. It’s horrible, but amusing. I love TiVo. I want one of these.
Eventually, Bobby heads to the back to shower and change and Mrs. Carol Jean heads outside to tend her rose bushes. I turn to Tank and look at him.
His face is calm but his eyes are furious.
“How was the ride?” I’m deliberately winding him up and it works.
“Really? That’s all you got to say? How was the ride?”
I nod. “At the moment, yeah.”
“The ride was shitty.”
“Really?” I’m really playing innocent now. “Bobby’s Tahoe looks like it might be a smooth ride. I mean, it’s not an Escalade but—”
“What happened between you and Antoine?” I see the muscle in Tank’s jaw going.
“We had lunch at Paul’s.”
“Why?”
“Cuz he’s your brother and he invited me out.”
“Why?”
“Because he felt it was unfair that I was judging him based on rumors. He wanted a fair shake.” I shrug. “Seemed fair, so I gave him one.”
I can see Tank’s trying to figure out where to go next.
“Tell me something Tank,” I ask slowly. “What are you so angry about?”
“You met with him and didn’t tell me.”
“Did I need to tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Cuz Antoine can’t be trusted.”
“Why?”
Tank looks at me in astonishment. “Do you not remember me telling you about my juvie stint—”
“That was 20 years ago. What’s he done lately?”
Tank sits back in amazement. I stand up and look at him cold.
“Right now, you treatin’ me like Derrick.” Now he looks confused. “You arrived, didn’t say shit to me, and started questioning me. You want this ring to stay on my finger?” He looks stunned. “Then try again.”
I walk outside and join Mrs. Carol Jean. She looks up and smiles.
“Setting a boundary?”
I nod. “He either trusts me or he don’t. We ’bout to see if you gon’ get a daughter-in-law, Mrs. Carol Jean.”
Tank’s POV
I’m watching Lula and my momma through the door. They’re in the rose garden, laughing and talking. I’m not sure where to begin and I really wanna break Bobby, ‘cept I know he’s asleep. He drove all night to get here cuz I was too wound up to concentrate.
I gotta learn to listen to Bobby. Somehow, this man calls all my family relationships right.
“Tank, don’t walk in accusing her of anything,” Bobby said during the drive. “I mean, the rumors only said they met for lunch. The rumors didn’t say she was fucking him.”
“I know that, Bobby,” I said through clenched teeth. “My issue is that she didn’t call me.”
Bobby shrugged and motioned for water. I passed him a bottle and he drained half before saying anything. “Look, there may be a reason. You have to admit, when you asked Thelma, she said Lula confirmed she met with Antoine. Did she call you after she met with each of your sisters?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Then don’t walk in accusing her of anything. There might be a reason. Maybe she didn’t call you because there really wasn’t anything to say. Maybe she didn’t call you because she wanted to talk to you this weekend. Maybe she didn’t call you because . . . hell, I don’t know. But don’t accuse her. Talk to her. Find out what happened.”
When we arrived, I looked at my woman and wanted to kiss her and shake her all at once, so I decided to delay the discussion until I relaxed some. I hit the shower and when I walked out I realized she was pissed at me for some reason.
What in the fuck did I do? You met with my lousy brother. You should be explaining this shit to me cuz I can clearly see that Bobby warned you.
When she walked out, telling me I was treating her like Derrick, I had nothing to say to that. I’m treating you like your pimp? What the fuck? Are you kidding me?
I watch Maury (‘You are NOT the father!” Cheers from the crowd) and consider how to reopen this discussion. Lula and Momma walk back in and I stand and take Lula’s hand. I tug her back outside with me and we walk in the garden for a few minutes while I try to think of what to say.
“I can’t believe you accused me of acting like your pimp, Lula,” I tell her quietly. I’m hurt by that. “I need you to explain that to me.”
“You walked in disrespecting me. You arrived, didn’t acknowledge me, didn’t say shit to me, but the moment you came back from the shower, you looked at me as if I should jump to your commands,” she says tightly. “No fucking way I let you do that to me. I don’t care how angry you are, you could at least acknowledge my presence. Kiss me. Say hello.”
I consider this. OK, I’ll give her this one. She’s right. I stop and turn to her. I pull her into my arms and kiss her. That seems to make everything all right in her world because she returns the kiss deeply and the sergeant wakes up from his slumber and twitches, hoping for a release from the brig. I feel her giggle and I break the kiss and smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey. Missed me?” She grins and I chuckle.
“Maybe.”
“The sergeant did.”
“He misses you when you get more than five feet away.”
She laughs and that pretty much kills my anger. I’m calm now, ready to discuss this.
“I’m sorry. You right. I shoulda said hello. I didn’t want to say anything because I wanted to calm down before I said something that was all wrong. I’m not accusing you of anything. I just couldn’t believe you met with him and didn’t say anything to me.”
She nods. “I know. I thought about calling you, but I decided I wanted to talk about it face to face so I waited.” Fuckin’ Bobby. How does he always know? “I know about the rumors. Both me and yo’ momma heard ’em all week but they was all the same. I met with Antoine.”
“At Paul’s.” She nods. “Where you obviously met Key.” She nods again. “And now you wondering if Momma was lying just like everyone else said.”
She shakes her head. “Nope.” I look at her and she smiles. “Let me tell you what happened.” I take her hand and we walk around to the front porch. I listen as Lula tells me everything she was told. Well, almost everything.
“Yo’ momma told me things she said she hasn’t told no one else, so you need to talk to her. I wanted to talk about Antoine.”
I look out into the front garden while Lula strokes my arm. Once I’m calm again, I look at her. She looks amused.
“I don’t know what went down between you and Antoine but I do know this. It’s been damn near 20 years since he sold you down river. He acknowledges he made a mistake and he wants to make it up to you. I talked to yo’ sisters. I talked to yo’ momma. Can’t nobody tell me nothing about how low down he is except that he don’t pay his child support and Tank, he can pay his child support.”
I look over at her, puzzled. She smiles and heads into the house. She returns with a stack of papers.
“The money you give Tamika for child support? He’s been putting a matching amount into a bank account that yo’ momma has access to. So we went to the bank and got the account details. He’s been matching your child support for the past five years.”
I’m reading the paperwork, dumbfounded. I look at Lula and she looks at me, smiling.
“He said that you hold a grudge. Now, I don’t know cuz I’ve never seen it, but this kinda leads me to think he might be right. You holding his actions when he was a stupid teenager against him. He a man now. He owns the music studio. He has the money for his child support. It’s just that all y’all got in the habit of thinking of him as shit just cuz he smokes all day and he don’t bust his ass at a 9 to 5. Well, maybe that ain’t fair to him. Maybe it is.
But Tank,” She looks me deep in my eyes and I don’t know what to say, “you need to get to know your brother, the man, and let go of Antoine, the asshole who let you go to juvie. Maybe he still shit, but you won’t know till you give him a chance.”
