Authors: Marissa Monteilh
Here I was, not even forty yet, living the life, making a good amount of money, healthy and strong, with all that I could have imagined when I was young. The very field that greeted me back in the day every morning in Wildwood contained maybe three leafless, fruitless trees that took up barely one one-hundredth of the yard space. Dirt
covered the earth and bits of broken rocks crunched beneath the soles of my young feet. I’d dreamed of owning land with lush green trees. I’d forgotten about that dream until today. Today I had dozens and dozens that surrounded my property. Something so simple suddenly meant so much.
How in the heck did I manage to scoot by that rape charge crap? That could have meant the end of my career. My mother always said that you can’t get changed until you draw near. And that you will never have a testimony without a test. That God will put you through certain situations so that you seek Him out and desire to get to know Him better. I’d hoped that my situations were done. He knew, and I knew, that I needed to slow down.
Speaking of slowing down, I needed a little escape, and some new scenery, so the upcoming reunion was right on time. For the moment, I wanted to listen to my Stevie CD next, but as I pressed the remote to change CDs the radio came on and
Jesus Is My Help
seeped from the speakers and absorbed my soul.
I tell you where my help cometh. It cometh from the Lord.
I closed my eyes and tuned out the final ring of my home phone. I heard my own voice in the background.
Can’t answer the phone right now. Leave a message.
Makkai Worthy. It’s Lois Taylor. I got your message. Congratulations. See you at work when you get back from your weekend away. It hasn’t been the same without you. Glad everything worked out well. Okay. Goodbye.
And right there is where I rested all night long. A restful, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep. I could have sworn that for the first time in a while, I actually woke up with a smile on my face.
B
ack to life. The day of my flight to Florida had arrived. I knew this was going to be interesting. First of all, there was a whole group of my dad’s offspring who wouldn’t come just because they’ve been brainwashed to hate him due to what their mothers have had to say about him, branding him a dog for life. And he is, but they’ll never get a chance to experience the other members of this family, their lineage and their blood, who are pretty cool. It seems as though my sister and I were the only kids of his who actually got to live with him, if that can be considered a good thing. He married my mom, and then married a woman who couldn’t have kids, the one who took my virginity, or should I say the one my dad gave it to, Erskalene. I was off the plane and inside of my dad’s house in no time. An oldies radio station played
“Back Down Memory Lane,”
by Minnie Riperton.
“Come on in, Makkai. It’s good to see you. We have a room all ready for you, so just make yourself at home.” Erskalene pointed down the hall.
The small house seemed even smaller now. The
wallpaper with the small palm trees Mom had in the living room was replaced by dark blue paint, and the beige furniture with the plastic slipcovers was now powder blue. The shag rugs were pulled up, exposing the run-down strips of hardwood, covered by small circular throw rugs here and there. Near the living room window where the cane and bamboo rocking chair was that my mother used to sit in while she’d wait for my dad to come home, now served as the spot for two recliners, each mixed with fifty shades of blue. Blue was Dad’s favorite color.
I said to myself,
Make myself at home? This was my home. And that was my room.
“No, I’m staying at the Marriott next door to where the reunion is. But, thanks.”
Dad spoke up, walking with his cane at a slow pace, coming from the bathroom. He now stood with an arched back. He had less hair on his head and fewer teeth in his mouth. And he looked a whole lot shorter than he used to.
“Son, now you know you can stay right here. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to blow it. This is precious time, having you here. You need to spend time with your old pops. I’m not getting any younger, you know. This could be the last time you see me.”
There he goes again. “Dad, you’re not going anywhere. You’re going to outlive us all.”
“That would be a lot of outliving,” Erskalene joked. “Did your dad tell you that his ten-year-old son is coming?” she asked me. Which I thought was strange being that she’d been living with my dad for over twenty years.
“He couldn’t make it after all,” Dad told her, almost sounding relieved.
Neither Erskalene nor I replied to his statement.
Dad took a seat in one of the reclining chairs. He began sorting through some old cassette tapes.
Erskalene, who before had the skin of someone half her age, now looked nearly twice her age. I watched her walk into the kitchen to check on a pot full of black-eyed peas and ham hocks. The soulful aroma was everywhere. She’d lost a lot of weight, and her hair was now totally gray. She came back in, tying her orange robe at her waist.
“It’s good to see you,” I told her. I found myself touching her hand as I spoke.
She didn’t look me in the eyes. Not even once. She took her place in her recliner next to Dad and crossed her legs at the ankle. “You, too, Makkai. You, too.”
The reunion in the grand ballroom of the beautiful Adam’s Mark Hotel was packed. The room was all abuzz. I saw many, many faces I knew, but hadn’t seen in years. And, I saw faces I didn’t know at all. I saw my aunts, and cousins, and nieces, and nephews, and tons of elders of the family. Everyone was dressed up, looking good. I went dressy casual with a black shirt and black pinstriped pants.
As my dad and I sat at a rounded table for ten, one of my cousins brought over an elderly lady who used a walker. Dad smiled brightly in his midnight blue three-piece suit, looking pretty dapper for an old man.
He stood up to greet her, bracing himself with
his cane. I stood as well. “Son, this is my Aunt Ethel. She’s one hundred and five years old.” Pride took over his face.
I told her, “What an honor to meet you.” The elegant-looking woman had on all white, including a white dress and hat with big snowy white flowers. I reached out my hand, and she pulled me to her for a hug.
“Call me Auntie, chile. Is yo name Roosevelt, too?”
“No, my name is Makkai,” I said as we parted our embrace.
She looked at my dad. “Oh, Roosevelt, didn’t I jus’ meet two a yo boys name fa you?”
“You probably did, Aunt Ethel. There are quite a few juniors,” he replied.
I just had to know. “Dad, how many sons named Roosevelt do you have?”
“I think about six. I don’t know. A few of them are here. You’ll meet them.”
Aunt Ethel asked, “Chile, is you da baby son?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I told her.
Dad spoke up. “No, Aunt Ethel, he’s not.”
She scratched the back of her neck. “Roosevelt, yo mom told me bout chu but I thought chu’d a stopped all dat Don Juan stuff long, long time ago, boy.”
“I did eventually.”
She patted my hand. “Good. I don’t mean no harm but chile, don’t chu take afta yo dad, ‘cause he addicted to da ladies. Dat wife a his must be a good woman, I’ll say dat ret now.”
“She is,” Dad said.
Aunt Ethel spoke to me while clutching her large white leather bag. “Well, it’s nice ta meet chu
finally. If it hadn’t happen’ dis time, it sholey wudn’t gone happen on da nex one.”
“Nice to meet you too. You’re pretty sharp to be over one hundred years old. You’ll be around.”
“Chile, dat’s one thang bout dis family. Da womens live long lives but da mens die young jus’ from chasing us arounds.”
“Don’t I know that,” Dad said.
She pointed to me as she turned to walk away. “He look mo likes you den any yo’ tribe,” she commented to my dad.
Dad missed the comment as he focused on looking past his aunt, who was headed back toward her table. Dad’s eyes bugged. “Come on, Makkai, I want to introduce you to my twin daughters.”
“Twins. Where did the twin gene come from?”
“Their mom’s side.” We took a few slow steps to another table.
“Oh, Lawd,” I said, as two tall, stacked women stood up, wearing matching tan outfits and high heels.
I whispered, “Dad, please don’t tell me those are my sisters?”
“Yes, Makkai. This is Rita and Renee. Rita and Renee, this is your brother Makkai.”
“Damn, Dad.
I
can’t take this,” I said toward his ear.
Rita said, “Nice to meet you, big brother.” Big was a word that I did not feel like. They were both at least two inches taller than me. And fine as hell. Long hair, long legs, long nails, and short-ass dresses.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Dad bragged, “They played basketball when they were in college in Arizona.”
“I guess they did, looking at their height,” I commented.
Renee said, “Our mom is six-foot-three inches.”
I asked in jest, “Dad, you were climbing some trees back then, huh?” The girls laughed.
“Height didn’t matter any more than age.” He actually seemed to be bragging.
“Hey there, Makkai,” an old man said, now standing next to Dad.
“Hello,” I replied simply.
He said, “Hey there, Roosevelt. That boy has grown into quite a young man.”
“Yes, he has.”
Familiarity grabbed hold of my brain as my eyes expanded. “Uncle Leroy?” I asked with anticipation of his reply.
“Yes. Of course it’s me. Has two decades made me look that much different?”
Actually, they had. Uncle Leroy was always built like a running back. Before, he was stocky and muscular, and had a broad face. Today, he was thin and his face was very slender. And his skin had gotten lighter and it sagged with age. Years of not seeing him made it so much more noticeable. But, oh, now, that’s a man I will never forget.
I said, “No, no. How are you doing, Uncle Leroy? It’s good to see you.” I stepped up and gave him a strong hug. He had on a sharp gold suit.
We backed up, and then he spoke. “You, too. I hear you’re not married yet.”
“No, not yet.”
“But, you ended up being a big-time M.D., huh? Being a doctor takes a lot more effort than playing baseball, that’s for sure.”
Dad looked proud. “The boy has always been smart.”
“I am a heart surgeon. But, how are you?” I asked him again.
“Good. I’m divorced now. I was married for fifteen years, but I’m living the single life and loving it. And I am dating, believe it or not. I even got me a page on
Match.com.”
“No way.”
“Oh, yes. You’ve gotta get with the times.” He slowly sipped copper liquid from a large shot glass.
“Will you teach my dad here about computers, please?”
Dad shook his head. “No thanks, I’m doing just fine without all that.”
“And where’s Uncle Milton?” I asked.
Dad said matter-of-factly, “Son, Uncle Milton died a few years ago.”
“What? Dad, I didn’t know. You didn’t tell me.” My face was blank.
“I thought I did. I thought I left you a message at that hospital. It was sudden, and his wife had the services in her hometown of Rochdale, New York. Anyway, that didn’t make any sense to me. She was a strange one,” said Dad.
Uncle Leroy spoke. “We’ve all been all over the place. None of us have been all that close through the years, Makkai. I can understand how you didn’t get word of his passing.”
“Wow.” I was in shock.
“Hey, but we’re all here,” Uncle Leroy said with a smile, obviously trying to liven up the mood.
My smile was slight. “Yes, and that’s a blessing.”
T
he rest of the evening pretty much went the same way. I met strangers who were my own siblings and reconnected with long lost family. I wished my sister Fonda could have been there. So many people said they wished they’d met her. And some of them asked about Mom, too.
Later, I took Dad home early because his bad knee was swelling up. Plus he’d had one too many whisky sours. Erskalene stayed at the reunion and danced the night away with my aunts and uncles. I heard they’d always treated her like family from day one.
“Dad.”
“Yeah, boy.” He sat in his chair and leaned back, closing his eyes and rubbing his belly. “Those ribs were meaty and tender and sweet like a woman. I need a cigarette.”
That man always has sex on the brain. And he does not smoke. At least that’s one vice he hasn’t taken up.
“Dad, I’m gonna step outside for a minute. It’s a beautiful evening. I’ll be right back.”
“You say so. I’ll be sitting right here picking my teeth.”
He grabbed a beat up toothpick and went to town, sucking back in whatever he found in between. That brought back a memory. My country dad.
Heading back through the front door to the mock baseball field, I simply stood and glanced and took in the view that now seemed less vast and less inviting. It was still grassless, but now there was a wooden shed smack dab in the middle, and an old broken down car near where my first base used to be. It seemed smaller and hard to imagine as the same place.
I turned back toward the house after only a few minutes. Those three chipped, burgundy painted steps were familiar. The front door was still a dark wood, but it was weather beaten and dingy. The same dull brass door knocker was there before me.
I grabbed the doorknob and stepped back inside where it all happened. Where it was still happening, after all these years. Roosevelt Worthy and his main woman. His main woman who had to deal with being number one, as opposed to being the only one. Same thing, different woman.
With tiny eyeglasses perched toward the tip of his nose, Dad sat in his comfy recliner, rummaging through an old beat-up shoebox, searching through some old pictures. He now had a forty-ounce can of Old English on the small round end table, and some pork rinds. He continued to peruse the photos as if I’d never walked in.
I took ownership of Erskalene’s chair and leaned back as well, raising the footrest.
He handed me a wallet-sized picture. “This is my grandfather. He only had one daughter, Aunt Ethel, who you met, who is your Uncle Leroy and Uncle Milton’s mother, and one son, my father, Theodore Worthy. Here’s his picture. My dad was married to my mom for sixty years.”