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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Drama · #1220247
I am trying some short stories revolving around this character. Enjoy, Ms. Hines
"Let's get it on..." Marvin Gaye sang his heart out in my grandmother's living room. She normally threw card games on the weekends and the remaining four of her eight children would fill up her apartment with their kids and new men. All of my Aunts and my mother call my grandmother "Mama", but the kids, we call her "Granny" and so did the majority of her neighbors. Granny has been living in her building since forever and knows everyone in it. Her building is an old tenement facing Florence Avenue that is connected to the next tenement. A storefront is placed smack dead in the middle, that currently is inhabited by a Chinese Restaurant. The building is a “walk-up” as my mother calls it, Granny lives on the first floor. I feel like she lives on the second floor since I have to climb two flights of stairs to get to her apartment door. Her floor only has four apartments that are parallel to each other. Her apartment is closest to the stairs. I usually try to scare her by hiding by the stairs after knocking on the door, but she isn’t  fazed. She just yells through the door, “if I can’t see you and you don’t own a key, your asses don’t belong up in here!” I gave that up quick. Some of her old girlfriends come by once in a while to see her and tonight it was her friend Anna. From the chatter in the bedroom earlier, I have determined that one of my Aunts does not like Anna and is looking for a way to pick a fight with her. I have been looking around the room trying to figure out which Aunt it is all night. As my eyes scanned the room, I notice how big Granny’s living room appears. She has a couch and a loveseat and a chair. Her glass coffee table, dusted earlier today contained remnants of her daily routine. Her TV Guide faces downward and her brown and silver Zenith remote sits neatly beside it. A glass vase is always in the center filled with a dozen flowers from either a son or a daughter or grandchild or a friend. Her stereo is made of wood and has a record player on the top. The radio tuner and tape deck are in the middle and there is a small space below large enough to hold about 8 vinyls. Her big wooden television is strategically placed so she can view it from the living room and from the kitchen when she cooked. My grandmother’s house was much better than mine. I look back at the couch and the smell of cigarette smoke fires its way into my nostrils. I turn to my right to notice my mother Sara puffing away on her cigarette like a dragon as usual. I hate the way she smokes. It makes me cringe anytime she puts one out and immediately lights another. I slide off the black and white flowery designed couch and head into the kitchen where my grandmother has a poker game going. The smell of cake frosting hits me as I enter. I notice Granny's specialty on the counter. Yellow cake with vanilla frosting. I never tasted a better cake in all of my eleven years on this earth. I hope she will teach me her secret so I can make my cakes just as good as hers. Anna and my Aunt Carey are sitting at the table counting pennies and talking to one another. My grandmother is pouring water into her E&J Brandy to dilute it. Her hips sway side to side as her slim frame moves to the music playing on her stereo.

"Sing it Marvin! Loving youuuu!" She places the pitcher back into the refrigerator and takes her seat at the table.

The small wooden table is held up on three of its original legs and two milk crates propped on top of each other. My Aunt Carey has offered plenty of times to buy Granny a new table but she refuses. Something about the table being lucky, I guess she's talking about her card games. I would get rid of it if I was her, the roaches have formed a small community in the cracks and the maternity ward is located at the place where the legs meet the table. Need I say more?

"All right I'm ready. Did you cut the deck yet?" She is looking at my Aunt Carey for a response.

"Yeah Ma, deal the cards." My Aunt Carey answers as she swirls her ice cubes around in her glass.

She sets the glass down and picks up the cards being dealt to her. I walk over to peek at her cards. I really love my Aunt Carey because I know I am her favorite; she spoils me and I love every minute of it. Being the only girl at a time when boys were ruling in the kid department definitely had its perks. Granny spoiled me at times but she knew when to turn her spoil switch off and her whoop ass switch on. I didn't play with Granny too much. My Aunt Carey started checking to make sure everyone's bet was in and had taken her attention off her drink. I scooped her glass up as quickly as I could and tried to steal a couple of sips before she noticed. I attempted to put the glass back in the exact position and walked away from the table happy I was not caught.

I snuck sips before and I know the effects of whatever it is in the cup the grownups drink, and to be honest I like the way it made me feel. For a little while at least, I was away from all the things I hate about my family. I was able to relate to their flaws and make up some sort of justification as to why GOD put me with them in the first place. I always felt different, like I didn't belong. The drink I just had would take care of that in no time as my head began to get dizzy and everything seems to be moving quicker than usual. I raced to take a seat on the couch when I hear the noise that would sober me up in an instant.

CRASH-

I turn around to see my Aunt Carey's glass on the floor in tiny pieces, liquor racing toward the center of my grandmother's unleveled floor.

"Ah shit girl, you drunk already?" My grandmother is staring at my Aunt with disgust written all over her face. She was never one to be drunk in public and feels a woman should carry herself in a sensible manner when drinking. “Know your limit”, I heard her say that plenty of times to my mother. I have a good feeling it will be said to her before the night was over.

"Hell no I aint drunk! I picked up my cards and when I moved my arm back the glass fell. I know my glass was not that close to the edge of the table for it to fall."

"Did you move my glass?!" My Aunt Carey yells at Ms. Anna who looks back at her as if she had been scolded by a parent.

Okay, so now I know which Aunt wanted to pick a fight with her. Well maybe that will keep the focus off me while I make my way to the bedroom instead of the couch. More of my family members are making their way to the kitchen to find out what's going on.

"I didn't touch your glass! I got my own fucking glass to touch, hold, caress, and do whatever the fuck else I want to do with it while my drink is in it!" Ms. Anna was fired up. Her words dragged like someone was holding her tongue while she talked.

"Oh shut your drunk ass up! I'm the only one who can do what the fuck I want to do with that glass! She aint the one who touched your glass Carey. I know who did it, shit, I KNOW who did it!" Granny stood up.

"CONSTANCE!! Bring your fucking grown ass in this kitchen right now!" Granny yelled at the top of her lungs. I was already in the bedroom face down on the bed trying to stop my head from spinning when I heard the door fling open.

"Ooooh, you better hide! Granny coming back here as soon as she finds her belt she said." My cousin Rodney, who happens to be a year older than me but acts like he is still in pampers, is smiling from ear to ear right now. He lives for the chance to see someone other than himself get a beating.

"You better hurry up, she still looking for her belt. Shoot, I ain’t ever had this much time. You need to be taking advantage of the situation." Rodney was now standing in the doorway peeking his head out to see where Granny was.

"I'm not hiding, my head hurts." I feel as if I’m about to throw up the chicken wings and French fries my mother brought me earlier.

"I don’t think the sympathy card is gonna work this time Constance, Granny looks mad and Aunt Carey and Ms. Anna are fighting in the kitchen!"

"Oh snap! You just got an extra life, Granny going back to the kitchen!" Rodney runs off toward the kitchen to be nosy since there would be no action in the bedroom.

"Constance!" My mother is calling me but I'm afraid if I open my mouth I will throw up.

"Constance, girl I know you heard me calling you with your fresh ass. Look at all the problems you caused. I'm gonna whoop your ass when we get home you hear me?"

"Yes ma." I could tell my mother was a little tipsy and I had a 50/50 chance of getting out of an ass whooping.

"Now get your stuff and come on. They aint got shit else to drink any damn way. I can drink in peace at home and not have to worry about heathens tearing my fucking house up. Hurry your ass up too Constance! If I hear one peep from Mama about not raising you right you're really gonna get it."

I am really rushing now, so much for my 50/50 chance. Granny would definitely use this opportunity to belittle my mother in front of everyone. It was like she got kicks off it or something. Usually when we left Granny's house, she was kicking my mother out so to be able to leave without being forced to was a privilege for my mother.

I made my way to the living room. The banging and cussing became louder with every step.

"You stupid bitch, I was with Eric last night and he was all up in this ass!!" Anna was screaming at the top of her lungs.

"He don't want your wrinkled old ass! The only thing you might be good for is some head because that dried up old pussy probably got cobwebs all over it!" My Aunt Carey was laughing and slapping fives with my Aunt Katrina. My grandmother was trying her best to calm them down.

My mother was already at the door and was about to open it when Rodney screamed out...

"Bye, Aunt Sara. Bye, Constance." Rodney waved at my mother who had the look of a murderer eyeing it's next victim.

"Who the fuck trying to slip out my house without speaking!" Granny was halfway to the door. She looked at my mother up and down before she spoke.

"I hope your ass is on the way to the store to get some more liquor to replace all the liquor you drank!" Granny had fire in her eyes.

"C'mon Mama, I'm tired. I need to get Constance home; it's late and I don’t like walking through the park with her too late." Now my mother knows that is a boldfaced lie, the majority of the time she's too drunk to know we're even walking through a park.

"You wasn't too tired to drink up the liquor. Matter fact, just go Sara because I don't want to have to go postal on your ass in here tonight. Yeah get home so you can try and do a better job of raising that child of yours!"

I knew it was too good to be true! She just had to fit that line in somewhere in her performance.

The tears slowly fell from my mother's eyes as she looked to the floor and walked out of the apartment. I follow her as my grandmother slams the door behind us. She didn't even say goodbye to me.

My mother drags me along as she mumbles curse words to herself. I have a feeling deep down inside my mother feels the same way I do, like she doesn’t belong either. She is always competing with one of her sisters for her mother's love but only get hate and pain in return.

We enter our small roach-infested apartment and turn into our beds. My mother is so angry by Granny's outburst to even think about me. She wants to drink her beer with no interruptions. She just wants me out of her face and I was happy to oblige.

I lay in my bed and think about my life. Ha, life oh that's what it's called. I drift off to sleep to be awakened by my mother screaming in the phone.

"I hate you!!" My mother slams the phone on the hook as if she is trying to break it.

"Everything okay, ma?" I crawl onto her bed and lay beside her.

"Yeah Constance, just Mama making sure I am miserable at home too."

"Can I sleep with you, ma?"

"Yeah, baby. Constance, I know I haven't been the best mom in the world, but I am trying to be better, okay?" Tears are dripping from her chin to her pajamas. I think about a line Granny uses a lot...A drunk person speaks a sober mind.  I just hold her tight and whisper I love her.
© Copyright 2007 Ms. Hines (twin0004sho at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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