Texts from Bennett (17 page)

“Come inside, you stupid fuck,” I said, grabbing Bennett by the collar of his shirt. “We’re going to have a nice little house meeting. I hope you’re happy. Your poor mother deserves someone who respects and loves her. Move your ass.”

Completely compliant, he walked to the living room ahead of me.

“
House meeting!
” I yelled.
“Harper, come downstairs, babe!”

Lillian wiped the cold out of her eyes and hunched forward, putting her bifocals on. Tim continued playing Xbox 360 and didn’t even act like the house meeting applied to him.

“
Harper? Come downstairs, babe!
” I yelled again.

After a few seconds, I could hear the floor upstairs creaking from her footsteps, and she finally materialized and took a seat.

“Tim, turn the Xbox off,” Bennett said.

“You don’t have power over me. You’re a teenager—shut it,” Tim quipped.

“Okay. Fine. Tim, I’m telling you to turn the Xbox off,” I said. “Not only that, but hey, here’s a ‘pretty please, with a conspiracy theory on top,’ turn the fuckin’ Xbox off.”

“Why?”

I had no patience left. I walked up to the entertainment center that the television and Xbox 360 were located on and kicked the fuck out of the Xbox a couple times until it turned off. Or maybe it broke—who cared. It had a red light circling around the on/off button, which (hopefully) meant it was broken.

Tim gave me a look of hatred and disgust, then left the room and walked upstairs. Bennett took a seat near the fireplace; his sweaty skin colored magenta from the run.

“Look. Guys. Aunt Lillian. Lily, I love you. But you guys gotta go. This just isn’t working,” I said.

Lillian was sitting upright on the couch she frequenly napped on. “Did that succubus cause problems again?” she asked. “Because I’ll have you know, I don’t like that little rat!”

“Yeah, she did. But it’s more than that. This is just . . . too much,” I said.

“She tried to kill me,” Harper chimed in.

“What?” Aunt Lillian said.

“Yeah, she threatened to attack me,” Harper said.

“Oh, heavens!” Aunt Lillian said, gasping. “Why was she here?”

Harper glowered at her. “Oh, I’m envious of the genius you possess,” she condescended. “Do you think
we
invited her here? Your degenerate son—who you don’t parent—had her here.”

I gave Harper a scowl. Her assault on Lillian was uncalled for. For her part, my aunt raised her eyebrows, then stared at the floor in disappointment. She was always predictably quick at blaming herself for the problems happening in other people’s lives.

“Relax, Harper. Aunt Lillian has a valid question. We didn’t know she was here either.”

“I didn’t mean . . . I meant why was she so angry? She went off on me too, but I was just waking up and couldn’t understand the little tramp,” Lillian explained.

“Good for you. I’m sure you’re used to it. But I’m not. And to
answer your question, she threatened to kill me for not telling her that Bennett was cheating on her!” Harper yelled. “She said Bennett had been ‘creepin’ with mutts!’ ” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “Whatever that means.”

“Well, I didn’t know that he was,” Aunt Lillian said.

“Couldn’t you imagine that he was? All he does is lie to people and cause trouble!” Harper snapped. She began sucking her teeth and sarcastically laughing under her breath. “You know? It begs the question: Have you ever parented this kid one day in his entire life? Jesus Christ—he’s a fucking criminal. He has no manners. Steals medication from us. Are you even the slightest bit worried that he’s going to end up in prison? What kind of shitty mom are you?”

“I would appreciate if you didn’t speak to me that way.” Lillian said with an austere tone.

“If you give me a good enough reason not to, I won’t—but maybe you need to hear this—”

“The first reason is, it’s rude. The second reason, is you misused the phrase ‘begs the question.’ And as stuck-up as you are about how people talk, maybe you shouldn’t be talkin’ wrong,” Lillian said.

Damn! Lillian with the slam dunk!

“Ha! How do you figure I misused that phrase? You of all people?” Harper retorted.

“ ’Cause I seen it on one of my favorite morning shows yesterday. They say most people don’t use that phrase right. It don’t mean to raise the question, it means somethin’ else,” Lillian said.

Hey, that’s good enough for me.

Bennett turned his head to look at me. We met eyes for a brief moment before he shook his head, looking the other way. Harper didn’t appreciate the gesture.

“Oh, is something bothering
you,
Bennett?” she ask-yelled. “Do you have a
problem
? Are you going to correct me on something too, you little shit?”

“Nope,” Bennett said.

“I’d like to think not. We gave you a chance. You guys moved in here, completely mooched off our food, and haven’t paid us a dime. I’m sorry, but that’s a pretty lowlife existence if you ask me.”

I raised my hand at Harper to insist she diminish the nasty tone in her voice. I then took a deep sigh and addressed Lily and Bennett. “To put it nicely, we just don’t have the energy or the space to do this anymore. We are becoming increasingly more and more worried every time we leave the house. Every d—”

“To
put it nicely?
” Harper interjected. “Fine, if you’re going to dance around the issue, I’ll be the man of the house for you. You guys are—I’ll say this in the most polite way possible—total white trash. Leeches, if you will. None of you work. None of you have a job. And you, Lillian. I know it’s not an easy thing to admit, but you’re addicted to drugs. You’re basically a bum! How are you
not
a bum?”

“Yo, bitch. Watch yo fuckin’ mouth talkin’ to my mama like dat!” Bennett yelled, as he stood up, aggressively walking toward Harper.

“Hey, hey, hey, dude, relax!” I yelled, grabbing him and pulling him back. “Stop it!
Stop it!
” I was screaming at all of them—everyone in the room. Not that Harper realized that.

“See? No tact or manners at all! And you people are who the wealthy, hardworking families of America have to support. Do you know what taxes are, Lillian? You ever paid them before? Oh, no, that’s right, you haven’t. You use the ones I pay to buy drugs and weird stuff off the Home Shopping Network,” Harper continued on.

“Quit bein’ mean to my mama, bitch! Don’t make me expose you!” Bennett yelled, shoving himself out of my grasp. “Don’t make me expose da whole shit!”

“Hahaha. I’m sorry, Bennett? The ‘whole shit’?” Harper said, mocking him. “What, exactly, is the ‘whole shit’? Huh? How you lied to Tallulah and told her you owned our house? Huh? How you’ve stolen almost all of my pills, even after we told you not to? Hmm? Is that the ‘whole shit’?”

“I didn’t steal yo’ damn pills, bitch. I been tryin’ to do good,” Bennett said.

“Oh, you didn’t? Then where did the entire bottle of Percocet go? It was a full prescription I got when I had surgery. I took
one
, and it made me puke. Where did the other fifty-nine go,
homie
?”

“Harp, honey, I have those,” Lillian said, digging through the nylon medicine pouch she kept on the end table.

I was pretty shocked. But also, I didn’t care. Bigger fish to fry.

“Wait, what?
You
stole all my Percocets?
You?
Jesus. Go. Fucking. Figure.”

“You can have them back. I only took a few, honey.” Lillian reached out to hand Harper the prescription bottle back.

My girlfriend didn’t extend her arm to take it.

“Lillian. You’re a grown woman who steals people’s prescription medication? That’s fucking ridiculous,” she said.

“I didn’t steal them. They were in the medicine cabinet when I went pee . . .”

“
Of course
you stole them! They’re not yours, are they?” Harper said.

“Well, I didn’t put them there. My name isn’t on them. . . .” My aunt was starting to look really upset now, more angry than I’d ever really seen her.

“I know you need help understanding stuff sometimes. So I’ll make this simple for you: if you take something that isn’t yours, it’s—”

“I’m not finished Harper. You keep talking during other people’s turns to talk—now it’s my turn,” Lillian interjected. Taking off her glasses and fogging one of the lenses with her mouth, before wiping it off with the lapel of her robe, she waited to confirm that Harper would remain quiet before proceeding.

“If you don’t want people taking those pills, then why did you put them in the medicine cabinet?” Lillian said at last.

To which Harper condescendingly shrugged. “Ya know? I don’t . . . I really don’t know, Lillian.”

“I agree witchu, Mom. Y’all niggas put medicine in da medicine cabinet, den get mad when niggas use da medicine? It don’t make no type of sense.”

“Okay, just because it’s in the medicine cabinet, doesn’t mean it’s medicine for
everyone
! How is that concept hard for you retards to grasp?”

“I guess we just see things a different way, darlin’. At my house, the medicine cabinet has medicine for our friends who visit. Need a pill? Grab one, sweetie. Need some ointment? It’s in the medicine cabinet, babe. It may not be much, but if it’s in there, help yourself,” Lillian said.

“Interesting,” Harper began, and at first she seemed almost calm. But I knew this was just the next phase in her anger. “First of all, you don’t have a house. Second of all, you couldn’t keep prescription medication in a medicine cabinet for longer than two days if your life depended on it. But, I’ll say this. It’s honestly the perfect analogy. See, there are people out there I’d give all that Percocet to in a second. Because they
need
it. But you don’t
need
a fucking thing. You’re a freeloader—a drug addict. You know, Lillian? There are people on disability because they are disabled. You’re n—”

“Chill. I’m dead serious. Chill,” I said, cutting Harper off.

Harper turned on me and scoffed. “
You
fuckin’ chill.”

“Child, I know I’m not the brightest. Not the best. Not the richest. I know all that—” Lillian started.

“That’s good. Not being sarcastic. Not trying to disrespect you, Lillian. I know we aren’t having a pleasant moment right now. But, I gotta say, it’s good you know that about yourself. It’s good to see your weaknesses so you can work on fixing them. Because I’d hate to have to be the one to tell you all the things that are wrong with you.”

Lillian swallowed a mouthful of excess saliva and momentarily postured herself against the back of the couch, straightening her spine, before letting the tension loose and sliding back down the couch. She then proceeded: “It stinks to tell someone things that are bad about them, Harper. A lot of people have done it to me in my life. I don’t like it. It stinks. And it stinks for me to tell you that I hope you’re working on learning how to share your strawberry ice cream. Because a person who keeps their fridge off-limits to friends, doesn’t have real friends.”

I don’t know if Lillian meant to be profound with that statement, or if she meant something else and was inadvertently wise, but I have to admit being a little blown away by her telling
Harper that. I fucking
hated
how selfish Harper was with her food. Especially at restaurants. She never asked me if I wanted a bite of her food.

“What a bizarre thing to say. If you want some strawberry ice cream, you can fuckin’ have it, Lillian. Okay? Jesus, keep the Percocet. Want my clothes too? Look—it’s not my fault you guys are fuck-ups!” Harper snapped.

Looking over at my cousin, I noted that Bennett had started punching his hand and grunting. He locked eyes with me, then shook his head in frustration.

“Bitch, what I tell you about dissin’ my mama? I swear. I’mma tell this nigga Mac the whole shit. The
whooole
shit.”

“Son, do
not
call her the b word!” Lillian said. “I mean it. Talk like a gentleman.”

“I’ll expose the whole shit,” Bennett said calmly, and my aunt seemed mollified.

I stood in between them, partly because I didn’t know what any of these people were capable of right now. Bennett was mouthing words I couldn’t understand, trying to tell me something to no avail. Harper had moved to sitting in the klismos chair behind me and up against the living room wall, positioned in direct alignment to the Banksy
Monkey Parliament
oil painting replica.

“Yes, the ‘whole shit.’ Is it how you tell me not to disrespect your mother, while calling me a ‘bitch’ fifty times a minute? Is that the ‘whole shit’?” Harper continued. “Or wait. Is it how your girlfriend assaulted our harmless neighbor and is sitting in front of our house like an idiot, waiting for the police to take her to jail?”

“You lucky she ain’t whoop yo’ ass,” Bennett said.

I was about to drag him out of the house by his shirt collar and pummel him on the driveway. At that specific moment, I was kind of glad him living with me was coming to an end the way it was. I knew I’d feel no guilt about it when I remembered how disrespectful the little fuck was to my girl.

For her part, Harper stared into the distance after that comment. The thought of Mercedes beating up Tallulah and threatening her was visibly disturbing her.

Then I noticed she had begun giggling . . . almost sinisterly.

Her inhibitions crumbled into a pile of carbon powder. After socioeconomically soaking in utero for twenty-seven breezy years in a protective sac of Democratic amniotic fluid, while feeding on a nutrient-rich diet of opulent, New England liberalism, adorable theories on the importance of racial equality, piles of unreported cash, washed clean and hidden inside poverty-fighting nonprofit organizations, and riveting fantasies about saving, interacting with, and understanding the minorities her family doesn’t actually want to save, interact with, or understand, Harper was abruptly severed from her umbilical cord, toweled off, and kicked out of the nest.