White Lines II: Sunny: A Novel (19 page)

He ignored her, went to the coat closet and retrieved his Polo jacket.

“Don’t leave, Zion,” Grandma begged.

“No! Let him go!” Olivia said.

Adiva jumped up and ran after her father. “Daddy, can I come with you?”

Olivia called after her daughter, but Adiva was oblivious. “Please, Daddy! Can I come with you?” Adiva looked like she wanted to cry.

Zion looked at Olivia. “She’s coming with me,” he called out. Without waiting for a response, he handed his baby girl her jacket. Together they left the Michaels’ home and headed out into the cold November wind.

11

SOUL FOOD

Marisol watched her daughter as she washed her hands, and got busy slicing the cranberry sauce into perfect, thin circles. There was something different about Sunny and she couldn’t put her finger on it. After a few seconds it dawned on her what the difference was. Sunny was happy.

A faint smile graced her lips as Sunny sang along to the Donny Hathaway song playing on the radio. Marisol hadn’t actually noticed how sad Sunny had been lately until she witnessed the contrast between the Sunny who usually entered her home and the one who had come today.

Marisol felt guilty as she admitted to herself that she hadn’t noticed Sunny’s unhappiness until now. Whatever had been causing her to be down was obviously over. Sunny was more upbeat than her mother had seen her in a long time.

“You’re in a good mood,” she observed.

Sunny smiled at her mom and went back to what she was doing.

Marisol watched her cover the platter of cranberry sauce and put it in the fridge before donning oven mitts. Sunny retrieved the two apple pies from the oven, whistling while she worked.

“So what’s got you feeling so chipper?” Marisol couldn’t help asking.

Sunny looked at her and frowned slightly. “You’d rather see me sad?”

Marisol shook her head emphatically and chuckled a little. “No, not at all. I’m just saying that you’re usually not so bright and cheery. That’s all.”

Sunny’s paranoia caused her to wonder if Marisol was on to her. Had her mother already picked up on the fact that Sunny was getting high again? She got defensive.

“You never bothered to ask me why I
wasn’t
bright and cheery. But the second I show up in a good mood, inquiring minds want to know?” she asked, sarcastically. Sunny shook her head.

Marisol stood there, stunned. She hadn’t meant to piss Sunny off, and she rewound their conversation in her mind, trying to recall where it had all gone wrong. “Sunny—”

Dale entered the kitchen with a smile on his face. “That grandchild of mine is a real genius,” he said. “None of her uncles was able to program that DVR to record my shows. She comes over and just like that”—Dale snapped his fingers for emphasis—“she has it set up to record my National Geographic shows while I’m watching football.” He shook his head, smiling, his face full of pride.

Dale didn’t notice the tension between his wife and daughter as he opened the refrigerator, took out a beer and shut it. “Smells good in here, ladies,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back into the living room where his sons, their wives and Mercedes were all relaxing.

Sunny had stopped whistling, and Marisol wished she had kept her mouth shut as she went back to preparing her rice and peas.

She had accepted Sunny’s explanation about the time she’d spent in L.A. Sunny had given her parents the same story that she had given Malcolm—that all Sunny had done at the party was drink; that she’d fallen asleep in one of the guest bedrooms and had woken up to a house in pandemonium as it was discovered that a young lady had overdosed; that she had not relapsed and had not gotten high. But there was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that was telling her that Sunny had a secret. Marisol dismissed it, telling herself that she was being silly. Sunny seemed fine, after all.

Sunny’s cell phone rang, interrupting the silence. She glanced at the caller ID and saw Malcolm’s name and number flash across the screen. She answered it eagerly.

“Hello?” She moved to the corner of the kitchen for a little privacy.

“Hi,” Malcolm answered. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Same to you,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been calling you,” he began. “Ever since we came back from L.A.… I keep thinking about you.” He felt embarrassed, pouring his heart out this way, but it was true. He hadn’t been able to get Sunny off his mind since his return. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

Sunny smiled. She realized now that she missed Malcolm. The two days since her return from the West Coast had been marred by such longing for cocaine, that Sunny hadn’t noticed that she was missing him.

“It’s good to hear yours, too,” she said. She was aware that her mother was ear-hustling, so she busied herself organizing the contents of the pantry.

“I thought you were avoiding me,” Malcolm said.

“No,” Sunny lied. “I’ve just been busy with my daughter.” She thought of how miserable she’d been for the past two days and was glad that was over. Now that she’d gotten high again, she was feeling like her old self. “How are you spending this holiday?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

Malcolm laughed to himself, knowing how pathetic the truth was. He was in the kitchen of his house in Westchester, making a turkey and cheese sandwich in his boxers. “I
should
have driven home to Maryland and I
should
be enjoying my mama’s home cooking today.” He shook his head. “But instead I’m at home working on a brief, all alone, wishing I was with you instead.”

Sunny smiled, loving the way Malcolm made her feel. She had truly enjoyed the time they spent together in L.A. and wished they’d had more than just a couple of days to luxuriate in each other’s presence. “Well, that can be arranged. What are you doing later?”

He set the mayonnaise down and gripped the phone. “Nothing at all. You want to come over?”

Sunny thought about that. “Well, I’m at my parents’ house right now, but I was gonna invite you to Jada’s place. I’m going over there tonight, after I eat dinner with my family. Mercedes’s uncles are coming to get her to spend the weekend with them. Her grandmother on her father’s side loves to spoil her, and the two of them spend Black Friday hitting all the sales at the crack of dawn. They do it every year.”

Malcolm laughed as he imagined that.

“So once they come and pick her up, I was planning to head over to Jada’s place for a while. You can join me if you want.”

Malcolm couldn’t stop smiling. “I’d like that. Where does she live?”

“Staten Island,” Sunny said. “You can pick me up at my parents’ house in Brooklyn and we’ll go together.”

She saw her mother’s ears perk up and knew that she couldn’t wait for her to hang up the phone so that she could pepper her with questions. She gave Malcolm the address, told him that she was looking forward to seeing him again and ended the call.

As soon as she was finished, she noticed the broad grin on Marisol’s face.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you met a man, Sunny?” Marisol was beaming. “No wonder you’re whistling and shit!” She felt relieved. Surely Sunny’s newfound happiness could be attributed to this new development instead of what Marisol had feared deep inside. “What is his name?”

Sunny was blushing, so she averted her gaze. Still, the shy smile that crept across her face was impossible to miss. “You are so nosy.” She busied herself wiping crumbs off the kitchen counter.

Marisol laughed. “I am not nosy, I’m just
curious
about who is making my daughter whistle and smile and blush this way!”

Sunny stopped fighting the joy she was exuding. “His name is Malcolm. Malcolm Dean. He’s an attorney.”

Marisol’s eyes widened, impressed. “Nice! I can’t wait to meet him.”

Sunny stopped smiling. “You’re not meeting him. I’m going to meet him curbside and—”

“You are not!” Marisol threw her dishrag down in protest. “Why can’t we meet the man?”

“It’s not serious, Ma. I just met him recently. We’re still getting to know each other. I’m not ready for him to meet my family and all of that.”

Marisol shook her head. “That’s silly.”

“No, it’s not,” Sunny said. The only man she had ever brought home to meet her family had been Dorian. In the years since his death, any man she dated had been kept away from her daughter and had never had the luxury of meeting her parents or her brothers. Sunny didn’t play games when it came to affairs of the heart. She was willing to roll the dice with her own. But when it came to people forming attachments to her family—especially her daughter—Sunny didn’t play that at all. “You’ll get to meet him when the time is right.”

Marisol sucked her teeth. “I’m meeting him
tonight
!”

She turned the radio up before Sunny could protest further. But Sunny was too busy smiling at her mother’s back. She shook her head, knowing that it would be pointless to argue with her.

*   *   *

Born and Zion sat engrossed in a game of chess. Zion had come to Jada’s place after storming out of Olivia’s family gathering. Realizing that he had no family of his own to flee to, and that Adiva deserved to enjoy a good Thanksgiving feast just like everybody else, Zion had called his old friend to ask if he would mind if they crashed their holiday gathering. Born had been happy to have Zion come through, especially after hearing about Olivia’s behavior at her grandmother’s house. Zion felt ostracized, and Born was more than happy to welcome him with open arms. That’s what friends were for.

The chessboard sat between the two men on a pedestal table, as Born focused intently and moved his piece. Zion weighed his options, thought about his next maneuver—not just in the game, but in his life as well. He had been a child of foster care, juvenile detention facilities and ultimately prison. He hadn’t known real love until he met Lamin and his family. Olivia had captured his heart and Lamin, having been his friend long before he and Olivia hooked up, was like a brother to him. Their grandparents had been parental figures for all of them. Zion felt cast out of more than just Olivia’s life, but out of the only family he had ever known.

He moved his chess piece and sat back to see what Born would do next. DJ, Sheldon, Ethan and Adiva joined them in Jada’s living room as they watched the football game on TV. Adiva didn’t mind being the only girl, as long as her beloved daddy was close by.

“Checkmate!” Born exclaimed, proudly. He sat back in his recliner with a big smile on his face.

Zion stared at the chessboard in silence. Clearly, this was not his day.

Meanwhile, Jada stood in her kitchen, peeling her sweet potatoes while Miss Ingrid sat at the table frosting her famous chocolate cake. Jada was grateful for her mother-in-law’s company as she prepared dinner. Ava was on her way and Jada was glad to be surrounded by distractions. She wanted to get her mind off of Sheldon’s refusal to speak to her ever since finding out the truth of her drug-addled past. Miss Ingrid noticed Jada trying to put on a happy face, but she knew all about what was troubling her. Born had confided in her about their conversation with Sheldon.

“So, Jada.” Miss Ingrid sounded nonchalant, as if she were just making conversation. “How’s Sheldon enjoying his time off from school?”

Jada forced a smile. “I think he’s happy to be out for the holiday. He goes back next week and…” Jada’s voice trailed off as she tried to come up with something positive to say about his return to school. Coming up empty, she put down the knife she’d been using to peel the potatoes and stared into the empty sink helplessly.

Miss Ingrid watched Jada, her heart breaking for the young lady.

“Marquis told me about the conversation you had with Sheldon the other night.” Miss Ingrid was too real to keep it a secret for too long.

Jada nodded. “Now he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He hates what you did. You can understand that, I’m sure.”

Jada nodded. “I hate it, too.” She picked up the knife, resumed her peeling.

Miss Ingrid looked at her over the rim of her glasses. “Marquis went through the same thing, you know? He hated his father for getting hooked on that shit. He was embarrassed. All of his friends knew and he was the last to know. Leo went from father of the year to ‘papa was a rolling stone.’” Ingrid set the frosting down and sat back in her chair to rest her back. “The thing you have in your favor is that getting high is something you
used
to do. It’s not something you do now. He doesn’t have to be embarrassed, and his friends don’t have to know. You can put it behind you.”

Jada laughed a little. “I wish it was that simple.”

“It is.” Ingrid adjusted her glasses on her nose, and really looked at Jada. “But you have to talk to him. You gotta tell him what you went through and he will love you for surviving it.”

Jada loved Miss Ingrid like a mother. In fact, there had been a time in her life when her own mother had turned from her and Miss Ingrid had looked out for Jada, told her the truth about herself. She knew that Born’s mother was telling her the truth about herself even now, whether she liked the sound of it or not.

“I don’t know about that,” Jada said, honestly. “My Sheldon is really longing for his father, and I think he feels like I’m the reason he doesn’t have one.” Jada acknowledged in her heart that in some way she was responsible. She had set all of the events in motion that had led up to Jamari’s murder. She had smoked his crack, had sex with him despite her knowledge that he was Born’s sworn enemy; once pregnant with his child she had stolen his cocaine, sold it, and stashed the money. It had been Jamari’s money, but Jada felt that she had earned it. She had suffered dearly for it. She refused to feel guilty for the blood that was technically on her hands.

“Well, he can either get over that or spend his whole life being angry about it.” Miss Ingrid resumed frosting her cake. “It’s up to Sheldon. But as his mother, you can guide him, Jada. Remember, he’s your son.” She smiled coyly. “Mothers have a way of building their sons up even when their daddies ain’t around. Do what you gotta do to make this right in his mind so he can move on. Otherwise, it can eat him up inside.”