Blow Page 10

“Cash, why did you do all this?” She asked when we finally got settled sitting on top of the antenna platform, which was the highest vantage point.

  I actually had no clue why I was doing this. I hated seeing people sad when I knew there was a simple solution for their problem. Why not fix the world around you instead when you didn’t know how to fix yourself?

  “What were you going to do, sit on campus all weekend and tweet on your fan account about how lonely you are and how much you love some boyband?” I laughed when she slapped my shoulder. “Yeah, no. You needed to get out and not be so bummed, because I hate seeing you like that.”

  Isra shrugged before throwing her arm over my shoulder and giving me a hug, which surprised me.

  “I don't tell you this enough but thanks for being there for me,” she said, squeezing tight before loosening up. “Even through all that mess you had going on last year, you still stuck by me. Thank you.”

  I smiled and wordlessly reciprocated the hug, before turning back to the street to watch the floats in the sky. The bands playing were so loud, I could hear it thirty blocks away from all the action.

  The roof door opened and I didn't even have to look to know it was my sister. Dreya beamed at me through her messy hair, before climbing to the top next to us.

  “Please tell me I didn't miss the SpongeBob float,” she said, craning her neck to see down past Fredrick Douglass and Central Park West.

  “You're right on time,” I said, draping my blanket over her body so we could share. She leaned her head onto my shoulder and sighed.

  This was what I miss the most about being home; all the little traditions we do every year. After last year, I considered transferring to NYU or Columbia with Adonis to be home. I missed my city.

  We sat in silence for a while before Dreya leaned up and stretched her back. “Mom said she wanted everyone up by 9 to eat breakfast.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I stood up from the platform and helped Isra up.

  When we got back down to our floor, I could smell bacon and eggs on the stove. The scent caused me to sigh with annoyance because I already knew what was about to happen.

  Dreya groaned, which meant her thought must've matched my own. “Dad must be home.”

  Whenever our parents decided to get it together and my father was home, he never chose to consume Ethiopian food. Since he was home for Thanksgiving, we'd always have a split dinner table: one-half Ethiopian cuisine, the other half southern soul food.

  I mean, I don't have a problem eating soul food. But I did have a problem with the disconnect it brought to the house every year.

  “I thought you said Dad was at his parents’ house this year,” I murmured to Dreya, stopping in the hallway.

  “He was supposed to be, what is he doing here?”

  Dreya did not like our father at all. Ever since he decided to join the Marines when she was seven, she cried and begged him not to go. Soon after he finished his first tour, he came back and he was different. So different, that he almost choked her and our mother out on several different occasions because of his PTSD.

  She didn't blame his illness, she blamed him for leaving.

  “Well, here goes nothing,” I muttered, before walking into the kitchen with a forced smile, as Dreya and Isra trailed behind me.

  “Hi Dad,” I greeted, stepping onto the cool tile barefoot. “I didn't know you were coming home this weekend.”

  “And miss my beautiful girls?” The big, burly man turned around with wide smile on his face. “Never…”

  His voice trailed off and he looked over my head. In a swift motion, he drew his gun from his belt and pointed it above me.

  “Who the fuck are you?!” My dad bellowed, causing me to spin around in surprise. “What are you doing in my house?”

  Zeus stood in the hallway, his eyes wide and his hands up. “I-I, uh—”

  “And who are you?” Dad was now talking to Isra, who pressed herself against the wall, just in case he decided to get trigger happy.

  “Dad, chill out,” Dreya said, rolling her eyes. “This is Isra, Cash's friend from college. And this is Zeus, her boyfriend.”

  That only made him click the safety off. “BOYFRIEND?!”

  “Oh my god,” Isra mumbled, shaking her head. “And I thought my family was problematic.”

  Everyone sat around the dinner table, silently eating. My father was staring daggers at Zeus from the head of the table.

  “So, Zeus,” my mother piped up, and I had to refrain myself from groaning aloud. “What are you studying at North Atlantic?”

  He chewed and swallowed his food before replying, “graphic design—”

  My dad snorted and shoved eggs into his mouth, and I had to roll my lips into my mouth to stop myself from scowling at him. Dreya didn't seem to have any restraint, though.

  “—and engineering,” Zeus finished, before clearing his throat. “The two go hand in hand when it comes to animation and filmmaking.”

  “There's nothing practical in a graphic design degree,” my dad said snidely, glaring at him even harder, if that was possible. It was starting to get a little ridiculous.

  “As if you were being practical by getting a philosophy degree from your underfunded community college,” Dreya spat, rolling her eyes once more. “That's the reason you left anyway.”

  His narrowed eyes cut to her. “Watch your tone.”

  Dreya pursed her lips but continued to eat from the plate.

  “This ga'at is amazing, Miss Kelly,” Isra commented, trying to ease the tension in the room. “It reminds me so much of home.”

  My mother smiled brightly, and that made the corner of my lips tilt up. One thing I'm sure my mother loved more than her children was receiving compliments on her traditional cooking. It was adorable.

  “Would you guys like a piece of bacon?” My dad offered, pushing the plate in their direction, and I almost cried because I knew what was about to go down.

  “No, thank you,” they said simultaneously.

  “Are you saying my cooking isn't good enough for you to eat?” He cut off Isra, who was trying to explain why.

  “I'm Muslim, so I don't eat pork,” Zeus said, looking at my father to gauge his response.

  “Where's your turban then?”

  “Dad!” Dreya and I yelled, clearly appalled by his behavior. Why did he have to be so ignorant, especially right now?

  Zeus sighed before starting to explain. “Sikh men wear turbans. Not all Muslims were turbans or hijabs.”

  He laughed disbelievingly before turning to Isra. “What's your excuse?”

  “Excuse me?” She said in return. “My excuse for what, exactly?”

  “Not wearing a turban of your own? Is it because you're not forced to wear it like in your own country—”

  “You know what, Mom?” I shot out of my seat, exasperated with my dad for the fifteen minutes we've been sitting here. “I'm gonna take them to Columbus Circle to do some shopping. I'll be home to help you cook later.”

  She nodded, and placed her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed. See, this was one of the reasons she refused to claim him to other people!

  “Can I please come?” Dreya practically begged, and I couldn't say no to her or leave her here before she killed our dad.

  “Who did you think I meant when I said them?” I joked, before pulling her from her seat. “Let's go before those tourists crowd the street.”

  “Y'all better be back before we start saying grace,” my dad bellowed as we were walking back to our rooms to get ready.

  “Shut up,” I heard Dreya mutter behind me, which caused me to chuckle a bit before turning into my room.

  Zeus came in after me and shut the door. “Your father is, um, interesting.”

  “That's a nice synonym for dim-witted,” I chided, rolling my eyes. “He's a lost cause. I've been trying to explain to him that he can't say the shit he says, but he doesn’t really care.”

  “Don't excuse his behavior,” he said,
curling his upper lip in disgust. “He has no reason to be ignorant when there's so many resources to educate him now.”

  I shrugged. “He doesn't want to learn, and truth be told, no one on my mom’s side of the family really wants him around. There isn’t exactly an open seat for him at the table anymore.”

  “Well then, I’m in for a journey this weekend and I wouldn’t do it with anyone else,” he said with a laugh, which instantly made my mood lighten again.

  For a moment, I stared at him. Just to take a good look at him and memorize his features. His sharp jawline, his slightly chapped but soft pink lips, the stubble on his cheeks and chin, the golden brown of his almond shaped eyes, the curve of his nose and the glittering gold ring in the right nostril.

  He smirked before pushing me onto the bed. “What are you staring at me like that for?”

  I shook my head before shrugging. “I appreciate beauty.”

  He bit his lip and to my surprise, I saw his cheeks turn a shade of pink. Was he embarrassed?

  “Don't be shy now!” I said, slapping him with my pillow. “It's true.”

  “If you call me beautiful, then what am I supposed to call you?” He joked, running his hands through my hair.

  “I'm sure you'll cook up something in that head of yours,” I said, relaxing as his hands massaged the top of my head. “Now, come on. Let’s go shopping so I can give you a mini tour of New York before dinner.”

  “You guys are gonna max my card out,” Zeus complained, when we went into the fifth store of the day.

  “Who told you to offer us a shopping spree in Soho of all places?” Dreya said, shrugging her shoulders as she checked out a fur vest. “Plus, you know damn well your card had no limits. That's a black Amex, your family must be rich.”

  “Dreya…” I warned, and she threw her hands up defensively before scurrying away to try on more shoes. She had no sense of tact.

  My original plan was just to take us over to Columbus Circle and go shopping over there, but Zeus wanted to go all the way downtown because it was “trendier”. He even offered to pay if we went down there.

  He set the bags down and blew out air. “With all this carrying and walking, I'm pretty sure I don't have to practice for tomorrow.”

  “Who are you playing again?” I asked out of curiosity, picking up a dress and looking at it. It was a really ornate black dress with silver detailing, and I almost fell in love with it until I saw the price tag out of the corner of my eye.

  “Fordham, so it's basically an easy win,” he said confidently, before looking at my hands. “That would look good on you, you should get it.”

  “It's like $550,” I told him, placing the dress back onto the rack. “I don't want you spending all that for one thing.”

  If I wasn't still apprehensive about my parents’ judgement, I would have money to buy the dress. We were well off enough to not worry about money, since my father was a Lieutenant General for the Marines, and my mother owned real estate across Manhattan. But I haven't taken a single penny since last year. I want to make money on my own.

  “I'll buy it for you,” he said, leaving his seat and coming over to give the dress a better look. “Jesus, seeing you in this would do things to me.”

  I shoved his shoulder before putting the dress back on the rack. “Well, dream on. And don't do some movie shit where I find it on my bed when we get back to my house, either.”

  He groaned before sitting back into his seat. “Stop ruining my plans to be romantic, you killjoy.”

  “This isn't some cheesy love story,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Stop it.”

  “Or maybe it is, and we're breaking the fifth wall,” he joked, chuckling to himself.

  “It's the fourth wall, genius,” Dreya yelled from a few racks down. “I thought you would bring home one smarter than the last one, Cash!”

  Zeus' eyebrows furrowed, and the same look of annoyance that he had in the car yesterday came back. “What does that even mean—”

  “Cash!” Isra yelled from the beauty section of the store. “Come look at these highlighters, they have the gold one you’ve been looking for!”

  I quickly moved away from him, and I heard him sigh. I didn't care, I was going to postpone this conversation forever.

  It was five o'clock by the time we arrived back at my building. I could smell the cooking from the porch steps before I unlocked the door.

  Before we could walk through, Ivan barged through the door, a scowl written on his face.

  “What happened?” I asked, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt to halt their quick steps.

  “I can't take your father's family,” he spat, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna cop some bud from Amir, want anything?”

  “Grab me a spliff,” I requested, and he nodded before barreling down the steps.

  “What's up?” Dreya asked, balancing the bags in her hands.

  “Dad didn't just bring himself up here, he brought the whole gang,” I growled, my whole mood completely changing.

  I didn't like my dad's family at all. People who thought my dad was ignorant, have never met the rest of his family.

  “I'm leaving,” Dreya announced, attempting to turn back around.

  “No, the hell you're not!” I snapped, yanking her back by the hood of her sweater. “You're not leaving Mom and I in there with the hillbilly hoard.”

  Zeus raised an eyebrow. “Are they really that bad?”

  “Last year, when my mother cooked injera with shiro, Aunt Mo asked her if someone vomited in the food before she cooked it,” Dreya explained to him, walking into the house. “That fat bitch shouldn't even be talking when her baked mac and cheese is dry as hell.”

  “Chill out with that,” I scolded her, pushing her forward into the foyer. “Just put your bags down and let's get this over with.”

  When we got to my room, Zeus looked at me wearily. “Why didn't you tell me your dad's family was that bad? I can deal with assholes, but they're your family. I'm not gonna disrespect them like that.”

  I shook my head, before sighing. “I knew my dad was probably going to show up just like every year, but bring his whole family? I know my mom is pissed, too.”

  None of us fully associate with my father's side of the family, but my mother is a whole different story. While she was married to my dad, she would've done anything for him (and she did). After he cheated on her multiple times and soon started becoming brazen about his affairs, she wanted a divorce. His family wasn't having it, and they pretty much bullied her into staying with him legally.

  He tried to get her to forgive him since it all happened a couple years ago, but she wasn't having it, and every time she has a new person of interest, he chases them away even though they’re separated.

  “So, what am I supposed to do for today?” Zeus questioned, scratching his hand across his stubble (which looks really good, if I might add). “Just take that bigoted shit like I did in high school?”

  I sighed. “I'm not asking you to take anything. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable, but I know it's inevitable with the way they are. If it was just my mom, you’d be fine.”

  He got up and ran his hand through his hair as he sighed. “Let's just get this over with.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I followed suit as he walked out the doorway. I knew this evening was going to go terribly. It wasn't a worry of mine, it was simply a fact.

  When we arrived at the dining room, my father's side of the family was seated on one side, and my mother's side was on the other. My mom gripped her cup of water tightly in her hand, obviously annoyed that his family was taking up space in her house.

  I signaled to Isra and Zeus to sit on my mother's side and they situated themselves so they didn't have to really sit next to any of my father's relatives.

  “So kind of you to join us, Trinity,” Aunt Mo greeted (sort of, there was nothing nice about it), watching as Zeus shifted his seat towards me.

  “That's not her name,” Dreya
said before sucking her teeth at her.

  “That's her middle name,” she replied sharply. “And don't suck your teeth at me before you lose all of them, child.”

  “I'm not going to have any teeth left after I finish the rock you have the nerve to call mac and cheese,” Dreya said in response, crossing her arms and sitting back into her seat.

  “My name is Cashmere, and my middle name is Selassie,” I spoke up, finally fed up with her. “I don't want to be called by the translation of my middle name. Call me by my birth name or don't call me anything at all.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me, and I cocked my head in return. I was not about to let this old woman think that she had a step up on me. Only step up she had on me was the fact that she was dying first.

  “So, who are you?” Uncle Kenny said, pointing his finger at Zeus. “Last time I checked, Africans are all black.”

  My dad's side of the table chuckled, and our side stayed silent. They must've eventually found the silence awkward, because the laughter quickly died down with a clearing of the throat.

  “I'm half Lebanese, actually,” Zeus replied, squeezing my hand gently under the table, and I could tell his anxiety was getting worse and worse by the second. “And I'm not a part of the family, I'm just here with—”

  “Cash's boyfriend over here is a Muslim,” my dad felt the need to interrupt to tell his family.

  “Really, man?” Ivan asked, his eyebrows raised. “That's dope, because I've been actually—”

  “How can you let your daughter date a terrorist?” The question was now directed to my mother by Aunt Mo. “Veronica, you should know better!”

  All of a sudden, the glass in my mother's hand shattered and she stood up so fast, her chair fell over. “Now you listen to me, Monique. I have had it with this family constantly berating me and my children's choices. You have no right to parade into my house and talk to me about my kids and how I raise them.”

  Aunt Mo's jaw dropped and she tried to say something, but my mom wouldn't let her.

  “I've had it with you flapping your gums about what I'm doing for my family, when your own father left you as a child—”

  “Veronica, shut your mouth about my father,” Dad said, his voice taking a grave tone, and I knew I was not going to let him talk to her like that.