Queenie(101)

“Everybaddy always so cautious.” My granddad shuffled into the kitchen. “You can’t see how sturdy Queenie is?” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me to make his point. “She’ll be fine. And even if she’s not, she’s not coming back here.”

“You too dyam wicked,” my grandmother shouted at him.

“Me jus ah joke!” My granddad laughed loudly. “Queenie, start by getting the stuff out of my shed,” he said, and stopped laughing instantly.

My grandmother removed the chicken from its plastic packaging and threw it into the sink. She turned the tap on as Diana watched, horrified. “Grandma, they’re saying on the news that you shouldn’t wash chicken before you cook it! Bacteria can splash around the sink,” she squealed.

“Has my food or my food preparation killed you before now?” My grandmother kissed her teeth. “No. Go and find suttin’ to do.” She put on a pair of rubber gloves, tackling the chicken and listing to Maggie further reasons why living alone was going to kill me. I left the kitchen when Maggie offered to come round and bless my new flat with holy water.

I walked through the garden to the shed and stepped in, bending my head to avoid collecting all of the cobwebs from the ceiling with my hair. I was stacking boxes by the rickety wooden door when I heard my granddad coming up the path. “That cane is a dead giveaway, you can’t sneak up on anyone,” I said, wiping sweat from my forehead. “Come to make sure I get everything out?”

“I know we never really talk,” my granddad said quietly, leaning against the shed stairwell.

“I don’t take it personally, you don’t talk to anyone,” I cut in.

“Queenie, just listen, nuh?” my granddad said, knocking his cane on the floor.

“Sorry, Gandalf.”

“Who?”

“Nobody,” I said.

“As I was saying,” my granddad began, “I know we never really talk. But, as you say, that’s just my way.” He paused to readjust his position on the door, wincing. “But because I don’t talk nah mean I don’t feel. When you came to stay those months ago, I felt bad.” He sighed. “I felt so bad that you were going to end up like your mother. I could see it in you, in your eyes.” He stopped. “I could see the fear, and the resignation. I thought you’d given up. And I felt like I did, in my chest, when she turned up here after Roy hit her so hard she almost didn’t get up.” He paused again. “But you didn’t let it take you.” He paused and lifted his glasses to wipe his wet eyes. “You’re full of fight, Queenie. Full of fight.” He turned away and ambled back down the garden path, leaving me standing there unable to process anything he’d said.

Diana bounded up past him to join me. She watched me blow the light layer of dust off boxes of belongings that hadn’t seen the light of day for months.

“We are proud of you, you know,” Diana said awkwardly. “My mum wasn’t just saying that.”

“Are you joking?” I asked.

“No. What’s funny?” Diana said, lifting one box and being pulled back down by its weight. “You weren’t well, but you got better, and you went back to work and now you’re moving into your own place. That’s good. That’s progress,” she said wisely.

“I wouldn’t say I’m better,” I told her, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “Be careful. You don’t need to lift the heavy ones.”

“Jeez, take the compliment,” Diana said, scraping a cobweb from her hand onto the wall of the shed.

“Let me tell you something,” I said to my cousin. “You’re going to go through a lot in your life. Us black women, we don’t have it easy. The family, they come with their own stuff—”

“You don’t have to tell me about that,” Diana cut in.

“And school, university, work, it’s all going to come with its stuff. You’ll meet people who ‘don’t see race’ and are ‘color-blind,’ but that’s a lie. They do see it,” I explained. I knew how my cousin’s attention span waned when being taught anything, so I tried not to sound like I was lecturing her. “And people should see it. We’re different, and they need to accept our difference,” I continued, and Diana nodded along. I kept going while I had her. “We aren’t here for an easy ride. People are going to try to put you in a mold, they’re going to tell you who you should be and how you should act. You’re going to have to work hard to carve out your own identity, but you can do it. I’m not going to tell you about the men until you’re older, but that’s a discussion we’re going to have to have,” I told Diana. “Or women. Whoever, whatever, it’s your choice.”

“You think with Grandma I’d have a choice?” Diana pursed her lips at me.

“Anyway,” I said, “I’m here with you. Remember that.”

“I know, cuz.” Diana smiled. “I hope I can grow up to be as strong as you are.”

I clambered over boxes and hugged Diana.

“Queenie,” she said.

“Yes, Diana?”

“Can I come and stay with you when Mum gets on my nerves and I need somewhere to just kick back and relax?”

“No.”