On the Come Up(100)

Granddaddy goes to the backyard to work on this old pickup truck he’s been restoring since I was a kid. Grandma’s in the kitchen. She’s changed into one of her favorite muumuus and already has a couple of pots and pans on the stovetop.

“You need help with anything, Mrs. Jackson?” J—Mom—asks.

“Yeah. Hand me that seasoning salt out the cabinet. You think you can get them greens going for me?”

Who is this alien, and what has it done with my grandmother? See, Grandma never lets anyone cook in her kitchen. Nev-er. For her to let my mom help out with dinner . . .

This is the goddamn Twilight Zone. I swear it is.

Meanwhile, I’m only allowed to sit and watch. Grandma says I “ain’t got a lick of patience,” therefore I “ain’t touching one pot or pan in her kitchen.”

Trey and Kayla show up. Trey goes out back to help Granddaddy. I honestly don’t think they do a thing to that truck. They just go out there to talk about stuff they don’t want us to hear. Kayla asks if she can help with dinner. Grandma gives her this sugary sweet smile and says, “That’s all right, baby. Just sit your pretty self down.”

Translation: Girl, I don’t know you well enough to let you in my kitchen like that.

Grandma tells Kayla all about her recipes though. It only takes Kayla saying, “This already smells divine, Mrs. Jackson,” and Grandma’s head practically doubles in size. When she starts telling Kayla how to make cornbread, that’s when I slip out. Nothing makes me hungrier than people talking about food, and my stomach is already growling like it belongs in a cage.

I go upstairs. Whenever I spend holidays with my grandparents, I stay in my old bedroom.

Just like the house, my room hasn’t changed at all. I think Grandma expected me to come back someday, and for things to be the way they used to be, right down to me being the Tweety Bird–loving eleven-year-old who cried when she had to leave.

I throw myself onto the bed. It’s always weird being here, can’t lie. It’s like stepping into a time machine or something. Not just because of the Tweety shrine but all of the memories made in this room. Sonny, Malik, and I spent so much time in here. It’s where Trey introduced me to Uno. Granddaddy played dolls with me in here.

My mom isn’t part of any of those memories though.

There’s a knock at the door, and my mom peeks in. Trey’s behind her. “Hey. Okay if we come in?” she asks.

I sit up. “Yeah, sure—”

“I ain’t gotta ask to come in this room,” Trey says, and lets himself in. Then he has the nerve to plop onto my bed.

“Um, excuse you? This is still my room.”

“Wow,” my mom says, looking around. “Tweety, huh?”

She’s never been in here before. Back when she only had me and Trey on weekends, she’d only get as far as the driveway. Grandma wouldn’t let her come inside.

Mom moves around my room. She picks up one of my stuffed Tweety Birds. “I hadn’t realized I hadn’t been in here before. Wait, I take that back. I was definitely in here when it was your daddy’s room.”

“Wait, you saying that you two had sex in the room that ended up being Bri’s room?” Trey asks.

There goes my appetite. “Ill!”

“Trey, stop!” says Mom. “They probably changed the bed.”

Oh my God, she just confirmed that they did have sex in here. Trey falls onto the bed, screaming laughing. “Bri got the sex room!”

I punch him. “Shut up!”

“Cut it out, y’all,” says Mom. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Hold up—first things first,” Trey says, sitting up. “What’s up with you and Grandma?”

“What you mean?”

“Y’all been here, what?” Trey glances at his watch. “An hour now, and nobody’s argued yet. I haven’t even heard any snide remarks.”

“Fact,” I say. “Y’all have been lacking shade like a sunny day.”

Oh, God. I sound like Granddaddy.

“Your grandmother and I had a discussion,” J—Mom—claims. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” says Trey. “Any discussion between you two is monumental. When did this happen?”

“The other day,” Jay says. “We talked for a few hours. Hashed out a lot of things, even stuff from way back when.”

“Did Jesus moderate it?” I ask. “’Cause that’s the only way I see this working.”

Trey goes, “Haaaa!”

Mom kisses her teeth. “Anyway! I’m not gonna act like we’re best friends, hell no. That woman still knows how to work my nerves. But we realized that we love you two and want what’s best for you. We’re willing to set our differences aside in the name of that.”

Trey picks up his phone. “Ah. That explains it. I just got a notification that it’s below zero in hell.”

I snort.

“Whatever, boy,” says Mom. “We also came to a decision. Your grandparents offered that all three of us stay here until we get on our feet. I accepted.”

“Whoa. Really?” I say.

“Hold up, hold up,” Trey says. “We’re moving in here?”