On the Come Up(29)

“Excuse me?” says Jay. “What other mess?”

“Louise, c’mon now,” Granddaddy says.

Grandma kisses her teeth and looks at me. “Brianna, baby, don’t you wanna sit with us?”

It’s the same question every Sunday. Thankfully, I’ve got a system for this. Every other Sunday, I sit with my grandparents. That way, Grandma isn’t disappointed that I’ve chosen Jay over her more and Jay isn’t disappointed that I’ve chosen my grandparents over her. Basically, it’s joint custody: church pew edition.

It’s tricky, but it’s my life. So, since I was with Jay last Sunday, this Sunday goes to my grandparents. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s my girl,” Grandma says all smugly. She clearly hasn’t caught on to my scheme. “What about you, Lawrence?”

She means Trey. He’s Lawrence Marshall Jackson III. Grandma rarely uses his nickname.

Trey puts his arm around our mom. “I’m good.”

That’s his answer every week.

Grandma purses her lips. “All right. C’mon, Brianna.”

Jay gives my hand a slight squeeze as I slide past her. “See you later, baby.”

She knows I split my Sundays between them. Told me that I don’t have to. But I’ll do anything to keep the peace.

I follow Grandma toward the front of the sanctuary. She and Granddaddy have a spot on the second row that’s theirs. See, the first row is for folks who wanna show off. The second row is for folks who wanna show off but wanna act like they’re subtler about it.

Grandma squints as she eyes me up and down. “You look tired. Bags under your eyes and everything. That woman been letting you stay up all kinds of hours, hasn’t she?”

First of all, dang, the shade. Second of all, “I go to bed at a decent hour.” Sometimes. That’s not Jay’s fault. Blame my PlayStation.

Grandma goes, “T’uh! I’m sure you do. You looking kinda po’, too.”

Not poor, but po’, as in skinny, which I’m not. That’s the country way of saying it. As bougie as Grandma wants to act, according to Granddaddy she’s just “one foot out the backwoods and one toe from ignorant.”

“I’m eating fine, Grandma,” I tell her.

“Mm-hmm. Don’t look like it to me. She probably don’t cook, do she? These young mothers live in drive-thrus. Probably giving you hamburgers every night. A mess!”

I didn’t even say anything but go off.

Grandma picks at my hair. “And why she always putting your hair in these ol’ braids? You got good hair! It don’t need to be in this mess.”

What the hell is “good” hair? Hell, what’s “bad” hair?

“Lord, that woman don’t know how to take care of you,” she goes on. “You know you can come back home, right?”

As far as she’s concerned, her and Granddaddy’s house will always be my “home.” Seriously, she acts like I’m just visiting Jay. I can’t lie, I used to wanna go back to them too. When your mom is only your mom on weekends and holidays, she’s just one step up from being a stranger. Living with her was brand new.

But now, I know how hard she fought to get us in the first place and how much it would hurt her if we left. That’s why I tell Grandma, “I know. But I wanna stay with my mom.”

Grandma goes, “Hm!” like she doubts it.

Sister Daniels switches her way over. She’s another member of the “saved and bougie” crew. Wanna act like she doesn’t lay her head down in the Maple Grove projects every night. Grandma hugs her and smiles all in her face, knowing she badmouths Sister Daniels every chance she gets. In fact, Grandma started the rumor that she has roaches. That’s why the food committee never asks Sister Daniels to cook for events anymore and now they ask Grandma.

“Girl, you know you looking sharp today!” Sister Daniels claims.

I can practically see Grandma’s head swell. You gotta be careful with church compliments though. The person’s probably thinking the exact opposite of what they’re saying but says something nice in case Jesus is listening in.

“Thank you, girl,” Grandma says. “My niece bought this at one of them outlet malls she likes.”

“I can tell.”

Oh, that was shade. By the quick glare that crosses Grandma’s face, she knows it, too.

She straightens out her skirt. “What you doing over here, girl?” Which is church speak for “You better get up out my face.”

“Oh, I wanted to check on Brianna,” Sister Daniels says. “Curtis told me what happened at school. You all right, baby?”

I look across the aisle. Curtis waves at me with the biggest grin.

Curtis is Sister Daniels’s only grandson. With his mom in prison, he lives with his grandma, and he’s always yapping to her. Like in fifth grade, he said something that pissed me off, so I popped him in his mouth. He ran and told his grandma. His grandma told my grandma and I got a whooping. Snitch.

Grandma whips around at me. “What happened at school, Brianna?”

I didn’t wanna tell her. It’s gonna lead to a million questions I don’t wanna deal with. “Nothing, Grandma.”

“Oh, it was something,” says Sister Daniels. “Curtis said security threw her on the ground.”