On the Come Up(99)

“Yes, sir, we are.”

“What’s after church?” Trey asks.

“We’re having a family dinner,” Grandma says. She looks at my mom. “All of us.”

Hold up. She’s not glaring at Jay. In fact, Grandma has been over here more than a minute and hasn’t made one snide remark about her yet. Then, on top of that, my mom is invited to family dinner, as in, Grandma considers her part of the family?

Oh, God. “Somebody’s dying! Who’s dying? Granddaddy, it’s your diabetes, ain’t it?”

“What?” Granddaddy says. “Li’l Bit, I swear, you jump to conclusions so fast, you gon’ pull a muscle. Ain’t nobody dying. We just gon’ have dinner. Kayla, you invited, too. I gotta tell you, I make some of the best blackberry cobbler you gon’ ever have in your life. Bring your appetite now.”

“See y’all later,” Grandma says, and she and Granddaddy walk off. She didn’t even ask me and Trey to sit with her today.

I turn to my mom. I’m so confused. “What’s going on?”

The band begins an upbeat song, and the choir marches down the aisles, swaying their arms and clapping to the beat.

“We’ll talk later, baby,” Jay claims. She stands and claps along with them.

I still haven’t gotten any answers when we pull into my grandparents’ driveway.

Grandma and Granddaddy live in “that house” in the Garden. The one that almost looks too nice to be in the hood. It’s brick with an iron fence surrounding it. There’s a second story and an expanded den that my grandparents added back when my dad was a kid. Grandma keeps the front yard looking nice. They’ve got a small fountain for birds and enough flowers to give a botanical garden a run for its money.

I can’t help the feeling of déjà vu that hits me. Jay once pulled into this driveway and left me and Trey here when things got tough. They’re not nearly as tough now, but I’m not sure I like this. “What’s going on?” I ask.

Jay puts her Jeep in park. It’s just me and her. Trey and Kayla went to the store in his car. Grandma asked him to pick up some buttermilk and cornmeal for the cornbread. “Like your grandparents said, we’re gonna have dinner and talk about some things.”

“What kinda things?”

“It’s good stuff, I promise.”

I nod. I hate that that five-year-old is still inside of me, and I hate that she’s freaking out right now. I mean, I know my mom isn’t about to leave me here again, but that fear. It’s deep, but it’s there, like it’s part of my DNA.

Jay stares at the house, lightly tapping the steering wheel. “Every time I pull in this driveway, I can’t help but think about the day I left you and Trey here. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your screams for me out of my ears.”

I didn’t know that. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Hardest day of my life. Even harder than the day we lost your daddy. I couldn’t control his death. No decision I made could’ve changed that. But I decided to do drugs, I decided to bring you and Trey here. I knew that the moment I pulled out of this driveway, it would change everything. Knew it. Did it anyway.”

I can’t find any words.

Jay takes a deep breath. “I know I’ve told you a million times, but I’m sorry, baby. I’ll always regret putting you through that. I’m sorry that you still have nightmares about it.”

I look at her. “What?”

“You talk in your sleep, Bri. That’s why I check on you so much at night.”

It’s the secret I planned to die with, I swear. I never even wanted her to know that I remember that day. I blink fast. “I didn’t mean for you to find—”

“Hey.” She lifts my chin. “It’s okay. I also know that it’s hard for you to trust that I won’t end up on drugs again. I get it. But I hope you know that every single day, my goal is to be here for you.”

I knew it was a daily fight for her to stay clean. I just didn’t realize I was the reason she fights.

We’re quiet for a while. My mom strokes my cheek.

“I love you,” she says.

There’s a lot I don’t know and may never know. I don’t know why she chose drugs over me and Trey. I don’t know if five-year-old Bri will ever stop being afraid. I don’t know if Jay’ll stay clean for the rest of her life. But I know that she loves me.

“I love you too . . . Mom.”

One word, one syllable. All of my life it’s been synonymous with Jay but for years it hasn’t been easy to say. I guess I gotta work on it, like I’ve gotta work on trusting that I won’t lose her again.

Her eyes glisten. She must have noticed that I rarely call her that, too. She frames my face and kisses my forehead. “C’mon. Let’s go inside and pray your grandma hasn’t decided to slip some poison on my plate.”

Granddaddy lets us in. I don’t think my grandparents have changed anything in their house since Trey and I moved out. There’s a painting of President Obama on the living room wall (the only president, according to Granddaddy), right between Dr. King and a portrait of my grandparents on their wedding day. There’s this portrait of Grandma in a feathered boa and a diamond bracelet. (I’ve never asked and don’t wanna know.) Next to it, there’s a painting of a much younger Granddaddy in his navy uniform. There are pictures of me, Dad, and Trey all over the house. Wallet-size photos of my grandparents’ nieces and nephews line the shelf in the hallway, along with the little baby Jesus and praying-hands statues that Grandma collects.