Forgive Me (21 page)

“Dad, Mom said to bring the cups in. She's thirsty and doesn't want to wash any dishes before dinner,” Jeremiah shouted from the back door.

“I'll be inside in a minute,” said James.

He kept the message marked new, and wondered how Aruba would feel about having a daughter.

A
ruba greeted the guests who arrived at two p.m., with Kinsey leading the way. Her other aunts, Mayella and Darshelle, followed closely behind. Her father's sisters were an interesting brood. Kinsey, the sassy one, balanced her famous toasted coconut cake in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Her faux fur color of choice this year was black. She air-kissed Aruba on both sides and continued to the kitchen. Thrice divorced, she loved to shop and watch the world on her massive wraparound porch while drinking scotch or gin. Mayella, the quiet one, quoted scriptures and kept to herself. She shrouded herself in plain dresses, opaque stockings, and polished loafers. Retired six years from the school system as a Home Economics teacher, she spent time in her garden and ministering to the community youth. Lance said she had separation anxiety from teaching because her conversations morphed into cooking and housekeeping tips. Mayella carried a sterilized pickle jar filled with ambrosia she immediately placed in the refrigerator. Darshelle. Well, she was…the different sister. Dressed in her customary overalls, plaid chambray shirt, and spit-shined midnight blue cowboy boots, she came empty-handed, patting her shirt pocket for Virginia Slims and a lighter. She didn't do cooking, kids. men, or working for others. She ran a twenty-five acre farm in Warren County and only fellowshipped with the family during Thanksgiving and Christmas. Standing at six feet three
inches, she intimidated men and women alike with her gruff voice and silky black hair, parted down the center and always braided in two large plaits that dusted her shoulders. She brushed past Aruba without acknowledgement and stood with her sisters.

Lance greeted his sisters one by one and offered them drinks.

“Give me my usual, scotch on the rocks,” said Kinsey.

“I'll have apple juice,” said Mayella.

“You already know,” said Darshelle. She took a beer from the refrigerator before heading to the backyard to smoke a cigarette, her boots echoing on the hardwood floors. “Call me when it's time to eat.”

Mayella and Kinsey joined Darnella in the kitchen.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” said Darnella.

“Same to you,” said Kinsey.

“Do you need help with anything?” asked Mayella. “I can get everything together while you all have a seat.”

“This isn't home-ec, May,” said Darnella. “Go on and have a seat in the living room. We fixed the den area up for the children, so no HGTV for you today.”

“I brought some reading materials with me, so I'll be fine,” said Mayella.

Kinsey waited for her sister to leave, then sidled next to Darnella. “After all these years, we can't break her from shyness. She's going to die like that, a pathetic bore.”

“She likes reading and keeping to herself,” said Darnella. She arranged the HoneyBaked ham and deep-fried turkey on separate platters.

“So, I guess I'm the only one who sees a problem with Mayella being by herself. My greatest fear is she'll go to her mailbox, go back inside, and we won't know something happened to her until
days later. That's unnatural for a person to keep to herself. Especially with other siblings,” said Kinsey. She removed a dessert plate from the cabinet and began slicing her cake.

“What's unnatural,” said Darnella, “is out back.” She directed Kinsey's attention to Darshelle, now dragging a cigarette and holding court with the neighborhood men. She patted Joe Harris so hard on his back he lost his footing and stumbled forward a few steps. He inched away from Darshelle and rubbed his sore back.

“Between you, me, and the gatepost, Lance always said all Darshelle needed was a penis and a wallet to be complete.”

“Stop it,” said Darnella. “She is what she is. She doesn't have a lot of trust for people.”

“If that's what you call it.”

“Help me get this food in the dining room so we can eat.” Darnella chided her. “Let's maintain a positivity pact today. No negative talk, okay.” She swiped a small piece of ham from the tray.

During a dream two nights ago, Darnella awoke speechless. She struggled catching her breath, and her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. It wasn't a cat, but something had her tongue. The first word she uttered after the experience was James. A sign had been sent to keep his name out of her mouth. Or at least be cordial to him. She shuddered at how nasty she'd been to him. She didn't want to see her precious daughter as anything other than innocent; however, neither wore the
blameless
crown. She also remembered Lance calling her a hypocrite. As usual, he made sense.

With dinner splayed on the table and the grace said by Lance, everyone enjoyed their food. Lance sat at the head of the table with other relatives seated on either side. Lance relented and allowed the children to listen to a portable radio as they ate in their designated area. Kinsey dominated the conversation as usual, not one
to be drowned out by clanking silverware—or the huge elephant in the room.

“Lance, what did you do to the turkey this year?” asked Kinsey.

“My brine and peanut oil,” he answered.

“Now, I'm all for peanut oil, but might I suggest you use a Cajun injector next year? It gives the meat a robust flavor, and it leaves a wonderful aftertaste to the palate,” said Mayella, her Home-Ec mode kicking in.

“I'll let you do the turkey next year. I bet it will be delicious,” said Lance.

James and Aruba sat next to each other and held hands in between feeding each other. Darshelle gave them an evil eye, but said nothing.

“Have we decided where we're taking the family trip next year?” asked Kinsey. “I'm cruised out, and Lord knows I don't want to be stranded in the middle of the ocean. I can't drink up all that water if something happens at sea.”

“I know that's right,” chimed in Maxine. “Every other news story is about cruise ships stranded at sea. What sense does it make to pay all that money and be unsafe?” Maxine turned to James. “Will your family be joining us for the trip next year? I miss having your parents, brother, and sister travel with us. We all got along well.”

James downed his sweet tea and answered, “If you let me know where you're going, I'll be sure to tell my parents so everyone can coordinate the meet-up location.” He squeezed Aruba's hand.

“Thanks, James. I'd love to see them again.”

Darshelle belched and refused to excuse herself. Everyone looked in her direction and waited for her to say something. No luck. She finally answered, “What?”

“Now, Darshelle, you know it's rude to belch at the dinner table,” said Mayella.

“What's rude is—never mind. Y'all not getting my blood pressure up today,” said Darshelle, her voice deeper than usual. She chomped a turkey leg and focused on her dinner plate.

“Lance, tell everyone about possible sites for next year,” said Darnella. She hoped her attempt to slice through the tension would be successful.

“I thought of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, upstate New York, or California. No foreign soil, just somewhere we could get a cabin and enjoy fresh air.”

“I get plenty fresh air on my farm and in my house—thank you very much,” said Darshelle.

Lance smelled the moonshine on her breath now. During her trip to the backyard, someone had slipped her the ultimate no-no. Darshelle could hold beer, but she transformed into a ruder person when she drank moonshine. The family called it “diarrhea of the mouth” when she drank moonshine because whatever came up, came out. Everyone at the table felt eggshells cracking underneath their feet.

“The meal is delicious,” said Kinsey. To Aruba she said, “You outdid yourself with the dressing, Hon. It's absolutely splendid.”

“I have Aunt Mayella to thank. It's her recipe,” said Aruba. James placed his arm around her and ignored Darshelle, whose arms were folded. She rolled her eyes at them and took a few bites of her greens.

“Dressing is incomplete without cream of soup,” said Mayella. She radiated with pride at the mention of her recipe.

Jeremiah entered the adult area and approached Aruba and James.

“Mom and Dad, we're done eating. I made everyone put their plates in the trash. May we go outside and play?”

“You may. Keep an eye on everyone and stay in the backyard,” said Aruba.

The children ran outside.

“They'll run that food off in no time playing,” said Kinsey. “Remember when we all played together as children? Even Darshelle joined in the fun when we were small.”

“She did,” said Lance. “She outran us all and beat everyone in kickball.” He appreciated Kinsey's segue into their other dinner table tradition. “Let's do
Tell Me Something Good,
” he said.

“I'll go first!” said Mayella.

“Tell me something good, Mayella,” said Lance.

“I'm thankful to have my family here, and I'm thankful the school system called me to work part-time on a permanent basis. They're putting me on the payroll again! I'd gotten bored sitting at home. That's my something good.”

“Congratulations, Mayella. I knew they couldn't get along without you at the school,” said Darnella.

“Tell me something good, Darnella,” said Mayella.

“Aruba is here, and James is helping her get back on her feet every step of the way.”

James eyed Darnella with suspicion. He waited for the bomb to drop.

“I've been rude to James, and I wanted to apologize in front of everyone and him.” She looked James in his eyes. “I've seen a side of you I didn't know existed. You've matured into a fine young man, and I'm glad you love my child. That's my something good.” Darnella turned to Kinsey. “Tell me something good, Kinsey.”

“I'm moving to Atlanta in April. I want to be closer to my grandchildren, and the best way to do that is go to them. I love my country living, but I want to try the city a while. Everyone is welcome to come visit me. That's my something good,” said Kinsey. “Tell me something good, Lance.”

Lance stood, cleared his throat, and faced Aruba. “I'm thankful my daughter is here with us. As our only child, we've tried to nurse every cut, bruise, fall, and heartache she's experienced over the years. Sometimes you take a person's presence for granted and think they'll always be around. Thinking of being without her right now pains me,” he said. “I'm glad the Lord saw fit to spare her life so she could be with us. That's my something good. I love you, baby girl.”

Aruba's tears mixed with her food. She made her way to her father and hugged him tight. He wiped her tears away, blinking back his own.

Darshelle applauded loudly, her thunderous claps disrupting the moment. “And the Oscar goes to,
my family!
A bunch of people who gonna sit here and pretend it's okay for my
dear
niece to attempt to take a life she didn't give herself.” She got in Lance's face.

“This isn't the time or place, Darshelle!” said Lance.

“When will it be Lance? Huh? We're sitting here celebrating like two months ago she wasn't in a seventy-two-hour hold, barely clinging to life. Suicide is selfish! What if she had succeeded? You know what we'd be doing right now? Sitting here blaming ourselves for not loving her enough. For missing key signs, and clues. For not doing enough to help her. Or wait, there would be no dinner. Just a graveside visit where we'd all put flowers on a concrete slab and talk to her corpse. That's torture! How can you celebrate her?”

Darshelle turned her anger on Aruba who stood next to her father. “What were we supposed to tell your son if you died? That his mother got tired of living? She couldn't cope with the ins and outs of life like the rest of us? I guess he was supposed to remember you through pictures, his memories, and ours, right?”

James neared Darshelle with clenched fists. He didn't want to
make a scene, and knew he wasn't on his own turf, but he had to defend his woman.

“One more word, Darshelle. One more,” said James.

“And what? I'm not afraid of you,” said Darshelle.

A flash of rage sparked in James's eyes that made Darshelle back down. Everyone's contemptuous eyes bore into her; she knew she'd crossed the line this time. She headed to the closet for her coat without saying anything else. No one cared about her departure. Everyone's attention was on Aruba, who sat in an empty chair and wept silently. Her family enveloped her.

“She's right. It was selfish, and I'm so sorry,” she said.

“What matters is you're here. We can take the rest of the journey day by day,” said Mayella, rubbing Aruba's back.