Sitting around Mimi’s dinner table, no one answered his inquiry just as no one had answered her the rst time she’d had the nerve to ask the same. The question hung in the air surrounded by uncomfortable silence, like when you smell a fart that carries the stench of hard-boiled eggs somebody forgot about two weeks after Easter. Though everyone was sitting at her table for graduation, Tati couldn’t help but feel like that stench still clung to her and Nadia. They were supportive because she was without something, someone, they deemed necessary, not in spite of it. As if they believed broken homes rubbed o and daddylessness was contagious. “Would everyone please stand,” Mrs. Harrington said from the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Central City High School eighth-grade academic center graduating class of 1995. Students, you may now turn your tassels.” Music resounded through the hall as cheers erupted from students and the tables of family and friends. Tati sidest epped her way out of her row bypassing some friends she’d gone to elementary school with and others she met the year prior when she started seventh grade at Central City. By the time Tati reached the table, Desirée was already there with Felix in her arms. Though he was too big to hold, he animated under the attention as he pawed her body to snatch the cap o of her head. “Come on, Tati, let’s take a picture,” Nadia said. “We been waitin’ on you. Desi, you and Toya get in the picture too.” “Ooh, you must be in a good mood today,” Toya said, a smile crossing her lips. Toya and Nadia huddled behind Tati, Desirée, and Felix, who refused to be put down, while Bryan traded his camcorder for the disposable cameras that were handed to him from everyone who wanted to capture the image. “Now just family,” Mimi said. “I wanna take a picture with my grandbaby before we have to go’n ’head and get up outta here. I know they don’t want this many negroes in they establishment after the sun go down.” “Mama, relax,” Nadia chided. “Ain’t nobody nna kick us out. Black folks are allowed south of the Je ery Manor, you know.”
“You can come up here in all these 100 s if you want to, but I remember a time when we wasn’t allowed over here.” “You also remember a time when you wasn’t supposed to be on the North Side either, but that don’t stop you from shopping on Michigan Avenue, now, does it? Things change.” Mimi humphed. “Not that damn much, they don’t. C’mon here. Family only.” The emphasis in Mimi’s voice was followed by a hard stare at Toya, Desirée, and Felix as she waited for them to st ep away. Tati looked from her friend to their mothers, all their expressions pained smiles everyone else pretended they didn’t see. Emboldened by being the center of the celebration, Tati spoke up. “Desi and Miss Grant and Felix are family.” Nadia’s long exhale was unmistakable, but she didn’t take up for Tati. She never had a chance to. “Not all skinfolk is kinfolk,” Mimi said. “But since your friend like taking pictures so much, I’m sure she won’t mind taking ours. Go’n ’head, y’all, hand the lil’ girl your cameras.” “Oh, hell nah,” Toya snapped. “I’ll do it.” She st epped in front of Desirée and collected the cameras from Nadia, Bryan, and Terry. And snapped several rounds as they all said, “Cheese.” “Hold on, we got one more,” Toya said, switching to her own camera. “Desi, go’n ’head get in there.” “This is family only,” Mimi emphasized. “And this one is my camera,” Toya said, waving it in the air. Desirée rushed to stand beside Tati, squeezing between her and Mimi. Felix on her hip did the work of further s eparating the old woman from her granddaughter. Once Desirée was situated, Toya kneeled on the oor beneath everyone, set the ve-second timer on the spin dial, and held the camera up high and at an angle. “Say, ‘You go, grads,’ ” she yelled. Everyone’s voice r epeated the cheerful phrase right before the camera ash exc ept Mimi’s. Her dour expression, captured in the photo, only de epened
further, wrinkling her face as everyone else extended their congratulations. Tati and Desirée shifted from foot to foot as they thanked them all. “Y’all goin’ to high school now,” Bryan said. “Get your pennies ready; they ’bout to be fresh meat,” Terry added. “Now why would you say such a thing like that,” Mimi snapped. “Don’t be puttin’ no fast tail labels on Tati because that’s the kinda women you like to chase.” “Yo, your grandmother is wild,” Desirée whispered through a giggle. “Tell me something you don’t know,” Tati said, trying to sti e her own laughter. “You heard how she came at yo’ mama crazy.” “That’s all right, I xed her,” Toya said, butting into the conversation. “Half the pictures I took, my nger is over your grandmother so you won’t even see her.” “Now you know you wrong,” Nadia said, joining in. “No, your mother is the one who’s in the wrong and you know it.” Nadia shrugged her shoulders, letting Toya have the last word as she caught Mimi’s glare shift from them to Terry’s wife, Chloe, who sported a hot-pink pencil dress and bolero to match his Now and Later ta y -colored Stacy Adams suit. Mimi’s eyes pierced like throwing knives. Tati snickered. I g u e s s i t i s b e t t e r t o t a l k a b o u t p e o p l e y o u d o n ’ t l i k e i n f r o n t o f t h e i r f a c e . Not that anyone had ever told Tati directly, but she’d overheard enough conversations to know Mimi’s disdain for Toya was nothing compared to her feelings on her sons’ marriages. Bryan and Lorraine had been together the longest, and she was no closer to getting on Mimi’s good side than Chloe, who’d married Terry within the last year. She’d had a baby within the last year too. A few months after the wedding, which only gave Mimi more fuel for her disdain. “She knew what she was doing, trapping my baby,” she’d complained on more than one occasion. Nadia cleared her throat. “I think Tati will be just ne going into her ninth-grade year,” Lorraine said. Ever the diplomat, she took Mimi’s insults in stride. Perhaps because she took satisfaction in knowing Mimi liked her better than Chloe. In reality, she only tolerated her more. Lorraine and Bryan had been together since they were in
college at U of I down in Urbana. While Mimi complained about him coming back from school with a wife, she didn’t take it too far because they both returned with two degrees a piece. Bryan taught high school math at Hyde Park, and Lorraine was a psychologist with her own private practice downtown. It was more than could be said of Chloe, who didn’t have a job and had no prospects of getting one, let alone a degree to aid in her search. “Congratulations,” Chloe said. “We’re so proud of you. Both of you.” She nodded toward Desirée. Chloe shoved a sealed envelope toward Tati, grabbed her purse from the back of her chair, and slung its gold chain strap across her body. Yanking Terry’s hand, she apologized for their abrupt d eparture. “We need to get back to the baby,” she said. “Okay.” Tati blinked. “Kiss Alexis for me. Maybe I can babysit her sometime.” “That won’t be necessary,” Mimi said. “You got a job working right there in your mama shop. Let your aunty and uncle gure out their own a airs with their family.” “C’mon, Desi, we gotta go,” Toya said. “You know you’re leaving to be with your dad for the summer tomorrow, and you ain’t nowhere near packed.” “Hmph.” The sound came loudly from Nadia. “How’s h e doing?” “Hell if I know,” Toya said, her voice sharp. “It ain’t like we talk much.” “I wonder why,” Nadia muttered. “You already know why,” Toya shot back. “But we don’t need to get into that here. Desi, tell Tati bye.” “I’ll check you later,” Desirée said, adjusting Felix as she sidled away. “Send me a postcard. And some pictures,” Tati said behind them. “I will.” Desirée turned around. “I promise.” “Cross your heart and hope to die?” “Kiss this promise to the sky.” They kissed their peace ngers and raised them high toward heaven. Grins shined from both of their faces before Desirée turned around to rejoin Toya, who never looked back at Nadia and her family. As close as Toya and Nadia had been before, those old times were long past, and neither of them had word the
rst as to say why. Theirs was a friendship that zzled, rekindled only because of the closeness of their daughters. An intentional closeness, yes, orchestrated by their mothers, but one that would see them live vicariously through Tati and Desirée than have them pick up where they left o . The lies and disagreements between them wouldn’t allow it. “Hey, Tati, congratulations,” Terry said. “I gotta go.” He walked toward the doors of the graduation hall, back rounded, a picture of pity, to where Chloe, angry and o ended, had been waiting for him to catch up. Tati waved three ngers at them as they pushed through the heavy double doors. A t l e a s t n o b o d y h a d a r e a l fi g h t . Of all her family members, Tati’s favorites were Terry and Chloe. She preferred to be around them more than anyone else. As the youngest, Terry was closer in age to Tati than he was to Nadia or Bryan. He treated her more like a kid sister than a niece. He also had no problem going against Mimi. Nadia and Bryan often reminisced on how he got away with more than they ever did without punishment or even verbal chastisement. Mimi blamed his notions to follow his impulses on herself for the lack of discipline she’d exerted over him in his youth. It’s the reason, she believed, he ended up marrying Chloe in the rst place. She was a former dancer for the Bulls, a job, if you could even call it that, conditioned upon youth and beauty—ephemeral quali cations that inevitably faded like day into night, summer into fall. “That was a piss-poor excuse for leaving Tati’s graduation ceremony,” Mimi said, her eyes focused on the door where Terry and Chloe had made their exit. “It’s not like you can blame them, the way you started up with Chloe,” Nadia said. Bryan sighed. “Here we go.” Lorraine punched his arm, and Bryan sat down. When her eyes connected with Tati, who’d observed the exchange, she raised a nger to her lips. She hadn’t meant for anyone to see her physically admonish Bryan in public. Though Tati was grateful to see some of her re. Most times Lorraine played small. She didn’t talk too much, she didn’t disagree, and she barely had an opinion when everyone was together. Tati had asked her once why she always sat around and listened. A
question to which Lorraine smirked and r eplied, “We have two ears, two eyes, and one mouth for a reason. It’s enough people in this family who stir the pot. I don’t need to be one of them.” While Tati wasn’t completely sure about all of what she meant, she knew shade when she heard it. After that comment, she respected Lorraine a little more. She may have dressed forgettably in muted colors, small heels, and basic jewelry like pearl studs, but Tati knew she had spunk, whether she chose to exercise it or not. “... All I’m sayin’ and all I said is he don’t have to be puttin’ no labels on our Tati about what kind of woman she gon’ be, because that’s what he like,” Mimi continued. “Chloe may be his wife, but I don’t have to like it.” “We all know you don’t,” Nadia said. “But you should at least respect it,” Bryan added. “Respect. You wanna talk about respect?” Mimi raised an eyebrow. “Terry and that thang he call his wife walked out on Tati’s graduation ceremony. Now t h a t ’ s disrespectful.” I t ’ s o v e r , Tati thought. Bryan said the same. “And you ain’t make it no better either, Mama,” he added. “At all!” Nadia emphasized. “Not with them and de nitely not with Toya and Desi.” Mimi rolled her eyes in response as Bryan brought his hands to his temples and massaged the sides of his head. He said, “We’re gonna go too. Congratulations, Tati.” “Now, you don’t have to do that,” Mimi protested. Everyone knew Bryan was her favorite. The only one she appeased. The only one she would sometimes defer to. Her rst boy. The son she fawned over as a baby, passed o to Nadia when he became a restless toddler, and then tried to guide as an adolescent and teen into a career she thought respectable. She was still trying to guide him now as all parents try to direct their children no matter how far they get up in age. Whenever Mimi saw Bryan, she’d nd a way to ask if he was thinking about making the switch from teacher to administrator. She wanted him to be a principal, maybe even a superintendent.
Bryan never said that was what he wanted for himself. Other than marrying Lorraine and speaking his mind unmuzzled, he’d never done anything to make Mimi say a foul word against him. Not that she would since he looked so much like Eugene, the only man, the only person really, Mimi had ever held her tongue in front of. Bryan also never gave her a reason to become the subject of her ire. He never talked out of turn, least not when she could overhear. Like Lorraine, he didn’t stir too many pots. Compared to Mimi’s other children, Bryan was the least problematic. Tati watched as Mimi’s face twisted into a frown. It was as if she couldn’t bear the sight of watching her son walk away. While Terry’s d eparture had induced anger, watching Bryan leave was downright distressing. Mimi picked imaginary lint from her clothes as Bryan led Lorraine out of the graduation hall. Her tongue rolled around her mouth and poked at her cheeks for words, but she didn’t have the language to express her anguish. She shook her head and muttered to herself, “After all I went through just to get them here, they could at least be grateful.” Neither Nadia nor Tati knew what she meant. And in the moment they didn’t have the presence of mind to ask. But even if they had answered the call and asked the questions, “What do you mean? What did you go through?” it’s not like Gladys could have said. Yes, she’d had di culty carrying her last two pregnancies. Her boys. But she had carried them. Delivered them. The same couldn’t be said for the women before her. Not for Ruby, not for Jubi, and certainly not for Emma.
1 8 7 9 Like all children forbidden to do something they believed important, Emma promised herself that as soon as she had a family and a baby of her own she would celebrate all of the birthdays she could. It just so happened that George Dupree wanted the same things. He came o Z ephaniah Foster’s plantation too, but by way of Virginia. He and his ma’am were sold south a few years before the war by the mistress, who wouldn’t stand to su er looking at a little pickaninny who nearly carried her own children’s complexions, not to mention their features. That she sold mother and child together may have seemed merciful but was really only a temporary x for her own insecurity. In Land’s End, George and his ma’am stayed on the Dupree farm after it was deeded to Evangeline and Emma with no designs to return. Therefore, it was inside the schoolhouse on the abandoned farm where he and Emma rst struck up a friendship. That they married years later and tried for a family of their own brought Evangeline, ever surly and set in her ways, an e ervescent joy. She spent her days humming and rocking as she worked. Her sturdy body lumbered around with song; a permanent smile spread across her thick face nearly erased the creases of the life she’d lived. Nearly. Until the blood. In the day, George, a woodworker by trade, built and banged around the quarter shack, adding rooms and spaces for them to spread into. In the night, he and Emma tried with enthusiastic e ort, verve and vigor, to bring forth a little one. And their work was rewarded. Initially. Evangeline knew each time they had been successful. She read the signs of Emma’s body. The outbreak of bumps on her face that rst signaled the shift. When they cleared, a glow radiated from her