Page 32 of Mahogany 2
I got out of the car and headed up to the house. The sound of gospel music spilled out onto the porch, so I already knew what time it was. She was doing shit she had no business doing.
After unlocking the door, I stepped inside, coming out of my shoes. I shook my head as she sang off key with Yolanda Adam’s about the battle being the Lord’s. The smell of Pine Sol filled my nostrils, letting me know she was doing exactly what I thought she was doing when I heard the music. Cleaning my fucking house. Did it need a good thorough clean? Hell yeah. Did I want her to do it? Hell, did I even want her toseeit? Fuck no. She’d have something to say about that. She’d study me, worry about me and make unnecessary comments. I did not have time for Eve. My day was almost to an end; you think I wanted it to end with an argument with my mother?
I didn’t argue with my mother. Ever. But the type of time I was on lately, there was no telling how I’d handle her digging in my business. Was it my fault she had business to dig in, in the first place? Well kind of. Did that give her the right to dig? Not at all.
“Mommy!” Greeted Sparkle when I walked into the kitchen.
“Hey baby,” I spoke, with a grunt, as she jumped into my arms, wet shirt and all. She’d probably just finished helping my ma, who stood at the sink, with the dishes. “Hey ma. What you doin here? Cleaning my kitchen.”
“Cleaning yourhouse,” she corrected, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I’ve been here for about two hours waitin’ on you. Made the kids a quick snack too. Why you working so late?”
Ugh. I could feel the judgment jumping off her body.
“I wasn’t at work—I had therapy.”
“Therapy?” She sucked her teeth. “Chile, if you don’t go to the Lord.”
Instead of responding to that, I just said went back to the topic of her cleaning my damn house.
“You didn’t have to clean up, ma,” I told her, before fishing my phone from my pocket to text Duke to let him know my momma was over and asked him to grab food because I forgot.
“Yes, I did. You need the help,” she said, pivoting, drying her hands on a towel.
She approached me with opened arms and hugged me. After kissing me on the cheek, she whispered in my ear, telling me we needed to talk. I didn’t ask about what. Didn’t want to do that in front of Sparkle. Because knowing her, she’d say exactly what she wanted to talk about, and I wanted my kids to forget about it.
“I know. Come on,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll finish the kitchen after,” I lied.
I was trying to get her the hell out of my house. Especially since Duke would be coming home with fast food, giving her something else to talk shit about.
She nodded. “Mmmh. Give me a couple minutes. You got so much caked up mess on this backsplash and?—”
“I will get to it. Don’t worry about it,” I interrupted as I gestured for her to follow me to my office. “I know you got better things to do. Let’s gon’ and talk.”
“Now you know I’m gon’ finish what I started. I’ll be ready in a minute. Check on them bedrooms too. I got on them kids when I got here ‘cause I know you ain’t done it.” She laughed but she was serious. Couldn’t stand her sometimes. I did a damn good job raising my kids. “I don’t know what you got these kids up in here doing. Oh yeah I do.Nothing. Spoiled tails.” She spoke in a playful tone but again… she was serious. Taking multiple digs at my parenting. That’s what Evelyn did. What she’d done since I had Aubry. “I put them to work and all they did was moan,groan, and complain. Gabe’s room was a mess. Aubry’s too. Had makeup she don’t even need all over her bed, and vanity. And I’m not gon’ get on Ms. Honesty. She had clothes all over the place. And that bathroom? Chile,look. Clean it or I will. I don’t know what y’all doin over here but we gon’ get it together! Tonight!”
“Ma,” I groaned. “We ain’t gettin’ nothing together tonight. I’m gon let you finish the dishes, we gon’ talk and then you gon go home. I had a long day. I am not about to be cleaning with you all night. I love you. I appreciate you. But no,” I seriously said.
Evelyn didn’t know shit about being an entrepreneur or giving a damn about your mental health. She went to God for every single thing and while there was nothing wrong with that, for some instances, God couldn’t be the only thing you leaned on. Sometimes you needed extra help and regardless of how she felt, that’s what therapy was for me. When it came to working hard, she barely did that.
For a very long time, my momma was a stay-at-home wife. Up until I was in middle school, I think. And when she did get a job, it wasn’t like she worked long hours. She worked as a contingent nurse, barely working twenty hours a week. Didn’t have to work for real. My daddy worked long, crazy hours at Chrysler. He took care of every bill, the mortgage, and everything in between. The only reason she got a job was because my sisters and I got older and more independent and she needed something to do. Plus, she’d gone to school for nursing and didn’t want her degree just collecting dust.
What got me was how she was talking like she took such good care of home back then but after she went to work, it was me doing all of the housework. Crazy right? Since she worked me like a slave, I was supposed to work mine like one? Hell naw. We did what we could, when we could. My household wasvery laidback. She’d probably lose her shit if she knew I hired cleaners to clean twice a month.
“Mmhmm,” she groaned, back at the sink, scrubbing at backsplash that did not need all of the elbow grease she was using because the cleaners had done it about two weeks ago. “Well listen. You got yourself a big pretty house. You gotta take care of it, NeNe. Just like you gotta take care of everything else.”
She was hitting me with jabs and left hooks wasn’t she? Trying her damnedest to have a conversation I refused to have in front of my kid.
I didn’t say anything; just headed for the stairs to speak to my other children. I wanted to shower—bad but I wanted her out of my house ASAP. When I made it to the stairs, I peeked my head in Gabe’s room. It was clean. Not spotless. Gabriel’s level of clean.
He looked over his shoulder from the TV at me. “Hey ma. NaNa had me clean my room. Is it straight? You think she gon’ say something about the bed not being made?”
I walked into the room and draped my arm over his shoulder before leaning down to kiss him on the top of his head.
She’d say something for sure but fuck that bed. Did it need to be made? Yeah. I would have liked for it to be made, but… fuck it. Not because I didn’t care but because I wanted to spite Eve. She wasn’t coming up here to check the rooms, anyway. I was getting her out of my house right after our little talk. If I had to, I’d send my daddy a quick message to call her off of me.
“The bed is fine, baby. You had a good day?”
He told me about his day, respectfully complained about his grandma, and I left him to his game after telling him to wipe his TV stand and dresser down.
