Page 13 of Happy Is On Hiatus
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.” Ethel whispered the comment, making sure her ruby-red lips barely moved so that no one in the audience would know she was chastising her vice president. “I mean, considering all the excitement this morning, it would’ve been understandable if you’d opted to stay home and recuperate.”
Rita pulled out the chair and sat down. “I’m not sick.” And she wouldn’t dare give Ethel the pleasure of issuing a fake sympathy report at the meeting.
“Oh, I know. I just meant—”
“It’s fine,” Rita said, holding up a hand to stop the rest of Ethel’s sentence. “I know what you meant.”
Normally, Rita exercised the patience of a mother dealing with her toddler children whenever she was in Ethel’s company. She spoke in a gentle but firm tone, making sure to afford the older woman respect while still giving the impression that she would in no way tolerate her getting out of pocket. Ethel had a mean streak that Rita, the other members of the board, and some of the residents had been witness to on more than one occasion. If she could’ve kept her distance from the woman, Rita certainly would have. But Nate loved to brag about how Rita was active in their community, taking where they lived and the environment they’d raised their children in very seriously. While all he took seriously was sleeping with every woman he could without his wife finding out.
Frowning, she looked to the other end of the table and greeted the remaining board members. When she looked out to the audience again, it was to see that more people had begun to file in and take their seats.Jemel and Omar came in, sitting in the back row, which Rita knew was Jemel’s preference.
Omar Kelly lived in the house next to Jemel’s with his husband, Jason Corbet, and their lazy but adorable English bulldog, Trixter. Omar and Jason were fashion stylists who’d instantly become like family to Rita and Jemel when they moved into Willow Grove a few years ago and received more staring and judgmental whispers than was necessary. The bighearted couple was also good for Jemel, in that they tended to keep her a little more grounded than she was used to being. At least that was before Jemel’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Marc, came back into the picture. Now, Rita and Sharae, as well as Omar and Jason, were keeping an eye on that relationship, all of them prepared to pick up the pieces when or if it went south.
Moments later, Ethel called the meeting to order and efficiently moved down the agenda, passing the microphone to whichever board member was responsible for the next report. Kemp Webster presented the financial report, and Rita almost laughed as she noticed Jemel frowning as Kemp went over the importance of everyone paying their eighty-five-dollar HOA fees on time. Sharae thought it was a sin and a shame that people had to pay for others to dictate how homeowners in this upscale neighborhood would take care of their homes. Jemel agreed, but on the other hand, loved that she didn’t have to do any landscaping if she didn’t want to because the association paid for someone to do it on a weekly basis.
The meeting dragged on while Rita’s thoughts continued to stray. Why was she even here? Why couldn’t she have barricaded herself in her bedroom and focused on her next steps? Because she was expected to keep going, no matter what. All Black women were. Square her shoulders, hold her head up high, and never—ever—let them see her sweat.
“I’m just mentioning that having events on the property that invite an unsavory element into our community might be an issue,” Ethel was saying when Rita’s attention zoomed in on Jemel once more.
“And byunsavory, what exactly do you mean?” Jemel—who was standing now, with one hand on her hip—asked.
Ethel was in her early fifties. She was just a whisper taller than Jemel’s short stature, with a deep mocha complexion and black hair that was often styled in big tight curls—the kind only made by those ancient sponge rollers Aunt Ceil and her mother used to put in her, Jemel’s, and Sharae’s hair when they were little. “I mean, persons with a criminal history,” Ethel replied.
The condescending tone was nothing new where Ethel was concerned. Ethel thought she knew everything about everybody and led the perfect life that gave her the authority to correct anybody she chose. It was why so many people in the development referred to her as a loudmouth know-it-all.
Rita had missed the conversation leading up to this point, but she recalled something in the meeting notes and the attached police report Ethel had emailed her earlier today about Janice Spencer’s flowerpot being stolen.
“So you think somebody who was at my family’s cookout last night stole a flowerpot? You do know that I own a florist shop. If somebody in my family wanted a flowerpot, they could’ve easily come to me to get one.”
Wait, was that what was going on here? Was Ethel really accusing them of being responsible for the theft?
“First of all,” Rita said. She cleared her throat just to give herself another few seconds to keep a handle on her composure. “The police report says the pot was stolen two days ago. There’s no way someone who was at my house last night could’ve taken it.”
Ethel lifted her chin in defiance. “This isn’t the first time those persons have been at your house.”
Now Rita stood and stared down at Ethel. “Those persons are my family,” she said.
This could go one of two ways: If Ethel backed down from this ridiculous accusation in the next few moments, Rita could walk out of this meeting with the same general irritation that Ethel always provoked in her. But if this high-and-mighty loud-and-wrong excuse for an adult continued down this path, Rita wasn’t so sure she could hold on to the calm demeanor she was known for. Too much had happened today, and try as she might to keep it all together, she could feel something inside her starting to shift right now.
“Well,” Ethel replied before tossing a look out to the crowd and shrugging, “we all have to come to terms with certain blemishes in our bloodline. And really, Rita, after what happened this morning, I’d say there are a lot of unwanted behaviors that may need to be addressed from your residence.”
“Oh, I’ve got something to come to terms with,” Rita said and took another step toward Ethel. Meryl Ripley, the board’s secretary, who’d been sitting on Rita’s other side, jumped up from her seat then, moving to stand between Rita and Ethel, while Kemp cleared his throat loudly and grabbed Ethel by the shoulders the second she popped up from her seat. Out of the corner of her eye, Rita could see Jemel hurrying out of her row and heading to the front of the room. No doubt, her cousin was ready to put hands on Ethel if that was what Rita was planning to do. If there was one thing that didn’t go over well with any of the Johnsons, it was somebody speaking ill of their family members. Rita had never been one to rush into fistfights with members of her family, or outsiders for that matter, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle her business.
“I’m going to wait for an apology from you for those offensive and baseless remarks,” she said in lieu of actually tossing out the first blow. As an adult and a cousin of two cops, she had a basic understanding of what constituted assault. Even if she’d been blurry on the arson or destruction-of-property ordinances earlier this morning.
“I am just stating general facts. Everyone knows you have lots of gatherings here with your family members. We also know that thosefamily members aren’t from the Willow Grove community, which means they haven’t been properly vetted,” Ethel said.
“Properly vetted?” Rita questioned, and started to lean more toward just punching Ethel in her loud mouth.
Omar and Jemel appeared at her side then, both of them taking hold of one of her wrists.
“Let’s go,” Jemel said.
“No! She’s got something she wants to get off her chest. Well, so do I!” Rita yelled back at Ethel.
Jemel shook her head and held tighter to Rita’s arm. Omar did the same from the other side.
“When they go low, we go high, Rita,” Omar said.
