Page 30 of Happy Is On Hiatus
There were at least two hundred people out here today, all milling around the tables they’d claimed upon arriving. About twenty feet from the pavilion was a stage with a DJ situated in its center. Music played from huge speakers while smoke billowed up to the brilliantly sunny afternoon sky as three grills worked to cook a variety of meats. Hot dogs and hamburgers for sure, but she thought she could also smell some barbeque—chicken and ribs, most likely.
“The tuna sandwiches are in that container in the cooler,” Rita told them. “But the others are over here.”
Sharae opened the plastic container Rita had just pointed to, knowing there’d be a variety of sandwiches inside. Rita’s sandwiches could put Jersey Mike’s out of business with the assortment of breads she used and the different ensemble of deli meats and cheeses. She also made her own seasoned oil that Sharae loved eating spread across fresh baked bread without anything else.
“Now, this is good picnic food,” Aunt Rose said. She’d put what looked like a sandwich with two types of ham, turkey, and Muenster cheese on rye bread onto her plate. Rita had set plastic bottles of condiments in the center of their table, along with a platter of lettuce, olives, and pickles.
“There’re two pound cakes—almond and lemon—wrapped in that foil at the other end of the table too,” Rita told them as she continued unpacking and making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Which she never did.
It was a private Johnson-family smorgasbord.
Sharae chose the tuna sandwich because she loved the way Rita chopped the celery so fine and used a bit of Old Bay Seasoning for a tangy punch to an old favorite. Adding a few crab balls and some BBQchips to her plate, she sat next to Aunt Ceil on the bench. Aunt Rose was on the same side of the bench while Aunt Vi and Rita sat across from them.
“Jemel’s not here yet?” Aunt Ceil asked after a few minutes.
“I think she was going to stop home to change first,” Rita said.
Aunt Vi shook her head. “She should’ve put another outfit in their truck and changed at the school. It doesn’t look good that one of the guests of honor is late.”
“I don’t think you can count this as being late, Mama,” Rita replied. “It seems pretty informal to me, and besides, the group’s not supposed to play until around four, I believe. That’s when the media people are set to arrive.”
“If there’s a schedule, it’s not informal,” was Aunt Vi’s haughty retort.
Aunt Rose popped an olive into her mouth. “That child never did have a grasp on time.”
“Yeah, she’s always had that adventurous spirit,” Aunt Ceil added.
“What’s that got to do with being on time, Ceil?” Aunt Rose snapped.
Aunt Vi shook her head while spreading mayonnaise on one slice of her bread. “It just doesn’t look good.”
It was possible to get whiplash at how fast the Aunts could go from complaining about one thing to another.
“Maybe Marc’s proposing, and that’s what’s taking them so long.” The hope in Aunt Ceil’s voice was unmistakable. Just as the quick oh-no look Rita passed Sharae was totally understandable. Aunt Ceil had been planning Jemel’s wedding since the girl had gotten her first period. It was like that milestone had ushered Jemel into the available-wife status, and Aunt Ceil was watching the clock and the front door for Jemel’s husband-to-be to finally appear. As Marc and Jemel had been heavily involved in an on-again, off-again relationship for the past fifteen years,there were currently bets on whether he was the one. Tariq, of course, had coordinated the pool of gamblers on their cousin’s love life.
“She don’t need to rush into no marriage,” Aunt Rose added. “Matrimony ain’t meant for everybody.”
With that remark, the Aunts’ full attention landed on Rita. Sharae watched sorrowfully as Rita realized this too, but took her time slicing a crab ball in half on her plate.
“How’re the girls dealing with you and Nate’s separation, Rita?” Aunt Ceil asked, her tone soft, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear about the big bad divorce in the family.
These women were Sharae’s role models. After her mother, there’d never been any other women she loved and admired more. Because Rita and Jemel were her age, the bond between them had always seemed on another level entirely separate from the Aunts. The Johnson sisters had a confident and regal air to them, despite their very humble and tumultuous upbringing during the years of segregation and the Civil Rights Movement. But there was no mistaking that they could also be the most critical and sanctimonious women she’d ever met.
Rita cleared her throat. “It’s going to be an adjustment for all of us.”
That was the official statement. Rita had said it a couple of times over the phone when Sharae had asked how things were going with the divorce. Sharae knew she was holding back, but she and Jemel hadn’t figured out when they were going to pressure her about it.
“They need to respect the decision, even if they don’t like it,” Aunt Vi began. “Taryn was over the house the other day, and I had to tell her she wasn’t too old to get smacked in the mouth.”
Sharae felt the quick wave of rage that crossed Rita’s face as if it were a physical slap and immediately spoke up. “It’s still new,” she said. “Give them time to get their bearings.”
Not that she didn’t think Taryn and Necole could be a handful. For all that Rita was a good mother, those girls could be on the mouthy side, but Rita and Nate had insisted their children have the freedom toexpress themselves. Sharae, Jemel, and Rita hadn’t been raised that way. Any expressions they had that differed from whatever they were told to do were best mumbled behind the closed door of their bedroom. And even then, the Aunts’ super hearing abilities sometimes led to another scolding.
“It’s not their business,” Aunt Rose said.
“Well, Nate’s their father. I guess they are entitled to feel some kind of way about him leaving,” Aunt Ceil added.
“He didn’t leave, he was put out,” Aunt Vi clarified.
