Page 24 of The Promise

Her grandmother requested, “Now third position.” My baby’s little legs came back together, one foot crossed over the other, and her arms changed positions, too. “Bring that arm fully out, Chivon!”

Blinking hard with her chin still high, she straightened her arm, attempting to improve it, but I didn’t see it. She was still so small, her body not developed for any “great” posture. But I let Ashira and her moms have it on this. It was their dance thing, their way of training Chivon.

“Fourth position,” Celestine moved on.

Chivon hesitated for a moment. She even looked my way for help. I hated that I couldn’t help my baby. I hired a ballet instructor recently. She’d come to the house to give Chivon lessons. Ashira hasn’t been impressed by it at all. And now, looking at it myself, I thought the effort baby girl was applying was impressive. She switched the position of her arms.

Celestine rolled her eyes and adjusted the weight of her elbows on the table. “And fifth position, my little lamb.”

Chivon moved into this one a little quicker than the last. She pushed her arms straight into the air. Still blinking with obvious insecurity, my baby girl looked her grandmother’s way. Celestine sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes again. Then she stood from the table and walked over to Chivon, and repositioned her arm and feet.

“Don’t move!” she chastised her while arranging my baby’s little limbs. When done, Celestine stood straight. “Now, this—hold it! This is a proper fifth position, my lamb.” Shaking her head, Celestine walked away. “Lots of work to do, missy.”

She wasn’t harsh, but Celestine was damn sure hard on her.

“Daddy,” Chivon mewled, still holding in position. “I gotta potty.” Chivon looked to be ready to cry.

Before I could respond, Rose clapped her hands. “C’mon, Chi-Chi, let’s go!”

Ryleigh jumped into action, and immediately, Chivon glanced her grandmother’s way. She held her for a second or two before deciding to break. My baby was out, shooting inside the house, zipping past her great-great-aunt, Rose.

Betty snickered, rolling her eyes. “Let that baby alone, Lestine.”

“I can’t. She’s my legacy. The end of my rope. She will be great.” Celestine looked my way. “Even if it means me convincing her father he needs not to wait for her mother to return to have a leading lady in his life.”

“I’m single,” Diana, Betty’s daughter, plopped herself in a chair across the table from me and announced with a wink.

“Excuse me, young lady?” The nasty stare Celestine gave the girl perfectly personified, ‘bitch, I wish you would.’

“Lestine!” Betty begged her pardon. “You just said you wanna fix the man up with a woman. She just playin.’”

“The man is nothing to be played with coming from family. What type of white trash shit are you ki-ki’ing about, Diana?”

Diana shrugged, stuffing a piece of cornbread into her mouth. “It ain’t like they ever really been tagether,” her delivery country as hell. “They just gotta baby. People with kids fool around all the time.”

“Let me tell you something, young lady,” Celestine gritted with tight lips. This shit was getting mad uncomfortable. “The only ‘fool around’ happening here is you speaking like one. I will not have the father of my granddaughter disrespected on this land. Do you hear me?”

Diana, who couldn’t be more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine based on her birthday party that was held down here two years ago, rolled her eyes and left the table. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You ain’t hafta short my child like that,” Betty barked, but in a cute, non-threatening way.

“Your child didn’t have to disrespect my child as she did either, Betty.”

“Ut!” Betty’s head snapped back. The warm brown-skinned woman looked to be in her late fifties, possibly early sixties, as she knitted. “You do it all the time, Celestine!”

Celestine slapped the table. “Because she’s mine. Just like the little lamb is mine. I may not be perfect, but the Universe saw fit to extend my DNA. They’re mine, Betty. Mine!” She sat back in her chair, trying to catch her breath.

I was blown away by her honesty. Until today, I’d never heard Celestine speak a kind word about Ashira. It had been clear to me since Chivon was born, that she was deeply loved by her grandmother. Yes, Celestine was strict and held high expectations of her granddaughter, but she was also loving, teaching, and affectionate toward my baby. Sometimes, it reminded me of how Celestine was with Ashira when I’d first encountered the Witherspoons.

Needing to shift the energy in the room, I picked up my fork and napkin, taking a deep breath. “‘S’all good. ‘S’all good.”

Celestine pushed her chair back from the table. Without eye contact, she murmured, “Enjoy your lunch. I’m going to gather Chivon’s things for your flight tonight.” She didn’t wait for a response before taking off inside the house.

Betty, still in the corner, holding her needles in each hand, shook her head. I was convinced the lady was mad as shit. And to make shit even more awkward, when our eyes did meet, I gave her a corny ass nod as a means of trying to express my sympathy. Celestine was a whole ass lioness of a personality. She cleared rooms when expressing her wrath. I’d seen it enough, even the first time she’d met Chivon. Amy had to endure Celestine’s matriarchal-toned doubts, glares, and suggestions in care.

“That woman something else,” Betty whispered, still salty as hell.

She was right, too.

---