Dynera (Die) Ericks
Dynera's Place
4:58 p.m.
"Mom, this is Enez," I hold my girlfriend's arm tightly as I introduce her to my mother.
My mother was my best friend and as much of my protector as Enez is to Eda. She was also as picky as me and demanding. Hopefully Enez would meet up to her standards- at least on the outside. If she knew Enez had killed someone...I think she would disown me.
"That was mentioned earlier," my mother mumbled as she put a slab of ribs on some foil. They were covered with seasoning and butter.
"I- Um, she's my girlfriend," I stutter.
My mother turns around with a knife in her hand, her hands smelling strongly of the barbecue she was handling. Nina and Eda munched on cut up bits of wieners in the living room while my mom's boyfriend cussed at the always-losing Texans on the flat screen TV.
"I'm Mama Cece. That's what everybody calls me. It's nice to meet you, Enez. I hope that you treat my daughter well." Enez starts to pull me towards the living room as if she thinks my mother is done. I chuckle a bit as my mother keeps talking and a blush rises on Enez's face.
"Any friends? Best friends?" my mother questions.
"Uh- Ah yes. I actually cut ties with my old friend from Baltimore. She said she wanted something more with me and I declined and she got feisty. Actually helped- um, someone come after me," Enez said. I frown, she hadn't told me any of that. We'd definitely have to discuss that later.
My mother gives me a knowing glance that seems to say "watch out for that best friend". I give her a look back: "you know ya daughter's crazy".
"What colleges have you applied for, Enez? I hear you're still a junior." There's no hiding the jabs there against Enez. I squeeze my girlfriend's arm for support, but leave her to fend off my mother's comments. If she was going to survive being with me, she needed to be able to handle my mother respectfully but correctly.
"I've actually been talking to my counselor about colleges I'll apply to. She says for my case that I should wait closer towards the end of my junior year because a lot of colleges might think I'll flunk again. She says it'll make them realize that I'm a steady and secure student once they see I'm heading off to twelfth grade."
"And why did you flunk?" my mother asks.
Enez seems at a loss of words for a moment. My mother shoots her a glance as she carefully wraps up some corn and seasons it. I suddenly regret spilling my heart out about every little detail concerning Enez while my girl was ripped away from me. "I had a lot of things going on emotionally that year and I was struggling to take care of my sister. I wasn't ready to grow up but I didn't really have a choice. My parents dealt with pretty bad addictions and brought other dangerous actions into our home. I didn't have the time to focus on my schoolwork but this year our situation has improved tremendously and now I am able to focus on my studies and even help my sister with hers."
"The girl in the living room. She's your sister? Eda isn't it?" my mother asked, seeming unmoved by Enez's story.
"Yes," Enez says.
"She's a bright young girl. I can see that. Keep up the good work, Enez." My mother looks up and pauses from what she's doing. "But save some time for yourself too." She gestures to me, "I had this one at a pretty young age. I know it was ten times harder on you," she says.
Enez grimaces in answer but nods. "Thank you."
My mother glanced back at me. "Come help cook this food. Enez go rest, chile." Enez shoots my mother a crazy grin and heads off to the living room. I'm tense as I package the food up in foil to be sent outside whenever either my mom or her boyfriend went out to the grill. I didn't know what to expect after my mother's jabbing but neutral behavior a few moments ago.
"She's a strong one. She's broken but strong." She turns me around, getting seasoning on my bare arm and covering it with little black speckles. Pepper. "I always told you to never love a broken man, Dynera. Obviously I should have worded things more differently," my mother's eyes twinkle with humor but also sadness. "I see what you two have. You will have harsh up and down's but it is up to you two...to learn what you can endure and if you better one another. I'm always here, and instead of cutting up real weenies, I can cut up fake ones if it comes to it. Nobody'll mess with my baby girl," my mother smiles, embracing me.
"Thank you, mama," I whisper.
"I love you," she says back.
Enez peeks her head into the kitchen. My mother wipes off her hands and stares at Enez hard. I'm wondering if she's going to charge at her or say something else that'll make one of us stutter.
Instead, she says the least expected thing of all.
"You part of da family now, girl. Come give Mama a hug!" We all embrace, the scent of good cooking, the sound of a juicy game, and the sight of my family coming together almost overwhelming.
Even if we aren't all holy, or fixed, or happy, we're all together. Sometimes that's the only thing that matters. Sometimes nothing even matters. It's the memory that counts and the time.
Sometimes it only takes the right vibe.
The End
Excerpt from my new book "Lil Mama":
Anxiety. Sometimes it's a constant, sometimes it's a variable. Even if you don't want to believe that statement- you've experienced anxiety playing good cop/bad cop. Anxiety is sometimes a good thing. A lot of things can be good or bad depending on the situation. Getting constipated before a big test? You can call your mom to pick you up. Constipated before a big test you can't retake? Well...that pretty much sucks.
The only thing that can never be good all around is death. Even if you're happy to see that person gone or not- everyone has a different experience with that death. Maybe someone gets a new job out of it, maybe someone spirals out of control.
Death is the variable and the constant.
Death happened to both of my parents.
I remember it like it was yesterday. And in some ways, it'll always be my yesterday because it's etched into the back of my mind like it only happened a moment ago.
The cops came to our door with blank but sympathetic expressions on their faces. I was clutching the door, peering out with a confused expression of my own. Zamarr was in his room cussing out 11-year olds on COD.
"Can I help you?" I had asked.
I glanced around outside. Cops coming into this house? That's a negative. Our family lived in a classy, diverse neighborhood in West Houston called Dead Orchard. It was alive with Blacks, Whites, and anything else you could come up with.
Still, the neighborhood was pretty solid on handling things it's own way- and not involving cops. I could already see it- at school I'd be asked a dozen and one questions about the pigs showing up at my place.
I internally groan as the female cop slides her way into our house without an invitation and the other two follow suit. I close the door behind them, calling out Zamarr's name and watch them sit down on our sofa.
Shouldn't our parents be here to allow this?
Should I call Mom or Dad?
"I have some bad news for you kids." The female cop had a twisted braid of long, black hair. I couldn't guess her race but she seemed to be leaning more so towards Indian or Black. Her eyes were a darker hazel, and her lips were enchanting. She fumbled with her hands as she talked, a crack in her earlier neutral exterior.
"What happened?" Zamarr asks from the edge of the staircase, his headset around his neck as his friends yell out random obscenities that could be heard from where I'm standing.
"Your parents died in a flood. Their bodies were identified back in Florida. I'm sorry for your loss..."
It was like everything had fell out of place in my life.
Ever since that moment, it seemed like someone had hit Fast Forward on my life. I wasn't in tenth grade anymore and I didn't have alive parents. Suddenly Zamarr was my guardian at 20 years old, we were still living in the house my parents had paid for fully, and I was in eleventh grade.
Dead Orchard truly felt dead to us now.
But it still feels like yesterday.
Now Zamarr is a grown up and he doesn't play his PlayStation or Xbox or whatever the hell it was as much. Suddenly he's Dad and Mom, and mean. We fight more than we ever did as "siblings". He was a true adult now, and it made me scared for when I become one myself. Will I always be angry, and stressed, and no fun like the rest of the adults in my life seem?
My alarm clock wakes me up out of my deep thinking.
I don't seem to dream anymore.
I just imagine if things went differently that day in Florida, maybe my parents might be here.
"I'm leaving in twenty minutes, so be dressed or be ditched," Zamarr calls out.
I have work to turn in for my first class, I can't afford to not go.
I get out of bed and find an outfit to wear. I glance around tiredly at my closest filled with skirts, dresses, and shorts. My mom had always went shopping with me, suggesting this and that girly item. It makes my heart pang to remember that she's gone. I choose a slightly tight jean dress, then some flats. I lay my clothes out on my bed and get in the shower. After I'm all freshened up and I smell like berries and something delicious, I start on my makeup and my outfit.
I put on my clothes, fill in my eyebrows, conceal some pimples and acne scars, then move to my hair. The wig I had laid last night was still secure, so I take off the black hand around the front edges and lay the baby hairs of the wig. It's a deep brown with a few blonde highlights. I flat iron through it briefly then spritz it so it doesn't frizz throughout the day. I lightly dabble perfume on my body then I'm out of my room.
"You ready?" Zamarr asks me.
He's wearing some casual clothes that make him look handsome. His beard and his freshly cut hair make him look ready for the ladies, and his all black Yeezy's seal the deal for his outfit. He looks like a stereotypical high school History teacher though, you know the ones that always teach a sport- most likely football. "Yeah," I answer.
He looks me up and down as if he's inspecting me.
"You sure that's dress code, Gwenne?"
I shrug, moving past him.
"I can't drop nothing off for you at school if they want you to change," he reminds me for the fifth time this school year. "They don't even be on the upperclassmen about dress code," I shrug. "It just be the sophomores and freshmen."
"Juniors are not upperclassmen, Gwenne," he rolls his eyes, tossing a green apple up in the air.
"And I'm not gonna be dress coded," I smirk at him.
"Whatever. Your funeral," he mumbled. We get into his grey Acura, and I slid my way into the passenger seat. Zamarr's a psychology major over at Devont College, an all-boys school. His tuition and everything else is paid for by the inheritance our parents left for him. I can't touch mine's until I'm 18 and unfortunately I'm 16 right now.
We pull out of our driveway, and I look at our house the way I always have. Since the...deaths. A happy home filled with sad memories. Each day I expected to hear the chatter of both of my parents but then I only end up disappointed. Zamarr and I kept our respective rooms, but it's like every other room in the house feels quarantined off. Like the memories would rot us from the core if we went in there.
The kitchen was my mother's favorite place because she got to pour her emotions into her food. If she was in a bad mood she could make an incredible lasagna pan that lasted for days. In a great mood and you could almost taste the love she put into her cookies. It's like a weight settles off my heart when I leave the house. Like my time away from there allows me to be normal and to forget about things, even if only for a little while.
"I'm going to a basketball game so try to find a ride home, okay?" Zamarr says casually.
I scowl. I hated when Zamarr dropped random things on me like that. "Really? You couldn't have told me that yesterday night? I coulda already planned that out with my friends."
"Well, I didn't know if I was going last night, Gwenne. Damn."
"You coulda at least told me it was a possibility. You know a lot of people I fuck with are in Fine Arts or sports. They could have rehearsals or practice after school for all I know, Zamarr. That'd leave me with no ride."
"Alright, alright," he mumbled.
"Alright, alright nothing. That shit's annoying, shit."
"Watch ya mouth," he snaps back.
"Take a shower," I roll my eyes.
"I'll put you out on the curb right here-
"Then do it. I can ride the bus," I snap at him.
I open my door as he slows down the car and I snatch my backpack out from between my legs. I pull down my dress and stomp towards the sidewalk, pausing so that a car could continue going straight as I cross the intersection. "Gwenne!" Zamarr shouts. "Get back in the car!" I hold up the middle finger as I hold my backpack in one hand and walk across the street.
I walk the mile to school, irritated at my brother and the fact that I wore flats. I had received honks from cars and vulgar catcalls, but I made it on time didn't I?
I text my girlfriend Savannah as I grumble under my breath about bunions and missing feet.
Savannah😋: I'll kick Zamarr's ass 😡
Me: it ain't worth it 😒 he's like a whole QB almost
Savannah😋: still I'll do it 😌
Me: I'm by the front entrance to school ❤️
Savannah😋: srry gotta walk somebody 2 class ❤️
Me: rlly? Is it kierra again? 😑
Savannah😋: we not messin around, those just rumors!
Me: I'm not cardi b nor lizzo. damn rumors, but they soundin pretty true, Savannah
Savannah😋: talk bout it later? K? ❤️
Me: whatever 😒
I let out a slow exhale then start going into the school building. It's a pretty boring looking school, but the wealth of the nearby community keeps it filled with privileges and new technology.
"Ah," I slam right into someone solid as a wall.
I immediately pull my dress up so that no one gets a flash of my goodies. What? Why wear panties when Savannah's always taking them off? I look up to see a hand reached out to me. I blink slowly then accept the hand, my backpack still on the ground. She picks it up for me and hands it to me. A light skin with a slit eyebrow winks at me. "Sorry bout dat."
"Nahh, it's my fault. My girl pissed me off," I sigh.
My heart immediately starts to flutter. Damn, what if that wink was flirty and she'll lay off now that I mentioned my girl?
Damn Gwenne! What's wrong with you, you want her to lay off because you have a girl! I have to remain loyal.
"Sorry bout dat too then," she smiles.
I slowly put on my backpack, aware that she's trying to keep her eyes off of my dress. "I'm Gwenne," I stick out my hand. "Nicky, without an i," she smiles, then shakes my hand awkwardly.
"Nice to meet you...Nicky," I look down at the ground, my feet already red from my long walk.
"Gwen's a pretty name-
Her sentence is cut short by the announcements. When had the bell even rung? I ignore the Texas Pledge and the other one. "Thanks. It's spelled with two n's at the end and an e," I tell her over the voice of a monotone student reciting lies.
"That's cool," Nicky bites her cheek.
"So, uh, you new here? What grade are you?"
We subconsciously begin to walk inside of the building as last minute late students speed walk around us to get to class. "I'm new. Eleventh."
I nod. I was almost familiar with every face of my grade level and I had never send Nicky before. I had figured that she was new. "This is a great school. I think you'll like Dead Orchard."
"The neighborhoods around here struck me as snotty though, ain't even finna lie," she shrugs.
I laugh. "Yeah, it can seem that way, but most of the kids aren't like that. Only the ones with paler skin usually," I smirk. "And not everybody rich. You got ya lower class side of the neighborhood, the middle class, then the rich."
"I bet," Nicky laughs along.
"So why you moving here in the middle of the year, Miss Nicky?" I ask in a fake posh voice.
"Well-
"So you walking with her to class?"
I look up to see Savannah, without Kierra might I add, walking angrily towards me. "I told you I was walking Kierra to class, but damn."
"She was just showing me around-
"Did I ask you shit?" Savannah turns to Nicky, nostrils flaring.
"Whoa whoa, chill out," Nicky laughs, a spark of anger showing in her body language.
I could see their fight of dominance before my eyes. They were like two alpha males in a room, fighting to prove that they're the man of the...room, I guess?
"Hey, hey. I was just showing Nicky around," I lie. "She wasn't walking me to class."
"Yeah, yeah, cause that's my job," Savannah nods, eyeing Nicky up and down. Did she feel challenged by Nicky or intimidated, I wonder? Perhaps even both.
I wave to Nicky as Savannah turns me away and leads me off; her hand damn near on my ass. I feel Nicky staring at my body as we leave.
I don't turn around to catch her though.
Don't forget to check out my reading list filled with books I've written on this account and on my old account. ❤️