I was no longer a child, so even with the nerves running through my body I hit the door before pressing the doorbell. I wished I had dropped my bookbag off but remembered that Joelle had told me to keep some protection inside and knew that it was a good thing I brought it. I was wearing a simple gray sweater and jeans. They wouldn't like that I came to dinner so casually.
"Cyprus, my love come in," my grandmother said when she opened the door. She wore flowing silk shirt and pants that were all white and stood at the same height as me. Her hair had grown past her shoulders freshly dyed a coppery brown. Her skin was tanned as if she had just come from the beach. I could only see hints of her age; she was a regular plastic surgery customer.
She hailed from a small village in Brazil. She did her best to snuff the past out. She rarely spoke in Portuguese, though it slipped through sometimes. I had never heard her tell stories from her childhood. I only knew that she was poor and came to America after her first husband brought her here.
She brought be into a hug and I gave her a pat on the back like I would do in church. She was acting fake, and I had an idea why. We were never close. I learned Portuguese to impress her once, and she smacked me across the face. Even before I came out, she was never warm towards me.
"Hello." I kept an even tone that conveyed my disinterest in whatever she had planned.
"Come in, you're a little early but I'm glad that you made it," she said with a weird posh accent. I walked behind her as she led me around the house. It did not change too much. The decor remained contemporary. I remembered spinning around when I was a and watching as the neutral-colored furniture blurred together as I moved.
As we walked past a wall filled with pictures, I noticed that mine on the wall. Not long after I came out, they removed anything that showcased me near. They hung crookedly, so I assumed that they had just gone up. The frames were even different shades of brown. They definitely wanted something.
We made our way into the dining room where she sat me down telling me to sit in my old chair before she left me alone. The mahogany table was my paternal grandmother's most prized possession. It had been sanded and stained so none of the marks that came from plates scraping the surface. The chairs had a new gray upholstery, and the fireplace had new dark marble. That complemented the brown wood flooring. The place where a family would normally congregate felt soulless. The gray walls did not help the room feel less cold either. Even with light streaming in from the open window, the room that had once been a comfortable place to eat was nothing but a memory.
I pulled out my phone after placing my bag on the ground and texted my friends telling them that everything was okay since they texted me asking if there was an issue. Zion had not answered a text I sent him so I closed my phone. I was glad that he wanted to come and see me, but now wished it was not on a whim. If I had known that, I would be in a lion's den, I would have told him to come at another date. Especially since it was such an important moment in our budding relationship.
"Hey baby." A familiar voice rang from the entrance into the dining room at my left. It was soft and sweet enough to draw me from the anxiety that was mounting inside.My mother walked in and came over to me. We looked like twins except her nose was wider, here eyes were lighter, and lips a tad thinner. Her skin looked tan like my grandmothers, maintaining a roasted peanut color that complemented her deep brown hair. She wore a form fitting white dress that reached her knees.
When she got close to me she leaned down to kiss me on my cheek but I pulled away making it so she was kissing the air. She looked over at me with her eyes low and glossy. I wanted to feel bad but the patience to play whatever game my father had orchestrated had run thin. She stepped back and said nothing as I returned my attention on my phone. There were no messages to reply to, so I placed my phone in my pocket and watched my mother take her seat.
"Thank you for coming, Cy," she said. I only nodded as a response and allowed an awkward silence to form between us. An eternity passed before my father and Kenya made an appearance. In my pocket, my phone vibrated, and I knew that it was Zion because I made a custom vibration to alert me of his messages. He must have landed, so I was ready to leave.
Kenya walked into the room with my grandmother at his side. He wore a white dress shirt and black slacks. He was more slender than my father but still well-built. He couldn't grow a beard but maintained a mustache and goatee combo. He had allowed his hair to grow out at the top and had his sides faded. He looked like a younger version of my father who walked in as the two took their seats.
"Hey look who's home," Kenya said as if we were good friends. I whispered, "Kill yourself." He couldn't hear it which was fine with me. We had never been close siblings, mostly because of the six-year age difference.
"Son, how have you been?" My father said. He looked relatively the same as I had last seen him. There were lines along his forehead that had not been so prominent now visible. Other than small signs of aging he was the same.
I had to look at him to see who he was talking to. His eyes remained on me, which was strange since he had not acknowledged me as his child since the day he beat me. He wore the same outfit as Kenya, except it strained against his muscles. The room was silent as I refused to respond.
"Look, Cyprus, I asked your grandmother to call so we could bury the hatchet." I knew when he said asked he really meant told.
"We? That insinuates that I have a problem. I don't think I created an issue other than living in a way that you don't like." I felt strangely calm as I talked back to my father.
"Look Son, I'm sorry about all the things we put you through. We were all ignorant and were wrong and would like for you to rejoin the family." I tilted my head when he talked. Each word sounded like it was causing him pain, like he was drinking acid.
"Okay," I said. I knew when he was ready to throw in the catch. He used the fake humble speech to reel in investor before. I had seen it many times. We all got quiet when my grandmother walked to the kitchen and then came back with a cart of pre-made plates of food. She placed one in front of everyone before taking her seat. I stared at the place of yellow rice, grilled chicken and salsa but did not eat.
"So Cy, how's work? Don't young kids your age work at a coffee shop or retail while they're in school?"
"I'm in-between jobs," I said.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," my grandma said. She looked down on people who were middle class or lower even though she lived off my dad. She had the hands of a woman who had been taken care of not of someone who worked.
"So how are you supporting yourself," my dad asked.
"I have an online job as an assistant." I wasn't the truth, but it was still not completely a lie since as far as the government was concerned, I had a job as an intern.
"Cool," Kenya said with a mouth full of yellow rice.
"So I saw you on the news with your boyfriend, is it?" my dad said, trying to sound casual. I was glad that he finally cut to the chase.
"Yes, he's my boyfriend." It was not true since we weren't official, but we both were not dating other people, so it was the best way to describe our relationship to others.
"Oh well, he's handsome," my grandmother cooed. I rolled my eyes at the fakeness.
"He's like the best second baseman for the last few seasons." Kenya still had food in his mouth.
I could see where this was going and was prepared to say no. I absent-mindedly answered their questions while beginning to eat my food trying to finish it before the car I ordered under the table came to pick me up. I needed to grab my stuff from the apartment and head to the hotel we would stay at. After twelve minutes of them beating around the bush, I was fed up and got it over with since I had finished my lunch and my ride was two minutes away.
"All right are we going paying like y'all care about me all night or are you going to tell me what you want?" They all looked shocked at my bluntness since the Cyprus they were used to was always polite and kind.
"We just wanted to know if you could speak to Zion about our family business. We were planning on expanding out of Georgia and having Zion as an investor could really help in the expansion. It wouldn't be just for us you would benefit from this too. I know you feel like we isolated you and abused you but." My dad's jaw tightened when I held my hand up to stop him from talking. I was feeling bold; it was probably adrenaline.
"That's not how you apologize, saying I'm sorry that you felt like what I did was wrong is shifting blame. I find it funny how suddenly we are family and the business is all of ours. Last time I checked, I was excommunicated. Were we family when I had to go hungry to pay for my school books? Were we family when I got beat by my boyfriend and you guys laughed at me and said it was a punishment for my lifestyle? When I couldn't come home for the holidays last year and had to stay with friends? Where were you? Nowhere, but now that my gay life if beneficial to you people I'm wanted in, or well Zion's wanted in. Next time I receive a call from any of you people it should be about rebuilding this barely existent relationship other than that remember that I'm not your son."
I got up feeling my phone vibrate to leave I grabbed my bag and placed it on my back. I could sense tears were about to come and I did not want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. They could not see me vulnerable. They could not help and did not care to.
"Hey, who the fuck are you talking to?" Kenya said as he stood. He barreled over to me and snatched my already bruised arm snatching my already bruised arm.
"Let me go. I will not say it twice."
"Fag," was all he could get out before I used my free arm to reach into the side pocket of my bag and pulled out a can of mace that I sprayed across his face. I caused as the fumes hit me while he screamed and let me go. I used the confusion he was creating to walk out to the car knowing that if this was the last memory, I could be proud.