𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍
And there will be no tears for you
Gonna be no more crying now
Gonna be no more tears for you
See my eyes have run dry
Soulful, deep, and powerful vocals of Anita Baker greeted my ears every morning when I spent weekends with my Grandmother along the sweet smell of her made-from-scratch chocolate chip and pecan pancakes. "No More Tears" from the Songstress was her favorite. I lost count at how many times she would replay that one song on the vinyl record player. She played the record so much, scratches built on their own. Word for word, she'd vocalize with the singer and stirring pancake batter in the large bowl.
I would complain how many times the record would be played everyday. I remember the first vinyl record she had Courtnee and me purposely tweaked with the back of the record so she couldn't play it anymore. And to our surprise, the next morning, that same song was playing without a scratch. Courtnee and me were shocked, wondering how.
Come to find out she watched Courtnee and me scratch the record and purchased herself a brand-new one that day. As punishment, she made us learn every word while learning what it took to make food from scratch. If one of us, or both, got even one word wrong, she started it all the way over. It was our punishment. I hated it.
But now. . I wish I never took those moments for granted.
And there's no more tears
And no more saddened eyes
From crying through the night
. . (. . .)
Funerals.
I hate them and every since my mother passed, I promised myself I would never attend another funeral, but here I am, attending yet another funeral for my loved one.
All day I have been keeping myself together; not shedding one tear throughout the ceremony and the burial site. My Grandmother was the last of her siblings living; of the ones we knew about. Courtnee, me, and Giovanni was really all she had through her sixty-one years of living. Aside from her Bingo friends, who showed up. It took me slightly by surprise that the whole Lyrewood neighborhood attended, but not too much since Memaw was always lending a hand to anyone.
Shawn brought Carmen, who I spotted during the ceremony with Boogie settled on her lap. She wore herself a nice black blouse tucked in slacks with creme colored pointed-toe flats. She had chopped and dyed her hair from her previous black wavy hair that fell passed her shoulders. We locked eyes once or twice, but never spoke.
Rico was glued by my side the whole ceremony and burial site, dripped down in all black from turtleneck long-sleeve hugged to his muscular build and tucked in his Giorgio Armani wool suit pants and sovereign velvet slippers. Diamond Gold Cuban-link chain around his neck and a Gold watch on his left wrist.
Susana Whitfield, a young woman with beautiful, angelic vocals, sang her own version of Shekinah Glory's Yes along with South Lyrewood Christian Church choir backing her up with background vocals at the burial site.
Memaw attended the church every Sunday and done several fundraisers with them. They chose to bless us all with the performance, in which each of us were grateful for.
Toughest and ruthless Lyrewood Crip gangbangers you never thought would show their weakness, shed tears for someone that weren't even their blood. That's how much Memaw meant to everyone around the neighborhood. They respected her more than so of their own family members.
Then, everyone start to disburse; group by group, one by one. But not without saying a last few words to her Granddaughter and Great Granddaughter she left behind. Until, it was just us three left, eying the casket a shade of pink with a dark coral tri-shore finish lowering down in the six-foot deep hole right beside my mother's grave. Along with Rico, Jace, Carmen, and Shawn.
My twist-out, kinky and unruly curls were styled with the front in a top-knot bun and back left down and falling past my shoulders. I had on Yellow Gold stud drop earrings and matte dark red MAC Cosmetics on my full lips. I garbed my body in a black fallen shoulder midi pencil dress and black patent, gold heel open-toe sandals with an ankle strap.
I released a shaky breath just as a hand intertwined with mine. The hand big and veiny, I knew it belonged to Rico. I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, controlling my emotions.
"Congratulations to you two, Giovanni."
My eyelids opened, leaning off his shoulder at Carmen's voice.
She and Shawn, carrying Boogie, walked around from the other side of the hole standing in front of Giovanni and Jace.
Giovanni engulfed her into a close embrace. "I missed you," she let her know making Carmen smile. Once they pulled back she thanked her for congratulating her on the engagement and introduced Carmen as her cousin to Jace.
Courtnee face screwed. "What the fuck is she even doing here!?"
She was drunk. Since losing our Grandmother, Courtnee has been drinking nonstop and here she is at the funeral, dressed beautifully in her black midi dress and heels, but smelled like a entire bottle of New Amsterdam.
"Mom—"
"No!" Courtnee raised her tone, lips curved up in a ugly sneer. "Why the fuck are you here, bitch!? You ain't no goddamn family!"
Sighing heavily, I released Rico's hand and footed over to them, grabbing her arm. "Courtnee — relax. This is not the time or place."
"Did you invite her?"
"I'm gonna leave. Good seeing you and you have my number Gio." Grabbing ahold of Shawn's hand, she walked away with him.
"My daughter ain't calling you! You lying ass fucking cunt!" Courtnee yelled in hatred and. . hurt. She wasn't doing anything but expressing her anger at someone else and drowning in alcohol to hide her real emotions about Memaw really being gone.
"Stop it." I harshly whispered near her face, in a serious tone.
"Whew! That pain. . I remember feeling that level of anger. . ."
A soft tone came from behind us, in which we turned around to. Brittany Daniels. She stopped in front of us in her pointed-toe black heels with a black dress with a bateau neckline; scoop back and three-quarter sleeves. A floppy sunhat covered her short hair and White Diamond cross studs in her ears. She took off the cat-eye sunglasses, and I couldn't help, but to admire her features. Her brown skin wrinkle-free and almond shaped, dark brown eyes complimented by her natural long eyelashes and full set of lips covered with matte lipstick. Her body was even toned.
Honestly, I yearned to look like her at sixty-one and above.
But. . what is she doing here?
Brittany continued. "Drinking alcohol like water, taking my anger out on everyone in sight," she chuckled softly, looking Courtnee in the eye. "It's okay to be angry, sweetheart. But, not in public. . like this around these fine men that will be dumping dirt over your lovely Grandmother. Bask in the loss of her. Get your final goodbye. Then, if you want a drink after, I can invite you over and we'll drink together, yeah?"
Surprisingly, Courtnee got some act-right, and took the sneer from her lips. "Who are you?"
"Brittany, honey. Your Grandmother and me go way back." Brittany let her know, surprising me by the news as she stared down at the casket. "Wonderful woman. Genuine and sincere. She'd open her doors for anyone. Hate she had to go out the way she did. But as people say, she's in a better place."
My eyes narrowed. I don't trust her, especially knowing her history.
Atmosphere thickened between my dislike for her as she spoke with Giovanni, and Jace about their engagement. The innocent smile on her face reminded me of when I first met her. She looked like a sweet mother, but behind that mask, she's one of the most ruthless Queen-pin with, I bet, several bodies under her belt.
"And Mercedes," she called, pulling me from my thoughts as she eyed me. "Congratulations. . on the baby. I'm looking forward to being a Grandmother again."
Uhm. . what?
"You must be mistaken. I'm not pregnant by Rico."
"Oh really?" She peered back at Rico and back to me. "That's not what I heard, honey. Your doctor is Emily Bennett, correct?"
"Yeah, but what does—"
"Ma'," Rico grabbed her arm, which made me scrunch my eyebrows.
"She has a lot to do with this, my love." Brittany smiled, "I hear your little baby is going to be my Granddaughter's sibling and cousin."
"What?" Giovanni and me asked in confusion.
"Uhm. . what?" Courtnee asked, chuckling softly.
My eyes settled on Rico, who was avoiding eye contact with me. "Rico... What is she talking about?"
"Something that's apart of your business," Brittany stepped directly in front of me, her pricey perfume radiating off of her and into my nose with her voice lowered. "Next time, sweetheart, you better stay the fuck out my business. Because I hear anything else," she touched my arms, "there won't be a baby for you to have."
Her usual light brown eyes turned a shade of black; something I have never seen before and caused me to swallow hardly.
"Sorry bout your loss," She spoke in her original pitch and smirked. "Courtnee! How about that drink, huh?"
"Definitely."
Courtnee walked across the cemetery with that evil span of a woman.
Then, I turned to Rico. My lip curled into a ugly sneer as I shoved him by his chest; he stumbled back slightly. "What in the hell did you do?!"
Giovanni informed me that she and Jace would be at the car for us to have privacy.
"Answer me!"
Rico clenched his jaw, but never opened his mouth to say anything.
"She knows who my doctor is Rico!" I raised my tone, angrily. "Please fucking tell me you didn't screw with the actual semen that I should've been injected with? Please tell me you didn't go that goddamn far! Please!"
I stared directly into his honey hazel eyes and guilt flashed in them. My heart dropped and my vision blurred with tears. "I-I trusted you to be my friend; my bestfriend and not do this to me."
"Mercedes—" my hand whipped across his face, impact of it reeled his head to turn; cheek turned a shade of red. He clenched his jaw, nearly talking again, but I sent another hard slap to his face.
Attempting a third time, he grabbed my right wrist to prevent me from doing it again. I swung my left hand in a closed fist, punching every part of him that I could and yelling passionately "I hate you" with my voice lacing with hurt.
"Baby — baby, cut dis shit!" My back was to his front as he crossed my wrists in front of me.
I was all out of fight. Instead, I sobbed hysterically as he leaned his chin on my shoulder and whispering to me how he sorry he was.
"Ugh! Get off me!" I pushed from his arms, eying him with hatred. "I've dealt with you majority of my life; you having kids with a woman you never loved to you pushing out every possibly good man in my life and I took you back! I blame myself for fucking loving you. I asked you for one goddamn thing — one, and you just couldn't do that for me. I never asked you for shit but when I want to do something by myself and have a baby, you just couldn't stay the hell out of it. If this is how you wanted to somehow claim me and hurt me; congratu-fucking-lations! You succeed! I will never forgive you."
And with that, I marched away towards Jace's Range Rover. I couldn't look at him for another second.
He's done so much fucked shit and this one takes the cake.
I'm done!
. . .
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🎶 Shekinah Glory Ministry "Yes" 🎶
AND
— Chapter ONE is posted! Comment, and VOTE my dears.