Silkydreamgirl

Chapter 1 Hubby announced he was leaving me at the Labor Day barbecue. Right before my brother LaDell took the last rib off the grill. Right before my sister-in-law Georgie poured another round of her weak-butt, non-alcoholic margarita. Right before Mama stumbled out of the house with the ice cream maker. Right before my son-brother Alex dragged his friend Tameka into the backyard. Right before my friend Donna and her husband, Mike, arrived. The children (my niece Shanna, my nephew Terrence, and my stepsons, CJ and Darius) ran around LaDell's perfectly landscaped backyard. Hubby and LaDell stood at the grill like buddies, pals. They both wore light khaki shorts and T-shirts that accentuated their muscles. Both were short and dusky brown as Idaho potatoes. LaDell's eyes, nose, and lips gushed generously across his face. On the other hand, Clarence, my hubby, had a tight, stingy face. His dot of a nose sat between his small mole eyes and thin lips. Only his bushy eyebrows added depth to his face. Up and down the block, smoke drifted from backyards up to a perfect blue sky where downy clouds sailed under a blazing sun. The mouth-watering aroma of barbecue permeated the air. Laughter and music from the backyards meshed into a continuous holiday medley. It was a storybook perfect day, and for once, I didn't envy Georgie's new things. Even Rover, their ferocious rottweiler, lay passively in his house. "I'm going to California Saturday," Clarence said above the crackling explosion of distant fireworks. He slapped barbecue sauce on the chicken and spareribs. "Yeah," said LaDell who was never interested in anything outside carpentry or home improvements. "Yeah," Clarence said. I knew he was not going to California on business. The man had no business and no job. He didn't even have a damn hustle. But if he said he was going to California, he was going to California. We didn't have enough pocket cash to buy sandals for the boys, yet there he was, planning a trip. "My sister is sending me a ticket." I rolled my eyes to the sky. Bertie or Roberta as she preferred, was Clarence's sister. I placed the potato salad on the picnic table and busied myself by arranging the food. A feast of fruit salad, tabbouleh, roast vegetables, and barbecue chicken sat on the table. It should have been a good day. For once, Mama and I were not at each other's throats. For once, I had managed to pay our bills on time. For once, the extra fifty pounds on my tiny frame was not causing me grief. Clarence destroyed my smidgen of joy with his announcement. "For how long?" Georgie asked. Georgie poured a drink and passed it to LaDell. She towered over me by a good six inches and over LaDell by two. Flat-chested and the color of peanut butter, she had a mop of chestnut brown hair that she wore in some sort of Afro centric style. A flight of freckles soared from one side of Georgie's face to the other. Georgie liked stars: Movie stars, stars in the heaven, and stars on her clothes. She wore sparkly crap like rhinestones, sequins, or anything else with flash. Her clothes came from catalogs specifically designed for women who wanted to look unique: Bold colors, animal prints, and designs that resembled Juan Miro's artwork. A jingle, jangle something--bracelets, earrings, necklaces, and rings-covered every part of Georgie's body from her head to her toes. She was a walking bell. Clarence said California and Georgie saw stars. "I'm going to stay," Clarence announced. Unlike the shoebox backyards of the city, LaDell and Georgie's suburban backyard wallowed in spaciousness. Any backyard that was big enough to hold a patio set, a picnic bench, a kid's play set, a custom-made brick grill, and a vegetable garden was capacious. In Chicago, developers would have built an apartment building in that space. When Clarence made his fouBurks, Cris is the author of 'Silkydreamgirl', published 2002 under ISBN 9780767912952 and ISBN 0767912950.