The Essence of Exposure: The Risingsun Saga

By Beverly Pettiford

Adrianna, the main character opens the story by explaining to her best friend and beau why she is skeptical about attending her mother's funeral. She also explains who killed the villain (Carl) and why.

The Essence Of Exposure explores the lives, loves and losses of the Risingsun family that lives in Oleander and Tyler. Adrianna reminisces about the shocking details of her experiences and that of her siblings. At a very young age she became the matriarch to her siblings. The fathers were not around during their developmental years. The mother (Inez) was absent emotionally due to drinking, drugging and whatever else she could do to keep her mind off reality. Despite its shabby yet well-scrubbed surface, this multi-generational family contains many secrets that have been kept in the closet for generations. One great secret is that Adrianna and her sister (Ronnie) were impregnated at an early age. Adrianna and one sibling (Teddy) cut Inez off from their lives. Another sibling (Robert) the "favorite child" seems to not have any problems with his mother. Yet, in an ironic twist of karma, they still remain drawn to Inez as a result of unforeseen circumstances. From love, their grandparents, uncle and aunts provide an enrichment of answers to some of the secrets that have been kept in the family for generations.
The moral of the story is that no matter how dark life becomes, there's always a brighter side. If you look for the brightness, it will find you. This novel is a mixture of drama and suspense. But it also supplies the reader with humor and knowledge that love can conquer all. especially when your life is the essence of exposure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456768195

Beverly Pettiford

Born in New Jersey, Beverly Pettiford now lives near Charlotte, North Carolina. With extensive interest in fictional writing, she is working on her next novel and fulfilling her passion as a writer.

Book preview

A JOURNEY RELIVED

Chapter One

I darted in and out of traffic at eighty miles an hour on the New England Thruway. I finally got the chance to see how fast my brand-new shiny red Porsche could go. Fortunately for me, rush-hour traffic was on the opposite side of the highway. And it appeared that no police were around. I watched the speedometer pass ninety. The news I received at the station of Inez’s death had petrified me.

Because of my notoriety, the last thing I needed was publicity to overshadow my family’s name. My foot felt numb as I pressed on the gas pedal. My car phone and pager rang continuously. My fingers tingled. I tried to force tears from my eyes in hopes that these crazy feelings would disappear. Damn! Damn! Damn! I shouted above the loud music as I slapped the steering wheel. I remembered that when I woke up this morning, I was one of the happiest women in the world. I felt good. I had my career. I adored the man that loved me. And my family is the best family anyone could possibly have.

Feelings of hurt, disappointment and anger had left me so long ago that I actually forgot what it was like to be afraid. The world I had left behind in Minnesota reflected glimpses of a dream. Momentarily, all I could remember was the children that played noisily on the streets until the sun disappeared behind the clouds. The adrenaline in my body had weakened as I approached my co-op two blocks away. Being alone for the next few hours is all I need, I uttered over and over.

Turning left on Hoskill Street and braking heavily through the subterranean garage, I saw three men and a woman. I immediately recognized the woman. She was Shannon Kowalski. She’s the highest- paid freelance photographer and commentator on the East Coast. She had become my enemy in the early part of my career by being in love with the man who dearly loved me. All she ever wanted was to get some dirt on me. And now she’s back on my ass again. I noticed a microphone in her hand and three stocky camera technicians behind her. This story must be important if she’s in my parking garage waiting for me. I sped an available parking space near the back entrance where I could quickly get out and run up the back stairs.

I ran two steps at a time to my sixth floor co-op apartment only to run back down because I forgot my cigarettes. I was totally out of breath when I finally got back upstairs. I repressed my thoughts and switched my mind to mystic darkness as soon as I plopped down on the sofa. I felt no sorrow and certainly no pain. It was a talent I had acquired throughout my years on this earth. The phone rang continuously. I knew it had to be people who wanted to talk to me about Inez. The last thing I wanted to do today was realize that the woman who gave birth to me was now dead. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to say. After all, my family had been through so much due to her weaknesses. How can I go back to Oleander? I whispered to the large unlit apartment as I sprawled out on my lavender Italian leather sofa and stared at the streetlights through the bay window.

I jumped up in haste, stripped layer by layer of the boring pinstriped business suit and pumps. I walked to the bathroom, turned the hot water on in the tub. I stared at my naked body in the full-length mirror, feeling the titillating breeze of the air-conditioning in my pores. In the vaporous tub of water, I slowly poured my special Aviche perfumed bubble bath.

I walked over to the window and looked out for my raven friends who occupied a nest on the ledge. I smiled as they fluttered together to give me their daily welcome home gathering. How can I not let her death get to me? I chanted over and over. I pretended not to hear the annoying wall phone that rang and rang while I sipped on a cup of black tea and chuckled at the comics in the Boston News. I can fix that phone. I’ll just turn the ringer off.

From my kitchen chair, I stared out of the window a little while longer. The radiantly cheerful sun had set as the ravens chirped in the dogwoods to the stillness of the wind. The cool bay in the middle of the co-op grounds was divinely serene with ducks bobbing for each bread crumb tossed their way by the elderly who sat on the dilapidated wooden benches that were overdue for painting.

After the birds had quieted down I placed one foot at a time into the hot bath, laid back, and meditated, thinking of nothing for ten minutes.

I turned the hot water on again, letting it run slowly while I reached for the phone that sat on a small table behind the tub to call one of the few people who would be there for me in my time of need. Rich, hi, baby, I said as if I had had a normal day. I need you to meet me at LeChic’s in an hour.

I had never smoked a cigarette before in my life. I asked one of my production assistants to buy me a pack of Viceroys before I left the studio. The cigarette became a big mess when I tried to light it with a damp match which fell into the tub. I reached for another and succeeded in lighting it. I coughed strenuously a few times, but got the hang of it right away. The relief of stress was no place in sight as I continued to smoke and choke. I thought of that beautiful fast car Rich bought me for my birthday. I never told him that all I needed was something smaller and cheaper.

Rich’s deep voice penetrated through the phone. But…Adrianna, aren’t you getting ready to leave for Oleander?

I sipped on my tea. No, not yet. I’m not sure if I’m going. I mean….

Rich interrupted. But your sister wants me to put you on the first thing smokin’. Do you want me to disappoint her? I’m not sure what’s going on, but… He heard a distinct dial tone. Men… ask too many questions.

I got out of the tub to drip dry and walked around shivering as I looked for the bottle of Jamaican rum I had hidden after a staff party. I finally found it tucked under the kitchen sink, took it out and pour a shot glass full.

I selected a black, sleeveless sheer dress from the closet and pulled it over my naked body. The beautiful bronze matte makeup I selected was specially made for me by Jerome, the makeup artist at the studio. I’m not going to let this get to me, I said as I used upward strokes with the finishing brush. When I finished, I pranced around in that tight, black see-through mini. It cast an impression of every curve of my body.

I knew I looked good. But I needed something more than looking good to bring my old self back to me. I took one last look out of the window and the birds had already bid their goodnight. After I brushed my hair backwards with ten good strokes and rubbed a thin layer of Vaseline on my legs, I put the pack of cigarettes in my purse and proceeded around the corner to LeChic’s. a small club that’s mostly frequented by gay men. It’s the only place I can go and find peace. Or, so I thought until now. The club is half mine and the other half belongs to my partner Malcolm. I call him a real go-getter. He has numerous delicate qualities most women would appreciate. And a long venomous tongue that would make a woman holler. But his preference was men.

Malcolm’s full responsibility was to keep the club flowing with the best of everything. All I did was pay the mortgage every month. He kept forty per cent of the proceeds and ten per cent was donated to various churches in Oleander. I had to ascertain every week that he was giving the church ten per cent of the proceeds so that the guilt about what my brother Teddy did would vanish as soon as I saw the receipt. And as long as Malcolm treated me with respect, I never questioned his decisions.

I waited outside for a few minutes and looked around, but I didn’t see Rich’s car outside.

The club was partially full and semi-dark inside. It was beautifully decorated with a colorful variety of pastel satin tablecloths with satin napkins to match and exotic flowers in the middle of each table. People chatted loudly above my thoughts. The small open lounge area had a white baby grand piano with two huge Arcadia palm trees on each side. The back of the club was for private use for the owners and their guests only. Malcolm referred to it as the crew room. After I looked towards the crew room, I checked my watch again-no Rich in sight. He better be here or else, I said as I looked around. He knows I’m time conscious. Malcolm rushed over when he got a glimpse of me in the doorway.

Your regular spritzer, Miss Risingsun? Malcolm’s hips swerved from side to side as he escorted me over to my reserved table in the back.

No, Malcolm. I’ll have a Myers and Coke. Again, I looked at my watch as I was escorted to the crew room. Malcolm pulled my chair out and dusted it off with his hand towel while he fluttered his eyelashes like the wings on the baby ravens outside my window. His body was hard from the many nights he spent lifting weights at the gym. His tawny brown complexion glowed from the Vaseline he used as moisturizer. His feminine voice was a lot stronger than ever before.

Sister girl, Damn! You look fine! Don’t look like you got enough room in that dress to let air in. He placed a napkin on my lap. The news of yo’ momma is all over the radio and TV. They said she killed one of her ex’s. He bent over closer toward me with one hand on his hip as his eyebrows raised. His dark brown eyes hid nothing. What did the dick do? Did he mess with you, uh?

I just looked at him strangely, not because he was dressed from head to toe in a Ann Taylor pantsuit, make-up and high heels and looked like a brawnier version of Phylicia Rashad, but because he made me feel as if he was hungry for gossip too. Just like everyone else. Even he, made me feel that men ask too many questions.

Is that why she was in prison? Anyway…Reporters are calling here wondering if you’ve been in today. I told them, honey, Miss Risingsun don’t hang out here no more. He fanned himself with his hand and looked toward the door when we heard a commotion outside. I knew it would only be a matter of time before the media was at the door. Oomph, here comes your stud muffin, Malcolm whispered in my ear. This time it wasn’t the media with all the ruckus, but the transgender people up front. I turned to watch the only man I ever cared about approach me with the most perplexed look in his transparent turquoise eyes. I nervously twisted the jade ring on my middle finger, tugged on my dress, and stood and greeted Rich with a smile as he charged toward me like a lion that had spotted his game.

Your hungry peers are out front waiting for you to come out. They want you to talk about this. They want to hear your side. He softly lifted my chin. His head shook from side to side. Baby…you got to get on that plane. Your family has already made the flight reservations. He looked around for Malcolm. Baby…the media is doing what they do best, creating lots of serious rumors. They’re suggesting you had something to do with this murder. I stopped fidgeting with my ring and held onto Rich’s strongest hand. His willowy eyes were the only thing that had my attention. I could feel that he loved me more now than ever. And I’m grateful, but I can’t tell him.

His demeanor was unusually supportive. Chills pierced through my body like a shock wave. I sensed he was afraid that my name would be damaged. I thought about how we flowed into endless arguments, especially about how I deliver messages on the air about the abuse of children in this country. And how black boys are still getting the shit end of the stick in a white man’s world. Rich thought my timing was off. He said I was too militant and not politically correct enough. A trait I inherited from my grandfather. According to Rich, someday the media would find my weak spot and set out to destroy me. He said there were rumors, not only by way of the media but also coming from politicians, judges and businessmen in the Boston area who would love to see my show canceled. But I stood my ground on camera and in the boardroom. I knew someday I would change the way men, who dominated the business think about people of color who have a lot to say. Not only was I a person of color but a woman who never backed down from the balding, gray-haired corporate businessmen whose only mission in life is to make money on top of money.

Rich…all the media does is suggest. Stop worrying about them! They assume and presume things that are almost never true. You’ve been in this business much longer than me. And I know you know what I’m talking about. Rich motioned for Malcolm to concoct his usual scotch and water.

You’ve got to do something about all this. People have been calling the studio all day to speak to you. They are digging in places they shouldn’t. Speak to the people, baby. Let them know you had nothing to do with your stepfather’s murder. He pulled my chair out and we finally sat down. And why would your mother kill…

Malcolm interrupted with the drinks and a plate of fresh raw vegetables and blue cheese dressing. Malcolm? Rich cleared his throat. He didn’t take his eyes off of me. Will you please clear everyone from the club? he asked.

Malcolm put his hands on his hips. The towel he held hung from one hand. He always did this jerking motion with his neck. This is dress-up night, Rich. I just can’t tell these boys to leave. Queens are coming from all over the state of Massachusetts for this event. How dare you tell me…

Just clear the damn club! Rich yelled.

Malcolm’s neck oscillated like a fan. Oh…Oh…don’t get your panties in a wad, Rich. And don’t let me read you your rights. Malcolm rolled his eyes and proceeded toward the customers to give them the bad news. Not wanting to leave, the patrons moaned and groaned and gave Malcolm the argument of his life.

I didn’t know what to say. I picked up a slice of zucchini, dipped it in the dressing and placed it in Rich’s busy mouth. Anything to keep him quiet for a minute or two. Rich chewed fast on the vegetable leaving a dab of dressing in the corner of his mouth. He grabbed my hand intimately. Let’s go, Adrianna, and I’m going with you.

What about my television show? I can’t let the teens down. I have a great line up that had been on the list for months. I desperately wanted this interesting story about a seventeen-year-old girl from Florida named Sari whose father was Saudi Arabian and her mother was Dutch. Sari was taken out of school at the age of thirteen and was being held captive in her bedroom by her own parents. They told her that they were doing it for Sari’s own good. Their reasoning was that they were keeping her virginity intact until she’s eighteen and could marry the man of their choosing. After researching that much information, I became extremely curious. I researched the lives of women in their culture. The true story was that women didn’t have much of a life except to please their husbands. My heartfelt love for this young girl, who’s a stranger would not let me stop thinking about her.

Sari secretly managed to get a letter to me in the mail. She wrote in detail how she would escape, but only if I was willing to give her maximum security protection until she was twenty-one. My production staff and I agreed that she would stay at my senior assistant Gretch’s apartment. I thought mostly about Sari and not Inez. I thought about the abused children and the black and brown men who needed a woman to speak up for them. Inez already made her impression on the world. She is gone forever now. I placed my hands to my face. Rich, I have the best line-up in television history this week and I can’t believe that I have to disappoint those kids. And what about Sari?

Rich pulled my hands away from my face. Don’t worry everything has been taken care of. We’ll show reruns until you get back. And while you’re sitting here still figuring out how to delay your departure, your staff is contacting all the guests and postponing the shows until you give me the word to start production again. And yes, they are working on getting Sari also. He looked at me and tilted his head like a little puppy. Am I being clear enough?

I looked around the partially dark room for any signs of the media. I felt them breathing down my back. My dress had crawled up my thighs and Rich’s soft steamy hand had already landed on my bare lap. I need you to get in touch with Roxie, I said. She’s in Montego Bay at the Hilton. Tell her I need her here as soon as possible. Rich noticed how confused I appeared. Then he held me in his arms. She’s the only lawyer I trust, I whispered in his ear.

Rich released me then swallowed the scotch in one gulp. Adrianna, let’s go back to your place so we can talk. I can sneak you out the back door and no one will know you were here tonight. His greenish-blue eyes danced like puppets on a string. And why would you need a lawyer? I know you hated the guy. Did you have anything to do with…

No! I yelled. I mean…they are… probably camping outside my co-op right now. And this is the only place I feel safe now. I’ve got to protect my family honor…you know… I mean my sister and brothers. Hell, even my grandparents! I managed to get all that out just by crunching my teeth together, in hopes that no one heard me. Listen to me, Rich. My mother died in prison. I don’t even know how she got there. I had not been in touch with her for years. And when her name is mentioned in the family, I have a hard time hearing what’s actually being said. Now, am I being clear enough? I looked around the club again as if the police were after me instead of people who wanted a juicy story. Rich, the media says she killed her ex. As bad as things were, I don’t believe my mother is capable of killing anybody.

I recognized Bobbie Dearheart, a reporter from Tell It All, one of the trashiest magazines in the country. He was standing at the bar asking Malcolm questions and handed him a card. A few minutes later, Malcolm walked Bobbie to the door. Listen, all you heathens! Malcolm yelled outside. Miss Thang ain’t here. She left over an hour ago so pack your shit and get moving! Move! I don’t want you fools slumming in front of my club. Malcolm made sure everybody left before he came back into the club.

My soul knew I had to go back to Oleander, but not without my two best friends, Roxie and Rich. Chills ran up and down my spine once I realized that they too had to know the truth. And the only people I could trust were my sister, brothers, two best friends and of course my grandparents. Out of everybody, my two best friends were the ones who didn’t know the truth. I could tell by the way Rich was slouching that he was totally confused about my reaction to all this. At certain moments, even I was confused.

Someone had sprung a leak about me and there was not much I could do to repair that hole. I just hoped my siblings would know what to do when they were approached by the media mob. It’s outlandish that I felt this way about the very business I chose to dominate. My talk show was the leading teen show in the country. I was more famous than all the Rockefellers put together. And I be damned if I was going to let them destroy my future destination like so many others that had gone before me. I didn’t have the perfect life that so many of my so-called peers talked about at pool parties and in the boardrooms. But, I did have the perfect career. And I intended to keep it.

Someone started banging on the front door. And they wouldn’t stop until Malcolm swung it open. Listen, you mother…! Oh, it’s you. Another pushy black bitch. His head jerked back, barely missing the light fixture on the wall. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Roxie walked towards me after the palm of her hand slapped against Malcolm’s forehead. I wondered how she could get here so fast from Jamaica. I could hardly see her ebony face in the dark room but knew it was her. Her dreadlocks had grown longer and pounded against her shoulders as she walked. She appeared much taller than her five-ten frame. She was already the color of onyx but the Jamaican sun had turned her skin darker. I looked at Rich in amazement. He smiled like the cat that ate the canary.

Honey…I told you I did everything. All you have to do is pack a few things and get on that damn plane! Roxie and I will be with you. I looked at Roxie and she nodded her head. Roxie kissed my forehead lightly as she squeezed both Rich and me in a bear hug. Her eyes flamed like an inferno. She had been smoking something other than cigarettes. She leaned across the table with her big ass pointing outward.

Girl! What is dis shit Rich called me ‘bout? I’m in de ‘otel enjoying de best piece of ass I could find on de island….Oh, never mind dat. And why didn’t you answer your phone? Rich say you are avoidin’ phone calls. He say before you left de studio today, you said you didn’t know if you are going ‘ome to Oleander and dat you want to be left alone. Chile, if you don’t git up from ‘ere, I will be forced to pick you up and carry you out myself.

Roxie didn’t even say hello. She just bolted at me like a thunder and lightning storm. I didn’t want to leave. I blocked out most of her words by thinking about helping Sari and a pair of twins who had been trying to get an interview with me to help find their mother.

I finished my third drink and fifth cigarette and needed to talk to Roxie as my attorney and not as my best friend. While she tore into me, she reminded me of this African doll my Native American grandfather proudly gave me. Roxie was a lot like that doll. Back in the day, black dolls or African dolls were almost obsolete and this one came directly from the motherland. It had so much beauty and poise. And the doll stood by itself without a stand. That was Roxie. She stood her ground without needing a crutch. I rarely saw her sad or disappointed. I’m not sure if I ever saw her cry. She did have a few tears of happiness when Rich gave me that Porsche. Her smile sometimes looked plastic, but it was just Roxie, she kept the same smile on at all times. It was like white teeth gnawing at you until you understood everything she said with that heavy Jamaican accent. She was that doll I loved so much. Genuine and a rare commodity right down to the dreadlocks. Grandpa called my doll Moonshine because her skin shone in the moonlight as well as the sunlight.

Grandpa is the rebel with one cause. We knew he didn’t like what white people had done to his land in this country. He said that was his reason for not letting us celebrate Christmas. But, in contradiction, every Christmas he had a shipment of dolls imported from Africa. From whom we never knew. I personally selected the nicest dolls for myself and the rest were for Grandpa’s mission. We wrapped the dolls perfectly in the finest Christmas paper Grandpa could find. On Christmas Eve, the entire family loaded up in the car and we would drive around to as many as fifty houses in Tyler and the surrounding areas and drop the boxes off on doorsteps, ring the bell, run back to the car and immediately drive away. The residents yelled at us to stop as we sped away. Until this day, I still collect dolls from around the world.

Grandma and Inez would yell to Grandpa to go a little faster. It wasn’t until years later that I realized Grandpa was only delivering these dolls to white families. His motive was to make sure every white family had a doll of color. Some of the families didn’t like what Grandpa did on Christmas Eve and would call him and curse him out. I’d pick up one of the other phones in the house when I heard all the cussing coming from Grandpa. I would hear the person on the line cussing and calling him unforgivable names. I was much younger then and thought these people were ungrateful bastards after all the love and care my sister, brothers and I had put into wrapping each gift. Christmas was a special day to Grandpa even if he did take it for a joke. After each threatening phone call, he would lay out on the floor bursting with laughter.

Malcolm arrived at our table fuming over the welt left on his face. Roxie did not like his approach and thought she would let Malcolm know about it. Before she could get one word out, Malcolm interrupted. Listen, you Jamaican tirade. I’ve been bitch-slapped by bigger and stronger bitches with masculine names, okaaaay. To my surprise, Roxie did not respond.

We ignored Malcolm’s impolite interruption. I knew he was upset and would not get over it any time soon. I lit another cigarette and just started talking to Roxie and Rich. I swallowed the last drop of my Myers and Coke and began to feel very comfortable.

There were times when Inez boyfriends beat her up so badly that she would end up in the hospital for weeks. I sipped on the fresh drink Malcolm placed before me. I blew into it as if it were a hot cup of tea and leaned back in the chair.

Inez didn’t know much about rearing children so she let my grandparents do it. And I remember the countless times she came home in a drunken stupor. She once told me that she never wanted to get hooked up with a man, and that married men were a lot safer. After one terrible beating, when she was released from the hospital she decided to pack some of our things and move north to Oleander where her brother Paulo and sister Beth lived.

She proved herself wrong on the married men theory. Shortly after we arrived in Oleander, a man about five-feet-seven, by the name of Carl Banks appeared with Inez in front of Aunt Beth’s house. He was dressed in cheap clothing with a dirty green silk handkerchief hanging from his jacket pocket. Robert and I were playing hopscotch in the front yard when Carl loudly announced to us that he had married our mom. Now, I’s your new daddy, he blurted. Robert ran and hid under the big elm tree. I’m not sure if Ronnie and Teddy heard the news at first. I ran up the steps and clung to the screen door.

When Carl grinned, you could see this big gap in his upper teeth. One of them was chipped and hung lower than the other teeth. He turned to Aunt Beth who stood in the doorway behind me. She was determined not to let him in the house. He tried to convince her that he would be good for us and that he worked as a longshoreman on the docks.

This family got everything we need, Aunt Beth said. We don’t need a jive-talking Negro like you around us.

She was right. We did have everything we needed. Aunt Beth and her husband, Uncle Rhamzez, had a five-bedroom house with big yards in the front and back. She had gotten her master’s in economics at Howard University and was the proprietor of the only black- owned newspaper in northern Minnesota. Uncle Rhamzez was on permanent disability from an injury he sustained while working on a covert assignment with the FBI. All we ever knew about it was that he worked exclusively with bombs. Aunt Beth flung the screen door open while I was still clinging to it. She got up in Carl’s face, spit spewed from her mouth to the ground. I heard words that had never come out of her mouth before.

Now, Carl whatever-your-last-name-is, go to hell! I jumped off the door just before she slammed it shut. Before she closed the second door she yelled, Your momma will have to handle this chile! I just don’t know what to do from here. I could kill him…but I don’t want to do no time for a sorry son-of-a-bitch.

Everyone knew Carl was trouble from the start. He looked at me funny and then smiled strangely at Ronnie as he held his arms out and put one foot in front of the other, before he twirled around and bragged about his new car, his gaudy clothes, his house, and how we all would live happily ever after. His upper lip lifted a little exposing a wide gap. Happily ever after. You know, like the story book says, he said with a fake smile.

Carl picked me up in his arms. His whole body smelled of old worn socks. He kissed me on the mouth so long and hard that my bottom lip split from his broken tooth. He noticed the blood dripping from my lip and handed me a filthy handkerchief from his pocket. All that time, my mother stood near the elm tree with Robert just pleading for his approval.

From the corner of my eyes, as I wiped the blood I could tell she saw me but pretended not to notice.

Adrianna, are you ok? That was all she said. Then she turned back to Robert. I, at least expected her to come over and find out what happened.

Carl’s fearless eyes transfixed my eyes on him. I felt as if he were trying to look right through me. My soul squirmed and my heart pounded. Then, as he put me down, he pinched me… you know where. I slapped him real hard across the face. He made me promise not to tell Inez because he had made a mistake and apologized. He said, If you are good to me, I’ll be good to you.

Carl was an asinine rotund man more than twenty years older than Inez. He had dark brown piercing eyes and hair like wire. Because of the gap, he hardly smiled. His wrinkled hands were as black as coal.

Inez was so happy about being married that she never noticed how Teddy, Ronnie and I felt about the situation. As soon as Aunt Beth fired into Inez, she ordered us to get in the car - we were going to see our new home.

A very large Norway pine tree sat in the front yard surrounded by a rickety faded white gate that needed major repairs. The concrete in front of the house cracked and protruded from the ground. The exterior was dingy gray with weak wooden steps leading to a double glass front door. Since the railing was weaker than the steps, Carl warned us not to hold onto the rail. He did not want it to fall completely to the ground.

The porch had a lopsided swing. Since our friends were not allowed inside the house, that swing was as close as they got. Inside the house was as archaic as the outside. The living room was cornered to the right of the hallway with an old wood-burning stove. The sofa was black and green striped crushed velvet, a nightmare from the early sixties. Next to the unused fireplace was a shabby end table with a picture of Carl’s first wife still on it. The walls were painted green to match the frazzled throw rug on the bare dull wood floor. A bedroom was located between the kitchen and the living room. The kitchen had an old potbelly stove from the late forties. The white painted walls and woodwork had been peeling for years. To us, the house was not fit to live in.

We all ran upstairs to take a look at our bedrooms. Each room was large enough to get a small bed and dresser to fit comfortably. All the walls were in serious need of a paint job. The upstairs bathroom sink had long rusted from a continuous leaky faucet. Carl smiled proudly as we walked through that raggedy house. He whispered to us that we couldn’t do any better than this house. That was the moment I realized our grandparents must have had plenty of money. When we lived with them the conditions were not poor like this house. We lived like kings and queens in Tyler. We lived like princes and princesses with Aunt Beth and Uncle Rhamzez. And we couldn’t believe Inez took us away from it all.

Inez pulled me to the side. Listen Adrianna, now I don’t want you saying anything negative about this house. Someday I’ll be able to fix it up and make it look like the house in Tyler.

This house can never look like Grandma’s and Grandpa’s. Can’t you see it’s about to fall down? And look at that bathroom, it’s…

Hush up, Adrianna. I always said you got too much mouth.

We did the best we could with what little we had to work with. We felt like slaves, always washing, cooking, and cleaning windows. No dust could be found from ceiling to floor, all thanks to our little hands.

Carl did not want Inez to bring friends to the house. She had become so popular before she met Carl. Once we moved into the house, no one could call or visit. Except GloriaJean who was Inez’s childhood friend and best friend from Tyler.

Inez and GloriaJean had done so much together, including bar-hopping. GloriaJean had not finished the eighth grade but she was as wise as the book of Proverbs and as comical as Richard Pryor. She always kept a smile on Inez’s face and laughter in her heart. GloriaJean weighed about two hundred and sixty-five pounds with a five-foot-five frame.

I remembered GloriaJean’s last visit to our house erupted into a physical confrontation with Carl after she and Inez had gone uptown to shop at the second-hand stores. The straw broke the camel’s back when once again Carl insisted GloriaJean had set Inez up with a man. Without warning, he punched GloriaJean across the left side of her face. Inez raced out of the kitchen for fear that she would be next. Before Carl’s arm could reach up again, GloriaJean grabbed him by the collar and threw him up against the kitchen wall with a force that caused the Five-and-Dime knickknacks to crumble to the floor along with him. She pulled Carl up by the front of his shirt, throwing him on top of the kitchen table where he laid flat on his back moaning from the intense pain. She punched Carl several times in the mouth like a prize fighter.

The large woman reached over to the sink while holding onto Carl’s shirt collar and choking him. With the other hand, she pulled a butcher knife from the dish rack then held the blade firmly against his neck. Listen, you sorry motherfucker, I will knock all your damn teeth out of your fuckin’ head if you ever hit me again! She dropped the knife and slapped her hands together. Now! I’m leaving this house and you can kiss my ass good-bye!

Carl laid stiff on the kitchen table, more from shock than anything else. His mouth and nose bled plenty. GloriaJean yelled out for Inez at the bottom of the steps but Inez was no place to be found. Inez had hidden upstairs in Ronnie’s closet when she saw Carl throw the first punch. You better get these kids out of this fuckin’ house before somebody gets killed! GloriaJean yelled, left and never returned as long as Carl was alive.

Nothing on God’s green earth stopped Carl from criticizing us. It seemed Inez got the worst of his nagging. But we kept our sanity with games. One summer we made up a game called That’s my car. When we saw a car of our dreams, one of us would yell, That’s my car! Robert liked the small expensive sports cars. I liked the four-door foreign cars and Teddy liked the large cars, especially Cadillacs. Ronnie was never into material things so she didn’t play the game as seriously.

It was Teddy’s turn when he yelled out at a late model deuce-and-a-quarter about two and a half blocks away. Teddy took a closer look at the vehicle. Hey, I know that big gorilla head! Teddy squinted his eyes. It’s Carl! He bought a brand-new car! And I bet Inez don’t even know it.

All of us stumbled over each other getting in the house. We were trained to let Inez know Carl was coming. She jumped up from the bed, rushed into the kitchen, threw pots and pans on the potbelly stove, and handed Robert his apron while she told us to light the burners under the pots.

Hurry, kids, before he gets in here! My hair, how’s my hair? How do I look? Inez looked in the mirror hanging over the kitchen sink. I always thought Inez should never worry about her looks. She had the perfect permanent-tan colored skin. When she was happy or just feeling good the pupils in her forceful brown eyes lit up like candles. By the time Carl put his key in the door, the food was almost fully heated and the kitchen was extremely clean.

I was placing the napkins on the table when Inez noticed a sneaky gleam in my eyes. Adrianna, you got something on your mind. You might as well tell me about it now.

I was hesitant but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Carl bought a new car today.

Like Superman on a landing, Carl rushed into the kitchen. He spotted me at the table as I was about to sit down and take a bite on a mustard sandwich Robert fixed for me. He pushed me in the chest with