“Hey, Petey! Glad you made it!”
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, baby girl!” Petey shouts. “My duke is finally takin’ the fuckin’ plunge, yo!”
I laugh—hard into the pillow. Petey’s rarely so spirited.
“Yeah,” I eventually return. “He better be…got me up on this boat with a white gown,” I say in jest.
“Damn right…and you better bring all that sexy, too,” I hear from Azmir when I’m expecting a response from Petey.
I go silent, not exactly knowing what to say.
“See you shortly, little girl…and don’t be a minute late. I’m timing you,” Azmir concludes, and I can hear Petey and what sounds like Kid, jeering in the background.
A regular pair of block huggers on a luxury yacht. Only the likes of Azmir Jacobs could make that happen.
At that, I hear a faint knock at the door. If this is that Azmir, I swear I’m going to purposely be late just to spite him!
I gather my disgruntled robe that’s taken on a new form during my nap, and make my way the short distance to the door. When I open it, I find myself instinctively arching my neck up, expecting to see A.D. However, when I lower my inspection, I find a frail Samantha, dressed in a pewter mother-of-the-bride gown, sheathed in sequence.
She smiles tightly. For her, addressing me isn’t easy, this I know. I never make it a comfortable task for her. Even after being in L.A. for almost five months, our relationship is still unsettled.
“Can I come in, baby girl?” she murmurs with hesitation in her voice.
“Sure,” I move, inviting her into the suite.
She sits on the oval chaise that’s placed at the foot of the bed. She appears a little fatigued, but her condition does that on occasion. I take a seat on another square chaise next to her, tentatively. I don’t know what to expect, but I’ve seen enough episodes of idyllic family sitcoms to know what’s coming are her before you take your vows, here are my parting words talk. This dialogue has been delayed and to my gratitude.
But on my wedding day, Samantha?
Her eyes won’t meet mine. Tepid anger that’s been lying dormant begins to heat up, and underneath the pleasantries and faux smiles, is rising to blow the tepee. Already.
“I’m not gon’ keep you long. They told me you gotta lot to do ta’ get ready,” she murmurs almost solemnly, and then take a deep breath. “I know that we ain’t been…connected. Things between us just ain’t right yet, but I wanna…” she’s at a loss for words. Since being here in L.A., I can see her self-confidence still diminishes in my presence, and I’ve been the one to blame for that. I’m still not convinced of her presence. I haven’t decided her purpose in my life now. “‘Dis marriage between you and Azmir can work.”
That fumbles me askew. Why would I be marrying him if the odds weren’t in my favor? I’m steadily growing impatient.
“I say that because I see so much of Eric in you; ‘dat me against the world stubbornness. And I know I been the cause of it—”
“Look…you don’t have to open up that can of worms—”
“Eric wasn’t Chyna’s father.”
W-what? I can’t believe what I’ve just heard.
She shakes her head, but still rarely gives me direct eye contact. “No. Not many know.” There’s a slight pause. I guess she’s preparing her nerves for what’s to come. “He knew for years. I told him one night, feeling guilty. He stayed for a while after ‘dat. I’d been out there for a while, wildin’ out…getting high on the low. The saddest part of it all is we didn’t know if he was Akeem’s daddy when I was pregnant with him. I had a lot of church girl issues coming up. I was so restricted from life ‘dat when I gotta taste, I went wild.”
Another pause and I don’t know who needs it more; me or my mother. I can’t begin to process what she’s telling me.
“I know ‘dis ain’t good timing, but no matter how many years you been away from me, I still know my child. You scared and I know why. It’s because of what you saw. ‘Da damage and confusion we caused you. You should know Eric stayed a lot of years through my addiction. I was gettin’ high long before you and Akeem caught on. I was a functioning addict for a lotta years. No, it wasn’t right for him to leave you kids, but I put ‘dat man through so much until he…just ran.” She shrugs her shoulders in defeat.
“He ran and never turned back. Nothing changes that fact,” I challenge.