There are no secrets in my mother’s house. By the time I arrived on her porch steps that balmy summer evening, she had already been notified by Tisa that I was a nut job. Granny Jo, Lula Mae, and Aunt Lettie. Rachel and Leah (the twins) were there too, and they brought their children, only the girls. They were all there, behind the oak wood door, I could hear them cackling over the sound of the television. I was not yet ready to enter.
My sister Tisa, or ‘Tease’, as I called her, called it first. When I didn’t call anyone, not even my best friend Alex, after 12 whole days, Alex called her. Tease drove up to D.C. on the fourteenth day. The Beauchamps are not the ‘not calling or hollering’ type of family. You check in. So when I didn’t call, text, or mail, not for two whole weeks, something went off on their radar.
“Kai,” Tease yelled through the door.
(I was on the ground, there for three days, suspended between lucidity and starvation-induced lunacy).
“Kai,” she screamed again, ”if you don’t bring your ass to the door RIGHT NOW I will BUST THIS SHIT DOWN WITH MY BARE HANDS” Continue reading
