Shit-talker took my lack of response as a signal to continue. “Den she trippin’ den. I been married thurty-six years. One thing fo’ sho’ and two thangs fo’ Goddamn certain, women don’t like to be made a fool of.”
“I ain’t makin’ no fool outta her, Unc, and nawl, I ain’t fuckin’ no hoes.”
“Shidd, you stupid den a muddafucka if you is. Fine as she is, I’d go Ray Charles when another woman enters da room. Dat bad pussy shit…”—He pointed to all three of us—“Dat don’t upply to her. I know she sittin’ on a diamond mine. I ain’t lyin’.”
My brothers could barely breathe from laughing at Shit-talker’s drunk ass.
“I’ma tell you a secret.” He paused, letting out a loud-ass belch. “The key to a happy marriage is givin’ her shit without her havin’ to ask. She ain’t trippin’ ’bout a ring? Pop up with one on. Tradition say it’s up to a woman to buy the man’s ring, but I say, dat’s bullshit. I mean… She can go buy it, but long as it’s with da man’s money. You pass dat shit now, too late fa all dat. Go get yo’self a nice ring and use dat same finger to play in dat cat. Don’t say a bitch-ass thang… Just pull up”—He held his finger up that still housed his gold wedding band—“And thrust dat bitch in her. ’Pendin’ on how tight sheain’t, add da pinky. She gone be comin’ until the cows come home.”
“Mane, hellll nawl!” I couldn’t stand my brothers. The niggas had turned part hyena, and had Mama coming to the door telling us to shut the hell up.
When she walked away, Shit-talker shrugged. “Real shit, Nephrew. Make yo’ woman happy. Life so fuckin’ short. I did errthang right by my wife. If she saw it in the paper? I bought it. If the neighbor had it, I got it. Errthang ’round the house; I took care of it. My wife ain’t never known a bill. You see dese hands?” He held his left hand, which showed scars, callouses, knuckles that were double the average size, and medium-length nails that were naturally yellowed. “Dese hands look like dis so hers could look the opposite. She was in the salons and shit weekly—I ain’t do dat biweekly shit. ’Pendin’ on if it was a holiday or not, she went twice a week. I took care of mine.”
The sun buried itself behind a row of clouds, casting shade down on us. Shit-talker needed it because he was sweating enough that a bucket could collect it. The constant wiping at his face with the white towel he had draped over his shoulder wasn’t doing shit.
“You have any regrets?” Tulen had finally calmed his giggling ass down and looked serious for once today.
“I do… Two.” He sat back, pressing his back into the railing. “I regret she died ’fore me. I wasn’t ’posed to bury Emora. Dat ain’t the natural order of things. I set our whole lives up in hopes dat she would outlive me. I took care of it all. I paid for our burial plots, caskets, da whole nine. Even bought my suit dat she was ’posed to bury me in. I didn’t want her to have no worries. Shit didn’t work out like dat, doe.” He took another swig of his can, which I was sure was empty or either hot as hell by now.
“You said you had two regrets.” I pointed out.
“Yeah…” He burped. “Me spoilin’ her shoulda came with conditions. Not in the materialistic sense, doe—in the physical. I had a cleaning service. She didn’t work. Hell, I even hired the neighborhood crackhead to drive her ’round when I was out makin’ the bacon. I enabled Emora. Dat ain’t no thang, though. Dat’s what I was ’posed to do. See, since my wife had the world at her fingertips, she found herself indulging in errthang. She was partyin’, drinkin’, eatin’ all dat bullshit! She started puttin’ on weight, but I loved dat shit. She was just right. Constant years of doin’ what da fuck she wanted without me dere to at least guide her in the right direction fucked with her health. Diabetes took her faster than a thief in the fuckin’ night.”
He used the towel to wipe his face. “So, to answer your second question, my second and most biggest regret was not being dere. I spent so much time outside the house, makin’ sure she had errthang she wanted and needed dat I forgot what really mattered.” He pointed to his heart. “Had I known I’d only getthurty-six years with dat woman, I woulda had my ass home more. I woulda pivoted. We woulda ate better, exercised. One thang I do admire ’bout some folk from y’all generation is dat dey make time. Back den, our time was spent makin’ sure we ain’t never have to go without. I’d slit my fuckin’ wrist before my wife opened a cut-off notice.”
“Didn’t you buy a big-ass house out in the east?” Tulen’s nosey ass inquired.
“Yeap. Used cold, hard cash too. Bought it five years ’fore she died. Dat was our fourth paid-off home, by the way. The other three, I was able to divide among our children to live in until dey were ready to buy their own. Now, all but one use ’em for passive income. Dat last one from my nutsack like you two,”—He cut his eyes at my brothers—“Fucked up!”
“Well, unless you want to join ole Elenora, I’ma take this.” Tuden reached for the beer can, but Shit-talker was quick.
“Back da fuck up, niccah! And I done told yo’ Slim Jim-lookin’ ass it’s Emora!”
We all laughed as Shit-talker hugged his beer to his chest.
“But you was just preachin’ all dat shit about wishin’ y’all ate and drank better. You four years late, but we can start now, Unc.”
“Didn’t I tell you dese hoes slaw? I’m ready to be with my ole lady, anyway.Ifthe can gon’ take me out, oh well… You worried ’bout me, but what you shoulda been learnin’ today is dat time ain’t on nobody side. Fuckin’ all dese skeezers, by the time you meet the one, yo’ shit gon’ be saggin’ like horse balls.”
“And I’ma still get slurped up! My brother the one need to be listenin’. I need my sis-in-law ’round fo’ a long-ass time. I fucked ’bout three grade-A bitches since dat live. Glow got some fine-ass followers.”
This nigga.
“I learned something from today, Unc.” Tulen raised his hand.
“Niccah, what?”
“I learned dat yo’ ass a liar. By subtractin’ your marriage years by yo’ age, it would‘ve been another fourteen or so years before yo’ ass was even born when Rosa Parks was put to da back of da bus.”
Shit-talker’s eyes bucked. “Ah, shit. I said Rosa Parks? I meantRose Sparks! She was the neighborhood headhunter. She had a mean-ass throat too! Dese hookah hoes y’all got could neva hold dey breath like ole Rose.”
We all howled in laughter as Shit-talker started mimicking someone giving his drunk ass some head. Though I had to get back to Jagoda Bay, this was one of the reasons why I loved the fuck out of my city. I had no desire to move back, but being here, in the hood, surrounded by the people who made my childhood memories priceless, outweighed the suffering and the days we’d gone without. These types of moments were unmatched.
I didn’t know what the fuck Don had in store for me, and even though I low-key looked forward to it, the unknown had me uneasy. Memphis was familiar. While I technically had family in Jagoda Bay, it was nothing like my roots. Outside of the money that was to be made, there was one person who was making Jagoda Bay take Memphis’ spot.
Pulling out my phone while everyone continued to clown, I went to the last text thread in the messaging app.
Stay up
