When All Hell Breaks Loose (3 page)

“What’s with you? Why do you seem to be having such a hard time with me marrying Adrian?”

“Because, Greg, you two have been fornicating and Lord only knows what kind of living Adrian does. She’s too worldly.” Shreese pushes a loose strand of hair back up into the neat bun on her head.

I’m annoyed at my sister’s badgering and accusations. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“She’s a hairdresser, for crying out loud. Pastor Dixon says the salons are full of wild, worldly women. You need to make sure you’re not fooling yourself.”

“So when you go get your hair done, you aren’t being worldly either?” I challenge.

Shreese looks at me as if I have insulted her. “No, I am not a worldly woman. I don’t sit in there and gossip. I talk about the goodness of Jesus and I try to share with those women the true walk of a virtuous woman. As soon as my stylist is finished, I pay her and walk out of the fires of damnation untouched, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego! Thank you Jesus!” Shreese throws her hands up and closes her eyes like it hurts to think about getting her hair done.

“Shreese, Pastor Dixon is not in a position to tell you what worldly is, because it seems he hasn’t looked in the mirror lately. While he runs around keeping his congregation from having nice things, like a church with proper air-conditioning, you-all dig deep every Sunday and have managed to put him in a big church, fancy clothes, and a Mercedes. Sounds like he’s worldly to me. A worldly fool at that.”

“Watch how you talk about a man of God, Gregory!” Shreese slams her hand on her Bible as if that alone will protect Dixon. “And let me tell you something. Loving a woman of the world is damnation
on your soul. Blessed not is the man who walks in the company of sinners.”

I pull my car into the parking lot at Chili’s. It screeches to a halt. Shreese is still looking at me. I have to set her straight. “Look, I love Adrian, and I’m ready for this. This is
my
decision,” I say, pointing to myself. “When you meet the man you’ve prayed for and are in my shoes, then you can tell me what you think, but right now, just be happy for me, that is all I ask.”

“Okay, but you remember, Gregory Louis Alston, I’m your sister and it’s my job to look out for you, just like you look out for me.” She snaps her fingers in my face. “I don’t feel good about this announcement you’ve made, but I won’t let that interfere with
your
happiness.” She puts her Bible in her purse and steps out of the car. She begins humming some church tune as if our conversation never happened.

I stare over at my baby sister, wondering why I have to be the one to put up with a sister like her. When I have to deal with her religious thrashings, I get mad because I know that Shreese is knee-deep into this because our mother left. She’s been faithful to the Bible because she has always believed that God would bring Louise back, and I know that’s just not going to happen. Shreese looks so much like our mother it’s amazing. They have the exact same features, except Shreese never wears her hair down like our mother used to. I’m sure it’s way past her shoulders by now. The last time I can recall Shreese’s hair being down was when she was still sporting pigtails. Mom used to wear her hair down all the time before she left. I’ll have to tell you about my mother later. That’s another story for another time, but I promise to tell you about it. Meanwhile, it’s time to get my grub on.

I drop shreese back at church and head over to our dad’s house. I like driving through the old neighborhood. It’s classic: lots of trees, big front yards, children playing, and neighbors who’ve known each other a lifetime. When I drive up, Pops is outside mowing the yard. He has on a pair of overalls with no shirt on beneath. Sweat is dripping from his face, but as always, he’s smiling from ear to ear. He turns off the mower and waves as I get out.

“Hey, son!” He grips my hand tightly and pats my back.

“Hey, Pops. What’s going on?”

“Hell, the usual. I was out here trying to get some of this yard work done before it gets too late.”

We walk into the house where it’s cool. Immediately, I’m nostalgic, as always. This is the house Shreese and I grew up in. Pops still has our pictures plastered everywhere. The same furniture, even the same 1979 General Electric refrigerator that hums loudly in the kitchen. Pops goes into the bathroom and comes out with a towel. He wipes his sweaty face and arms as he sits in his favorite La-Z-Boy recliner.

“So, whatcha know good?”

I lean back on the couch. “Just working.” I loosen my tie and unbutton the top of my shirt.

“How’s Adrian? She doin’ all right?”

“Yeah, we saw each other this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Pops, I asked her to marry me and she accepted.”

“Congratulations, son!” He leans over and slaps my knee with a big grin on his face. “You sure you ready for that kind of responsibility?”

“Yeah.”

“Taking care of a woman is hard work.” Pops leans back against the chair. “Like a car. If you treat it bad, don’t take care of it, nine times outa ten it will embarrass you in front of folks.”

“I’m ready to try.” I grin. “I think I know how to take care of a car.”

“Sure you do, son.” He laughed. “Did you tell your sister?”

“Yeah, I told her.”

He chuckles a little. “What’d she have to say?”

“The same old stuff. ‘God is going to send his wrath on you for fornicating. It ain’t right,’ ” I say, imitating my sister in a high-pitched voice. It must have been a good one, because Pops breaks out in laughter.

“That girl is something else. You sound just like her.”

“She said she was happy for me even though we weren’t living right.”

“Yup. That’s Shreese.” He wipes his face again. “So, has a date been set?”

“No, she just accepted this morning. She was too excited to do much else besides run home and call her parents. I’m going to let Adrian decide on the date, so when I know, you’ll know.”

“I guess I can look forward to having me some grandbabies to help take up some of the space I have here, huh?”

“I don’t know about that, Pops, because we’re not in a rush to have kids. Adrian talks about it all the time, and I know she wants a family, but she and I really want to be settled in good and have a secure place to raise kids. You may have to keep spending time with old Corduroy out back.” I’m referring to our twelve-year-old Doberman.
Old Corduroy
, I think.
One good eye, deaf, and has a bark that sounds like a turkey’s gobble but faithful to the end
.

“Whatever, I’m expecting to see some little Alstons runnin’ around here. Our family is going to end if you and Shreese don’t buckle down and start acting like regular folk and bring me some grandchildren.”

“There’s always Uncle Bennie’s kids and their children, your greatnieces and -nephews.”

“I ain’t talking about my brother and his family. I’m talking about the Adolphus Roosevelt Alston family. My name has got to go on.”

I look at my dad and let out a nervous laugh.

“Aretha already done had two and she got a third on the way, while you and Shreese running around here working yourselves to death with no one to share or leave your valuables to. Son, it’s important to have a family to come home to and to trust that your name will go on once you leave this place.”

I’m still sitting speechless as he rambles. Lately, Pops has been hell-bent on having grandchildren.

“And B.J.’s girlfriend is expecting too. Even B.J. is contributing to the Alston name surviving.”

“Pops, Bennie Junior don’t count. We all know Stephanie is pregnant by another man.”

“Bennie Junior said he’s going to adopt that child when it’s born.”

“Then I think you should wait and see.”

“Gregory, that’s beside the whole point, which is, when am
I
going to have some grandchildren?”

“Pops, you’ll have to talk to Adrian about that. Or better yet”—I laugh—“talk to Shreese.”

We both break out in laughter.

I end up changing clothes and helping my father finish the yard. When I get back to my place, I’m sweaty, tired, and funky. Sundays are always long days and I anticipate going back to work, where I know there will be something for me to do. When I press the review button on my answering machine, there are four messages:

Beep!

“Greg yo, this Tim. Bring some workout clothes tomorrow. There’s a basketball game at the recreation center and I managed to get a few of us from Data Tech in on it. See you tomorrow.”

Beep!

“Greg honey, this is Adrian. I was just calling to say I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” I say to the machine.

Beep!

“This call is for Gregory Alston. Please call Citibank at 800-555-4021.”

Beep!

“Gregory Bean! This is your Uncle Bennie! I was calling to tell you congrats on your engagement!” He’s laughing like a little kid. “Your daddy sure is a happy camper about this one ’cause you know this will bring some action in his life. Call me, so I can lay down the laws of being head of the household.” Uncle Bennie’s wild laugh rings through the answering machine. “Anyway, keep me up on everything, and if you need me, you know you can call your unc. ’Bye.”

The tape stops and resets itself for new calls. I pull off my shirt and head to the shower. I got to get to work tomorrow and tell my best friend, Tim Johnson, about the engagement. This is almost as scary as telling Shreese.

I
work for Data Tech. It’s a computer consulting firm. It’s been in business for twenty-seven years and it’s a good company to work for. Basically, this company designs private databases for small to medium-sized companies. We just went global last year, and that’s when I got my big promotion to senior corporate recruiter. I design the database presentations and send my teams out to bring in new business. I supervise four groups. When I first started working here, after graduating with a master’s degree in computer information systems from East Texas State University, I was the only African American in my division and there were only six blacks in the building. The company started expanding four years back, and now more than seventy-five percent of the staff are people of color. (I hate to use the word “minority,” because I never viewed people of color and women as minorities.)

Most of the brothers here are cool, but Timothy Johnson is my road dawg. He struts into my office every Monday morning to tell me about his weekend. This time, I got something to share as well.

“Say man, what’s up?” Tim is looking at me like he’s expecting
something. He’s standing in the doorway to my office, as usual. I’m checking out the tie he’s wearing. It’s an ocean-blue silk with yellow and green checks. Goes perfect with his ash-gray suit. He works in accounting and makes good money.

“Nada cool breeze. A long weekend, is all.”

“I hear ya. I went out on a date with Simone Lacy and it was wild.”

“You mean Simone from the finance department upstairs?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Tim comes in and closes my office door. He sits confidently in one of my guest chairs and starts in about his date with Simone. I listen eagerly, as if he’s telling me something I don’t already know. Most of Tim’s stories about women start and end the same: He checks her body out and they end up in the bed.

“Greg, first off, this woman meets me at the Velvet Elvis on McKinney, and she is looking good. Not corporate at all. Black suede skirt that was hugging her ass, low-cut blouse, and pumps that had about a three-inch heel. I’m talking about looking so good that during the entire date, I couldn’t stop thinking about what positions I was going to put her in.”

I chuckled.

“We have some drinks and go back to my place and talk. She holds some cool conversation, too. You know, we go through the usual questions: ‘Are you from Dallas? Where’d you go to school? Do you know such and such and what do you like to do’ kind of stuff, right?”

“Mmnn.” I nod my head in agreement.

“Next thang I know, man, we’re in my bed bumpin’ and grindin’! She was riding the hell out of me! Greg, I have never in my life been turned out like that! It was wild!” Tim has a dazed look on his face and for a brief moment I can tell he’s thinking about specifics and it doesn’t matter if I’m sitting here listening to him or not.

He continues, going on and on about how he had Simone on the edge of the bed screaming his name and then they moved to the hallway and did it on the floor. He pulled up his shirtsleeve to show me the carpet burn on his dark brown forearm and the bite mark on his shoulder. Tim always has some wild and crazy story to share with me after the weekends, and so far this one takes the cake.

“So Simone gets down like that, huh?”

“Supafreak! I had to set another date with her. We’re supposed to go out again on Wednesday.”

“You betta go work out at the gym. Sounds to me like she’s playing to win. You two were doing it rough reggae-style.”

“For real! But yo, check this out. After we did it, she said she had a homegirl—”

I interrupt my friend. “Tim, you know I’m seeing somebody. Speaking of which, I just asked Adrian—”

“Nigga, this ain’t about you.” He laughs. “Simone is talking about a threesome! She’s down with the supernasty dawg! I’m going to have my first ménage à trois!” Tim has raised up out of the chair and is standing before me like he’s the man. His chest is out and his head is up. “I’ve been trying to get to this point since I left grad school.”

“Yo dawg! You’ve finally arrived at the freak nasty phase!” I say to boost his already huge ego. “Congratulations, my man.”

We slap palms two times.

“Greg, I’m about to be Mr. Freak Nasty to the rest of y’all.”

“Hey,” I say in all honesty, “you the man.”

Tim sits on the edge of my desk and looks at me. “So, what did you and Adrian do this weekend?”

“The usual.”

“Greg man, you’re starting to act like my parents used to and it’s scaring me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Renting movies, miniature golf, walks in the park. You and Adrian are too young to be acting like Ma and Pa Kettle.”