Page 16 of Gang of Roses: Dice

“Would you shut the hell up?” I said, laughing while pinching Revv’s cheek. Coca was always talking shit, especially when it came to my big ass booty. This thing would have you thinking I got on a table, but this is homegrown, and the thighs definitely matched.

“What you been doing, mommy baby?”

“Sleep and blocks.”

“Oh, you played with your blocks?”

“Mmmm hmm.”

“Nope. Use your words,” I demanded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

Regardless of what, I didn’t play that nodding or mumbling. I wanted my son to be the best and have the best.

“When was the last time he ate?” I asked Coca.

“Girl, don’t do me. I cooked Alfredo chicken, sweet peas, and made a fresh salad.”

“That’s what got it smelling good in here.”

“You already know how I do.”

That was true. Coca could cook his ass off, and he took damn good care of my son. Truth be told, I didn’t know where I’d be without him, and I was pretty sure he felt the same way about me.

Coca wasn’t just my first cousin, our mothers being sisters, but life made us more like brother and sister than anything else.

I would never forget the night that happened. The night laughter turned into tears.

We had spent the weekend at our grandparents’ house. We were waiting for our mothers to pick us up. That evening, they must have called because we heard Granny Day in the kitchen fussing on the house phone.

“Y’all better have y’all asses back here before ten, and I ain’t playing. These damn kids gotta go to school. If ya’ll late, I’m on y’all heads,” She threatened.

Me and Coca stood in the doorway trying not to laugh.

Old folks cussing was funny as hell because half the time they sounded both serious and ridiculous. Like Granny Day, you always threaten folks, but what exactly was she planning to do with that fly swatter and wet dish towel?

We got our answer the second Pop Pop stumbled through the front door drunk. Granny Day wore his ass out with a mean combo.

In the midst of her beating Pop Pop, she was fussing at us to take our non-hiding asses and get our showers started. Me and Coca laughed so hard our stomachs hurt.

Going to our grandparents' house was the highlight of our childhood. There was always laughter there. Always noise. Always love. Our mothers were dope, but our grandparents were pure entertainment.

At midnight, there were no signs of our mothers. It went from Granny-Day fussing to her flat out, pacing the floor back and forth. It had gotten so late that Coca had fallen asleep, and my eyelids were getting heavy. Just as my eyes were about to close, there was a round of heavy knocks at the front door. I nudged Coca, and Granny Day went to get the door.

Our lives were never the same after those knocks.

That night, an officer told us our mothers had been leaving a club when a fight broke out between two men over a woman. The bouncers broke the fight up and thought everything was under control, but it wasn’t.

One of the men went to his car, grabbed a gun, and started firing wildly, hitting the partygoers. Five people died that night, including our mothers. My mother died at the scene, and Coca’s mama died on the way to the hospital.

The officer said they had parked near where the fight took place. They probably thought it was safe to go to their car once the bouncers stepped in. They never knew they were walking straight into the line of fire.

Our worlds were shattered, and at that moment, no one knew who to comfort. We were all just so broken, but when our grandmother dropped to her knees and let out a gut-wrenching scream, that did it. The sound that ripped through her lungs rang like an alarm clock in my ears for years. The sound was so earth-shaking, it was core-rocking. It was the first time I truly witnessed the cries of a mother.

That night stayed with me for years. Granny Day didn’t just lose one child that night; she lost two, and we were left motherless. Granny Day was never the same after that. It felt like she aged overnight. The fly swatter disappeared. The wet dish rag disappeared. The sounds of Luther stopped playing through the house while she two-stepped around the kitchen with Pop Pop. The smell of homemade pecan pie no longer greeted us at the front door.