Page 13 of Betrothed To Love

SIX

By the time I swing by The Metropolitan, get my shit, officially check out, and drive back to Diamond Falls, it’s almost seven. When I pull into my parents’ driveway in Brunswick Meadows, I spot my brother Shiro walking out of the front door. He sees me and stops on the porch.

I have four brothers in total and I’m the last born. There’s a fifteen-year age gap between me and my oldest brother, Ace, and four years between me and Shiro. Deuce and Tre fall in the middle. A true Hausa man, my father, Asali, wanted a big family. Thankfully, my Black American mom agreed because they had five boys.

“What up, bruh?” Shiro calls out when I step out of my ride and I nod. Once in front of him, we dap and hug. “Shuga told me you got Ace out. I called that nigga but he didn’t answer.”

“He’s probably sleeping. He didn’t sleep at all up in there,” I say.

“Shit! I wouldn’t’ve slept either. Thank God we got a damn attorney in the fam,” he says and I smile.

“You leaving?”

“Hell yeah. I’m full and ready to lay up with something thick and fine,” he says before dapping me again.

I married something thick and fine, I think with a smile but keep my thoughts to myself. When I figure out how and when to tell my fam, it’ll be at one time. I’m not trying to explain this shit I barely comprehend more than once.

“Shuga cooked?” I ask just before he walks to his ride.

“She threw down. Asali wanted Zongo and she made it,” he says and I smile. Zongo is a bomb ass Hausa stew made with spices, beef, and love. It’s Asali, mine, and my brothers’ favorite traditional dish. She normally only makes it on holidays and birthdays.

“With the black eyed peas and rice?” I ask.

“All of it. The fried plantains too.”

“Damn, if she cooked that today, what the hell we gon’ have for Sunday dinner?” I wonder.

“Barbeque. She definitely said she ain’t cooking Sunday. We grilling,” Shiro says.

“Nah, nigga. Y’all grilling,” I say before opening the front door and walking in. The wonderful smells of the stew attack my nose in a good ass way as soon as I enter. It’s perfect timing too because today has been a mutha and all I had to eat was that pastry I grabbed in Mireya’s chambers. My wife’s chambers. I still can’t get over this shit.

“Quintus,” Asali’s deep voice calls, causing me to look up at the staircase.

“Barka da yamma,” I respond, telling him good evening in his native tongue. Although me and my brothers were all born and raised right here in Diamond Falls, Asali tried to preserve a lot of his Nigerian roots. We are far from fluent in Hausa but we know the basic greetings.

“Ina wuni,” he returns, basically asking how my day was.

“Good but long. I’m hungry and I smell Zongo. As soon as I check in on Niya, I’m hitting that kitchen up,” I say, referring to my four-year-old baby girl.

My parents help me out with my daughter while I work. I didn’t trust daycare and my mother wasn’t having that shit anyway. Until she started Pre-K, Shuga kept her, and now she keeps her after school. My baby girl is the only girl in the family, and my parents… hell, my whole family, adores her.

Shuga has always been a stay-at-home mom. After raising us boys, she moved right into Nana mode, helping with my first nephew. Deuce had him at fifteen then Ace had his twins, Hassan and Hussain. Deuce has three boys altogether—Travon, Deric, and Twon—and Tre has Tre Junior, TJ. Shuga was surrounded by men until Niya came along, and after Niya was born, Shuga was obsessed. She even named her Sarauniya, which means queen in Hausa.

“That baby is knocked out. She called herself helping Shuga cook, then she ate and went to sleep on the couch. I just put her to bed. Go eat. Your brothers have already been by,” he says once he’s down the stairs. After patting me on my back with one hand, he says, “I’m glad you got your brother out. Now, you just gotta get him outta that bullshit.”

“I know, Asali. I got him.”

“I know it, son. Go see Shuga before she comes out here yelling. You know she heard you come in,” he says before stepping into the living room.

“I do,” I admit as I journey to the kitchen. When I walk in, she’s at the stove spooning some stew onto a plate. I step to her and kiss her cheek. “What you doing, Shuga?” I ask and she grins.

“Fixing you a plate. Wash your hands and sit,” she says and I damn near run to the sink. “You saw your brother leaving?” she asks.

“Yeah, outside right before he left.”

“You came right on time ’cause the twins ’bout to come get the rest of this. They go back to school Monday, so I made this for them, but Asali thinks it’s for him. Don’t tell him I told you.”

“As long as I get some, I won’t say shit,” I admit and she grins again.