Be Silent: Chapter 3 - Be Silent

King Harbor, Redondo Beach, CA is one of my favorite places in the city. When I was little, my dad used to bring my mom and I here for crab legs every Sunday. Some memories I had of him are lost, but not this. Now that he’s gone, my mother brings me here every year for my birthday.

My mother has been acting shady towards me over the last 5 years because when Big Momma got diagnosed with cancer, I chose to move out of her house to live with my grandmother. The funny shit about it is, my mother only lives three blocks from Big Momma, so I’m always at her house too. My grandmother lives on the 4 and Pulaski, my mother lives on the 7 and Pulaski. It is what it is, my mother has always been petty like that towards my grandmother.

If you know my mother, she’s always fly. She is the type of woman that doesn’t go to the grocery store without getting dressed, for real. To be honest, while some women might get fly to impress others, my mother truly does it for herself. I think she may have had low self esteem growing up, and now, dressing up makes her feel good, like therapy. Either way, fashion is definitely one of her passions.

Surprisingly, she’s been celibate since my dad died. I don’t know if it’s guilt or if she truly thought he was her soulmate, but she hasn’t been with anyone since at least December 4 of that year. Rumors in the hood started floating around that my mother is gay now, but I had to shut that shit down immediately. Anyone that was running with that narrative, and I found out, got checked with the quickness, if not their ass beat or pistol whipped. I didn’t care how much weight your name did or didn’t hold in the hood, it was open season, male or female if you spread false rumors about my mother.

Another thing you should know about my mother is that she’s always before time. There’s no CP time with her. If she tells you 2:30 pm, she’s already been at the spot since 2:00 pm waiting for you. I roll up and she’s sitting on the patio of Anna Belle’s Parish, a Cajun kitchen, looking as beautiful as ever. She’s rocking a fluffy afro with designer aviator glasses covering her face. Her caramel complexion is glistening in the Southern California sunlight and her Rouge lip gloss has left an imprint on the wine glass she’s sipping from.

She stands up to greet me as I arrive at the table. “Happy birthday Blood,” she says convincingly, channeling all the hood swag that she possessed back in the day.

“Thank you. Love you,” I respond as I hug her tightly like I haven’t seen her in weeks, when I just saw her two days ago.

“Look at your hair, it’s really growing,” she says admiring my freshly retwisted locks, rubbing her fingers through them.

“Mom, stop acting like I just kame back from kollege or something. I’m in the hood everyday just like you.”

She starts laughing hilariously and kisses me on the cheek before saying, “How’s Mrs. Thornton, how’s Princess?”

“They’re good, we had an amazing breakfast this morning,” I respond as my mother sits down and I scoot her chair in.

“Why thank you handsome, I appreciate that.”

I sat down and told my mother, “Big Momma said hello.”

“I need to kall her, or better yet, kome visit.”

“Yea, you do need to kome and visit. I don’t know why you be tripping because I live with her now.”

“Ain’t nobody jealous of you or her. I bet if I knew the recipe for that chicken sausage scramble you like so much, you’d be back with your real mama, not your Big Momma.”

“I be at your krib all the time, stop with the shenanigans.”

“You don’t be there enough, how about that? You’re supposed to be my protector Gary. Do you know how many of those skanless ass Pulaski niggas be trying to holler at me? Ew, it makes my skin krawl. These niggas watched they brother, they homie die on that basketball court and still try to holler at his widow?”

“Mom, widow is going too far, but I feel you. So, who has been trying to holler at you?”

“Listen, it doesn’t matter. Plus, I don’t want you out here trying to katch a body because you feel like someone is disrespecting me or your daddy.”

“Mom, how I’m gone get mad that a nigga trying to holler at you. You look good as hell. Them old niggas thinking with they penis, not they brains. And it’s been almost 16 years, what do you expect them to do?”

“Mind they business.”

“What are you drinking, you need another one?”

“I ain't one of your little flips, don’t be trying to get me drunk.”

I laugh out loud at that response and reply, “Mom, you can park your kar here overnight or I kan get you a room in Hermosa or Manhattan.”

“See, Mrs. Thornton spoiling your ass. How much money did she give you today? You know what, I don’t even want to know because that’s why you like being over there, they don’t make you work for shit! They just give you everything.”

“Big Momma has given you money before too. Stop kapping.”

“You know what, you’re right. Where’s our server, I do need another drink. You, Princess, Mrs. Thornton, all y’all about to get on my nerves. It’s like you chose them over me Little G.”

“I love you mom,” I say as I smile and wink at her.

“That shit doesn't work with me anymore. Same shit your daddy used to do. Y’all Thornton’s are some manipulative muthafuckas.”

“Mom, it’s my B-Day, relax and let me be great.”

“I want you to kome home, you’ve been over there long enough.”

“Why are you tweaking? You know I be there with you all the time.”

“How many times do I have to tell you Gary, twice a week isn’t enough. Now, if you were gone away to kollege or the military or some shit like that I kan understand, but you live right down the street and I see you on average twice, maybe three times a week. That’s unacceptable.”

“Mom, you need a boyfriend. Seriously, I’m going to forward a link to some dating apps, so you kan start getting back to some type of normalcy. I miss dad just as much as you do, but you kan’t be holding out to prove you’re loyal to someone that’s not here. Live your life, you have my blessing.”

“I’m moving!”

“Wait, what the fuck?” I ask in a tone that expresses a sense of frustration.

“Yup, I’m moving to Charlotte. I’m klosing on my kondo down there in 30 days. You, your grandma and your auntie kan have each other. I’m out. I don’t have time for this shit anymore.”

“Mom, I don’t have time to be playing games with you,” I seriously convey to her as I rub my hand through my locks and sigh.

As I am processing what she has just told me, I get an alert on my smartphone. “I sent you a link to the documents I signed today. Think I’m bullshitting if you want to,” she asserts as she sips the last of the wine in her glass.

I look over the documents and it takes everything I have within me to not blow the fuck up. She is really moving to Charlotte, or at least she has really purchased a condo out there. That’s fucked up, she did this shit without telling me or consulting me. Instead of tripping, I excuse myself and go to the restroom. I get to the restroom and try to punch a hole through the stall door. She went there, knowing I’d have to choose between her and Big Momma. Told you she’s been on some bullshit lately.

My hand is a little sore from punching the stall, but it’ll be ok. It’s my emotions that I am uncertain about at this moment. If my mother moves to Charlotte, I have no choice but to move with her. I can’t allow her to move 2,400 miles to the other side of the country without me. She has gone too far this time and I don’t know what to say to her. And she pulls this shit on my birthday. Of all days to pull this shit, she picks today.

I immediately get on the phone and call Jessika. She answers on the second ring, “Happy B-Day Lil G, can’t wait to see you later.”

“That’s what I’m kalling for, we have to postpone our dinner date, something kame up.”

“Whoa, we can’t postpone G, this is something that has to happen today.”

“I kan’t, no disrespect.”

“Gary, this meeting is bigger than you think, you can’t postpone it. Do I need to come and fix something for you? Because if I do, I can be on my way now, but our meeting today is off the table for postponement.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means what I said it means. As long as you’re breathing, conscious and free, there’s no postponing shit. I hate to put it like that but it is what it is.”

“Naw, I don’t need you to fix anything. I’ll be there, no worries.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your understanding, my love.”

“Alright, peace.”

Jessika has never turned up on me like that before. Whatever she has going on must be extremely important. It’s actually disturbing in some ways how she talked to me because to see someone in a different light for the first time can be scary. I’m a gangsta and I almost feel like she was punking me. First Princess, then my mother, now Jessika, three women that I love to death acting weird today of all days. The only normal acting female in my life is Big Momma.

My phone starts ringing. I look at it and it’s my mother. I pick up, “Where are you? The krab legs are here.”

“I had to make a phone kall, give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”

“Ok. Don’t be too long.”

After second thought, if I had to draw a line in the sand, in all honesty, I’m choosing my Big Momma. That’s my decision. My dad would do the same. Yes, my mother is my mother, and I love her to death, but I can’t take her bullshit right now. My Big Momma would never pull the stunt my mother pulled. I’m confident in my position now, especially after getting banged on by Jessika. My mother can go to Charlotte, fuck it.

I arrive back at the table and the crab legs look amazing. Steam is still rising from them to the heavens, carrying the cajun seasoning mixed with buttery goodness. I’m calm, my mother looks nervous as if she has just gone all in at a poker tournament. My silence will call her bluff. The server passes by and asks if everything is ok. I reply yes and ask that she bring me a shot of Anejo Tequila.

I crack open a crab leg, claw first, and I can barely hide my excitement. I take the large chunk of crab meat and dip it in the cajun butter provided and it melted in my mouth. It’s something about eating with my hands that brings back memories of my childhood. For instance, I’m pissed as hell at my mother right now, but I’m looking at her in this moment the way I looked at her when I was five years old.

She gets a pass while I’m eating, after lunch I’ll tell her to have a nice life in Charlotte if that’s where she wants to be. Meanwhile, her triple bib has me dying inside. One bib covers her right shoulder, another bib covers the left shoulder and the third bib covers her chest. She is not fucking any of her clothes up, at all.

Two shots and two pounds of crab legs later, I’m done. I’ve almost forgotten that my mother pulled the bullshit she pulled with the ‘I’m moving to Charlotte’ fiasco. If that’s what she wants, that’s what she’ll get.

It’s approaching 5:00 pm and I am supposed to be in Century City by 7:00 pm. It’s Thursday during rush hour and I’m hoping there are some gaps in traffic that’ll get me where I need to be before I’m supposed to be there. I get up, kiss my mom goodbye and walk towards the car. I got my head on a swivel because The Suckas be up here at the Redondo Pier sometime. Can’t get caught slipping.

No need for GPS, I’ll take Sepulveda until I get to Culver City. Once I get to Culver City, I’ll hop on Overland to Olympic on my journey to Century City. Century City is known as a banking and legal district in the City of Los Angeles. At one point, Century City was the hotspot for celebrities when the Century Club was in operation. Now, it’s a low key spot to chill and stay out of the way.

I’m meeting Jessika at The Beverly Glen Cafe, a chic Tapas restaurant known as a paparazzi hangout because of the influx of Hollywood elites in the area. Apparently, they have amazing food, I’ve heard their mini empanadas are off the chain. I’m full for the day, so I might just have a drink or two. No need to be a glutton.

Not bad, it only took a little over an hour and a half to get to Century City. Traffic wasn’t as bad as I anticipated. Rolled up to the valet, got out of the car and handed one of the guys my keys in exchange for a ticket. Received a text from Jessika that she’s already at the spot, all I have to do is give the hostess her name and they’ll lead me to the table.

“I’m here to meet with Jessika Green,” I tell the short chubby hostess that’s wearing an all black dress, a thin black sweater and black shoes.

She smiles, showing straight bright white teeth and says, “Right this way sir.”

As I’m following her, I notice she has a tattoo of the seven chakras on the back of her neck, going down her spine, in color. It stood out to me right away because my therapist used to recommend I do yoga. There was a yoga instructor in Leimert Park that I went to on a few occasions. She had a poster on the wall showing the exact shapes, alignment and colors on this young lady's neck.

Arriving at the table, Jessika has a guest with her. He’s a slender white man, silver hair, silver beard and a mild natural looking tan. On the chair directly across from him is a premium brown leather messenger bag. Jessika gets up from her chair, walks around the table and gives me a hug.

“Happy birthday, so good to see you made it to 21,” she said as she embraced me tightly, both hands wrapped around my back.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I say right before I kiss her on the cheek.

After unlocking our embrace, she introduces her guest, “Gary this is Mr. Goldman, Mr. Goldman, this is Gary.”

He stands up, reaches across the table and extends his hand to shake mine, “Nice to meet you Gary. As Jessika said, I'm Mr. Goldman, Phillip Goldman.”

“Likewise,” I say with a firm grip of his hand, careful to look him directly in the eyes.

Everyone sits down after the introduction and there’s a weird silence, momentarily. There’s a wine glass and a chilled bottle of sparkling mineral water in front of me. I open the water and pour approximately four ounces into the wine glass. In a metal bowl to the right of the water bottle are several lime wedges, which I help myself to. That’s when Mr. Goldman goes right into his spiel.

“The reason I’m here Gary is because I represented your father in some business matters when he was alive. There are some extremely important documents that your father wanted you to receive on your 21st birthday and I’m here to deliver them.”

“What type of documents are we talking about?”

“Some financial docs and a few other things. One of the documents requires you sign an NDA or a non-disclosure agreement,” he’s telling me, reaching over the table to retrieve his bag.

He produces a 10 x 15 inch white envelope and prior to handing it to me, he produces a clipboard with the non-disclosure agreement attached to it. I look it over and it basically says that the contents of the envelope I am about to receive shall remain confidential for the rest of my life. Also, it outlines the consequences if I were ever to violate the agreement. Jessika signs the document after me, as the witness, and then Mr. Goldman hands the sealed, tamper free envelope over.

“Go ahead, read the document inside,” he instructed me. “That’s the way your dad wants this meeting to go. Read that first, then you get your money.”

My anxiety level is off the charts. From a small child, I’ve used silence as a coping mechanism. I named myself Silent when I jumped off the porch and started banging the hood. Now, 16 years after I attended my very first Hood Day, my dad is making me sign an agreement that swears me to silence about something before I even know what the fuck it is. Here goes everything, I take a deep breath and open the letter.

“Dear Gary, this letter was to be delivered to you on your 21st birthday in the case that I didn’t get to see you make the big 2-1. I’m not one for long drawn out stories, so I’ll get right to it. You are not my son, you are my younger brother. You are now the second living person that knows this truth, the only other being your mother.

“Your mother and I were best friends growing up, and she was always around the house. I never suspected anything was going on between her and our father until one day I came home early from school and a pair of her shoes were at the front entrance of the house. They must not have heard me come in because they continued doing what they were doing.

“It didn’t take long before I realized what was going on as I entered the den. Long story short, they were in the act of having sex. I was mad at our dad for the longest, but I knew I had to protect him out of loyalty because your mother was only 16 at the time. No way was I going to tell on my daddy, I had to be silent. About a month or so later, she finds out she’s pregnant. Now, we had to double down on the lie to cover it up and say she was pregnant by me.

“We played our roles and played them well because when you came out, you were a spitting image of the old man. We just blamed it on strong family genes and everyone fell for it hook, line and sinker. After he died, I vowed I would not leave this earth without letting you know the truth. You are never to repeat this to anyone, ever! Now please place this letter back into the envelope and hand it back to the attorney.”

What the fuck is this, a bad joke? My stomach feels hollow, like I never ate this morning or a couple of hours ago. I place the letter back into the envelope and hand it back to Mr. Goldman. Jessika is looking at me trying to read my face, a blank stare covering it. She doesn’t know what I just read, however, I’m sure she assumes it wasn’t good. Mr. Goldman grabs a portable paper shredder from his bag and inserts the letter through its blades, destroying any evidence of what was revealed to me.

How could my mother keep this charade up this long? What stings the most is the realization that I’m not technically related to Big Momma. That’s not even a thought I’m ever going to entertain again, ever! Fuck, Gary, why’d you have to do me like this on my 21st birthday. I bet this wasn’t what Bishop Abraham was talking about when he said I need to be born again. This is a born again brain fuck.

Yeah, I definitely have to get up with Cheyenne tonight, have a few drinks, smoke some weed and try to take my mind off this. I can’t tell my brothers, I mean my nephews about this. I can’t even tell my own mother that I know the truth, and this is her fucking fault in the first place. Knowing her ass, she’ll never come clean. That’s probably why she wants to move to Charlotte. I hope this shit is eating away at her. Now I see why Gary had sudden cardiac arrest, too much for his heart to take.

And grandpa, what the fuck, my real pops died of cancer. Niggas ain’t gone kill me. I might go vegan or keto or something so I don’t get all sick. Can’t have my body breaking down on me at a young age because I gotta hold this shit in. At least those bastards left me $100,000. I excuse myself from the table, grab my check and this manual, a notebook looking thing that Gary left me and tell Jessika goodbye.

“Nice doing business with you Mr. Goldman,” I tell him, walking fast toward the exit and chunking the deuces.