#surrounded

  The placement on the plate is real important to me. Make it pretty like. The neckbone juice mingle with the collard green juice and make beautiful music next to the yams. The steam of the yams whisper over to the sweet roll and the corn on the cob kiss on the mashed potatoes, just a lil for the gravy to get jealous and melt the butter on the side of it. I smile down at the plate, but though all this good food made wit love, can't help but smile bout who it’s for.  

    Nimble fingers wrap around one of my good forks and I can barely sit the plate down before it hits the collard greens immediately. I grin, chucklin’ at her eagerness. I make her plate last ‘cause I make it special just for her. The other two don’t much care, long as they eat. “Can I ask you some, Ms. Y/N?” Stack asks. He gawked at me, so I knew what he was bout to say was gon be some bullshit. “Yeah, Stack. Whatcha know?” He waits a minute then glances over at Mo who is silently tearin’ her plate up. I stare back, liftin’ an eyebrow and waitin’ for his mess to spill from those grinnin’ lips. “How come you and Mo get around each other and she get real tender like? Y’all friends?” He leaned back in his chair like he done did somethin’...and I laugh at him. 

Mo don’t say a thang, of course she leave it to me to say it. Her hand move slow now, scoopin’ up her greens real sweet like she savin’ the last bite. She don’t look at me, but she tilt the plate so the neckbone juice run just how I like it. She always had a way of tellin’ me it’s good. She ain’t gotta say thank you. That lil tilt right there, that’s hers and mine. I look back at Stack and he’s grinnin like an ole fool. I roll my eyes and finally tell ‘im what he wanna know. “Naw, Stack. She ain’t my friend. Mo here is my wife.” You’d think he was granted a one way ticket to the gates of heaven. “Whooo weeee…how dat work huh?” I know what he gettin’ at and I raise my eyebrow at him. “Don’t be nasty at my table, hear? Eat ya food and mind ya own…” 

She pause, mid bite into her greens and set her fork down on her plate. A smirk pop up from under her hat, but she wipe it off real quick like with her napkin. I know I ain’t use no words like that around folks. I only tell my papers and ink that she my wife. Cause she is. When Mo taught me to read and write, her name was the first thang I wanna spell. ‘I love you’ was the second, and then she wrote my recipes down fuh me. “My wife…” I whisper silently to where she could only hear. Stack too busy mumblin’ somethin’ over his cornbread he wasn’t even studdin’ us. I only tell my pen and paper she was my wife, so this her first time hearin’ it too. I see those big ole chocolate eyes peek from under that hat and she take it off to look at me. She a fine thang, she is. My lap catch my eye real quick and I hide my smile wit my hand. Shoulders risin’ like the mississippi heat in the middle of the day. She reach for my hand and I hear Stack snicker. ‘Fore he could get the whole wheeze out, Mo reach over and smack the back of his head. Her lips curl in soon as that hand touch that head and it turn Stack snicker into a full blown laugh. Her hand was harsh ‘gainst his head, but the hand that held mine stayed soft and held it with care. 

I never know how she do that, have space in her to hold sweet and fiery in the same body. I can’t be both at the same time, but Mo…she do it so easy. My Lord, what a woman you made. “Nie, I just be playin’ nie. You always got to get to puttin’ them hands on me, Momo.” Stack giggle, knowin’ she don’t like to be called that. I roll my eyes at the both of them and head to make my plate. I set two plates on the table. One in front of me and one across, to Mo right  in the space next to Stack left. Mo felt me ‘fo I even said a thang. She stopped her foolin’ with Stack and look over at me, givin’ my hand a firm squeeze. I nod, lettin her know I’m alright. “Somebody messin’ wit my altar.” I mumble, knowin’ what I’m feelin’. She let go of my hand and get ready to stand up, her eyes lookin at me determined. “Want me to go get him?” She ask me. I shake my head naw, and stand to my feet. “I got him.” She nod and let me head to the back room. He always done that, just like Mo he ain’t gotta say too much to talk to me. Doin’ thangs like touchin’ my altar or movin’ my writin’ book to a safe place when I leave it out. I get to the back room and see him standing back and staring at it. His shoulders fall a bit when he feel me but he don’t turn around. “How y’ be?” He asks, a grumble comin’ in after like it hurt him to talk. “Fine. Whatcha know, Smoke? You in here touchin’ shit again.” I say to him. I saw him come in the house, soon as they got here. He ain’t say a word, he just move about the house, went to wash up and then stayed back here. “Come on and eat.” He shake his head at me. I put my hand on my hip and stare at the back of his head. “Yes ma’am, I will but I need to say some thangs first.” 

He always act like I don’t know first. “Smoke…not now. I need you to come eat and stop worryin’ yo head bout it. You makin’ my skin hum and my bones itch.” He let out a puff of breath from his nose, and get to rubbin’ on the back of his neck. Admittin’ too his worry. “It’s different.” He say, his eyes finally lettin’ themselves fall on me. He turn back and adjust my water bowl on the altar, reachin’ in his jacket pocket against his chest. He pull out Stack’s flask and set it next to the bowl. He reach in his left pant pocket and pull out a bullet. I know for a fact that it came from Mo’s gun. His hum when he slowly step back and stare at it, make me step to him. “I had the dream Smoke, you ain’t gotta worry bout it.” He right though, it is different. That dream shake me awake two nights ago. I reach for Mo knowin she wasn’t there but I reach fo her anyway in that bed. I had to wait two days for them to finally get back. “Come on in here and eat like I say, hear?” He ain’t wait this time. He carry his ass on in there, lookin’ back at the altar one more time, fixin’ his jacket to his shoulders and tippin’ his hat, and carried on to the table. 

Mo look at him when he get to the table, then she look at me standin’ in the hall. She stare and I stare back, my hands on the lap of my dress to keep ‘em from shakin’. She look at my hands and walk right on out the door and to the porch. She sit in the stool next to my rockin’ chair and wait, lookin’ out into the field, just waitin’ on me. When I reach the porch and sit down, it feel like the air achin’. She turn to me and rest her hands on my knees, rubbin’ the cloth of my dress and starin’ up at me with her eyebrows to the sky. “I ain’t gon make you say what it is. I don’t want you cryin’. Been a week I seen ya face and I don’t wanna see it all turnt up.” She say, her voice was low and it seemed like she was chastisin’ and lovin’ on me all in one breath. “You ain’t said nothin, and you carrying it all in yo knees. Hell, even the ground feel different when you walk past me.” I let the air out my mouth and look out toward the field. Mo stretch her legs out and wiggle her shoulders a bit, like she getting ready to lift the heaviness of my burdens that come from my words. “A dream I had…few nights ago. Somethin’ on the way and I don’t like it.” It feel so real  now that its been told. She look at me, and I know what that mean. She wanna raise hell. Not the loud and fiery kind like Stack, not the mad and ‘gressive kind like Smoke…the kind like Mo. Kind that make your skin crawl, no questions asked about it. I feel her hands tighten on the back of my knees a lil bit, but she ain’t hurtin’ me. See, Mo know what her hell is. Mo been knew that, and she learn to point it toward whatever try to give her some more. That mind of hers, ten thousand angry men ain’t ready fuh. 

“Hol’ on nie, Mo baby. Fuh you get there, this ain’t somethin’ we can just stop and it be alright. We all know it.” and that’s the truth, We can’t jus beat this up and it go away. 

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The mornin’ comes and I wake up next to Mo, bones heavy, heart achin’. She lay there, lookin’ at me. I know she woke up before me, she always do. Like a guard, waitin’ at the gates of my dreams to pull me outta the dark if I go too far. Her face all frowned up and I just look at her. I wait for the three lil knocks of Stack’s knuckle on my door. I hear his groanin’ and he get on up. Feet tryna be quiet but the wood in the flo’ betray ‘im every time. And there he go…knock, knock, knock. “Come on…” I already seen it in his eyes. I knew it the moment they landed on me. I remember that look in his eyes the night at the Juke, and I knew what was coming. “Whatcha know, Stack?” I feel Mo ‘gainst my back, her hand ground me and I breathe into it. “P-Preacha Boy on da porch.” He mumbles. He look at me like a chile that jus’ got tol’ to ‘poligize to God. Mo spring up out the bed, and I don’t move. She put on her robe and holster and head straight out the room and to the porch. I stare back at Stack. “What he say to ya?” I sigh out. He got that look of loss. First time ever, Stack was speechless and I knew everythang was wrong right then. I get out to the porch fast as I could, gown on and all. I feel the morning sun and my silk. Mo standin’ there, her shoulders high, her face firm and plain. Preacha Boy stare back, they havin’ a conversation wit they eyes. ‘Fore I can say anythang, Preacha Boy get to spillin’ over like a boilin’ pot wit too much water.

“Mary… she make it to the Promised land and she hurtin’ folks every day that I ain’t come get y’all.” I close my eyes, I ain’t surprised. I know it when he said it, that’s what I been feelin’. I feel Stack sorrow on my back, it creep up my neck and rise in my shoulder…and then he come out the door and on da porch. My words wuddn’t gon’ help a thang. So, I just stand there. I let the air out my chest. “What she want?” I ask ‘im. He don’t wanna look at me. “She said she want what’s hers. She ask fuh you…Ms. Y/N.” I hear Mo gun cock, her hand on it in her holster still. She begin to mess wit it, like she waitin’ to find somethin’ to hurt fuh me. Then, I smell it. I pull Mo arm back and move her behind me toward the door. Preacha Boy step further on da porch and Stack jus freeze like he feel it ‘fore he smell it. Vanilla, lavender, and iron. It smell like pretty death. Preacha Boy got to mumblin’ apologies, hands shakin’ and all. Mo eyes get wide, lookin’ at me. “Ev’rybody gone in the house, nie. Go on.” I feel her, an’ she know I do. The smell get stronger, and I look back out into the field an’ see her standing there, lookin’ at me. Mary…in broad daylight.