Beautiful Ones

We live off of Lonesome Road. There are no streetlights. Our only neighbor, Mr. Janks, lives a quarter of a mile down the road. Him speaking to us is a slight nod of his head while blasting Velvet 105.5 blues from his pickup truck. At night the darkness is thick and has teeth. My brother Stinney disappeared on an early Summer night. It was chilly, like Spring’s last stand. The school year was over. Stinney strutted around the house saying “a senior lives here. You better recognize!” Pook was graduating that next Saturday. He was our cousin and Stinney’s best friend. Pook’s mama Aunt Letta was Mama’s middle sister. They came to town after the storms hit Louisiana. Pook’s exaggerated vowels kept him connected to home. Girls at school loved when he said “hey bee-beh.” Pook’s a year older than Stinney and biscuit and fatback thick. Never seen without his Polo boots, Pook had locs with blonde tips that Mama demanded he tie back when he visited.

“You look messy, boy,” she fussed after a loc hit her in the eye when Pook hugged her. “Aintee, it’s just hair,” Pook laughed and swung his head. Mama raised her hands in front of her to avoid being hit.

“Tie ‘em up, Pook!”

As usual, he invited Stinney to come to the graduating senior party along with their friend Beanie. Beanie drank moonshine that his Daddy hid behind old paint cans in their garage. I tried some once. It tasted how I thought paint thinner smelled. Beanie thought he was a man. But when he drank, Beanie never came to our door to say hello. He was scared of Mama. And Mama was an equal opportunity ass whooper. That night, I sat pouting on the porch. I was a rising junior and Mama wouldn’t let me go with them to the party. Pook grabbed my cheek between his index and middle finger and pinched twice.

“Sup cuzzo? What’s wrong bee-beh?”

“I can’t go to the party.” My lip pouted in protest. Pook laughs. He smells like Polo Red and shea butter.

He calls past me to Stinney.

“C’mon my dude! We late! I gotta make an entrance!”

At Home.

© Siyaka Taylor-Lewis.

Stinney yells from the top of the stairs. Mama comes to the doorway. She looks at me and smirks.

“Put that lip up girl! It’s not your time yet.”

“Why Stinney get to go Mama? Is it HIS time?”

“He’s a senior.”

“He JUST GOT TO BE A SENIOR! Six hours ago!”

“Who you talking to?” She stares at me from the side of her eye. I shut my mouth. Stinney rushes past me and pushes my head to the side.

“Mama, she can go. She’ll be with us all night.” Stinney shrugs and and winks.

“Other girls will be there.”

“Hoes in training,” Mama said.

Pook coughs and covers his mouth to hide his laugh.

“Mama!” She ignores him and digs her hands into her hips.

“Boy, you lucky I’m letting your lil’ ass go. Pook too!” Pook throws his hands in front of his chest and shakes his head. “I’m not in it!”

Stinney’s eyes widen and his mouth rounds into an “o.” His hand moves to the back of his head and pushes it to the front. Stinney puts his hand on my head. He smelled like the barbershop and I could still see fresh cuts kissing his temple and forehead. The razor was too sharp. Stinney stuffed his free hand in his pocket.

“Where ya’ll going again?”

“The Springs, Mama.”

“Text me when you get there.” She looks past them into the car in our driveway. Faint basslines thrum from its trunk. “That’s your car Pook?”

“Yes ma’am. Just got it today!”

“Mmmhmm. Letta said she was gone get you that car.” Mama shades her eyes like it’s bright outside. “Where’s Beanie?” On cue, a hand waves from the passenger side...