A Family Affair

by Marcus Major

Genres: African American; Family Life; African American Romance

Synopsis

Meet the Moores. Mom, dad, in-laws, all of them loving, fighting, staying together, and falling apart. As generations collide, as personal and professional lives intersect and combust, a stunning secret comes to light-and cuts deep into the heart of what really makes and breaks a family.

Release date: January 4, 2005

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 256

Sample

chapter 1

On the way to his seat in the den, Leonard Moore threw a playful punch at his youngest son, Myles, hitting him square in the chest. He drew his fist back, impressed.

“Hey,” Leonard said as he settled onto the couch next to Amir, “your brother has been working out.”

Amir took a sip of his soda and scoffed. “He should have plenty of energy to work out.” He eyed Myles contemptuously. “Some of us have to do real work.”

Leonard laughed and looked proudly at Myles. “Tell him, son, you work hard. Not only are you a teacher, you’re a writer.”

“Aaah, oh.” Amir set the glass back onto the coffee table, “I almost forgot, this man here is a wordsmith,” he said grandly. “Do you want me to tell you what you are?” Myles asked smartly. He picked up the remote off the arm of the chair and turned to the other NFL pregame show.

“Uh-oh, ’Mir,” Leonard said playfully, “you better calm down before Myles puts it on you.”

Amir found the notion preposterous. “I don’t care how much this cat swells up, Pop. He’ll always be little brother to me.” Amir cracked his knuckles showily.

Myles had long ago perfected the practice of ignoring Amir, but Leonard laughed so loudly that it made Myles chuckle. Ever since they were kids, their father loved pitting them against each other. Myles just shook his head as he concentrated on what the commentator was saying about the Raiders-Chiefs game to be played later that day.

“I don’t know, ’Mir,” Leonard said, enjoying himself too much to let it go. “He’s a big dude.”

“Puh-lease,” Amir said, “what’s he gonna do, Pop? Backspace me to death?” Amir lifted his leg up defensively and cringed. “Put me in the dreaded parentheses?”

Leonard was now roaring. Margaret Eva Moore came into the den, quickly surveyed the room, and walked over to the coffee table, where she slid a coaster under Amir’s drink.

“Don’t y’all have anything better to do than mess with Myles?” she asked.

“Sadly, Mom, they don’t,” Myles said. “It’s the only respite they have from their monotonous, inconsequential tedium of an existence.”

Amir’s eyes widened. “Duck, Pop! He’s gonna big word us to death.” Amir lifted his forearm. “Thesaurus-shields up!”

Even Myles and Peggy were now laughing. Peggy eyed Leonard’s near empty glass.

“You want something else to drink, Lenny?”

“Yeah,” he snarled, “I would like to have something else to drink, but you won’t let me have a beer in my own house.”

His father’s tone, Myles noticed, seemed unnecessarily nasty. He looked over at Amir. Apparently, he didn’t think much of it because he was busily munching on a handful of potato chips. Myles looked up at his mother.

She let Leonard’s rudeness go. “So would you like iced tea, juice, or soda?” Peggy asked patiently.

Before Leonard answered, he noticed Myles’ gaze on him. When he spoke this time, the surliness was gone. “No, Peg, I’m fine.”

She turned and walked back into the kitchen. After waiting a minute or two, only to not look so obvious, Myles finished his soda, got up, and walked out of the room in search of his wife. Peering out into the backyard, Myles spotted Marisa and his cousin Jasmine sitting at the wooden picnic table. They were watching his twin eight-year-old nieces put on a karate exhibition. Myles chuckled at the seriousness etched on Deja’s and Jade’s faces as they went through a series of martial arts moves on the mat.

Marisa applauded enthusiastically. Jasmine, keeping in line with a proper teenager’s sense of blasé regarding everything in the world, mustered a few claps. Myles also noticed that Jasmine was following her dictum of wearing the most provocative clothing allowed. Half of her back was showing because of her low-slung jeans and her tight blouse. Recently turned seventeen and on the cusp of womanhood, it seemed to Myles that only a minute ago Jasmine was the twins’ age.

She was also on the cusp of giving her Aunt Peggy a heart attack. Since Jasmine’s mother had had another relapse and was locked up on drug charges, Jasmine was living with Myles’ parents. Despite the fact that Myles tried to warn her, she tested Peggy often. His mother was a sweet lady and all, but she was always a short trip away from blacking out when it came to disrespectful children. Apparently, from what Myles had been hearing of late, Jasmine wasn’t heeding his warning. Maybe because she didn’t believe him. Maybe because she didn’t think she was still a child, but rather an adult on equal footing with her aunt.

If that was the case, she was in for a rude awakening.

“Not bad, not bad,” Myles said as he stepped out into the backyard. “There were some areas that need improvement, though.”

“You know karate, Uncle Myles?” Deja asked, catching her breath.

“What?” Myles looked around dramatically. “You betta ask somebody!”

So Jade did. “Does Uncle Myles know karate, Aunt Marisa?” “Um, no,” she replied.

“You betta ask somebody else,” Myles railed. “I’m a master. In fact . . .” Myles looked around. “Too bad there are no cinder blocks for me to break into two.” He cracked his knuckles like Amir had done earlier.

“I’ll find one, if you like,” Jasmine offered smugly.

“Of course,” Myles continued, keeping his attention on the girls, “since you two are just starting, I know y’all don’t want any of me. If you did, I would teach you a thing or two . . . or three or four. “

“Oh, really?” Deja asked.

“Yeah, really.”

“Well, don’t sing it, bring it,” Jade said.

Myles began slipping out of his boots. “Well, I’m not in competition form, but I suppose I can wing it.”

“And when they break your arm, I suppose we can sling it,” Marisa chimed.

Myles stepped onto the mat and faced the twins. Smiling, he bowed grandly to them. Their response was fixed determination.

“All right,” Myles said, “let’s do this. . . .”

Fwoomp!

“Get up, come on . . . get up.”

Having missed the mat while taking his pratfall, Myles was laid out in the backyard next to a pile of leaves. He opened his eyes a sliver.

His nieces, Deja and Jade, were standing menacingly over him with their fists clenched, looking like miniature versions of Charlie’s Angels. Myles peeped the snarl on their faces. They looked ready, willing, and more than able to dispense more beatdown. They had the unmistakable “this is what happens to niggas who loud talk us” look on their faces. Their desire for him to get up was with that idea in mind, not out of any concern for his well-being.

Myles gave an exaggerated eye twitch and moaned. Then he opened his eyes and looked at Jade. “Mommy, can I go back in the water? It’s been an hour since I’ve eaten.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “On that note . . .” She got up and walked into the house.

“What?” Jade asked Myles.

“You said, I can go back in the water,” Myles insisted. “I ate my peanut butter and jelly over an hour ago.”

Myles noticed that Deja had eased slightly out of her fighting stance, but Jade wouldn’t relent. She was ruthless.

“She’s not your mother,” Deja said cautiously.

Myles turned his head toward her and looked at her wide-eyed. “Mommy, there’s two of you?”

“She’s not your mother either, and you’re not at the beach,” Jade said. She took a step toward Myles.

Myles flinched. He thought he was about to catch a Lugz in his midsection.

“Now, you was talking a lot of stuff before,” Jade continued. “You ready to back it up?”

Myles fought the urge to correct her “was” with “were” and instead propped himself up on his elbows and scowled at her in puzzlement. Then he grinned knowingly.

“You’re just joking with me, Mommy,” he said confidently. “If we’re not at the beach, then how come I have all these pretty birds flying over my head?” Myles sat up and grasped at the air. “I’m going to catch one for myself. Tweet-tweet little birdies, tweet-tweet.”

The twins laughed.

Marisa joined them on the mat.

“Grandma?” Myles asked, eyeing her. “I thought you were in Georgia.”

Marisa ignored him. “Girls, stop beating up your uncle. Your mother wants you inside.” She nodded in the direction of the kitchen window. Kenya was visible through it, motioning for the girls to come in.

“Okay, Aunt Marisa.”

The girls bowed toward their vanquished foe.

“You were a very worthy adversary, but we had to teach you a harsh lesson,” Deja said.

“Yeah,” Jade added, wagging her index finger like a pint-size Jackie Chan. “Next time, be more cautious with your words.”

Myles nodded softly, his face full of contrition. Lesson learned.

“You better check on him,” Jade said to Marisa as she made her way to the house. “He’s talking crazy.”

“Will do,” Marisa said. “And thanks for taking it easy on him.”

Jade looked back over her shoulder. “We believe in mercy.”

Myles watched her nieces go into the house. He looked up at Marisa. “Tell me, wife, when did the ‘mercy’ occur? I must’ve missed that part.”

Marisa shrugged. “They said they showed you mercy. I see no reason to believe they didn’t.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Myles asked. “I guess you missed that glancing kick in the general vicinity of my balls?”

“No, I caught that,” Marisa said.

“Thank God I did, too,” Myles said, “or at least partially deflected it, or we might of had ourselves a situation out here.”

“So, is everything down there still functional?” Marisa asked coyly. She kicked at a stray leaf with her boot.

Most definitely, Myles thought as he eyed his wife, redefining outdoorsy-chic in her open flannel shirt, soft turtleneck, and jeans. And it was stiffening at that moment.

“Why don’t you come down here and find out?” Myles asked.

Marisa tossed her hair back and laughed. “You know, I have half a mind to take you up on your offer, just to see what you would say when your mother came out here swinging her broom.”

“That’s easy,” Myles said. “I know exactly what I would say.”

“What’s that?”

“Mom! Stop beating on Marisa. I know she’s corrupting me, but she can’t help it. She’s scandalous!”

“Shut up, mama’s boy,” Marisa said as she helped him up. Myles brushed himself off. Marisa slipped her arms around his waist as they slowly began to make their way to the door. “If she only knew how eager to be corrupted your freaky ass is.”

Myles instinctively looked toward the house to make sure they were out of earshot.

Marisa cackled. “Look at you. Mama’s boy.”

“So why did you marry me?”

“Because I like jewelry,” Marisa replied, casually looking at her ring, “and because you begged me.”

“Uh-uh, Cubana, that’s not how I remember it at all,” Myles corrected. “It was you who asked me.”

“You sure about that?” Marisa asked, peeking slyly at him out of the corner of her eye, “because I seem to remember it differently.”

“Yep.” Myles gave her ass a squeeze as they made their way into the house.

In the kitchen were Kenya, Jasmine, and Peggy. Jasmine and Kenya were sitting at the table, where Kenya was wrapping the leftovers. Peggy was standing at the sink, her arms forearm deep in suds. She was washing the dinner dishes by hand and then setting them aside in the second sink. Next, she would load them into the dishwasher for a second washing. She felt that was the only way they got truly clean.

Myles heard the twins’ excited voices coming from the den, where they were recounting the high points of their backyard ass- kicking demonstration to their father, Amir.

“I don’t know why you’re souping those girls’ heads up, Myles,” Jasmine said as Myles and Marisa sat down at the table. “You’re gonna have them out here in the world thinking they can really hurt someone with that karate.”

Peggy looked up from the dishes at the sound of someone coming down the steps. She heard the jingle of keys and then the sound of her husband’s voice coming from the den.

“You heading out, Pop?” Amir asked.

“Yeah, I got a couple of things I want to take care of. I want to pick up some things for the shop for tomorrow.”

Peggy noticed his voice seemed a little louder than necessary. Like he was saying it loud enough for the her to hear in the kitchen. At that moment, their eyes met through the doorway. As though she’d asked him to, he headed for the kitchen to tell her himself.

“Pop-pop,” Deja said from the den, “we took out Uncle Myles in the backyard.”

“You did?” Leonard asked, disbelieving. “Jade, y’all put it on your uncle?”

“Yep,” Jade said, “we put it on him.”

“See?” Jasmine said. “Now they’re telling your father how they punked you.”

Myles smiled. “Nothing wrong with them having a little confidence. It’s a good thing when little girls believe in themselves. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jasmine said grimly, “but in the real world, there are no friendly uncles to take a dive. The real world hits back.”

Though her back was to Jasmine, Peggy could hear the pain in that statement. Most seventeen-year-old girls have a limited purview of the real world. Jasmine knew too much of it, Peggy thought as she loaded a platter into the dishwasher.

She felt the main issue with kids today was that they needed a proper adult in their lives to stay on them. Children act like they don’t want supervision, when in fact, they crave it. They equate it with caring. But too many kids had adults in their lives trying to tell them what to do whom they didn’t respect. A child isn’t going to listen to an adult who can’t even take care of themselves properly. That’s why Jasmine was having such a hard time of it. Why she now lived there with her aunt and uncle. Because Jasmine’s mother—Peggy’s younger sister, Dee—had failed her

“Peg, I’m gonna head on over to Home Depot and pick up some things.”

Peggy turned around to face her husband. He was wearing a Hilfiger parka that Amir had left over at the house a long time ago and long since forgotten about. It looked ridiculous on him. She thought a man his age had no business wearing it.

“Your family’s all here, Lenny.”

Leonard shifted his weight and reflexively checked his watch. “I know, Margaret Eva, but if I don’t get to the store soon, it’s gonna close. And then when will I be able to go tomorrow? I’ll be in the shop all day.”

That answer had come a little too smoothly for Peggy’s taste. A bit too practiced. Like it had been rehearsed in front of a mirror while he was putting on that parka. Leonard seldom called her by her birth name. Peggy wondered whether his use of it had been a calculation or a misstep—for the purpose of distraction or due to nervousness.

She wasn’t the only one who thought he was acting strangely. Marisa looked at Kenya, Myles, and Jasmine. If, like her, either of them found anything unusual about Leonard leaving a Sunday family gathering to go to the hardware store, they weren’t letting on.

Peggy gave a slight nod to her husband and then turned back to the dishes.

“Myles, if you and Marisa are gone by the time I get back, you have a safe trip,” Leonard said. “Don’t let leadfoot here speed, Marisa.”

Marisa kept her tone neutral. “I won’t, Mr. Len.”

“All right, Dad. See you later.”

“You coming up again next week?”

“We’ll see,” Myles said, looking at Marisa. “We don’t know yet.”

“Okay. See everybody later,” Leonard said from in the hallway as he left out of the front door.

Jasmine looked at Myles and snickered. “You don’t know if you’re coming up next weekend until Marisa tells you if you’re coming up. Then you’ll know.”

With that remark, Peggy forgot about her husband’s odd behavior and raised an eyebrow. Out of the mouths of babes. Myles was probably also waiting for Marisa to let him know when he was going to be a father. Peggy knew Myles was ready for children. So what was the hold up?

“Oh, you got jokes?” Myles asked. “What’s wrong with me asking my wife if she wants to come? Do you want somebody making decisions for you like you don’t have a voice?”

Jasmine motioned toward her aunt. “It happens to me every day.” “And you want it to stop once you’re an adult, right?” Myles asked.

Marisa added, “There’s nothing wrong with us discussing things, listening to each other and deciding together, is there, Jas?”

More than anybody else in the family, Marisa’s opinion resonated the most with Jasmine. Her ready acceptance of something being true if it came out of Marisa’s mouth used to surprise Peggy. By now she was used to it.

“For you there isn’t,” Jasmine replied smartly. “You get to do the deciding. He does the listening.”

“Ha!” Amir cackled from the den.

Myles looked toward the doorway. “We don’t need to hear from the peanut gallery. Like you’re running things in your marriage anyway.”

“I handles mine, brah, you best believe that,” Amir said.

Marisa, Myles, and Jasmine looked at Kenya.

“The beauty of it is, I let him think that he really does,” she whispered. “What’s that old saying? ‘If you want to grow your own dope, plant a man.’”

All three Mrs. Moores and Jasmine laughed.

“She’s talking about you, dog,” Myles called out.

“Don’t get it twisted, Kenya!” Amir said. “Don’t make me come in there.”

“Don’t listen to him, babe,” Kenya said, laughing. “I know you’re the king.”

“Exactly,” came the satisfied reply, “and I’m a just ruler, too. Justice prevails throughout my kingdom.”

“See. What I tell you?” Kenya circled her finger around her ear.

Remembering the original topic of discussion, Myles reached over and gave Jasmine a pinch on the cheek. “Whatsamatta, my precious baby cousin?” he cooed. “You want me to let you win at something?”

Jasmine brushed his hand away. “Stop it.”

“Go get the Connect Four out of the pantry,” Myles said teasingly, again pinching Jasmine’s cheek.

“Cut it out.”

Myles hesitated. “Candyland?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, but don’t you think you’re a little old for it?”

Marisa and Kenya laughed. Jasmine tried not to.

“Go somewhere with that, Myles,” she said. “I don’t need you to let me win at anything. And neither do the twins. It’ll only gonna get them in trouble.”

Marisa joined her mother-in-law at the sink and exchanged polite smiles. Marisa began rinsing off the dishes that were in the second sink and loading them into the dishwasher.

Peggy looked at her daughter-in-law as she knelt down and began putting the knives in the dishwasher. That’s not where she would have put them, but she decided not to say anything. She knew Marisa was making an effort to reach out to her. They weren’t exactly close. Not nearly as close as she and her other daughter- in-law, Kenya. Or even her and Jackie—Marisa’s friend and Kenya’s business partner. Where was Jackie anyway? She and Carlos sometimes came over for Sunday dinner. She wanted to see the baby.

“Where are the Roques tonight?” she asked to no one in particular, knowing that Kenya, Myles, or Marisa were all capable of answering.

“She and ’Los had a family thing to go to, Mom.” Myles said, “I think Jackie’s aunt is having a birthday party.”

“Snnnxxx . . . snnnxx . . .”

“Wake up.”

Carlos had dozed off in Jackie’s aunt’s basement while waiting for the Eagles game to start. The big meal he had consumed earlier had acted like a sedative.

“Honey, get up.”

“Huh, wha—como?”

Carlos opened his eyes to see his wife standing over him.

He quickly glanced around to gather his surroundings. The television was tuned to ESPN and was showing highlights of the early games. Jackie’s teenage nephew Roberto was at the other end of the couch snoozing.

“We need someone to go get some more candles,” Jackie said.

Carlos stared vacantly at her, then adjusted the pillow. “Okay. Well, I wish them Godspeed and good luck.”

“Carlos,” she said impatiently.

“How did I get elected, Jackie? There’s a house full of people here.”

“Our car is at the end of the driveway,” Jackie replied.

“Yeah, that’s because we’re guests, Jackie. Let our hosts go to Pathmark and get the candles.”

“You’re weren’t worried about civility when you were gorging yourself on that lechon asado upstairs.” Jackie had one arm folded at her waist and the other dangling. In her hand rested the car keys. “You looked awfully familiar then, didn’t you?”

“I’m a guest. That’s what guests do. They arrive and eat people out of house and home. Besides, this is a party, isn’t it?” Carlos emphasized again and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, you look real festive down here snoring away with Roberto. I don’t know how you can sleep on such a full stomach anyway.”

Carlos looked over at Roberto. He was snoring peacefully, with his hands resting on his stomach. “Well, we were both having a ball until you came down here.”

Jackie playfully kicked him in the shin. “You’re a puerco, you know that?”

“Even more reason why I can’t go. How can I be expected to drive with these hooves?” he said, waving his hands in the air.

“Come on now, get up.” Jackie said with exasperation. “CJ needs to be fed, so I can’t go.”

“And you shouldn’t have to, wife,” Carlos said, his voice full of compassion. “you’re a guest, too.”

Carlos noticed Jackie’s jaw setting. He tried appealing for mercy.

“I don’t know my way around Camden. I don’t even know where Pathmark is,” he protested.

“Now you’re gonna play dumb?”

Carlos shrugged his shoulders and looked as dim-witted as he could to signify that he wasn’t playing.

“That’s pathetic,” Jackie said, shaking her head. “Feigning stupidity to get out of having to do something. Is your laziness so powerful that you would rather have others think you’re an idiot than do something you don’t want to?”

“You have no idea,” Carlos said, tugging at his belt. “We’re all lions at heart. We just want to lounge and rule while the women go out and do the hunting, gathering, and baby minding.”

“Sad. Truly sad,” Jackie said. “Fine. Roberto will go with you.” Jackie looked at her nephew. “Roberto!”

“Snnnx—huh, wha—como?”

Carlos was grousing to himself as he looked for a parking spot near the entrance of the Pathmark on Haddon Avenue.

As soon as people in the house found out he was going to the store, it had become an event. All of a sudden everybody and their mama-sister-uncle needed something picked up. What had started out as a trip for some candles had transformed into his having a frigging list of shit in his pocket to get.

Who in the hell had ever heard of trying to put ninety damn candles on a cake anyway? Only Jackie’s crazy-ass family would be so extra to attempt it—or to bake a cake big enough to hold ninety candles. He hoped they were gonna give poor Aunt Doris some help blowing that bonfire out. Once you get a certain age, the shit is supposed to be symbolic, isn’t it? You throw a couple of candles on there and say, Feliz Cumpleanos! Happy Birthday, Old Girl! May you have many more. Though in your case, it’s highly unlikely. . . .

Carlos looked at the clock in the dashboard. Look at that. He was probably going to miss the start of the Eagles game. And he was uncomfortable because he had eaten too much. And . . . dammit, it’s cold out here.

Carlos considered the best way to do this errand. He decided to rip the list in half and send Roberto to get half of the stuff and he’d get the other half to save time.

He found a spot reasonably close and wheeled his Maxima into it. Carlos carefully began ripping the sheet of paper into two. “What are you doing?” Roberto asked.

“Tossing half this shit out,” Carlos replied casually. “If they’re not lucky enough to be on the half I keep, oh well.”

Roberto looked at him wide-eyed. “Word? Oh, shit.”

“Stop cursing, pendejo, before I tell your mother,” Carlos said. “Come on.”

He and Roberto got out and made their way to the store.

“All right, neph. Here’s how we’re gonna do this.” As he handed him one of the pieces, it flapped in the wind. “You get the stuff on your list, I’ll get mine, and we’ll meet at the checkout.”

Roberto looked at his list and stopped abruptly. “Yo, no way! I’m not getting these.”

Carlos laughed. “Hey, they’re for your sister.” He looked over his shoulder at his nephew. Then it was his turn to stop suddenly.

“What the—?”

“What’s wrong?” Roberto asked.

Across the parking lot, across the street, Carlos saw Mr. Moore walking up the steps of the Oasis Motel. Carlos knew it was him; he recognized the blue parka that Mr. Moore was fond of wearing. He was with some woman. She was bundled up so Carlos couldn’t make her out, but he could tell by her lively step that it definitely wasn’t Mrs. Moore. The pair disappeared into one of the rooms.

“I’ll be damned,” Carlos mumbled, forgetting about the cold.

“What’s up?” Roberto asked, turning around and following Carlos’ gaze.

“Nothing. Let’s go get this stuff so we can get back to the game.”

They walked into the entrance, with Carlos stopping to take one more glance back over his shoulder. He shook his head.

“I’ll be damned.”

chapter 2

Peggy looked at the digital clock when she heard the front door open—12:17. She had told herself that she wasn’t waiting up for Leonard, but noticed that she wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get to bed either. She finished wrapping her hair with the scarf, turned off the light in the bathroom, and walked into the bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed, slid out of her slippers, and flexed her toes.

When she heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen, she walked out into the hallway to the top of the stairs. “Leonard, this child up here is trying to sleep. Don’t come in here making all kinds of noise this time of night.”

“Actually, all I hear is your yelling, Aunt Peg,” came a voice out of a bedroom.

“She has to get up for school tomorrow.&r