Break This House by Candice Iloh

Author:Candice Iloh [Iloh, Candice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2022-05-24T00:00:00+00:00

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All of us pour out the back of Nana’s funky van like the breath of a Baptist church usher leaned in too close, asking you spit your gum out into their glove. The heat beats down on every part my skin, but my hair saves me a little, unlike Kobe. Though the pamphlets Nana sits out on one of the picnic tables says the reunion starts at eleven, Kobe is drenched and already complaining at nine thirty when we start setting up the extra chairs, tables, and food under the shaded pavilion. That’s where most of the elders will post up all day, gossiping about Reverend Ernie and the choir director he be makin’ eyes at.

Nana puts me in charge of blowing up most of the orange and purple balloons ’cause she says I still got “pure lungs,” unlike my “raggedy cousins” who don’t do nothin’ but defile their bodies and eat up all her food. She says the Lord can still use me. But I’m folded over my knees at one of the tables, winded, after blowing up only five. I push myself to make it to ten and give up as cars start pulling up along the street, each vehicle spilling out kids and grown folks, most of whom are completely unrecognizable to me. Must be second, third, and fourth cousins on Sandra’s side, once-removed.

“You are kidding meee. You are kidding me, Delores! That is NOT baby Minah over there lookin’ all grown,” I hear Aunty Jo say behind me. I smell her before I even realize what’s going on. She scoops me into a hug I ain’t ask for before I’m even fully turned around to see her. Whichever Avon perfume she got on today mushes into my chest as she screams through our entire hug. When I’m finally able to free myself of her death grip, she don’t let me go that far. Instead, she holds me out in front of her like something she’s thinkin’ about buying at a store that’s way too expensive for her. “Sheeeit, and you taller than me now? I don’t care how grown you is,” she says, still looking me up and down, “I used to be the one that cleaned that behind when ya mama couldn’t and you always gon’ be my baby.” In comes another hug, her scent frying the inside of my nose.

“Hey, Aunty,” I squeeze out.

“ ‘Hey?’ That must be that New York City lingo. Minah don’ gone off and got New York on us now,” she says as if somehow the way I say anything is different from everybody else just because I don’t live here anymore. Both her hands slide down my arms so she can grab my hands and step even closer into my space. “You doin’ all right, baby?” she whispers. “I know you getting’ big and all and you got a whole new life now but you know you can always call your Aunty Jo, right? I’m always here for you, baby.

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