The Keysha Diaries, Volume One by Earl Sewell

Author:Earl Sewell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

four

Keysha

On Sunday I woke up very early in the morning because I couldn’t sleep. I got out of bed and walked down into the kitchen, opened up the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of cranberry cocktail juice. I was wide-awake and knew that I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, so I went into the family room and turned on the television. Flipping through the channels, I located MTV. A program was on that talked about the lives of Tupac and Biggie Smalls. I got engrossed in the program along with their music and fast-paced lifestyles. It was appealing to me to have fancy cars, loads of jewelry and to be the center of attention. I also liked Tupac and his thuggish looks. To me he looked untamed, masculine and gentle all at the same time. And his voice, I loved the sound of his rough and jagged voice. I was so involved in the program that I didn’t notice that Grandmother Katie had gotten up and had just entered the room. I quickly clicked off the television.

“Good morning,” I greeted her.

“Good morning. What were you watching?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I answered. I didn’t think she’d approve of me watching the life story of Tupac and Biggie.

“Yes, you were. You were watching something. What was it?”

“It was nothing,” I said once again.

“Let me see the remote,” she said. I reluctantly gave it to her. She clicked the power button and the program was on the part were Biggie Smalls had been murdered.

“Is this what you were viewing?” She looked at me disapprovingly.

“Yes, ma’am. I couldn’t sleep so I came in here to watch television.” I told her the truth because I had a difficult time lying to her. Grandmother Katie sat down on her recliner and continued to watch the program.

“Who is this about?” she asked.

“Biggie and Tupac,” I answered her.

“Oh, yeah. The two young men who were murdered.”

“You’ve heard of them?” I asked, utterly surprised that someone her age even knew of them.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of them. We’ve talked about them before at church,” she answered.

She and I watched the remainder of the program together, and at its conclusion, Grandmother Katie turned off the television.

“What a waste,” she said. “All of that beautiful creative talent gone to waste. Perhaps if their energy could have been focused in a different direction their lives would not have been so short.”

“But they had it going on while they lived,” I said. “I mean, they had everything. Cars, a house and money. They were doing it,” I said, excited about their lifestyle.

“Honey, money, cars and a home will not make you happy. Having purpose in your life can make you happy. Doing for others can make you happy. Giving—” Grandmother Katie stopped talking and there was a perplexed look on her face.

“Keysha, did your mother and other grandmother ever take you to church?”

I laughed.

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed again. “We never went to church. Grandmother Rubylee said that the church was full of sinners pretending to be sanctified.

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