to describe the neighborhood when they first rolled up in the driveway of Mabel’s house. “Moving on up,” from the theme song from the television show The Jeffersons, is all that kept playing over and over in her head. It seemed like Great-Grandma Mabel was doing or had been doing big things in her day. The Mercedes she drove was as clean on the inside as it was on the outside. The house was a turquoise split-level piece of architectural eye candy—it was one of the nicest, if not the prettiest one, on the block. The well-manicured yard was as green as the golf course.
“I hope she don’t think I’m going to be doing all that yard work trying to keep this grass green,” Compton said under his breath to his sister. Calliope nudged him with her elbow, and then gave him the evil eye to be quiet.
When Mabel pulled into the driveway of 8666 Sussex Way Road, she told them that she preferred to be called G.G. or Two Gs. The kids wanted to bust out laughing, but Mabel wasn’t kidding about her sobriquet. Calliope quickly found out that she was as serious as cancer about most everything that came out of her mouth, regardless of how outlandish it sounded.
In Mabel’s world, providing the necessities meant: shelter, lights, and hot water, and honestly she didn’t want them to use too much of that. Food and clothing didn’t make it anywhere onto Mabel’s list. She had specific times that the kids could wash clothes and they had to take showers while it was light outside, so they didn’t have to use the light in the bathroom. Between the hot water and the electricity, it ran up her bill. They were only allowed to watch television when Mabel was not home, and that was providing that the house was spic-and-span.
After the police removed the yellow tape and right before the city boarded the place up, Calliope snuck into her former home and got what she could. Thankfully, out of the goodness of her heart, Mabel did give Calliope bus fare in the exact amount of change to go to the old house and return. “Go get what you can, and do the best you can to salvage y’all stuff because, I already told you, I’m not going to be responsible for clothing.” Calliope wanted to ask, how many times was Mabel going to tell them that?
Thank God that she was able to salvage a few of her and Compton’s things and some of the clothes from their old house. Luckily Big Jack had some things with tags still on them that she was able to sell to the neighborhood boys for a few bucks. It was only by the grace of God that money was still there in the jeans that she had on the day before all of the gunplay started.
Boy, were the two of them grateful. There was a God, and he was shining on them.
Now, living with Mabel was a hell of a lot better than The Home, but make no mistake about it, it was still quite a sandwich short of a picnic. Believe that. To hold up her end of the bargain Calliope had to pretty much quit school. She had no idea that making enough money to feed and clothe Compton and herself ate up a lot of time and trying to juggle the two were almost impossible, and so that they could eat, school had to go or be put on the back burner for now. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. Her hustle of choice or necessity depending on perspective was boosting … utilizing the five-finger discount.
Calliope had never really stolen anything before but proved to be pretty skilled at it, after losing her virginity to the supermarket. Her first: a few packs of lunchmeat from the local store. Then came toiletries, underclothes, and cosmetics. Once she got more experienced at reading the floor workers and concealing the merchandise, she upped her game. The malls were where the real money was at and the labels and designers were all that she ever really longed for. It was her first real sip of the good life and it was the well that she wished to drink from—and with her talent, her taste for it was an acquired one. Getting the
“I hope she don’t think I’m going to be doing all that yard work trying to keep this grass green,” Compton said under his breath to his sister. Calliope nudged him with her elbow, and then gave him the evil eye to be quiet.
When Mabel pulled into the driveway of 8666 Sussex Way Road, she told them that she preferred to be called G.G. or Two Gs. The kids wanted to bust out laughing, but Mabel wasn’t kidding about her sobriquet. Calliope quickly found out that she was as serious as cancer about most everything that came out of her mouth, regardless of how outlandish it sounded.
In Mabel’s world, providing the necessities meant: shelter, lights, and hot water, and honestly she didn’t want them to use too much of that. Food and clothing didn’t make it anywhere onto Mabel’s list. She had specific times that the kids could wash clothes and they had to take showers while it was light outside, so they didn’t have to use the light in the bathroom. Between the hot water and the electricity, it ran up her bill. They were only allowed to watch television when Mabel was not home, and that was providing that the house was spic-and-span.
After the police removed the yellow tape and right before the city boarded the place up, Calliope snuck into her former home and got what she could. Thankfully, out of the goodness of her heart, Mabel did give Calliope bus fare in the exact amount of change to go to the old house and return. “Go get what you can, and do the best you can to salvage y’all stuff because, I already told you, I’m not going to be responsible for clothing.” Calliope wanted to ask, how many times was Mabel going to tell them that?
Thank God that she was able to salvage a few of her and Compton’s things and some of the clothes from their old house. Luckily Big Jack had some things with tags still on them that she was able to sell to the neighborhood boys for a few bucks. It was only by the grace of God that money was still there in the jeans that she had on the day before all of the gunplay started.
Boy, were the two of them grateful. There was a God, and he was shining on them.
Now, living with Mabel was a hell of a lot better than The Home, but make no mistake about it, it was still quite a sandwich short of a picnic. Believe that. To hold up her end of the bargain Calliope had to pretty much quit school. She had no idea that making enough money to feed and clothe Compton and herself ate up a lot of time and trying to juggle the two were almost impossible, and so that they could eat, school had to go or be put on the back burner for now. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. Her hustle of choice or necessity depending on perspective was boosting … utilizing the five-finger discount.
Calliope had never really stolen anything before but proved to be pretty skilled at it, after losing her virginity to the supermarket. Her first: a few packs of lunchmeat from the local store. Then came toiletries, underclothes, and cosmetics. Once she got more experienced at reading the floor workers and concealing the merchandise, she upped her game. The malls were where the real money was at and the labels and designers were all that she ever really longed for. It was her first real sip of the good life and it was the well that she wished to drink from—and with her talent, her taste for it was an acquired one. Getting the
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