Here's for Caesar fans!
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Boondocks or any of it's characters.
The ocean's tide danced and glittered as the newly wed couple sealed their bond through a single passionate kiss. The Ivory Coast had that effect on a person. I watched my father's face closely as he pecked his bride's cheek again with his trademark grin sprawled across his features. I couldn't help but smile myself and squeeze the flowers in my grasp affectionately. After all, I had a new mother.
"My love...she was amazing in every way..." The heart broken man spoke in French at the death of his wife of four years. The birth of his youngest twin sons took her life. "Mon plus jeune enfant ne sera pas se souvenit d'elle, mais si elles ne...ils savent qu'elle était la mére la plus merveilleuse..."
"Maman..." my siblings whimpered in a huddle around me. Fate was cruel, I decided that day. I had a mother and love for four years but fate had to take that away.
"Calme." I silenced them as a single tear dripped down our father's face and his hand grazed the coffin his wife lie in.
He drew in a long deep breath as guests dressed in black held tissues up to their eyes. "Reste à poings fermés, magnifique. Ne jamais lâcher de notre amour..." Those words confused me then and even to this day, but he said them anyway. My father commanded the dead.
Rest soundly, Beautiful. Never let go of our love...
The mourning guests had left my family early. The graveyard, for the most part, was silent with the exception of my younger siblings playing on a nearby tree.
I, however, stayed with my lifeless father as he stared observantly at the freshly turned earth as if his wife might come out looking radiant at any moment. "Papa," I began in French, "It's getting dark. We need to get home."
He merely plastered an unconvincing smile on his face and said, "Est-ce vrai? Your mother loves this time of night."
"Papa!" I hissed under my breath, "Stop talking like she's alive!"
"She is not dead, Magnifique," Despite what I had said, at least he switched to English; my siblings had not yet learned the language. But I could speak a little.
"She's gone." I said dully in hope that reality would strike him.
"Oh, Chéri, you have a lot to learn. Your mother's body was buried today, yes, you're right, but her soul is what made her alive." I furrowed my brow as he knelt down beside me and pointed at the first stars that were just beginning to appear. "See those stars? Above and beyond them there's a beautiful, wonderful kingdom where angels like mommy go. Heaven." I smiled at the thought of it, but it soon dropped as another curious thought popped in my head.
"What about Maria?" I asked.
"Qu'est-ce?" What? He asked.
"Maria. Where does she go?"
My daddy let out a sigh as he rubbed the back of his bald head nervously. "People like Maria...go to a place much, much different."
"Enfer?" I blurted out before I could choke down the word. The word shocked my father out of his transe as he instinctively converted the word to the English phrase 'hell'. "I heard it in the chapel,"I explained shyly, "Something about 'Les feux de l'enfer.'"
"Well, Aisha, that's correct. Horrible people burn in Enfer." That's comforting, I thought. "Like Maria."
My daddy and I gazed up at the stars in silence for a few more moments before I wondered aloud again, "Where are we going to go?"
The man turned to look at me quizzically before asking, "What do you mean, Chéri?" I could only smile bitterly at his ignorance of how truly aware I was of our current situation.
"Papa," I said softly, "It's okay. I know you can't raise us alone." His lower lip quivered uncharacteristically at my words. He couldn't hide that he wouldn't be able to keep us even from me, his 7-year-old daughter.
Tears rolled down his face and he fell onto his knees. I could only hug him, as I knew things would only get worse from that moment on. "Where are we going?" I asked again.
It took him a moment to compose himself, but as soon as he did, he took a deep breath...then another..."Foster care."
"Non, Papa! I don't want to go!" Nayo, my younger sister, cried out in French as she clung to our father's shirt desperately. It was the day we were flying to our new foster home in America, and none of us we're ready to leave. I looked around frantically at the spectators who simply shook their heads in pity. "I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go!" Nayo shrieked over and over again for the Felix Houphouet-Boigny Airport to hear.
"Nayo!" I scolded, "We'll miss our plane!" But that didn't stop the young girl from whimpering.
I could only put on a face of confidence for my siblings. In reality, I was terrified to leave my country. Nayo and the eldest brother, Odion, each claimed a side of me. The twins, Damani and Duruji, were nestled in a sling on my back. Our first foster parents were waiting impatiently from afar as we said our final goodbyes.
"Nayo," my daddy began gently, "You have your mother's kindness. Don't ever let go of that. You have to hold on to it for you siblings, angel." He kissed her once on the forehead before turning to Odion, who had his chest puffed out and a furrowed brow. However, his lower lip was quivering uncontrollably.
"Odion, you are strong, fils. Sometimes you try to act as something you are not. Remember to alway, always follow your heart." Odion let out a shuddering breath, but nodded curtly.
He turned to me lastly, and a dark cloud loomed over his eyes. "Aisha," he paused, giving me the opportunity to observe his face. I never realized how aged he looked until that moment. "Amour, you are a dreamer. I can see it in your eyes. Don't ever let that flame go out." He paused before saying in English with a twinkle in his eye, "I know you're dreading that you have to make a good example for your siblings now," I frowned in agreement as they stared up at our father in wonder of what he could be saying, "Be mischievous though, amour. That's what makes you, you." Tears brimmed his eyes and pulled us into a bear hug. I clung to him like there was no tomorrow.
"Au revoir est-" He turned and whispered gently in my ear before being interrupted by an echoing female voice in the airport.
"Flight to the United States of America at gate 12 for 7:35 is now boarding." The message repeated in English.
"I'll tell you how the twins grow up." I forced a smile for my father, but couldn't help to wonder what he was going to say before the loudspeaker interrupted him. Au revoir est...what? I thought.
He smiled back at me as we turned from our father to our new 'family.' "Be good!" he called, "And remember to write!"
I turned to look at my father for the last time before the nagging question came to mind again.
Goodbye is what?
Dear Papa,
Odion, Nayo, the twins, and I are on our flight to our new foster home in Maryland! I can't tell you how excited I am to get out of Louisiana. Crystal had a smoke every 5 minutes and Earl had a beer every 2.
But don't worry, I stuffed their pillows with worms, they don't know yet though. I won't do it again, I promise! Unless the Kidd family is the same. Then I will.
Here's the address to our next home in case you don't already have it:
138 Timid Deer Lane, Woodcrest Ave, ML
Write us back! We miss you!
Love, Aisha
I folded the letter being sure to get every crease perfect.
"Where did you get that pen?" Crystal Savoi snapped from the next row of seats where she sat next to her boyfriend, Earl Boudreaux, and next to him was poor, poor Odion who was giving me death glares and pleading looks. None of us liked Crystal or Earl. She snatched the writing utensil from my hand before giving me a look of pure dislike.
Crystal snapped the pen in half and ink splattered across her white shirt.
Oh, Crystal. Smart as ever.
"The stewardess let me borrow it, but you can explain to her why it's broken and, you know, all over you." I rolled my eyes as Crystal began flapping her hands and shouting things along the lines of 'ew!' and 'Earl, get it off, get it off!'
However, Earl payed no attention. He was a rather lazy man and despite his relatively young age, he was balding and had a significantly large beer belly.
The couple was displeased by the enlightenment that they were unable to move us to a different home without their escort. I couldn't agree any more.
Crystal nestled her face moodily into Earl's flabby shoulder, however, he payed no heed to her, for he was enjoying complementary chips and the T.V. in his individual seat.
"You're the devil's child!" Crystal whimpered icily leaving traces of her bright red lipstick on Earl's shoulder (who didn't seem to realize anyway). Odion's face was turning a little green, I noticed.
My siblings (except for the green one) giggled as I carefully slid the letter addressed to our father in my bag.
"Oh, you must be Crystal and Earl! And these are the children!" Mrs. Kidd smiled brightly as I led my siblings off the plane after Crystal and Earl.
The Kidds were beaming down at us, completely oblivious that Crystal waved a hand like she was swatting a fly away and mumbled, "Whatever."
"How nice to meet you! My name is Liz, and this is my husband, husband," she motioned to the wedding band on her finger and pronounced every syllable as though we didn't understand simple english. "Clayton. We are so happy to meet you!"
Despite Liz's ignorance, I smiled at the gesture and said, "Nice to meet you. I'm Aisha. This is my brother, Odion, my sister, Nayo, and the twins are Damani and Duruji. This one's Damani and this one's Duruji. Duruji has the birthmark here, see?"
"Oh," the woman blushed at my clear English and said, "Lovely."
The car ride to our new neighborhood wasn't any better, I decided. Clayton and Liz had only recently been wed when they chose to volunteer to the community and get foster children. Liz was bubbly and a bit naïve, but nonetheless, very sweet.
Clayton had a strong belief in a 50's life style (at least the white man's style). While Liz chatted with me and Nayo about the latest fashions, Clayton attempted to bring out Odion's inner football-playing jock ("So, Oreo, play any sports?" "I'm Odion..." "Right, right. Sorry, Obiwan. So, how about those sports?")
As soon as we turned on Timid Deer Lane, I knew I would have trouble finding the house we would live in. Each house looked identical to the next: snow white and perfectly angled. Even so, the young couple seemed to know where they were going, for they turned into the driveway of the third house on the right.
As my little siblings became comfortable with their surroundings, I explored the neighborhood. Liz smiled as I asked her and she shooed me out of the house and told me to have fun.
One word could describe the neighborhood as I looked left and right (even between houses and under porches).
Clean.
Unknowingly, I was being watched by a boy my age.
Huey Freeman was a 10-year-old freedom fighter I came to learn. He lived with his 8-year-old brother, Riley, and his Grandad, as well.
Just as I was about to peek under a bench (surely that had to have at least one gum wad), Huey strolled up from behind me. "It's good to have more black people in the neighborhood," I jumped, bumping my head on the bottom of the bench. "When did you move in?" I brushed the non-existant dust off of me as I wobbled to my feet.
The first thing I noticed about Huey was the ebony afro that sat a foot above his head. The next was the scowl he was giving me.
"Just today," I answered, "You're the first black kid I've seen." So far, everyone in the neighborhood was white.
"Welcome to Woodcrest..." Huey mumbled sarcastically. He trudged slowly away and got a solid ten feet from me before whipping his head around (I couldn't help but notice the scowl still stubbornly remaining on his features) and said, "The other black kid is up that hill," he pointed up the street to the silhouette of a grassy hill with a colossal tree upon it. "Come on, I'll introduce you."
The walk to the hill was fairly quiet and awkward with the exception of basic conversation ("I'm Huey, by the way." "Aisha." Silence.)
On the hill, a boy sat alone with his back pressed against the tree and a newspaper firmly in his hands.
"Hey, Ceeze." Huey said and the boy turned his head to us. His eyes landed dead on me in confusion, completely passing over Huey. "This is Aisha. She just moved in down the street. Aisha, this is Caesar."
My eyes dusted over Caesar and I smiled. He returned the action. Caesar was a very dark skinned boy I noticed. He must be from somewhere near the equator...I mused. He had dreadlocks that fell to his shoulders and an optimistic glow to his features.
"Michael Caesar," he grinned, "but you can just call me Caesar."
"Aisha Diallio...er, just Aisha's okay..." I said as Caesar gave me an expectant look to continue.
"Aisha couldn't find any black kids so I brought her up here. She was looking under a bench..." Huey mumbled to his friend. Caesar gave Huey a strange look then me one (I was staring at the abnormally puffy clouds above me).
"In my defense, this place is way too clean," I began as I plopped myself down on the curiously soft grass next to Caesar, "So, didja guys hear about the Bush's reelection? Isn't that just a pain in the ass?"
The boys shared another look and nodded.
"I think we're going to get along just fine." Huey assured.
Well, there's the first chapter! It's just an introduction so not much has really happened, but if you like it, let me know and I'll continue!
MoodBeam