Sparkle and I didn’t necessarily have a contentious relationship, but we weren’t besties, either. I spent most of my life thinking that I grew up in a typical family with normal dysfunctions. My parents were teenage sweethearts, who became the parents of three children before they were even in their twenties. Eventually, their relationship fizzled out, but our father was always on the periphery of our lives.
I was never a “periphery” kind of person. Either you loved me out loud and obviously, or I had the tendency to detach. Even at a young age, I was never able to chase my father’s love the way my siblings were. They would do overnights with him and his new girlfriends. They would take public transportation to his job on paydays, for him to put money in their hands. They called him to wish him a happy birthday, and a happy Father’s Day.
Maybe I was entitled, but even as a kid, I didn’t feel like that was my job. I felt like he was the one that should make the effort. While Sparkle, and our brother, King, sought our father out, I stayed home with our mom. Maybe I was just a momma’s girl. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that as an adult, I had a very tenuous relationship with my dad.
Truth be told, I also had a tenuous relationship with my siblings. I never understood it as a child, but my brother had serious anger issues. I was in high school by the time I realized that the violence he had been perpetrating against me my entire life wasn’t simple sibling rivalry . . . It was abuse. A boyfriend of mine broached the subject with me, because he was tired of me flinching every time he made a sudden move. I was so embarrassed that I stopped seeing the dude immediately. I never told anybody but Jaxxon why I broke up with Shaheed.
I considered myself a street-smart, tough girl. I prided myself on my ability to fight (which ironically, I learned to do because my brother was beating the hell out of me at home). There was no way that I could face the idea that I was abused. In myteenaged mind, abuse was something that happened to weak chicks—chicks who couldn’t protect themselves. Silly me.
Anyway, because of my non-existent relationship with my father, and living in a situation where I loved and looked up to the person who was abusing me, I never had a great deal of trust in men. Actually, I never had a great deal of trust in people. Full stop. But I really didn’t have much trust in men.
My sister—I had a sixth sense. I was one of those people who could discern in my spirit when people didn’t really . . . enjoy me. Not only could I discern it in my spirit, but I was also an intense people watcher. If “peep this” was a person, it would be me. I watched how people moved in life, and I based the way that I moved with them on how I saw them move. Some people might give a long dissertation about how my sister probably didn’t completely love herself, so that was why she couldn’t completely love me. Diving into all of that would take energy that I didn’t have to give. I simply chalked her up as a hater, a shit talker, and a snitch. I loved her, but I didn’t give her enough of my love for her to have the power to hurt me. I guess I rationed my love to her, . . . as well as my brother and father.
I loved my mother and grandmother down, though. And Jaxxon and Kelcie.
“What flaws are you talking about?” Kelcie questioned Sparkle with a frown on her pretty face. “From where I’m standing, all I see is my friend about to marry a multi-millionaire who loves her dirty underwear, and who has been completely devoted to her for years.”
“Decades,” Amaya amended.
“I—” Sparkle began.
“I don’t want to have this conversation!” I said loudly. “Can I please just have my wedding day?” I sighed, then turned to my sister. “You don’t have to stay in here, sis?—”
She cut me off. “Of course I don’t. It’s not like I’m the maid-of-honor or anything.”
So, that was her problem? I hadn’t asked her to be my maid-of-honor?
“Sparkle, you don’t even like me every day. You don’t like me right now and won’t like me tomorrow.” I wasn’t about to tiptoe around the truth. “Jaxxon and I planned this wedding in four weeks. Do you even understand how much footwork there was to do? Do you even understand how much time, energy, and effort Kelcie had to put into this wedding? I don’t feel like you would’ve wanted to be bothered, . . . especially regarding me.”
Sparkle was the type that got irritated anytime the spotlight drifted off her and on to somebody else. She liked titles and commendations. She didn’t like hard work or sharing.
Sparkle sucked her teeth. “Here we go with the narrative that I haven’t been a good big sister to you, again.”
I held up my hand to stop my hairstylist from parting another section of my hair. “Uh uhn. There has to be another room we can use.” I stood up from the chair. There was no way I was dealing with Sparkle when I was already dealing with nerves.
“Sparkle.” My mother finally interjected.
That was another thing about the way I grew up. My mother was a social worker. She didn’t really believe in involving herself in disputes between my siblings and me. She believed that we were better served in learning conflict resolution, by working things out amongst ourselves. I understood her wanting us to learn that skill, but I always wished that she had at least given us some guidance. The way my brother got his point across was by hitting and bullying Sparkle and me. The way Sparkle got hers across was by using her mouth as a weapon. And me, I mostly used avoidance and disassociation. I put up impenetrable walls. My siblings could never have the place in my heart that was probably “typical” for siblings.
Fuck me? Nah, fuck you!became my life motto.
And the interesting thing was that my siblings acted confused about why I dealt with them the way I did, after a lifetime of learning them.
I was so thankful for Jaxxon, because he loved me through and past all of that. He probably didn’t understand everything about me, but he was patient with me. He gave me grace . . . and space to be the private, secretive, intense, mysterious, and overthinking person that I was. He let me be me. He loved me. And though my sister was trying to be both derogatory and sarcastic when she said it, she was right. Jaxxon loved meflaws and all.
Sparkle folded her arms across her chest, slid down in the chair, and pouted.
“I should’ve frigging eloped,” I muttered.
The heavy wooden doors of the chapel opened, and I stepped into the doorway on my brother’s arm. I loved my brother, even though he dealt with anger management issues. I loved him; I just didn’t give him my heart. I gave him my love . . . which was different to me.
When I was tasked with choosing between having my father or my brother give me away, I went with my brother.
“You ready?” he asked, looking down at me, a slight smile on his face.
The music began to play, and the artist, Allura, began to sweetly sing “Ave Maria.” I felt like I floated down the aisle toward the pulpit, where Jaxxon and his three attendants, and Kelcie and my other two attendants stood. Jaxxon looked sohandsome, his bald fade with the deep waves highlighting his crisp edges.
He grinned at me. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning back.
