L. Banks: My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

"My baby ain't marrying no McCoy!" Ezekiel raged. "Over my dead body."

"That's a promise," Nana Robinson said, pointing a crocked fin­ger at him. "That's my grandbaby, too—don't you fergit it. Just 'cause I got arthuritis don't mean I'm rusty. Plus, we done formed an alliance—Joneses stand with Robinsons!"

"You threatening me, old lady?"

He leaned down in her face but backed up as her eyes narrowed.

"I ain't threatening you; I'm tellin' ya what Jesus knows." Before Ezekiel could step back farther, Nana Robinson whipped out a little black satchel from her ample cleavage. "This from both alliance clans," she said with a tight smile.

"Uhmmm-hmmm, ain't ready is ya, caught ya by surprise attack," the old woman said, triumphant. "So, don't make me drop this on your porch, fool, because we can do this the old-fashioned way, or keep some civilities. But ya best tell your sister and all the rest of them Hatfield heifers, they done come up against the entire Robinson-Jones coclans—plus we gots Ester McCoy standing with us, and one in the grave, my daughter, who will help us for her daughter —she one-a ours. All the mothers, dead or alive, is united. Don't you fergit how this all works and be dumb enough to let in­surance money make y'all stupid. Speak now, or forever hold your peace. We's having a wedding."

"Them McCoys sent fever over to my wife, your daughter. How you gonna let that go?" Although Ezekiel Hatfield's tone was angry, his voice had lowered a bit in fearful respect.

"I ain't forgot. But that was only 'cause your sisters started up the feud again by sending a lightning bolt over there to kill Ester's hus­band, thinking my daughter was low-life enough to be runnin' on you, Zeek. She wasn't messin' with Jeb, and you know it. Then you was all weeping and a-wailing up in church at my child's funeral, when ya found out the girl had only gone over there to try to strike a peace bond, given both families had little babies and it was time for the nonsense to stop. Them kids was a matched pair since birth; ev'y-body knows it. So, I'll blame you for listening to rumors, and for your false accusations, as well as your sisters for that misjudgment, till the end of time!" The old woman walked in a hot circle, tears rising in her cataract-stricken eyes. "Enough is enough! Why . . . you know I oughta jus' drop this bag any ole way, and—"

"Naw, naw, naw, now, Nana Robinson, we all remember full well how thangs got outta hand before."

"Uhmmm-hmmm," Nana muttered, and begrudgingly stashed her bag back between her breasts in a huff. "Ester's son is jus' a baby, like our Odelia. They's kids in love, so you-all best quit it. Don't test me."

"What hurts so bad is that my baby girl didn't come to her daddy with the news, first. I shouldn'ta found out like this."

"Well, if you-all wasn't acting such a fool, mayhaps the girl woulda came home and told you to your face, rather than called her nana crying her eyes out on the phone. She's scairt something gonna happen to that boy, and rightly so, 'cause she knows how y'all do. Call a truce, Zeek—right here and right now. She been a good girl, and ought'na have to have a heavy heart while she's about to gradu­ate from college like that. If her momma was still alive, she'd have someone to help her buy her dress, and all the things a bride is sup­posed to have. Really, you should go on and send that girl her momma's old dress, just out of kindness. But you're as ornery as an old rattlesnake, and even with that, your daughter wants your bless­ing." Nana Robinson stomped her feet as her hands went to her wide hips. "I cannot believe you'd do your own child this way; even for you, Ezekiel Hatfield, this is above and beyond."

The two combatants stared at each other.

"Truce," Ezekiel finally said, looking away, his tone a contrite grumble.

"Truce? Truce! You crazy, Zeekie?" Effie screeched from where she stood inside the screen door. "There ain't no way—"

"My baby girl's involved," Ezekiel said, coming between both women. "Might git her or a grandbaby hurt. We call off the dogs, Effie."

"Like I said," Nana Robinson stated as she gave Effie the evil eye and then turned on the porch ready to leave. "We's having a wed­ding, pure and simple, and y'all are gonna act right."

Jefferson and Odelia stayed together, wide-eyed, nervous, and under extremely platonic circumstances, practically joined at the hip, each half-afraid to let the other go to the bathroom alone. Every errand that needed to be run was done in partnership, because who knew what could befall one of them if he or she even went to the store independently? The trip to the courthouse to file for a marriage li­cense was viewed as a dangerous mission.

Both parents had called that first night, their voices distraught. Jefferson's mother had broken down and openly wept. Any libido Jefferson and Odelia had was killed. Her Father's voice was strained and punctuated with long, disappointed silences, but word that a truce had been activated, slowly, let Odelia and Jefferson breathe.

"You think it's all right if we sleep together on your couch?" Jef-Ferson asked, still jumpy, after she hung up the telephone.

"As long as we don't get into anything, I think we might be all right," she said, sounding unsure.

"Tell you what," he offered. "How about if I sleep in the chair, you take the couch, but at least that way, we can both stay in the same room?"

"Yo, man—you getting married and you wanna bring your fiancee to the bachelor party? Have you lost your mind?" His best friend laughed hard.

Jefferson steadied himself as he held his cell phone close to his ear. "Man, listen, it's complicated. I can't go into it right now."

"She's still at your apartment? Or you still over at hers? Ever since you dropped the rock on a sister, you've been in prison. All the cam­pus parties, you been there with her . . . And dude, for real, like, this might be your last hoorah as a free man."

"Hugh, you're supposed to be my best man. The one who's gonna keep me straight until I—"

"That's what I'm trying to do, partner. A few hours away won't hurt none."

Jefferson watched Odelia as she buzzed around the kitchen in his tiny apartment. A sense of claustrophobia had him in its grip. Two weeks of being together, Finding ways to entertain themselves with­out kissing too much or laying a hand on each other, was driving him nuts. "My Folks are coming in later tonight For everything. I can't be going out, getting tore up, plus that goes against everything Minister said, and—"

"C'mon, man. We'll have you back at a decent hour. You know me, right?"

"Yeah, I know you. That's what I'm worried about."

"But ain't it bad luck to be with or see the bride the night before the wedding?"

Jefferson paused. His homeboy did have a point. "Yeah. . . ,"

"Well, how about if we take a brother out For a Few, and deliver you to the Motel 6 where your people will be, and then you can hang out with your uncles till it's time to put on your cap and gown over your suit. Then, you lose the robes, I pin on your boutonniere, and we roll over to the church so you can get hitched—then we all eat, party . . . everything will be copasetic."

"That might be able to work," Jefferson said. "But I gotta talk to 'Delia about that, First."

"Awww, maaaan. Do you hear yourself? What did the girl do, works roots on your ass, or something?"

Odelia looked up From the stove and met Jefferson's eyes.

"That ain't Funny, brother. Don't even joke like that."

It was the first real argument they'd had since the day they met. She couldn't fathom how men could be so stupid! Carlah had been right. Maybe it was better that she got away from Jefferson for a few hours to connect with her girls, to do what she had to do, namely, get her hair beat, feet did, nails did, and spend quality female time without a male appendage.