Lizzy Ford: Cursed

Jayden fled. He was out of the shed before his mother finished her farewells. He went back to the house and waited in the kitchen, preferring the scents of barbecue and cat urine to death.

“Mama didn’t get to tell me whether or not to go on that date,” his mama complained as she tugged open the screen door.

“You don’t need some dead ancestor to tell you dating a con is stupid,” Jayden replied.

She narrowed her eyes. His mother was tall and slender, her flawless, cocoa skin, large eyes and high cheekbones rendering her beautiful despite the abuse she did to her body over the years. She’d bleached out the family mark to the point it was only noticeable up close. Her looks had captured the attention of Jayden’s father, who married her after a whirlwind romance, despite the objections of his respectable family, one of the oldest and most prominent in the South, even before Jayden’s daddy made his millions.

“You’ve been sober for two years and haven’t smoked in one,” he added, eyes on the drink in her hand. “You remember why you’re supposed to stay that way?”

“Don’t lecture me like I’m a child, Jay.” She frowned at him then glanced at the alcohol, as if not realizing she’d been drinking.

Most days, Jayden felt like he was raising a teenager instead of being raised by a mother. Single and struggling, Cora Toussaint’s reliance on drugs and bad decisions had culminated in the incident Jayden would never forgive her for, the one that almost claimed the life of his little sister. He owed it to his mother to help her, even if he didn’t want his sister anywhere near her ever again.

“Mama, I need to talk to you about something,” he started, aware he’d agreed to come this weekend for a reason other than to see the family he had nothing in common with.

“I’m in no mood for it.” She placed the glass on the counter and led him through the living room.

About to press her, Jayden sneezed hard instead.

His mother gave him the don’t-be-rude glare, and he held his nose to keep from sneezing again. He’d never been so happy to smell the combination of cigarette smoke and unshed rain as he was when he left the house and reached the front porch.

“Yo’ daddy buy you that car, Jay?” Uncle Tommy asked from his seat on the front porch.

“Yeah,” he managed to keep his tone friendly, out of respect for his mother. “It was a birthday present.”

“Must be nice not to have to work for a living. Why’d you divorce him, Cora? We coulda all had nice cars,” his uncle laughed.

“Yeah. Well, good seeing you, Uncle Tommy,” Jayden said.

“You take care!” his mother said, hugging her brother. “Have Mama call me later.”

Jayden’s smile faded as he strode to the car. He didn’t want to drive to the barbecue, knowing he’d catch hell about the car his daddy bought him, but his mother’s car was barely fit for driving down the block. He wasn’t about to risk having to spend the night here.

The car was a sauna in the late, muggy Louisianan afternoon. Incense and smoke clung to him, stinking up the car quickly. Jayden turned on the air conditioner full blast, but it still took too long for the car to cool down.

His mother spoke to his uncle for a few minutes before trotting down the steps to the car.

“Oh, thank god!” she exclaimed, leaning forward to the vent. “Mama’s AC broke last week.”

Jayden bit back his response, that his grandmother’s AC was broken every time they visited. It just added to the misery of visiting.

“Well, we made it,” he said as he pulled away from the house. “You and Bess have another fallin’ out?”

“Don’t we always.”

“Pretty much.”

“Mama had some good things to say about you,” she said. “She says you’re blessed, and you’ll make it big.”

“So she read the newspaper about me being scouted.”

“No, child, that’s not what she does.” Cora rolled her eyes. “She’s got the divine touch. She’s been right about everything. Marrying your daddy, my divorce, you kids, everything.”

“Mama, if you made your own decisions about life instead of waiting for some dead relative to tell you what to do, you –” he started, his frustration emerging.

“Jayden!” she snapped. “Have some respect for the spirits of your ancestors. You don’t want to anger them, do you? You’re so much like your father. You don’t even try to understand …”

He ignored her lecture about ancestral spirits and other nonsense. He didn’t believe in magic and agreed with his father that such beliefs were ridiculous. Marie Toussaint’s crazy visions and weekly discussions with dead people made him cringe, but not as much as the faith the family put in them. He constantly battled their influence on his mother.

His mother finished talking. They were silent, Jayden brooding and his mother satisfied that he’d listened to her this time. As important as it was for him to talk to her about Isabelle, his eight-year old sister, he didn’t think his mood would allow him to be calm enough for the sensitive subject.

“Did you tell your Uncle Joe about the football scholarships?” she asked.

“It didn’t come up,” he lied.

“Aw. You know he had an offer when he was in high school? Turned it down. Huge mistake. I was hoping you’d tell them,” she said with a sigh. “They might not think me such a screw up.”

“Mama.” Jayden glanced at her. “You’re not a screw up. Your mama and I agree on that, if nothing else. You’ve made mistakes, but you’ve taken steps to make up for them.” Sorta.

“My little prince.”

His face grew warm at the motherly nickname. He hated it.

“Can’t even drive my car to see my own family.”

Thank god, Jayden said silently. She’d be in her mama’s voodoo shed every weekend, if she had a decent car.

He felt like he was seventeen going on seventy. He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Mama said you broke up with your girlfriend,” she said. “Did you?”

“Yep.”

“You see? She does know things!”

“Kinda obvious. It’s the first barbecue in a year I didn’t bring her to,” Jayden pointed out.

“She was a bitch anyway, like all the girls at that snooty school your daddy put you in. She wouldn’t even talk to Mama when she came. She thinks she too good for us.”

He said nothing. He loved his school, if for no other reason than it was the one part of his life that had some semblance of structure. A natural at sports and academics, he didn’t have to deal with resentment, his mama’s temper tantrums, his daddy’s pressure, or juggle the extended family when he was in class. He was almost normal for those few hours a day. Even better, he was allowed to be a typical teenager, something neither parent seemed to get.

“I did kinda like her, though,” his mama said after a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me you broke up?”

“No big deal, mama. She was looking for something more serious than…” he stopped, but it was too late.

Her eyes were narrowed again.

“Oh, you, Jayden Toussaint Washington, you better not have-”

“Mama, please!” he said quickly. “I’m seventeen. I don’t want to get married! I just want to be a normal teenager. Do normal things, play football, worry about what college I want to go to.”

“Just like your father. I thought I raised you better. You think life is so easy and you can fool around, cuz your daddy’s got money! I bet you didn’t even –”

Jayden sighed. The traffic into New Orleans after the last long weekend before school began was heavy. He bore through her lecture, knowing she spoke out of personal injury and not because she believed him to be the deadbeat jerk she considered his father. At least, this is what his therapist explained to him.