Earl Sewell - The Keysha Diaries, Volume One

“Don’t stand behind me like that,” I said, snapping at him.

“Stand behind you like what?” he asked.

“Like you’re waiting for me to break or steal something.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said.

Next to the Muhammad Ali painting was a cabinet filled with track and field trophies.

“Did you win these?” I asked.

“No, actually most of them belong to my wife, Barbara. She was an exceptional high school and college track and field athlete. The three on the bottom shelf belong to your brother, Mike.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“He’s out with his mother. They’ll be home in a little while. You’ll see him then.”

I got tired of looking at the workout room and decided to walk back down the stairs.

“Come around this way,” Jordan said, and I followed him around the side of the garage down a short brick path, which was lined with thick, neatly trimmed bushes. Once we got around the bushes I saw the in-ground swimming pool.

“Do you know how to swim?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

“Well, I can teach you how. It’s real easy once you get the hang of it.” I didn’t answer him, I just looked at how pretty the water was. “We’ll have to wait until next summer for swimming lessons though. I’m going to have to drain the pool for the winter next week.”

We walked back down the short brick path past the garage and to the door at the rear of the house. I stepped inside and held the door open for Jordan. Upon entering he began talking.

“We’ll start in the basement,” he said and I followed him down a few steps. To the right there was a door, which he opened. It was his office. His computer, desk and photos of various entertainers were hung on the wall. I walked in and looked at one photo of him and TuPac.

“You knew TuPac?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t say that I knew him but we’ve met before,” answered Jordan.

“So what is that you do?” I asked.

“I’m the executive vice president for Hot Jamz 104,” he answered.

“That’s, like, the hottest radio station in the city,” I said, sort of excited about the possibility of getting to meet a famous entertainer.

“Yeah, but our last rating has us as the number-three station in the city and I have to change that.”

“Oh,” I answered, not fully understanding what he meant. We came out of the office and went toward the rear of the basement. It was a typical basement. Gray concrete floor and walls. There was nothing exciting about looking at the laundry shoot or the washer and dryer.

“Over here, this is what I wanted to show you,” he said as he opened another door, which led to the greenhouse. I stepped inside and saw an array of potted flowers blooming along with another door which led inside.

“It’s pretty,” I admitted and then turned and exited the room. I could tell that Jordan wanted to explain all of the flowers but I didn’t care about that.

“I planted all of the flowers around the house,” he commented as we walked out of the basement. “Gardening is something I’ve always loved. Have you ever planted a seed and then nurtured it into a flower?”

“No, and I really don’t care to,” I said with honesty. However, I suppose that my tone of voice made me sound rather snotty.

“This is the family room,” he said as we walked out of the basement and up a few stairs. There was a large sectional brown leather sofa that looked huge enough to seat at least seven or eight people. At both ends of the sectional there were recliner seats. The oversize sofa even had cup holders and a compartment to keep ice cold. Another large flat-screen television was mounted on the wall along with a complete home theater system. He waited for a response from me, but I only nodded my head. From there we moved into the kitchen, which looked like it was out of a magazine. The refrigerator had a crushed icemaker, there was a center island where food could be prepared, and there was an abundance of cabinet and shelf space. From there it was on to the formal dining room. There was a beautiful wooden table large enough to seat eight people. The table was completely set but looked more like a display rather than a place to eat.

“Follow me and I’ll show you to your room,” he said as he opened yet another door, which I thought was a closet but it was actually a staircase that led to the upper level of the house.

“Damn, this is a big-ass house,” I blurted out my thoughts.

“I’d prefer that you not use foul language. It’s not becoming of a lady,” Jordan said, and I looked at him like he’d just lost his mind. I know that he didn’t call himself putting me in check, I thought to myself. The last thing he has the right to do is discipline me.

“Whatever,” I said as I walked up the stairs. In my mind I didn’t see myself staying in this house for very long. I felt like I was intruding on his space anyway. When I reached the top landing there were three bedrooms and a bathroom up there. Grandmother Katie was coming out of the bathroom as we were about to turn and walk down the corridor toward the bedrooms.

“Well, I see you two have finally made it up here,” she said with a smile.

“I’m about to show Keysha to her room,” Jordan said. I followed him down to the last door, which was closed.

“I think you should open it,” he said as he stepped aside. I placed my hand on the handle of the white door, gave it a twist and opened it up. I was completely taken aback by the size of the room. It was huge. There was a beautiful vanity dresser filled with all types of cosmetic products. There was a queen-size canopy bed with linen that matched the curtains, a desk and chair were near the window, as well as a stand that had a small television with a VCR and DVD player built into it.

“I hope you like the room,” Jordan said.

“Of course she likes it,” answered Grandmother Katie. To tell the truth I felt like I was more like an outsider than I’d ever felt before. It all seemed so fake to me, and I feared that at any moment someone would come and tell me that there was a big mistake and I wouldn’t be able to stay. So, in my mind, there was no sense in getting too comfortable, because I knew that dreams didn’t come true, and at some point either I’d run away or get mixed up in some juvenile-delinquent mess just like I was expected to.

“Um, can I be alone for a moment?” I asked, turning to face Grandmother Katie and Jordan. Both of them had goofy smiles plastered on their faces. At that moment I felt as if I was the charity case of the century, and I didn’t like that feeling.

“Sure, you can have some privacy, honey,” said Grandmother Katie.

“Your brother will be home in awhile,” said Jordan. That was another thing that was peculiar to me. Jordan spoke so clearly and flawlessly. He didn’t sound anything like the men who hung around the empty lot near my old apartment building. He actually spoke like Carlton Banks from the program The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. “Barbara will be home later. We’re all going out for a nice family dinner tonight,” he announced, and I cringed at the thought of sitting at a dinner table with them.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I quickly said, confident that my excuse would get me out of having to go with them.

“Look in the closet over there, honey. Some nice clothes have been purchased for you,” said Grandmother Katie, who still had a smile plastered on her face. I just knew that whatever they had purchased for me was all wrong. Old people have no sense of style, I thought to myself.

“If you need anything, we’ll be down in the family room,” Jordan said before he and his mother walked out of the room and shut the door behind them.