The Realest Ever - By Keith Thomas Walker Page 0,7
insisted he spread it out in his mother’s room rather than clutter up the living room. Kyra accepted that, too. Unfortunately it was only the beginning of Aunt Ruth’s tyranny.
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After cleaning the windows and making her bed and putting Quinell’s air mattress away, Kyra was lured out of her bedroom by the sound and smell of frying bacon. She found her son in the living room sitting quietly on Aunt Ruth’s precious sofa. The TV was tuned in to Saturday morning cartoons, but Quinell was distracted by the good smells coming from the kitchen. He was a fair-skinned boy with large hands and feet and a small mouth that was almost always closed. He countered his quietness with watching and listening, and Kyra knew he was formulating his own opinions about what was going on in their new home.
Kyra found her daughter Kat sitting quietly on the outskirts of the kitchen, like she knew it was something good going on in there, but for whatever reason she couldn’t get close to it. Kyra hefted her daughter and went to speak to her Aunt for the first time that morning. Last week Kyra greeted Ruth with a hug and a kiss. Today she gave her a guarded, “Hey, Auntie.”
“Hey,” the head of the house said without turning away from the stove.
Aunt Ruth was fifty-six years old. She was tall with golden brown skin and short hair that she preferred to keep curly. Ruth wore large glasses with thick lenses. She had a burgundy robe pulled over her night gown. From the back, Kyra saw that the heels of her feet were ashy and calloused from too much time spent barefoot.
“If y’all want something to eat, I got some peanut butter in the cabinet,” Aunt Ruth said.
Kyra didn’t take the bait. She put Kat down and went to the cabinet to retrieve the peanut butter.
“Don’t put that baby down in here,” Aunt Ruth said, looking over her shoulder. She stopped smoking four years ago, but her voice was still a little manly from the four decades of damage she caused herself before quitting. “I told Kat I don’t want her in here while I’m frying bacon,” Aunt Ruth continued. “Don’t want no grease to pop up on her.”
Kyra didn’t say anything, but she did pick up her child and deposit her outside of the kitchen. One of the things Kyra found strange about her aunt was how Ruth could say something mean-spirited in a way that left plenty of defense if someone tried to call her on it. She probably wasn’t doing it now, but Aunt Ruth did it so often Kyra had to give conscious thought to how she responded to her.
Kyra found half a loaf of bread on the kitchen table.
Ruth turned to face her.
“Don’t eat all my bread, neither. I need three pieces for my breakfast.”
Aunt Ruth had one gold tooth, a canine, and a faint moustache above her top lip. Her nose was pudgy, as was the rest of her body. Kyra didn’t think she was physically unattractive, but maybe the rest of the world disagreed. Ruth had been married three times, each one ending in divorce. She had one son who went to the military and then moved to California afterwards. Kyra hadn’t heard anything about him since she’d been there.
“If y’all want some bacon, you should’a went down to the WIC office, like I told you to,” Ruth said. “We would have enough food for everybody.”
“We don’t need bacon,” Kyra said. What she needed was a utensil to make their peanut butter sandwiches, but her aunt was standing in front of the counter drawer. Kyra understood that no one was eating anything until Aunt Ruth had her say.
“Your son asked me for some bacon,” Aunt Ruth informed.
Kyra looked back at him, and Quinell abruptly returned his eyes to the television.
“He’s just a kid,” Kyra said. “He smelled bacon, and he wanted some. I’ll tell him we’re eating peanut butter.”
“That ain’t the point,” Aunt Ruth said. She turned towards the stove and began removing the crispy strips of pork. She placed them on a plate lined with paper towels. They looked and smelled delicious. “The point is,” she said when she faced Kyra again, “that you didn’t do what I told you to.”
“I only been here a week,” Kyra said. The sight of the bacon made her stomach rumble. It was loud, and she knew her aunt heard it.