Page 1

CHANIYA KATIA O’NEAL

The O’Neal Chat

Nana: Ain’t that boy too old for a rat party? Y’all need to stop being so cheap.

Kenyatta: And is. I keep telling Niya she gonna turn my little nigga into a pussy.

Nana: You better mind your mouth, Kenyatta Jenkins.

Turquoise: Leave my baby alone. He can go to Chuck E Cheese as long as his heart desires.

Gina: Tuh. I bet I don’t keep coming to see that fake ass rat with dingy clothes. Niya needs to stop with the bullshit. Oops, sorry, Nana.

Nana: I see you heathens are gonna make me break out the Dial.

Kenyatta: I’ll be cool, Nana. Too much Dial growing up is why my left eye is lazy, and my mouth stays diving into a random chick’s pu—never mind.

Turquoise: *laughing emoji*

Gina: *slaps forehead* I hate you, Yatta.

T he family group chat has been buzzing since I sent the message about having Caleb’s fifth birthday party there.

Unbeknownst to them, I had already told my baby this would be his last party at Chuck E.

Cheese. I wish I could say I didn’t see being a single mother in the future, but I had two things working against me.

I come from a generation of women who are single mothers.

The second thing is that too much alcohol had me dropping it low and spreading it wide.

Here I am, a thirty-two-year-old mother of a son whose father is as much of a mystery as whoever my father is.

It’s crazy that I got pregnant after attending a house party for fraternity and sorority people when I only had a high school diploma.

Yet, my dumb ass let my excitement over being invited to the frat party take me out of my head.

Now, I’m trying to overcompensate with Caleb because I slept with three men at the same time and have no clue which of them is the father.

To make matters worse, all three of them have become ghosts because I haven’t seen them since that night.

However, Caleb will never feel his father's absence because I will always make things shake for him.

My guilt over being too drunk to stop the reckless sexual encounter is also a constant reminder of my baby being without a male role model.

My cousin, Kenyatta, isn’t the person to give Caleb good advice because of how he lives his life.

Kenyatta has babies all around the city and baby mamas popping up like dandelions in Nana’s yard, so I limit Caleb’s time with him.

I don’t need Caleb picking up any of what Kenyatta is putting down.

*bzz, bzz*

Nana: Ms. Chaniya, we’ve been chit-chatting, and you ain’t said anything yet. Where are you, girl?

Kenyatta: Probably hiding, Nana.

Turquoise: Or ignoring us like I would be doing because y’all are so out of pocket today.

Nana: Ain’t nobody ask you to open those loose lips, Quoise.

Turquoise: You got it, Nana. See y’all at the party.

Chile, I’m ignoring y’all because there isn’t a single reason for me to chime into this foolish conversation. Nobody is paying for a thing, yet everybody’s mouth is running. Rolling my eyes, I exit the family group chat and lock my phone.

*zzt, zzt, zzt*

“If this is one of my cousins calling me with mess, I’m hanging up.

I ain’t got time for the extra today. None of their asses is about to ruin my baby’s day,” I rant when my phone rings before I can set it down.

A smile upturns my lips when I see the name flashing on the screen, causing me to quickly answer. “Hey.”

“Ain’t nobody calling for you. Where is my baby? I want to sing to him before the party,” Isis asks.

Isis Toles is one of my best friends and has been for as long as I can remember.

She was with me the day I found out I was pregnant and has been holding me down since.

It never fails that regardless of what I plan for Caleb’s birthday, Isis calls to sing to him beforehand.

She says she likes for him to know how much she adores him without all the pomp and circumstance of the party attendees.

“Hold on.” Pulling the phone away from my ear, I place it on speaker before calling my baby. “Caleb! Caleb!”

A bright smile slides into place when I hear little feet rushing toward me, causing me to turn to see the little person capable of brightening every day for me.

“Yes, Mommy,” Caleb says, stopping in front of me.

Staring into the brown orbs of my toffee-skinned son causes warmth, butterflies, and adoration to flow through my body.

Caleb stands before me in an all-black short set with black tennis shoes.

The little waves in his freshly cut hair and the earring resting in his right ear remind me of Kenyatta’s light influence on my son.

Kenyatta takes Caleb to the barber shop so I don’t have to do it.

Kenyatta claims that mothers complicate things in a barber shop, so Caleb would be better going with him instead of me.

After a draining back-and-forth conversation, I gave in and let Kenyatta have the task for now.

Kenyatta is also the reason Caleb has an earring in his ear, and I nearly burst a vessel in my eye upon seeing it after one of their barber shop trips.

I have gotten used to the adornment on my baby, only because Caleb loves it.

“Happy Bir—th—day to you,” Isis sings, snapping me out of my admiration of my son, who’s becoming a big boy right before my eyes.

Caleb immediately giggles upon hearing Isis because of the dramatic way she’s singing Happy Birthday to him. Shaking my head, I hold the phone, letting Isis complete her personal serenade that Caleb enjoys. Drunk night or not, Caleb O’Neal is the best thing to ever happen to me.

Dedrick: Tell my little nigga, Caleb, I said happy born day. Call me so I can break your back. I know you miss me while you’re over there playing hard and shit.

“This nigga,” I whisper, locking my phone without acknowledging the text.

Dedrick Ward is my boyfriend who’s on his way to becoming my ex.

We’ve been arguing the last week, and he hasn’t gotten the hint that I’m over his bullshit, despite me ignoring his calls and texts.

Dedrick doesn’t seem to understand that his controlling ways are a turnoff, no matter how many times I have to tell him that I’m not attracted to a man who likes to know my every waking moment.

Ugh, it’s so irritating, especially when I’m already stressed as a single mother.

“I told the manager that the rat smells like old mop water and stale cheese. The old biddy had the audacity to tell me she didn’t smell anything,” Riele rants while taking a seat across from me before taking several bites of her pizza.

Riele Parker is my other best friend, and I love her like a sister my mama should have given birth to. Riele is the spark plug to my low flame and has been adding to my life since our friendship began.

“I hate to break it to you, boo, but most things these days have your nose twisting,” I provide while looking toward her lap.

Riele is nearly nine months pregnant and has been dealing with heightened senses since the beginning of her pregnancy.

It doesn’t take much for things to disturb her nasal passage, so I’m not surprised that she complained to the manager about Chucky.

I gagged the minute the person in the custom costume for this establishment came to perform for us.

I should have known Riele wouldn’t take it lightly when she got a whiff of the pungent smell.

“Ooh, honey, no. Baby, you need some Tussy. How are you running ’round here smelling like that? My Lord, . . . you funky,” Nana rants loudly, causing me to see her fanning her face while talking to Chucky, who’s circulating at the table of people next to ours.

“Mama!” Ma shouts, trying to grab Nana’s arm.

“Don’t mama, me. I know you smell that stank, Vernise,” Nana returns, frowning.

Laughter sounds around our table as my family gets a kick out of Nana’s shenanigans, making me thankful for the kids being back in the play area.

One thing about Edna O’Neal that most of us value within the family is that she doesn’t pull any punches with anybody.

Nana tells it like it is and doesn’t care who her words hit when they leave her mouth.

“That’s not nice though, Mama,” Mom shakes her head, trying to usher Nana away from Chucky.

I fight not to roll my eyes at Mom, trying to come to the rescue of someone else. She has no problem being kind or merciful to everyone but me.

“See, I told Chaniya. I tried to tell the double chin heffa who manages this raggedy place, but she acted like her nose is broken or something.” Riele interjects.

“Where is your husband?” I ask, looking around the space, searching for the one person who can reel Riele in.

Riele and East have been married for five years, and he balances my girl like nobody’s business.

I love the way East not only handles Riele but loves her too.

According to Riele, East is the jelly to her buttered toast, whatever that means.

The two of them met through their cousins, who were friends and felt they would be perfect for each other.

Now they’re expecting their first baby who I can’t wait to spoil.

“I sent him to get me some more nachos. Your god baby loves the bland cheese and salty chips,” Riele provides.

“Whew, I’m tired as hell,” Isis says before plopping into the empty seat beside me.

“You’re the one insisting on keeping up with Caleb like he ain’t got more energy than Red Bull. Hell, if I wasn’t playing weeble wobble with every step, I wouldn’t entertain my baby like that. Caleb tires me out just watching him,” Riele adds.

“That’s exactly why I sent Turquoise’s sons with him. I need my energy for the after-party when all this is over. I ain’t about to play with Caleb,” I say, smirking.

“Wait, where’s the after-party, cuz?” Kenyatta cuts into the conversation.

“My all-purpose patio with some wine, an edible, and some Earth, Wind, and Fire playing,” I provide.

“You and that weak edible. I’d rather smoke a blunt than indulge in that baby high you be messing with,” Kenyatta says.

“Tuh. Don’t knock it until you try it. The smoke shop I buy from has these fire-ass Rice Krispie edibles, and I’m addicted to them,” I inform him.

“That reminds me, Chaniya. I need a refill.” Nana interjects.

“Aw, hell nah. You got Nana eating edibles, Niya?” Kenyatta asks with bulging eyes that bounce between Nana and me.

“You better quit playing with me. A little high ain’t never hurt nobody. I get the best sleep after eating two of those rice treats. Don’t be trying to block my blessings, boy.” Nana waves Kenyatta off, causing Isis, Riele, and me to laugh at her antics.

“You better tell him, Nana. If I could take them while pregnant, I would be high right now,” Riele says just as East returns to the table with her nachos.

“Thank the Lord, because I can’t deal with you when you’re in the stars,” East says, handing Riele the plate before kissing her lovingly on the cheek.

“Let me go check on Caleb.” I walk from the table to check on Caleb, hoping he is ready to wrap up this party.

The loudness in the room is indicative of the enjoyment of the children taking part in whatever event brought them to this establishment.

Light energy flows through me when I take in the smiles on the kid’s faces that I pass.

My steps falter when I reach the outside of the ball pit where Caleb is playing.

A man is holding a little girl whose face is wet with tears, comforting her while kissing the dainty finger she’s holding in front of him.

My chest pinches when I see Caleb watching the display with a somber expression.

“Hey, baby,” I say, grabbing Caleb’s attention while fighting the tears swelling within me upon seeing Caleb’s slight smile.

“I want to go home, Mommy,” Calebs tells me once he’s standing before me inside the ball pit.

Staring at my world, I nod to acknowledge his words because if I reply verbally, I won’t be able to contain the sob, ready to break free. Damn, Chaniya. You really messed this up .