Tapestry

By Jeanette Michelle

Tapestry is a soap opera style drama based on realistic characters with a splash of fiction. Tapestry details the lives of several people of various age groups as well as ethnicity, culture, religious beliefs and sexual preferences that meet by chance and becomes a part of a social gathering. Members of this meet up group have secretes that they try not to reveal that are self evident to each member. Each character has a story to share and explanations for their lifestyle and problems. A turn of events is suddenly centered on one particular member, which changes certain members lifestyle. Tapestry also renders the importance of family, extended family and close friends.

The message Im trying to convey from Tapestry is that we may all be different (personalities, ethnicity, culture, religious and political beliefs and or sexual preferences), but there shouldnt be a reason why we cant get along. This world is a melting pot. America is a melting pot and what make us unique are our differences. We may not agree all the time, but we still should agree to disagree and move on. Stop dwelling on the personal lives of people and accept that person for who he or she are. Everyone cant live your life, but that doesnt mean that I cant like that person or be friends with that person. Most often we isolate people or distant ourselves from people all because theyre not what you want them to be. We also need to understand that everyone is not meant to be the best of friends, but that doesnt mean that I shouldnt respect that person. This is a new dawn and a new world a world of advanced technology. We can conquer countries, but we cant live together in this world peacefully. We should be more than that. This is what this book Tapestry reveals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462064922

Jeanette Michelle

This author Jeanette Michelle is originally from Chicago Illinois and now continues her writing and film journey in Tennessee. You can’t save them all is her 3rd published novel, followed by her next release, Millicent Quinones. Jeanette Michelle now hosts an internet talk show (Dark Mantis Talk) Monday – Friday VIA the internet. To know more about this author, her up and coming projects and to tune in to listen to her show, visit www.iamdark.com. If you would like to make comments on this novel and interested in other novels written by this author, please feel free to email her at [e-mail] or visit www.iamdark.com. Jeanette Michelle would like to thank all that have taken the time out to read her novels and thanks to all for their support.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ed

I’m not a young man. I’m 82 years old and you would think that life would get better for colored folks. I say color folks because that’s what we were long ago and that’s what I am; colored. I’m not white, I’m not black…I’m colored. You were a Nigger, boy or colored. I don’t like Nigger or being called a boy; especially after I became a grown man! White people did that to degrade us colored folks - making us seem inferior!

I live in a 1 bedroom apartment. I didn’t feel the need for two bedrooms. What would I do with two bedrooms? Who want to stay with me? I use my pension to pay rent. Whatever I have left from my pension money goes to a trust fund for Elizabeth. Elizabeth is my grandniece. She’s such a well-mannered little girl thanks to her mother. My other ungrateful children can go to hell! That’s just another long story and I don’t feel like talking about those damn pheasants!

Anyway… I’m sitting here looking out the window of my apartment watching the people and watching these bastard children. I know that I’m generalizing most of the children and I shouldn’t, but…most of them are bastard children. They don’t respect any one! I say this because they play that rap music so loud that it makes my false teeth chatter.

It’s rare to find a group of young folk that are polite and respectable. There’re a few young people living across the way in the other apartment complex. They’re always respectful; they speak to me every time they see me. Like I said before’; you hardly ever meet good young folk. Yes in deed. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. That’s why I take the time-out and talk to those young people.

"I’m a single old man and I like it that way because I don’t have time for the drama. I’ve been divorced for twelve years and then she died. If I known she was going to die, I wouldn’t have divorced. My ex-wife; the mother of my children died 5 years ago. It’s sad too. I didn’t get the chance to talk to her before she died and I had a lot to say to her (he sighs deeply)."

Anyway, sometimes I have a female over to keep me company and that’s when I take my Viagra to keep me up and going if you know what I mean. I did have a pump, but it didn’t do it for me. I had to let that go and start taking the Viagra.

Barbara, my niece is always bugging me about being alone. She thinks that I have Alzheimer’s. I only pretend like I don’t remember anything on purpose so I can have something to laugh about later. Whenever I react as if I don’t remember her, she calls her cousins, which, happens to be one of my self-centered children. She always insists on me going over to her place for dinner on Sundays after church. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t.

"Look at her! She has too much to be shaking like that! That’s enough to get me excited! Wouldn’t you agree? It’s disrespectful for a young woman to have all of her endearments hanging out like that. She needs to cover up. When I see stuff like that, I don’t need that magical pill (he chuckles)."

I called the police on these Mexicans that moved around the corner from me. They were playing their music loud right beneath my window. There’s no damn way I’m listening to that loud music! The police came right away, which was surprising. They’re never on time when someone steals a car or break into a house.

Those Mexicans tried to act as if they didn’t understand English until one of the officers begins to talk to them in their native tongue. I’m certain he mentioned to them that they were disturbing the peace with that Chimichanga music they were playing. I’m sure those Mexicans didn’t want that because more than likely they’re illegal; most of them are you know.

I hate to change the subject, but there’s an issue that needs to be discussed; people living in this country illegally. I don’t have a problem with immigrants coming over here the right way, but they receive more rights than we do; when I say we I mean us colored folks.

"Black people came here by force, not by choice and never paid for our hardships. Those Mexicans come to America and have their babies just to receive government aid and the white people here complain about the colored people on welfare. . We deserve everything we get plus more because we built this country from sweat, tears and blood. This country isn’t fair! I’m angry because no one wants to admit the truth or even talk about what happened to us (he points to his shelf)!"

"Those shackles remind me of where we came from! These young people don’t know about that! That chain and shackles symbolizes slavery. My father gave those shackles to me. He received those shackles and chain from his father. I do not know how they kept that for so long. It’s amazing. It brings tears to my eyes to know how we came here through the middle passage from Africa; the long dark tunnel to slavery (there was a long pause. He took a deep breath and blew out)."

I feel sad when I see what we’ve become after our struggles. It tears me apart. I’m surprised they voted for a black man to be our President, but it doesn’t matter. They still won’t let him do the job. They complain every step he takes. He can’t cough, sneeze or fart! It’s a damn shame! They never did this to our previous President. Hmm. I wonder why?

Every time I turn on the TV to watch the news or look on the Internet, I see something about him or his wife. They just don’t like us and they have no need for that. I listen to the young fellow; he and his wife are intelligent. I heard about his family background, but people don’t pay attention to whom he is; his mother is white and his father is from Kenya. He’s a true African-American; yes indeed.

"I’m also proud that he chose a black woman as his help mate. No matter how white his mother was, they will never accept him as a human being. No matter how many times he states he’s a Christian, they will never accept him. They attack him from left to right. Whatever decision he makes for the good of the people, mainstream America is not happy because of the skin he’s in (he points to his hand and he sighs)."

Now, let me regroup before I started on the President. I came outside and looked at those rowdy Mexicans as the police continued their conversation. Rob and Jeremy were standing outside. Jeremy asked if I called the police and I admitted that I did. Jeremy laughed as he patted me on the back telling me that I’m fierce. I don’t think I was being fierce. I was doing what’s right and I didn’t care if they knew that I called the police.

Rob said that I need to be careful because most people hate it when you call the authorities on them especially when they feel they weren’t in the wrong. I told Rob that I don’t fear any man. I only fear God almighty. I also keep a 45 special underneath my mattress. Barbara had a fit when she found out what happened. I can’t figure out for the life of me who told her about it. Now she’s starting to take the initiative and bring dinner over whenever I don’t go over to her place on Sundays. I love my niece and her daughter, but Barbara is boring. She’s not like Sapphire or Lovely. Sapphire and Lovely are plotting; especially Sapphire. I worry about Lovely more than Sapphire. Lovely is my mixed grandchildren. My son was married to a white woman! I have four grandchildren by Fern and Vincent; Vincent Junior, Mark, Jasmine and Stephen.

I admit that I’m prejudiced and I have that right. No matter what I felt, I had never disrespected her. She was polite and I liked that about her. I must admit; all of my daughter-in-laws are good to me. I only wished that Vincent would have remained with his first wife instead of divorcing and starting over. Starting over is hard, but who am I to talk?

My son decided to marry a Korean woman this time. I don’t know what made him do that. She’s as young as my granddaughter Lovely. I don’t say anything and I don’t trust her. She’s a sneaky woman too. They think I don’t pay attention to anything, but I do. I heard that she took Vincent right from underneath that white woman’s nose. Asian people think they’re more than Black people too. Everybody is white except black people; only if they knew what’s true. If Black People did not exist, other races wouldn’t exist. That’s not a myth, it’s fact!

My phone just rang; I don’t need to guess who it is. It’s near 9 p.m. She probably put her child to bed and decided that she should call me before she retires tonight. It’s the same routine every damn day. She calls me near 9 every damn night! I’m tired of her being so predictable. I took her in after her parents died. She’s my sister’s only child. As much as I complain, she’s still dear to my heart.

I started taking Viagra because I have that urge to let loose every so often. This young woman comes by sometimes and I break it off to her like I’m one of the young men. I buy her gifts sometimes and that’s about it. I haven’t bought her anything lately just to see what she would do. I believe this young woman likes me. She’s about 35. Not bad looking either.

My woman friend spends the night on some weekends and some weekdays. Those are the nights I don’t answer the phone. She leaves early in the morning because she has to check on her teenagers before they leave for school and then she goes to work. I’m glad she leaves like she does because I don’t want Barbara knowing about her. She will probably say that I’m too old to be having sex and start praying. I can hear her now; Satan the Lord rebukes you! She’s notorious for doing that.

I hide my Viagra pills because Barbara searches my medicine cabinet to see what I’m taking; she has some nerves. I wished that some gentleman would come and sweep her off her feet. Her husband died last year from cancer. She changed when that happened. I never hear her speak of a gentlemen caller. I think she needs someone in her life so she can relax and stop focusing on me.

I would introduce her to my neighbor across the street, but he’s a dog. I’ll have to shoot him if he dogs out my niece. I’m just glad that I didn’t introduce them because that would be one more added to his long list of whores. Maybe I shouldn’t refer to the women as whores because they don’t even know that he has other women. They believe they’re the only one. They’re gullible. I see a different woman come out of his home every other weekend. It’s horrible! He’s a male slut! Can you believe that he’s a correctional officer? He doesn’t understand why these women are angry. I’m surprised that they haven’t tried to kill him yet.

"One morning a woman placed a pile of shit on his doorstep. He told me about it. He told me he stepped in it on his way out one morning. That’s funny because I seen who put it there. I didn’t tell him because it serves him right. You must be careful with women these days. You can’t play around on women like men played women long ago. Something may come up missing if you know what I mean. I like my stuff no matter how bad it is. I can correct that problem with one pill (he holds up one finger)."

"One of my buddies told me he caught the crabs from this woman he messed around with. I asked him whom because he was sleeping around with more than one woman. He couldn’t give me an answer. I told him that he better be glad that he didn’t catch anything else. Women can be vindictive. That’s why I’m careful. I don’t need any problems. The older you are the wiser you should become (he clears his throat)."

I must be honest. Lately; I’ve been worrying about my acquaintance. I became spontaneous with her and we did it without any protection. I don’t need to be a father again. I’m too damn old for that. I wanted to ask her about her getting her monthly, but I didn’t want to get too personal. I need to know and was going to ask her when I get enough nerve. That will be a hell of a conversation during Sunday dinner. Guess what every body I’m a father; again.

Chapter 2

Sylvia

"I’ve been a cross-dresser for over 15 years. Everyone (excluding my best friends) thinks I’m a woman, but I’m born a male. I haven’t had a sex change yet and I don’t think I ever will. No one can identify that I’m a man because I’m blessed with regular sized hands. On the other hand, I’m well-endowed if you know what I mean (he giggles). It’s rather difficult to hide my penis. Most times I wear bigger pants or skirts to give the illusion that I don’t have one. I tuck and wear a tight girdle to hide my jewels."

"It’s not easy living my life. I had to make sacrifices - change my name and identity. I’m not happy living the life of a woman because I’m worried most of the time that someone will find out my secret (he points to his penis). This lifestyle is depressing. It’s good to have people around you; it keeps you from going insane, but then again, it’s hard making or keeping friends. Perhaps I should recant that statement. I’m blessed to have my new friends."

I remember when I was a boy or should I say I loathed being a boy. It’s so long ago. I’m only a man when I return home. I never told any of my family members that I live my life as a woman because they’re Christians and they wouldn’t understand. I grew up in a Christian home and I should know better, but I feel comfortable as a woman; I could not imagine living life any other way because I haven’t tried living as a man full-time.

As I reflect on my life, I never looked like a boy. I look at the pictures from the past and notice that I lack the harshness of a male. My complexion was smoother and softer than the average woman. I hold the strength of man, but the sensitivity and mannerism of female. I believe my father notices this as well.

I had many female friends, which made everyone thought I like women, but they were wrong to assume such. I was learning their secrets. I was watching their behavior, mannerism and character. I wanted to know all their secrets. I wanted to be what they are; female. I dated them to learn and that helped me to become what they are or should I say it helped me to understand living life as a woman.

My father signed me up for boxing at the recreation center 6 blocks from where we lived after my 15th birthday. I didn’t disagree because I didn’t want him suspicious of whom I was or should I say who I wanted to be. My brothers are older. They didn’t take up much time with me. I’m the middle child; 3 older brothers and 3 younger sisters. I love boxing. I’m fascinated with the art of boxing. Boxing kept me from losing my way whenever I felt depressed about my feelings. Training helped me keep my composure; at least that’s what I believe.

After I graduated from high school I left home and moved to New York to attend modeling school. I got a job part-time working at a restaurant to pay for my room and board. I landed a few modeling jobs that didn’t pay well, but I wanted something more. I wanted to be like my sisters. I wanted to be beautiful! I wanted to walk graciously down the street in high heels. I felt compelled to live this life; my destiny.

While I was in New York I met a few transsexuals. I started associating with them often learning about what they do and how they lived. It’s fascinating and addictive. After I learned how to apply makeup, buy the perfect wigs, and clothing, I decided to go out in public to see if I could fool anyone. I loved it! I loved the attention I received walking down the street; good or bad. I felt comfortable. I had confidence. Women do not realize how much power they have. They should love who they are!

Bernice said I had the perfect face and that I would make a perfect woman without a sex change. Bernie had a sex change when she was 24. She was 30 when I met her. Bernice whom we call Bernie for short is a gorgeous transsexual. She explained to me what took place before she decided to have the surgery. What’s sad about Bernie’s life is that her family refuses to talk to her. She was her parent’s only son. Her father was expecting her to carry on the family’s name - legacy. Now, she lives a life without her biological family. She has an adopted family, but it’s different. That’s why I vowed to keep my lifestyle sacrosanct. My family will not know unless I choose to reveal my true self.

Whenever I visit my family, I visit as a man. I don’t visit as Sylvia. I visit under my birth name; Claude Samuel Baines. I don’t ever want to be excluded from my family like Bernie. It would be too painful for me to accept, but deep down I believe my mother knows. Your mother is always the first to know because a mother always knows her child. Women have an intuition that’s inexplicable. They don’t even understand it. They call it mother wit. I don’t know how this happens, but maybe it’s the God in them; maybe because they are Gods.

Women hold a power men would not ever know or understand. A woman births children. After the birth of a child, that child worships the ground she walks on. She’s that child’s protector. She nurtures this child, and feeds this child. Women are Gods in the eyes of children. This is why I feel and believe that my mother know who I am.

Whenever I return home my parents would ask when I’m getting married or who I am dating. The last time I visited them, I showed them a picture of Karen. Karen happens to be a transsexual that I met through by Bernie. We took pictures like we were on a vacation. I told my family that we were a couple. I kept the pictures we took when we went on a cruise on the Cayman Islands and showed these pictures to my family. I showed them the pictures we took on the beach; having dinner and dancing. When my family saw these pictures they were in awe. Karen and I appeared to be a happy couple in love.

"My father smiled and blew out in relief when he had seen the pictures. My mother went a step further asking when they would meet Karen. I had to lie and say that I had not made it official yet because I wasn’t sure about marrying a woman with a ready-made family. You see; I was using my head. That explanation convinced my parents that I am a man despite of my mannerism. I then continued by telling them that I want to have my own children and that’s a blatant lie (he chuckles)."

Growing up, I was a neat freak. I would keep my side of the room clean and tidy. I kept my clothes cleaner than my sisters. I helped my mother in the kitchen instead of playing ball. To add to that list, I was frequently caught reading a love novel and watching a chick flick on TV. Women in Hollywood from the thirties and sixties were marvelous! They had this daunting look about them that was sexy and captivating. They weren’t the skin and bones America depicts as sexy in today’s world.

I loved watching Divas such as Diane Carroll, Tina Turner, Raquel Welch, Eartha Kit, Marilyn Monroe, Dorothy Dandridge, Diana Ross, Ann Margaret, Julie Newmar, Lauren Bacall, Elizabeth Taylor and Rita Hayworth. They were Divas. Some of those Divas are still around. I admired them. I wanted to be them. I can tell you about these women because I studied them.

Don’t be deceived; I can play football better than my brothers, run faster - box and knock a softball out of the park, but I love the life of a female. I would watch my sisters at home. I was attentive to their mannerism and behavior. I just love the way they hang out in the bathroom together or at the mall. They would talk on the phone for hours discussing what they were going to wear or what boy they liked the most.

"Women take being feminine for granite and don’t appreciate one another friendship. They are catty without realizing such. They are more territorial than males. They don’t realize how good they have it and the power they hold. They take for granite their beauty. They take for granted, the smoothness of their bodies or the finesse they possess. I wished that I was born that way. I’ve wished it so many times that I cannot count. I can’t tell anyone who I am or what I am. Sometimes I forget that I was born male because I’m accustomed to Sylvia. I’ve made Sylvia my life. What am I saying? I am Sylvia (he laughs)!"

Sylvia knows when to be a bitch. Sylvia knows when to compromise. I’ve learned so much living this life. I’ve had so many disappointments and hard aches, but I’ve survived. It’s a difficulty lifestyle. You need stamina to carry on. You will spend many nights alone praying and wondering when this loneliness will subside. I’ve spent every night alone because I’m afraid to be with a man. I had sex with one woman because of curiosity. I’m 44 years old. I’m not getting any younger. I need to decide what I really want to do before I become any older.

Chapter 3

Chelsea

It’s that time again to host the meet up at my home. I’m the only one that worries about hosting the gathering. Everyone is excited when it’s their time, but I’m not. I clam up and come up with some excuse. The reason why I don’t like hosting the gathering is because of my husband Jamie. He’s the most thoughtless asshole I’ve ever met! He’s only concerned with himself! He always criticizes my friends. I explained to him a million times that I don’t’ exactly choose my friends; they choose me and I love them just the way they are.

Every other Friday I meet with my friends for dinner. We made a pact to do this for the rest of our lives no matter what unless there’s death in the family or one of us moves out of town; that’s when the exceptions comes into play. We alternate houses each time; a small price to pay. This time it’s my turn, and next are Miguel and Ramón. They are lucky. Miguel and Ramón are the only couple in our meet up. When they host the party they do it big.

After Miguel and Ramón I think its Jasmine turn and then Sylvia. I believe it goes in that order; I think I’m missing people. Is it Rickie? No not her. Rickie barely has a place to stay or does she? I keep forgetting. Perhaps it’s Mai. I think its Mai or maybe not. We meet every other Friday.

The reason I’m a little disoriented right now is because my mother came over two days ago complaining about the décor in my home. She loathes the modern art deco, but everyone other than her loves it. Jasmine’s mother decorated my place. It’s to die for!

I believe that my mother is upset because we don’t have a baby. Jamie’s parents are freaking out too. My mother is boisterous with her complaining because I don’t have a career like everyone in our social circle. Let me recant that statement; her social circle. She said that I’m an alcoholic with no future. Who needs a career when you have money? I’m rich! I don’t give a damn about having a career! That takes too much time and effort and that would give me crows’ feet! Botox is a pain in the ass!

If I take a job I’ll be taking money away from some poor pathetic person. That’s a waste! She doesn’t’ understand. She’s enthralled with infamy and prestige. I don’t give a damn about that crap! It’s pointless! Give me my massages, tanning time, facials, exquisite perfume, designer clothing, shoes and handbags with a good martini and I’m good to go!

My father doesn’t complain. As long as I’m happy he’s happy. He’s glad because I don’t borrow money like Cynthia. Cynthia doesn’t have a clue on how to manage money. Her husband handles the finances in their home. They could be bankrupt!

"I’ve been thinking; I don’t feel I can have children. This size 2 body is not for reproduction. Now, that I’m thinking; I haven’t tried. I hear Jasmine with her children and it’s ridiculous. I mean, she’s always busy barely having time for herself. I don’t want that. I like doing nothing (she picks up her martini and takes a sip)."

"This is what I do (she takes another sip). Look around me (she lifts her hands in the air). This is heaven; my heaven! I don’t want to ruin my life to become someone I’m not meant to be; a mother. Every female isn’t mother material. That’s why you have so many neglected children in the world today."

"Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I want to be changing diapers for the rest of my life. Not to be sounding facetious, but I love my life the way it is (she picks up her cocktail again and takes another sip). I’m observant of my friend Jasmine and I realize how my life could be if I had two children like her. I do believe she’s abused.

"I’ve mentioned to Miguel and Sylvia about the bruises I’ve seen on Jasmine’s arms. I don’t think they paid me any attention. I haven’t spoken to her cousin about it or her stepmother (she swallows). I get sick to my stomach when I say stepmother because her stepmother is around our age. It’s sickening!"

I hate to keep jumping from subject to subject, but Jasmines life is extraordinary. Her mother is white; an Englishwoman to be exact and her father is a black man. Jasmine has three brothers through by her mother and father. She has a sister almost the age as her son through by her father and stepmother.

"Okay. Jasmine’s father and mother divorced. Her father Vincent remarried a young Korean woman or is she Vietnamese? I can’t tell. All Asians look similar if you ask me. Jasmine always corrects me when I say such. She says its equivalent to stating that all blacks look alike; whatever (she sighs)."

Mai, which is Jasmine’s stepmother, married Jasmine’s father and got pregnant right away. On the other hand, Jasmine got pregnant by her husband almost a year later. Supposedly, it’s Jasmine husband’s son, but the child looks Asian. He doesn’t look anything like Anthony. By the way; Anthony is Italian. There’s no way in this world that child is Anthony’s. The child doesn’t look like his mother for Christ sake! I don’t say anything because it’s none of my business. If Jasmine doesn’t volunteer any information I don’t ask. That’s just the way Jasmine and I am. If she likes it I love it.

"The reason I say that Jasmine’s life is extraordinary is because she had the opportunity to live in Europe and travel halfway around