“Thank you for sending the tickets.” Ma says.
Surprised, I look at Bristol, who just nods and tells my mom it was no trouble. I didn’t know she sent tickets. Even after Bristol’s “moment” with my mom, we haven’t talked as much as we should. I’ve been giving her room to get used to Bristol and me. Maybe she was giving me room to change my mind. I hope she’s starting to accept that won’t be happening.
“That song ‘Bruise,’ it is dope,” Jade says softly.
“Thanks,” I answer. “I still want to get you in the studio writing. For real, Jade, it’s past time you put all that talent to use.”
“I’m always looking for new talent,” Bristol interjects with a hesitant smile. “I won’t know if you don’t show me anything.”
Jade’s almond-shaped eyes narrow, like she’s ascertaining if we’re tricking her. I’ve never met anyone warier than Jade, but she’s had lots of reason in her life to mistrust. She and I finally talked about what happened on that playground all those years ago. I won’t say it changed everything overnight, but things have been a little easier between us.
“A’ight,” Jade finally says, adjusting the Raiders cap she’s never without. “Maybe this week.”
“Good.” I hook my elbow around her neck and kiss the top of her head, making her squirm and punch my arm. “Rhyson will be in the studio with me Thursday. Why not come ready with something for him to hear?”
Jade’s eyes stretch. She may prefer hip-hop to Rhyson’s modern rock, but she knows he owns Prodigy. She knows how famous he is, how successful.
“Seriously?” she asks.
“Seriously.” I grin and drop another kiss on her head, one she doesn’t dodge this time.
“I was hoping to see the baby,” Ma says. “Where is Rhyson?” “They left right after I performed,” I say. “They needed to get Aria home.”
“Since you’re the godfather.” Ma laughs. “What’s that make me? The grand-godmama?”
“I’m sure they’d love that.” I glance at Bristol, who usually gets quiet around my mother. “Bris, that would make your mom the grandmother and the grand-godmama. It’s a mouthful.”
“True.” Bristol smiles stiffly, her fingers tight around mine.
“Guess that’ll have to do for me,” Ma says. “Till y’all give me some grandbabies of my own.”
Bristol and I share a shockwave as my mother’s words sink in. It’s been a few weeks since that first Sunday dinner, and we haven’t gone back. I’ve seen my mother, of course, but after that first disaster, we haven’t been back at her table. I need to be sure it won’t happen again, and when we go back, we can make new memories that eclipse the painful ones Bristol has now. Is this my mother signaling that she understands that?
“Um . . .” I’m not sure what to say, but it probably needs to be more than this.
“Marlon tells me you liked my greens, Bristol.” Ma interjects, her expression softened, smiling. “I even heard you tried to make them yourself.”
I casually mentioned that once to my mother, hoping to show her how sweet and funny Bristol can be. I feel Bristol’s irritation reaching out for me. Shit. It might be angry sex for us tonight. No sex is not an option ever.
“Yes, well they didn’t turn out very well.” Bristol looks at me pointedly. “As I’m sure Grip mentioned.”
“They couldn’t have been any worse than the first time I tried.” Ma cackles, shaking her head. “My mama took one bite and threw them in the trash.”
“She did?” Bristol’s smile comes a little easier.
“Oh, yeah. They were awful.” Ma pauses and offers Bristol a tentative smile. “Why don’t you come over a little early on Sunday, and I’ll show you how I make them?”
Bristol’s mouth drops open a little, and she blinks several times. I elbow her on the sly.
“Um, yeah. Yes. I mean, that would be awesome.” Bristol’s mouth stretches to its maximum smile capacity. “I’d like that very much.”
Ma nods, her smile not as wide but sincere all the same. She turns her eyes to me, and they water. Even when we’ve spoken recently, this has stood between us. Her inability to accept that I plan to spend the rest of my life with someone she saw as wrong for me and perceived as an insult to the sacrifices she made for me.
“I’ve missed seeing you on Sundays, Marlon.” She offers the words like an olive branch.
“I’ll be there this week.” I reach down and pull her small frame close. “We’ll be there this week. I wouldn’t miss you teaching Bristol to cook collard greens for the world.”
She laughs against my chest, but her arms tighten around me, and I know she’s missed our easy closeness as much as I have. She pulls back, sniffing, but still linking one arm around my waist.