Chapter 36
Justice
After a cold morning shower, I’m nestled in yoga attire. I hustle down the stairs and into the kitchen where my mother is at the stove. An olive-green velour outfit hugs her slender frame. I have to give her credit for the color, though. It brings out her dark skin. She turns over crispy, sizzling bacon, then meanders to the tabletop to whisk a bowl filled with eggs.
I wrap my slender mom in a hug. The top of her feathered, short hairdo tickles at my chin. I somewhat inherited my father’s height. The intimidating height came in handy when he stopped his school bus, got up, and warned the children they would all be late. My classmates once argued that my pops was a snitch. I would practically die at school while my father had no shame holding the entire bus accountable, sharing their behavior with the principal. I fix a few of her flattened tresses, gushing, “Mommy, I missed you.”
“Girl, you’re too old to call me mommy.”
“Nope, that clause is invalid after almost a year of not seeing you.” She laughs, and I add, “Even when I’m a hundred and one, you will still be my mommy.”
“And too young . . .”
“To cuss,” we chant in unison.
“There you go, Justice, talking mannish.” Mom shakes her head.
I’m about to say she’s too young to imitate Granny, but a happy squeal exits my lips while I give her another embrace. This one has me moving from side to side.
“I miss you too.” She offers one last affectionate squeeze. “How long are you staying?”
I settle down on the blue vinyl chair at the table with a faux pout. “Am I eating you out of house and home?”
“No.” Momma sighs, descending onto the chair beside me. “It’s just that friend of yours, Chevelle, is it? I can’t for the life of me fathom why her parents would name her after a car.”
“Momma.”
My mother waves her hand in my direction. “Anyway, I do believe that young lady is the first person you’ve grown close to while away.”
“She is.”
“She’s opening up a big-time pub? Why she won’t call a bar a bar, I don’t know, but I need my baby girl to continue having prosperous friends like that.” Her hand waves toward the heavens.
“Yes, prosperous.” If you only knew the sins I reveled in last night. I won’t even let my mind reflect over my reality as it pertained to Brody MacKenzie two weeks ago.
“Oh, you better thank the Good Lord, girl. She wants you to manage her new place once it’s open. How much does a house cost in Los Angeles these days? Does a cool-one-mill get me a matchbox?”
“Momma, stop.” I shake my head. My mother’s all of a hundred pounds and five feet tall, but her mouth’s larger than I’ve ever been.
Her face grows long. “Are you happy?”
“I’m happy. I really am.” Long as I avoid temptation. My cellphone is still on do not disturb from his efforts last night.
Momma rises to her feet with a hushed groan, heading back over to the stove.
“Momma, I can do—”
“If you don’t shut yo mouth and tell me about these blessings!”
I laugh at her oxymoron as she scoops a heap of butter into a skillet for the scrambled eggs.
“Alright,” I sigh, “I rescheduled my flight for the opportunity of a lifetime. Until Mia’s Pla—”
“Oh, that’s the little caramel baby’s name!”
“Yes, Momma.” I laugh, recalling the conversation momma and Mia had during our slumber party in Chicago. My momma may have a big mouth, but that kid’s mouth is larger than life. “While we’re getting Mia’s Place up and running, I still need to grab some hours with Michie—my current employer.”
“Michie? Oh, yes, I remember, the little guy. What is with California folks and those names?” She plants her hands on thin hips.