Chapter Eighteen
Chapter
Eighteen
Family Dinner
“I understand what you’re saying. And obviously, when
he’s a grown adult, he can do what he wants, but right now, it’s about
respect,” I said to Darius.
“He can respect you, and me, by keeping his room clean. By
doing his chores. By getting his homework done without us havin’
to ride his ass. By helpin’ with dinner and cleanup
after. Him not saying shit and fuck is bowing to the bullshit, baby,” Darius
said to me.
“Yeah, what Dad said,” Liam said, also to me.
We were in Darius’s truck on the way to Miss Dorothea’s.
Even though my son’s legs were longer than mine, like when we went to
Carmine’s, Darius wouldn’t hear of me giving Liam the front seat. He was in the
back.
And we were again on the subject of cursing.
“Also by offering up no grumbling or backtalk,” Darius added
pointedly.
Liam didn’t pipe up to that.
Even though Darius had scored one for me with that last bit,
I crossed my arms and groused, “I’m obviously not going to win, but whatever.
Let’s see how Miss Dorothea feels about Liam dropping the F-bomb and the S-bomb
and the D-bomb and the H-bomb all over her doilies.”
And yes, that was Darius’s mom. Sweet. Quiet. Loving. Made
great cookies. And she collected antique doilies.
“It isn’t about winning, sweetheart. I can tell this is
important to you, and I’d roll over for you in just about anything, if it
wasn’t important to me too. Who said the woman’s place was in the home? The
establishment. Who said a Black man couldn’t fall in love with a white woman,
or vice versa? The establishment. Who said gay people were unnatural? The
establishment. Who said dealing drugs was worse than rape so the sentences for
those offenses are longer? The establishment. Fuck that. And fuck them for telling
me, or my son, or you, or anyone they can’t say fuck.”
That was a great speech.
And the best part about it?
“You’d roll over for me in just about anything?” I asked.
Darius was silent for a beat, then he busted out laughing.
I enjoyed it then I turned to look at my boy in the back.
“Just temper it, okay? And please, be careful with your mouth around both your
grandmothers.” I shot him a jaunty smile. “They’re not as cool as your mom.”
I saw the white flash of his teeth in his handsome face
before he said, “’Kay, Mom.”
Darius reached out a hand to me.
I took it.
And the rest of the way to his mom’s, we held hands.
I was surprised to find she didn’t live in the same house,
at the same time unsurprised.
Mister Morris was all over their old house. He’d put in the
landscaping. He’d sacrificed his garage by making it into a rec room for his
kids. He’d built the back deck.
There were some who would find those constant reminders of a
lost loved one a balm.
And some would find them torture.
I was glad she’d moved, because I’d loved Mister Morris, and
I would find them torture.
Obviously, Miss Dorothea did too.
There were two spiffy cars parked at the curb in front of
her house when we pulled into the drive, and I reckoned Danni and Gabby’s
interior design business was going well. They had talent, that was clear.
I’d also learned, after we’d moved our carloads of stuff to
Darius’s that day, and Liam was relaxing with a video game, and Darius and I
were upstairs, cuddling after an afternoon quickie, that he’d put them through
school and put up the money for them to start their business.
I also wondered if he’d given them the money for those
spiffy cars.
For sure he bought Dorothea her house (something else he
told me), which was a tidy bungalow in Washington Park, one of the most coveted
neighborhoods in Denver, so it had to cost a fortune.
The front door opened before we were fully out of the truck,
and Miss Dorothea was standing in it.
While her sister, Shirleen, was a tall, curvy, proud Black
woman with a gorgeous, full Afro, tawny eyes and mocha skin, Dorothea was a
less tall, but still curvy, bundle of femininity with a becoming hairstyle of
flips and curls and subdued makeup. And I didn’t think I’d ever seen her in
anything but a stylish dress and heels, flats or classy sandals. Some were more
casual than others, but she always turned herself out in subtle, impeccable
ways.
And now was no exception.
Liam forged ahead swiftly, and I knew why when her arms
opened up before he got there. They closed around him, and she swung him side
to side, saying, “My boy. My boy.”
“Hey, Grams,” he greeted.
She let him go and he stepped inside. Darius pushed me
forward, and I, too, walked into her open arms.
“Malia, the first time of many to have you back home,” she
whispered in my ear. “A celebration.”
I relaxed into her even as I hugged her back.
We let go and she gave the same treatment to Darius, her
eyes closing, love washing through her face, and I wondered if she noticed in
him the things Mister Morris had left behind like I did.
Then again, she couldn’t miss them.
She shuffled us in and there they were. I couldn’t help but
smile. Pinned precisely, framed and artfully arranged on a gallery wall,
somehow looking cool rather than old-fashioned and dated, were Miss Dorothea’s
doilies.
Yes, it felt like I came home.
Danni and Gabby wandered in from the kitchen.
“Get over here, kid,” Danni said to Liam.
He loped over.
She gave him a hug.
Gabby stared blazes at me.
Uh-oh.
Liam moved for a hug from Gabby, and she wiped her face
clean when he did.
But then Danni stared blazes at me.
One could hope Darius had fallen into a perusal of the
doilies, but he was Darius. Not only had he seen them before, and probably
didn’t give a damn about them, he was Darius.
And I was me.
“Wipe that shit off your face,” he growled to Danni.
Yep.
He wasn’t in perusal of the doilies.
Dorothea came abreast of us, asking, “What?”
“Nothing, Ma,” he said, scowling at Danni.
“Yeah, nothing,” Danni said then cried a fake happy, “Malia!
So good to see you!”
I endured two fake-happy hugs from Darius’s sisters, with
Gabby adding, “What can I get you to drink? Wine? Beer? Sweet tea?”
“Wine, if you have it,” I replied.
“I live to serve,” she said, whirling and making no bones
about escaping my presence by going to the kitchen.
“I’ll help!” Danni called and followed her sister.
“Sit down, darlin’,” Dorothea ordered. “But first, let me
get a good look at you.” She took my hands and held them out to the sides. “You
always were such a pretty thing, with such great style.”
Considering I’d had some nerves about this dinner, like most
women when something important was going down, I’d worried about what to wear.
I was glad I got it right.
I’d worn a midi-dress in tiny yellow, purple and green
flowers, sleeveless with a ruffled shoulder and a v-ruffle on the full shirt.
The mock turtleneck was smocked, as was the waist. I was wearing a cropped
jeans jacket over it and fawn-suede, peep-toe, sandal-back, stack-heeled
booties. And I’d smoothed my hair into a fluffy-bunched topknot.
Darius, by the way, was in one of his new shirts.
Which was what Dorothea commented on next. “Son, that shirt
looks fine on you.” Her gaze coasted between us. “Such a handsome couple.”
Darius draped an arm along my shoulders.
“Family,” Liam corrected, sliding up next to us and popping
his collar. “Handsome family. What do you say Grams? Are the girls gonna fall
at my feet in this new button-down Mom got me?”
Okay, so Toni and I got a bit carried away at the mall. We
were in the men’s department at Nordstrom.
Sue us.
“Liam Edward, I hope you’re more worried about your studies
than girls,” she chided.
“Get on this planet, Grams, and get ready, ’cause Dad bought me new wheels, so it’s date night every
Friday and Saturday night for Liam Edward Clark Tucker.”
Yes, we had the conversation with Liam that morning over
breakfast.
And yes, he was all the way down with taking his father’s
name.
And yes, when Dorothea’s gaze raced to her son’s after her
grandson’s announcement, a nanosecond later, her eyes filled with tears.
Darius pulled her in his arms and said over her head to his
boy, “Smooth, son.”
Liam grinned unrepentantly. “Surprises are the best.”
“What’s going on?” Danni asked.
She was carrying two glasses of wine.
It looked like Gabby had a glass of Coke, which I frowned
at. My son didn’t drink pop. There weren’t a lot of things I refused him, but a
beverage that could break down a nail over time was one of them.
“I’m taking Dad’s name as soon as he gets it sorted to go
before a judge,” Liam announced.
The real Gabby came out when she exclaimed, “Oh my God!
That’s amazing, honey!” as she handed him the Coke and gave him another hug.
Danni didn’t even look at me when she passed off the glass
of white wine, and I didn’t think it was just because she was all about Liam as
she added, “Totally! That’s great.”
She definitely looked at Darius when she handed him his
glass of red.
I actually preferred red, but she didn’t ask, and I didn’t
say anything.
“Liam,” I said softly, dipping my head to his Coke.
He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, Aunt Gabs. I don’t drink Coke.”
“It’s a special occasion,” she replied.
“Mom doesn’t like it. And I don’t really like it either.” He
looked to his grandmother. “I’m sorry to waste, Grams.”
“That’s fine, love,” she said, sending a side eye to Gabby,
telling me that Liam had told them this already, including the part that I
didn’t like it. “I got you cranberry juice and some of those sports drinks you
like. The blue ones. Your favorite.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, then hustled to the kitchen.
“Okay, now, let’s sit,” Miss Dorothea said.
Darius led me to the couch, and I sat, but he didn’t. He
stood at my side, arms crossed on his chest, eyes tracking every move his
sisters made.
Oh boy.
He hadn’t missed the Coke thing either.
Dorothea sat on the opposite side of the couch to me.
I shrugged off the strap of my purse, placed it by my feet
and settled in.