Chapter 15 #2
Big Mama gave Courtney’s arm a light squeeze before she headed back to the stove, and the warming sensation that blossomed in my chest watching the two of them interact spread throughout my entire body.
Yes, I’d wanted my parents’ approval, but the person I’d been most nervous to introduce Courtney to had been Big Mama.
Defying my parents, that I was used to, but I honestly had no fucking clue what I would have done if my grandmother hadn’t approved of Courtney.
Luckily, it wasn’t something I had to worry about. It was hard not to love Courtney.
“Well, we been up early to get all the food cooked. How much longer on the turkey?” I asked.
“Oh, we should be ready in about another hour.”
“Sounds good. I’m starvin’.”
We headed out to get the food along with the Sterno sets to make sure everything stayed warm. Mya and Courtney worked to arrange
everything on Big Mama’s buffet, setting up each of the racks before placing the food pans in. They looked so natural in the
space, I had to force myself to head outside to get the last few items instead of watching them work with minimal bickering.
“I hope we made enough,” I said when I came back in. “Who all’s comin’ again?”
“Hmmm, your auntie and ’em should be here in a bit. And before you ask, yes, she’s bringin’ the sweet potato pie,” Big Mama
answered as she basted the turkey.
“You heard from Momma and Daddy?”
“Yeah, they called this mornin’. Said they’d be comin’ by. Might be a little late for dinner. They headin’ to the church to
help with dinner they put on every year.”
I nodded. It was an election year, so I was sure their acts of service were for photo ops to really sell how much for the community they were.
Always focused on their image. Everything came second to how they were perceived by the public.
It didn’t matter that he’d held his seat as district representative at the state capitol over fifteen years and had run unopposed the last few elections.
Seeing their daughter for the first time in three months—or hell, simply spending the holiday with family—could wait until after the photo op was over.
They wouldn’t dampen the day for me.
Once my aunt, uncle, and cousins started arriving, the house really livened up. Courtney hadn’t been to many family functions,
and even though I knew she had fans, it was somewhat strange to see my youngest cousin going all fan-boy. It was all well
and good until he started in on “getting a hookup” talk. Then I had to shut him down. She could probably get him tickets to
a game, but I didn’t want it to become a thing where he felt entitled and she somehow felt obligated since he was family.
I wouldn’t stand for them trying to take advantage.
Everyone was eating and enjoying conversation by the time my parents finally arrived. They made a show of things upon their
arrival as if we should all be lucky they’d graced us with their presence. My annoyance unfortunately didn’t stop the immediate
nerves that stamped down any desire to finish the delicious food on my plate, especially since they looked at and greeted
everyone else first. I pushed back from the table, smoothing down the front of my dress, and made my way over to greet them.
“Baby girl,” Dad exclaimed, squeezing me in a tight embrace.
His greetings always had a way of making me feel like he actually missed me and was excited to see me again. I used to fall
for it when I was younger until I witnessed him giving everyone that same level of jovial welcome and realized it was simply
the politician in him.
Mom held me at arm’s length as she looked over my outfit, and I tried not to fidget under her scrutiny.
She was impeccable as always. Her hair was up in her signature French roll and her makeup was always done to give a “natural” look.
In comparison to my dress, which looked like an oversized knit sweater, hung off one shoulder, and stopped mid-thigh, Mom wore a burnt-orange turtleneck that complemented her dark skin wonderfully and gray wool slacks.
I waited for the inevitable negative comment that I was showing too much skin and question about why I couldn’t find something more appropriate to wear, but to my surprise she simply smiled before pulling me into a brief hug.
She turned her attention to Mya. “Glad you could join us again. Mya, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You still keeping up with your studies?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Good. Because education is important, and shouldn’t be taken for granted.”
And there it was. I bit down on my tongue and forced a breath out through my nose.
Mom had already moved on from her subtle dig and set her sights on Courtney. She held her arms out expectantly. “Courtney,
it’s been a while. I almost forgot I had a daughter-in-law.”
Courtney laughed quietly as she stood to give my mother the embrace she’d requested. “Good to see you again, Beverly.” It
was quick and awkward, then she turned and extended a hand toward my father. “Quincy.”
He responded with the quick, politician shake and a tight smile.
The relationship between my wife and my parents was cordial at best. It’s not that they had anything against Courtney directly because on one hand they were happy—mostly—that I’d settled down.
But they disapproved of how the “settling down” had happened.
They thought the marriage was just another example of my irresponsibility, immaturity, and impulsiveness.
Some of our less-than-stellar public moments only fed into their narrative.
Nothing I said made a difference despite the fact Courtney and I were three years in and had created a very nice life together.
I thought they’d be proud of me; instead, Mom did her subtle passive-aggressiveness and Dad remained standoffish.
“Well, g’on and fix y’all somethin’ to eat,” Big Mama said, breaking up the tension.
I tried to go back to my relaxed state from before they walked in. But the nervous unease I could never shake when in the
same room as my parents had taken hold. The initial reception had been cordial enough, but I braced for what I knew would
be coming. Mainly the questions about what I was doing with my life, and digs at how I was still not living up to my potential
by not finding any “direction,” as if being a homemaker wasn’t enough. That’s all Mom was.
After they fixed their plates, we all shifted at the table to make space for them to join. The conversations started back
up with talk about the upcoming football games, and deals my cousin had gotten for Black Friday. That turned into a whole
thing with my other cousin about how it’s a conspiracy and the deals aren’t really any good because the stores raise the prices
beforehand.
“Where is your family today?” Mom asked, cutting into the chatter.
The two sisters shared a look, and I realized I hadn’t bothered to ask Court if she’d talked with her folks or not. They were
sporadic at best with communicating with her, and it was usually if they were trying to reach Mya after she went too long
without speaking to them.
In the three years we’d been married, I’d yet to meet my in-laws.
“They are visiting with our grandmother in Houston for the holidays, and then I think they were heading to Miami for a cruise,”
Mya answered.
“Houston. Is that where you’re from?” This time Mom leveled her gaze at Courtney.
“Momma, what’s with all the questions?”