Chapter 8
The next day, my mother was off work. I needed to talk to her, so I went by her house before I went to my storefront. She offered to cook breakfast for me. Since LoLo had been planning to stop by my shop, I just told her to meet me at my mom’s.
When my mom answered the door, I fell into her arms. She caught me and held me, placing a kiss on the side of my face. “My dramatic little baby.”
“Mama, I’m in crisis,” I whined, refusing to release her from the embrace, even though I knew she wanted to greet LoLo.
“Okay, let’s go inside and eat, and you can tell me all about it.”
I gave her one last hard squeeze before releasing her. “Okay.”
She pulled LoLo into a quick hug. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey, Auntie Toya.”
LoLo and I followed my mother into her dining room.
My mother was fancy, so her table was already set with a crisp white tablecloth.
Emerald-green plates sat on gold-plated chargers.
Gold silverware sat beside all three place settings.
Folded linen napkins spattered with flowers sat on top of each plate.
And stemless glasses made of beveled glass sat waiting to be filled with some non-alcoholic but sparkling beverage.
My mother was the type to make a production out of almost everything.
It was one of the things I appreciated most about her.
She made every moment and every occasion count.
“Ooh, Auntie. You’ve got it looking so pretty in here.”
She grinned at LoLo. “This is one of my contenders for the Thanksgiving Day tablescape. I thought I would try it out on y’all.”
“Well, I love it.”
“Thank you, boo. Let me get breakfast.”
LoLo and I watched as my mother rolled in her serving cart. She was so damn extra. Who had a serving cart that didn’t own or work in a restaurant?
“Mama, really?”
“Leave me alone, Wyndi Castle. I told you, I’m trying stuff out for Thanksgiving. Cecelia and Rodney are coming, . . . and so is Channing.”
“How is Channing doing?” LoLo asked. The three of us had grown up together, as LoLo and I had been friends since middle school.
“He’s doing good . . . when he stays on his meds.”
Yep, that was the problem. Channing didn’t like to stay on his meds.
He would be doing well, taking his meds.
Then somewhere along the line, his mind would convince him that he didn’t need his meds anymore.
He would stop taking them, and all the progress he’d made would go out the window, until he got back on his meds.
It was a vicious cycle. My heart went out to him, but honestly, I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just stay on his meds.
My mom glanced over at me, her eyes soft. “I heard he’s bringing his new friend girl.”
LoLo laughed. “I love when your generation says that, friend girl. My mama be talking about, lady friend and gentleman friend. Like, Maloah, when are you gonna introduce us to your gentleman friend. I’m like, Mama, that ninja ain’t no gentleman.”
The three of us laughed, and I appreciated LoLo for trying to lighten the mood, but there wasn’t any need.
“I’m fine with that, Mama. He can bring whoever he wants.
It’s been six years. I’m not still hurting over Channing.
If he found somebody who can love him through his challenges, I’m happy for him.
” I paused as I watched my mother lift a platter of toast from the cart to the table. “Besides, I have bigger fish to fry.”
“What kind of fish?” She moved the ice bucket to the table. When I saw it held a bottle of sparkling apple cider, I wanted to laugh. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I was just like her.
“You’re gonna be a grandmother.”
LoLo started to violently choke. I jumped up and pounded her back. My mother was decidedly calmer than me when she spoke. “Try to cough it out, baby.”
Since my mother was a nurse, I felt it only right that LoLo defer to her.
“I’m sorry.” LoLo apologized once she was able to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.” She cut her gaze at me. “I wasn’t expecting you to blurt that out like that, Wyn. You could’ve given your mom some warning.”
My mother shrugged. “That’s how Wyndi is. She likes to drop bombs and catch you off guard.”
“I just don’t like beating around the bush,” I corrected.
“I’m gonna be a grandmother, huh?” Her tone was much dryer than it was way back when.
Back when I told her that Channing and I were expecting, she practically jumped up and down.
Maybe she was wary that this pregnancy would end the way that one did, just like I was.
I was wary, scared, and anxious. “How come some young man is impregnating you and I’ve never met him? ”
“We’re not a couple. We were never a couple,” I admitted before quickly tacking on, “Don’t judge me!”
“Nobody’s judging you, Wyndi. Calm down, my love. Who is this man?”
I shrugged, then heaved out a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t matter. He has no intentions of being involved with the baby.”
Her eyes ballooned as she plopped down into one of the dining chairs. “He told you this? He’s already decided not to be involved? How far along are you?”
“I’m nine weeks or so. And yeah. As soon as I told him I was pregnant, he suggested that I terminate.”
“Did you consider it, after hearing his response?”
“Nah. Eff him.”
“Where is he from, this . . . man that doesn’t want the baby? Where’d you meet him?”
“I met him at the Coyotes’ end of the year banquet.”
“The Coyotes’ end of the year banquet?”
“Yeah, he plays for the team.”
“The father of the baby plays for the team? The Coyotes?”
“Mom.” I was frustrated that she kept repeating everything I said.
“Relax,” she told me with an attitude. “It’s taking me a minute to process all of this.”
“So, don’t process him as an a-hole. He’s just young and dumb. And we weren’t trying for a baby or anything. We were just having fun.”
She didn’t respond.
I felt myself start to get upset. “Look, it took me two years to get over everything Channing and the pregnancy took me through. It took me two years to decide to put myself out there again. Yes, I decided to have fun with someone younger. I had my reasons. I didn’t want to pick anybody I could take seriously.
I didn’t want anything serious. Do you even understand how messed up I was after the miscarriage and my future husband going into a mental health crisis while I watched?
Do you understand that it took two years of therapy for me to even consider letting a man take me on a date?
” I glared at my mom. “Real talk, you oughtta be glad you’re getting this grandchild, because there was a while there when I considered myself A-sexual.
I was trying to have fun and ease back into dating.
I ended up getting pregnant. This is my life!
” I jumped up from the table and ran into my mother’s powder room.
Halfway there, I realized that the rumors about pregnancy hormones were true. I closed the door to the bathroom, leaned against the sink, and laughed my ass off. I couldn’t believe the way I yelled at my mother. The hormones were already out of control.
“You better calm down in there before you cause both of us to get a whupping,” I told my unborn child.
Everything I’d said to my mom and LoLo was true, but neither of them deserved my word vomit. I peed, washed my hands, then wiped my face down with a cool, wet paper towel before rejoining them. They both looked contrite.
Before they could speak, I spoke. “I’m sorry. I—”
My mother cut me off. “No, I’m sorry, pooh. I never knew. You never told me how the situation with Channing affected you mentally or emotionally.”
“No, Mom. I didn’t tell you, because you were being a pillar of strength for Aunt Cecelia, and I got that. She was watching the son she knew and loved fade away into somebody she didn’t recognize.”
“But so were you. You were watching your first love do the same.”
“I was, but she needed you more.”
“She has a whole husband she could’ve leaned on. I would’ve been there for you if you had opened your mouth.”
I took a deep, cleansing breath. “It’s neither here nor there at this point. I came out of it. I wish Channing the best. I hope he stays on his meds and is able to make a stable life with his new lady. I wish Preston the best. I’m good.”
“Who is Preston?”
“The baby’s daddy,” LoLo responded, shoving a piece of now probably cold bacon into her mouth. “Preston Wilcox, number thirty-eight on the Chicago Coyotes.”
“He’s famous or does he ride the bench?”
“Mid,” I told my mama.
“Wow.” She poured sparkling juice into her glass and took a big gulp.
I hid my smile, knowing she was probably wishing that the juice actually had an alcoholic content.
“So, you’re pregnant by a professional athlete who wants you to terminate?
Are you gonna blast him in the court of public opinion? Get on social media and call him out?”
It was my turn to wish there was alcohol present.
“Absolutely not. I’m cool with him not wanting to be connected to me forever in the form of a child.
We were messing around. I was something for him to do, and he was an experiment for me to see if I was ready to move beyond my relationship with Channing.
This pregnancy was unexpected. He’s good.
He can stay right where he is, living his own life. ”
“Right,” LoLo seconded, still munching on the breakfast that my mother and I were largely ignoring. “She doesn’t need Preston Wilcox, because she already has somebody who’s willing to play stepdaddy.”
“Oh my gawd!” My mother groaned, then stood from the table. “It’s not even nine a.m. and you have me needing liquor. Where the hell is my Casamigos?”
“You talk too damn much,” I told LoLo through gritted teeth.
She waved me off dismissively. “Auntie can handle it.”
“That’s not the point.”