Chapter 15 #2
“So sorry,” I apologized profusely. I couldn’t help myself. “Do you know where Kier is?”
“He went to show my husband the amenities here. He should be up in a while.”
“Well, are you hungry, Ms. Theresa? I was planning to make him some pancakes.”
“Pancakes? He hates pancakes.”
I paused, genuinely shocked. “Really? I’ve made it for him several times. He’s never said anything.”
“Kier’s a sweet boy. He probably didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Are there eggs here? Let me teach you my French toast recipe. It’s easy.”
“Okay.” I said, stepping aside as she made her way around the kitchen. She searched the cabinets, pulling the ingredients out one by one. I watched her for a moment before reaching for the eggs.
“So, Sibley, tell me a little bit about you, and crack those eggs into the bowl.”
I tapped one egg on the side of the bowl, letting it fall in. “Ms. Theresa, you are putting me on the spot. I don’t know what to say.”
She smiled casually. “Beat the eggs and tell me whatever feels most natural.”
The whisk moved in my hand as I thought about it. “I’m the youngest, between my sister and me. I love fish… haven’t been snorkeling yet but that’s on my bucket list. I work in media marketing. Love music, birds, and I LOVE traveling, and I don’t know what else.”
She gestured toward the ingredients without interrupting. “Half a teaspoon of vanilla and banana extract. Just a dash of cinnamon.” She added, handing me measuring spoons, “Media marketing is different. What’s your favorite genre of music?”
“Can’t say I have one. I listen to everything,” I said, adding the ingredients. “From Bon Jovi to B.B. King.”
“Now what do you know about B.B. King?”
“The Thrill Is Gone. My grandmother used to play it.”
“Actually, Sibley… you haven’t said much about your family outside of your sister.”
The whisk slowed in my hand, loss was still a sensitive topic. Grief is something that sits just underneath the surface until someone brings it up. Then the flood of emotions follows which is why I avoided that topic with Kier. I took a deep breath hoping to contain myself then I continued.
“My parents died when I was sixteen. We stayed with my aunt for a few years, but for the most part it was just us. My sister and I have somewhat of a complicated relationship.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Losing both parents; that couldn’t have been easy.”
“No easier than Kier losing his dad at an early age,” I replied. “What a blessing it was that he still had you.”
“He told you about that?”
“He did.”
A brief silence fell between us. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. And for the first time since she walked in, I realized I was paying attention to that.
“That’s pretty much it,” she said, nodding toward the skillet. “Dip the bread and place it once it’s hot.”
I followed her lead, placing the slices down carefully while she continued speaking.
“Sister relationships can be tough,” she added, putting ingredients away. “But there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for mine. However at some point, I had to choose myself. I do understand Sibley, choosing yourself isn’t always simple.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’ll say a prayer for you both. It will get better.”
I glanced over at her, offering a small smile. “Thank you, Ms. Theresa.”
We worked in silence for a moment before I flipped the French toast.
“You did good,” she said after tasting it. “Try it.”
I took a bite and agreed. “It’s really good.”
The elevator doors opened and Kier walked in with an older male. His presence brought me relief, hell a sigh of relief. I’d been somewhat holding my breath in his mothers presence. Him showing up made me feel like I wasn’t being observed anymore.
“Is that my mama French toast I smell?”
Kier tossed his keys on the island and kissed his mother on the cheek. “You haven’t been here a full two hours, and you’re already cooking.”
Kier walked over towards me and leaned in for a kiss. I shook my head quickly, embarrassed to kiss him in front of his mother. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was me being in my head thinking of what his mother may have thought of me from the robe incident.
“Sibley made it actually.”
“Word?”
“So, this is Sibley? I’m Al.” He greeted me, stretching his hand out.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I returned the gesture while Kier stuffed the French toast into his mouth.
“Now why would you put all that in your mouth, boy!” Ms. Theresa smacked him on the head. “She did good, didn’t she? Now stop forcing yourself to eat pancakes.”
Kier nearly choked as his mama exposed him.
“Mmhmm.” I crossed my arms and shook my head. “She told me you been faking it!”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he leaned in, attempting another kiss. I shook my head again, a small smile pulling at my lips despite myself.
“Sibley, kiss the man, I don’t care!” She laughed.
I laughed with her, but somewhere in the middle still felt a tad bit uncomfortable.
“Kier, Al and I are going to get unpacked. Sibley, can we have dinner later? I’d like to spend a little time with you before you get busy. Kier tells me your sister and best friend are arriving tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am, they are. I look forward to dinner tonight.” I lied, knowing that dinner wasn’t just dinner. She wanted to make sure I wasn’t somebody trying to come up on her son. I understood it, but still I was nervous.
Later that evening, Ms. Theresa and I went to One White Street.
The car slowed in front of a narrow townhouse that didn’t look like much from the outside.
If I wasn’t paying attention, I would’ve missed it completely.
Inside was a different story. Dark, worn wooden floors ran through the room.
The walls were clean, simple, broken up by shelves and small photos.
The glassware caught the light every now and then, and the quiet clink of silverware carried softly enough to remind you people were there.