“No worries. I got you. I meanit. I got everything under control, and I will try to do my best.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Yeah, sure you do…
I ask, “Is there anything new I should know before they get here?”
“Like what?”
I shrug. “I don’t know…like, have you gotten a promotion? Are you planning any special trips that you told them about and not me? Have you recently won an award? Did you get a tooth pulled? Bought something? Saved money on your car insurance by switching to Geico?” I shrug again and poke my bottom lip out at the same time.
He breathes heavily. “No, Cynnamon. I have the same position, and I haven’t won anything, I have all my teeth, I haven’t bought anything substantial since you left me, and I don’t know how much I pay for car insurance. I just pay it. But you know that already…”
“Okay, well, that makes it easy, but you know your mom is going to ask when we’re having kids. Other than duct taping her mouth, how can you stop that?”
“Easy. We haven’t had sex in quite some time, so—”
“Not that, boy!”
He grins. “Oh. I figured since we’re being funny and all…”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, ain’t no fun when the rabbit got the gun, huh?” After a good chuckle, he says, “I’ll just say the same thing I’ve always told her—we’ll have one when the time is right.”
“Okay. That’ll work.”
“Anything else that comes up, we’ll handle it on the spot. If you don’t know how to respond to something, just kick me and I’ll step in.”
“Now,that, I will gladly do! I’ma kick you right in the shins.”
“I’m sure you will.”
I stand up, stretch, and say, “That was some good lasagna. Where’d you get it?”
“Classic Catering.”
“Oh. I thought they only did soul food.”
“They expanded their menu a few months ago. You can get all kinds of food there, but of course, nothing is better than your meals.”
I was going to say something slick, but I’m full and tired, so I say, “Thanks.” I take my plate to the sink and ask, “The food for this week—will it be delivered?”
“Yes, tomorrow evening.”
“Did you order dessert as well?” I ask, crossing my arms as I lean up against the counter.
I notice how his eyes sweep my body when he responds, “I did–got the coconut cake.”
“You didn’t get a pie?”
“Nah.”
“Oh, we can’t have that. I’ll make some sweet potato pies.”
“You don’t have to do that, Cyn. I didn’t bring you over here to work.”
“It’s fine. They’re easy to make, and you know your parents love my sweet potato pies. Don’t worry about it.”
