Once a month, I treated my aunt to brunch at The Gandy Dancer in Ann Arbor. It was my way of thanking her for everything she’d done for me. Because, real talk, if she hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here.
My aunt let out a heavy sigh. “According to Rod Pierce, she hasn’t left the house since she returned. He’s seen some delivery cars out front, but that’s it. What happened?”
Telling my aunt about my mother’s revelation wasn’t something I wanted to do over the phone. Every time she’d asked me any questions about what had transpired between me and my mom, I’d told her I’d fill her in at brunch. “I went to see her last weekend,” I explained. “She was…” I shook my head, trying to shake the image of the house out of my mind. “She was hungover, disheveled. She hadn’t cleaned—the house or herself.”
“Jesus,” Aunt Dot whispered. “Oh, Heavenly Father, help her.”
I smiled. My aunt was known to break out in prayer or praise at any moment. Whenever I needed to get a prayer through, I called her. “She was behind on her bills,” I continued. “I agreed to pay them. She was already agitated, so when I asked her some questions, she went off and accused me of being like my father.”
Aunt Dot frowned. “That’s not a bad thing. Your father was a good man.”
Whenever I thought about the man I’d thought was my father, I felt two things at once. I missed him, because he’d died when I was too young to get to know him as a man. And I resented him, because he’d left me to suffer with my mother. Today, that feeling of resentment was strong. “Interesting,” I mused.
“What?” she asked. “I know you and your father had a strained relationship, but he loved you.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I know, Auntie.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
The waitress returned with coffee and orange juice. She explained the buffet process and shared the chef’s featured entree.
Grinning, my aunt rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, sounds delicious. Although, I think I’ll have the eggs benedict today.”
When the waitress walked away, I stood and pulled out my aunt’s chair. We made our way over to the buffet. As we piled our plates, my mind stayed on the conversation ahead. Of course, I’d done my own research, searching my mother’s business documents, looking at her high school yearbooks, old pictures my late grandmother had given me. I found nothing, not even a small clue. My birth certificate listed Preston Hayes Sr. as my father.
My aunt happily hummed a church devotional as she scooped fresh fruit onto her plate, while I asked the carver to slice me a piece of roast beef. It almost felt like there was too much food available today. There were so many good options, it was hard to choose what to eat. In the end, I decided on a fresh Belgian waffle and hash browns instead of the made-to-order omelet.
I stepped over to the waffle station and made my request. There was someone in line ahead of me, so I knew I’d have to wait a bit. I picked a blueberry off my plate and popped it in my mouth.
“Don’t look now, but someone is watching you.”
I smiled to myself, immediately recognizing the voice. I glanced over. “Hey, Dallas.”
She leaned closer. “You’re literally turning heads in this restaurant. Like the woman over there by the cheese blintzes. She can barely concentrate on her plate because she’s so busy watching you.”
Chuckling, I whispered, “Is she cute?”
She tapped her chin. “Beautiful. And my mother’s age. If you’re into the cougar thing. She might buy you a car.”
I barked out a laugh. “My lease is up in a few months. It would be good timing.”
Dallas pointed at me. “Don’t play now. They are some freaks. One of the ladies in my group keeps talking about her latest erotic romance read. No shame. She was checking you out too. Said you were fine, like one of the strong black heroes in her books.”
I smirked. “Did you agree with her?”
Dallas rolled her eyes. “Boy, shut up.” She requested a waffle. “What brings you here on this Sunday morning?”
“I’m treating my aunt to lunch.”
“That’s nice. Good nephew.”
The chef placed my hot waffle on my plate. “Why are you here?” I asked her.
“I’m meeting with ladies from Color of Law. They’re evaluating my worthiness for full membership in their organization.”
“Ah, okay.”
“In reality, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. So much going on, and I don’t particularly want a bunch of women judging me or questioning my choices. You know?”
