Page 85 of Senior

“Waited around on your son. We needed to have that talk.”

Steph looked down at her hands, fumbling with her nails. “How did that go?”

“Intense but needed. I think we came to an understanding. That damn boy read the fuck outta me, Steph. Told me I created babies instead of homes. I couldn’t even be mad at that because he was right. I didn’t give any of my kids a real, stable home--”

“No,” she said, placing a finger to my lips. “We’re not doing that. Maybe you didn’t live in the home, but nothing about it was broken. You were there for your children. You took care of them in every aspect, Senior. You were more present for six kids than some fathers are for one. There was never a lack of love or support. Don’t do that.”

She cupped my chin and kissed me. I pressed my forehead to hers.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You do. That’s why I’m here.” She took my face in her hands and pulled my head down, kissing the top of it. “I love you, Stanley.”

“I love you too, baby.”

We got back to work to finish prepping for dinner. By the time it was almost done, Salima and the kids were walking through the front door. The kids ran straight for their grandma to shower her with love. Salima was next, stopping to hug me before going to Steph.

“Where is Deuce?” I asked.

Salima shook her head. “Out there preparing to be fussed at again. I low key think he might be a little nervous. Why don’t I take the kids out back to play for a minute so you three can talk.”

“Thank you, baby girl.”

She gathered and ushered them through the kitchen and out the back door. Steph untied her apron and hung it up.

“Bring him in here,” she said.

I nodded as I headed for the front door. When I opened it, I found my son sitting on the front steps, smoking another blunt. He looked up at me and extended the blunt to me.

“You might as well come on in here,” I said, taking and pulling from it.

“She finna have my head.”

“Probably. You better not talk to my wife like you crazy either.”

He shot me a look. “Senior, please.”

“Speaking it into existence. When the pastor asks if anybody objects, you better act like you ain’t heard that shit.”

“Man, go on.” He stood to his feet and pulled up his pants. “Watch out.”

I moved aside and allowed him entry. After outing the blunt, I tucked it into the stash box on the entryway table and followed him into the living room where his mother stood with her arms folded.

“Hey, Ma,” he said quietly.

Stephanie scoffed. “Hey, Ma? Are you fucking serious, Stanley?” She shoved him. “That’s how you greet me after treating me like shit for almost two fucking weeks? You call yourself mad and not talking to me and think you can waltz your ass in my house and greet me with a damn ‘Hey, Ma’?”

I tried not to smile because she was laying into his ass, but her calling this her house had me feeling all warm and shit. She started pacing and rubbing her hands together vigorously.

“You know Stanley, I’ve dedicated so much of my life to being a mother or a caretaker. I raised you along with four other kids that weren’t mine, but I loved them like they were. I don’t blame anybody for that because it was a choice and I don’t regret it. I love being a mother. But I’m also a woman. I crave love, affection, and intimacy.

“I shared a life with your father. He was the man I’d loved since I was a kid. The man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, but we were never right at the right moment in time. That’s on both of us. I let him go so I could experience something new and different because I needed that. For a little while, I got to enjoy being a wife and living a soft life. Then my husband was taken from me.

“And it broke me. I kept asking myself why would God allow me to have this beautiful, wonderful man for such a short amount of time. I was angry and I was hurt. I’ve spent four years alone and lonely. Four years without knowing what another man feels like. Your father has been by my side every step of the way with that, not as a man that was trying to get in my pants. He was there as my friend. My confidant.

“Do you know how many times I put on a brave face in front of everyone and went home to cry myself to sleep? How many times I woke that man up in the middle of the night because I just needed someone to listen to me cry? He’s never complained. Never been too busy for me. Never used my grief as a way to sneak back into my life. He was nothing but supportive and respectful. That’s what strengthened the love I had for him.”

“Ma—”