Page 34 of When a Soul Cries

Mama stared at me like she was reconsidering every parenting decision she’d ever made.

“Lord, please protect my son from every sexually transmitted disease known and unknown to man.”

Rome lost it.

“Why you gotta pray like that?” I complained, following her inside.

“Because clearly you ain’t praying at all.”

Rome came in behind me. “What’s her name?”

“Fuck you.”

Mama shook her head as she walked into the kitchen. “I raised fools.”

I smiled despite myself.

This was home.

Loud. Somebody always hungry. Somebody always talking shit. Somebody getting cussed out.

Usually me.

Mama opened the refrigerator.

That motherfucker was empty-empty.

She turned around. “Look at this shit.”

“Damn, Sugga.”

“Exactly. Damn, Sugga.”

Rome was leaning against the counter staring at his phone.

Mama looked at him. “Where my groceries?”

“They in the trunk.”

I frowned. “You actually went?”

Rome looked at me like I was stupid. “Yeah, nigga. Somebody had to.”

“They got here, didn’t they?”

Mama clapped once. “Both of y’all, go get my shit.”

I opened my mouth.

Her eyes narrowed.

I closed it and headed outside.

When Rome popped his trunk, bags were everywhere.

“Nigga, did you buy the whole store?”

“Maybe if your ass would've went, you’d know what was on the list.”