Page 92 of When I Thug You Like That

“Aight. Tell me one thing that happened to you as a kid that you still remember ‘til this day. Not no traumatic shit either.”

“I don’t have anything traumatic. Thank God. But I do remember playing barbershop in school when I was in the first grade.”

“Barbershop?”

“Yeah. Kim Blakely cut one of my ponytails during arts and crafts, so I cut two of hers.”

He laughed. “She wasn’t ‘bout to outdo you.”

“Damn right. And we both got our asses whooped that day. It hurt, but at least I wasn’t the only one who had to get a haircut. Your turn.”

“When I was seven, my cousin told me that my grandmother made her meatloaf wit cat food. Man, I ain’t eat that shit for a whole year after that.”

I held my stomach because it was hurting so bad from laughing. “Wait, who told you that?”

“Tay stupid ass.”

“And you believed him?”

“I was seven, girl.”

“You could see at seven too, Jay. You never went in the kitchen to look?”

“Grandma Lettie wasn’t the type of grandma to let you in her kitchen while she was cooking. By the time it made it to my plate, you couldn’t convince me that the tomato sauce wasn’t covering up the cat food.”

“So, what you do?”

“Went to bed hungry.”

We both cracked up.

Naturally, we got back on the subject of family, with Jay having enough material on his cousins to keep me crying laughing for the rest of the night. I learned that they’d grown up more like siblings than cousins, Grandma Lettie didn’t play, and just how proud he was to be a Sullivan. He made his family sound like love. In return, I shared that I was the only child but didn’t grow up lonely. I also came from a big family, but we weren’t as close and not because of anything negative. We just lived our lives separately and came together for important events.

“My mother, Taina, and Chuston are the most constant people in my life,” I told him.

That earned me an open invitation to all Sullivan gatherings going forward.

“Are we having dessert this evening?” the waiter asked once he returned again.

“I’m full,” I said.

The waiter looked to Jay.

“Can’t afford it,” he said.

My eyes widened at the same time the waiter’s did.

Jay laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ witchu. I’m good. You can bring the check.”

“Oh, okay,” the waiter replied, relief written all over his face.

“You play too much.” I swatted at him. “Annoying self.”

“You like it though.”

This time, I didn’t bother denying it, and I didn’t have a comeback. Because the truth was, I did.

I liked Jamison Sullivan.