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“Visiting?” Ma-Journey asks, narrowing her eyes until they’re barely open.
“If you push her away, I can’t live here. You wouldn’t live here if everyone picked on Pa.”
Ma-Journey gasps and looks at my father, who glances at where Edith has Tuesday pinned on the ground.
“I’m pulling rank here,” Uncle Court announces, stepping forward.
Auntie Justice sighs. “He has such a commanding tone.”
As her sisters frown at Justice, Queen Meemaw—aka Christine Earlham Sheerer Adams Sheerer—pats her middle daughter’s head. Meanwhile, my president takes charge by eyeballing his VP.
“You four need to walk this off,” Court orders as if he’s also president of the homestead, which is bullshit since everyone knows that’s King Peepaw. “Just take a mosey around the property and hash out what happened. By the time you come back for dinner, you’ll stop all this drama llama bullshit.”
“Don’t you dare minimize our pain, Courtland Bayer,” Ma-Journey hisses at my uncle.
Auntie Justice gasps and then looks at a gasping Auntie Poppy. The women focus on Emmett who shrugs.
“I refuse to gasp, so let’s move this along.”
“How dare you?” Ma-Journey hisses at Uncle Emmett. “We all had to sit around and listen to you and your insane wife go drama llama twice,” she says and snaps her fingers in front of his face. “Count it, Emmett. Once, twice. But now, when it’s my son in the crosshairs of a bad romance, you suddenly don’t have time for emotional diarrhea. That’s a bunch of bullshit right there.”
“Yeah,” Pa-Donovan mutters and frowns at the men. “I pretended to care about your crap when West married a clown and Tuesday hooked up with her third thug in a row.”
“Hey!” Tuesday calls out and hurries over after Edith gives up on making her eat grass. Wrapping her body around Bullet Train’s, she winks at him. “You’re the best thug ever, baby.”
“You’re not helping,” Auntie Poppy admonishes Tuesday before stepping closer to Journey and adding, “I apologize for the men’s inability to fake like they care. It’s uncalled for, and I will be withholding sex from Emmett tonight as punishment.”
“Well, I’m not doing that with Court,” Auntie Justice insists.
“Menopause makes women extra horny,” Tuesday tells Bullet Train, winning snickers from her parents and a dark glare from Auntie Justice.
“Can I say something?” I ask, wanting to get back to Oana.
“No,” Edith replies as she returns to the group. “You lost your right to speak after you ran away like a frightened, microscopic wiener.”
Ignoring my sister, I continue, “I think that walking-and-talking idea sounds doable. A little privacy for our emotional diarrhea would be helpful. Mostly, I’m sick of West recording my shit.”
Frowning from his spot on the grass, he adjusts his phone and explains, “I’m documenting everything to send to the out-of-town family.”
“Let’s walk now,” Pa-Donovan says and takes a step toward Stache Lake.
Hesitating now, I ask, “If I walk and talk, what will happen to Oana?”
“I’m on it!” Tuesday announces and bounces away from Bullet Train. “I promise to wrap her in my positive energy, so she won’t miss you too much.”
“No more interruptions,” Edith mutters and tugs me away from the others. “We need to settle this issue.”
My mother grabs my free hand. As the women tug me along, my father brings up the rear, just in case I try to run away.
Back on Felix’s porch, Tuesday plays with Oana’s hair. I wave at my woman to settle her worries. I figure she’ll be safe with her new gal pals.
Besides, I need to fix the situation with my family before they refuse to open their hearts to Oana. If they insist on pushing away my woman, I can’t imagine a happy future here on the homestead.
