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"Sure."
When I enter the living room, my mom is sitting in the chair next to the couch, staring towards the kitchen. As I take a seat on the sofa, she speaks.
"My lord, Samantha is a Walker. I have a granddaughter." For a moment, her eyes seem to fill with sentiment. But after a few blinks, it's gone. "So, where is Samantha going to school?"
The tension in my back and neck muscles increase.Here we go.
"Why is that important, Mother?"
"Because she's a Walker, Cole. She deserves an excellent education."
My mom straightens her back and gives me her firm gaze while asking. "Do you know if she has got particular talents?"
The demons that are always awaiting their chance to strike have a feast as my mind reacts to her words by firing well-known, tormenting pictures and feelings at me.
"Don't go there, Mom," I say with a firm, raised voice. "She's going to an excellent school."
"Please tell me it's a private school because if not, I have connections with people who can help."
"Mom! I don't need your help. I'm handling it myself."
Her jaw is set in a hard line as expected. But I don't care. "Mom, listen. Samantha is my daughter; I'm her father. So I decide where she goes to school and all the other things that come with parenting."
"I'm only trying to help you, since you don't have experience with parenting."
I exhale between my teeth, seeing my mom bite her lip and glance away. "Mom, I..."
I stop talking as the girls enter the room with two trays. Samantha is holding the cupcakes while Alisha carries in with drinks. As they place them on the coffee table, I can't help but stare at Alisha's delicious backside as she bends. I quickly look away and readjust my sitting position as the not so gentleman in my pants is eagerly reacting.Damn, how I wish I could slide my hands over that round backside and in between her legs.
Samantha takes a seat in her favorite corner on the couch while Alisha takes a seat on the other side of me. I place my hand on her leg. For over an hour, we speak about different things, but it's a conversation wherein my mother mostly speaks.
"Well, I think it's time for me to go. I am meeting up with Beatrice Banks, the wife of George Banks," she says while looking at me. Then her attention goes to Samantha. "He's a teacher at Berklee College of Music."
"Oh, wow. That's cool," Samantha shrieks. The muscles in my jaw tighten as I perceive how my mom's eyes are on Samantha like a hawk. Alisha lets out a soft discomfortingahhsound while tapping my arm. I quickly withdraw my hand when I see my fingers are digging into the flesh above her knee. I rise and give my mother a warning glare.
"Mother, you're right. It's time for you to leave."
Samantha stares at me for my blunt reaction, but I don't care. I grab my mother’s coat, and as I hold it up, my mom strides towards me. Midway, she stops and turns. "Alisha," she says with a kind voice. "We haven't had a proper chance to talk, so I would like to invite you and Cole to come to a dinner party next week at my house. If you're still together, of course," she adds with a layer of sarcasm. I open my mouth to answer her, but Alisha beats me to it.
"Sure, we'd love to come," she says in the same tone of voice as my mom. I stare wide-eyed at the femme fatale.Why is she saying yes?
"Great, then that's settled," my mom states with delight. Then she speaks to my daughter. "Samantha, it was lovely to meet you, and you can come too. I'd love to show all my friends my amazing granddaughter."
Samantha smiles shyly. "Can I think about it?"
"Oh, dear, take all the time you need. Cole will tell me if you're coming or not. It's not an obligation." My mother turns to me, and as she puts on her coat, her smile is full of satisfaction. By the door, she stops and whispers, "Cole, George wants to talk to you. He told me he called you several times, but you didn’t call back. That's impolite."
"No, it isn't. I haven't changed my mind, Mother."
Her hand comes up and touches my cheek. "But your father would have loved you..."
I step back and grit my teeth. "Don't!"
She lets out an exasperated sigh before touching my hand. Her eyes scan my face as she whispers, "It's been almost sixteen years, Cole. Don't you think it's time? You were so..."
"I made a choice, Mom," I say, holding her gaze. "Be glad you still have a successful son."
"But what if she has the same gift as you and your father? Do you have any idea how extraordinary that would be? Your father would be so thrilled."
