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The moment she moved to Sadie's husband, she'd redirect to ask me when I'd catch my own.
Like this was an unavoidable bout of a new strain of COVID that I just had to have.
I sighed and shook my head, almost picturing her crestfallen face.
"Mama, I'd love to, but I can't tonight."
"Oh?"
It was plain as day that her curiosity had been piqued by my words, as I could hear the telltale lilt in her voice.
Lord have mercy. I reckoned I could've phrased that a mite bit better.
No doubt she'd be fixing to inquire about my plans and whether there were any fine gentlemen involved in them.
"You headed out with a good-lookin' fella tonight?"
Talk about hitting the nail straight on my own fuckin’ head.
"No, Mama. No date. I just got an invite to this fancy dinner."
"Where?"
I hesitated for a second. My mama, like all the old-timers in this city, did not trust men with a tarnished reputation—even if this reputation had nothing to do with them, per se.
They could be golden, but if there was one black sheep in the family, it meant they had a little devil in them.
Plus, my mama hated Harold Montgomery.
I honestly had no idea why. It began the day he met me in the library and insisted on dropping me home. In his Aston Martin DB11.
At the time, I was still living with Mama. I'd only moved to this place about twenty days ago, mostly because I wanted to be able to walk to work. And I felt like I was getting too old to share space with someone I loved but who also drove me nuts.
Mama took one look at him and told me never to see him again.
I didn't push it then, and I didn't want to push it now. But I was never good at one thing when it came to her. I didn't lie to her. I couldn't.
Not when that's what she'd known the entirety of her life before I came along. That's all she had from the one other person she loved—the one who got away.
"Harold Montgomery's party, Mama."
She sounded like she'd choked on a peach.
"Hell no, Junie! You're not going to that man's house! You know what they say about that place and the secrets? You know his ancestors used to torture others to get money and loot their jewels, right? Why do you want to associate yourself with that?"
Why did I, actually? Apart from the obvious curiosity I had about the house, there was just something so affable about Harold.
He was old and weathered and sweet. He talked to me like he really cared and wanted to be part of my life, even if it was just a sliver.
That meant something.
"Mama." I spoke sotto voce. "Harold's tried to undo all that his entire life. Maybe we could just give him a chance."
"Child, I ain't givin' no man like that the time of day, and neither should you. Don't you remember what I done told you about your daddy? You gotta be strong, just like your Mama. You hear me?"
Okay. Not the way I'd hoped this would go. Against my better judgment, a swell of bitterness rose inside me.
"Mama, I don't want to have this conversation. Not when I've asked you about Dad so many times and got nothing back."
