Page 11 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

Feeling overstimulated, exhausted, and ready for bed, I fixed up a quick dinner of chicken, pasta, and spinach with a creamy sauce I whipped up and hoped the twins would enjoy.

By the look of the empty plates an hour later, I could audition forTop Chef’s next season.

“I guess basketball was a lot today, huh?” I smiled as Brandon and Brian finally pushed back from the table, hovering over the plates as if they had been hanging out on a deserted island with no food for three months. Satisfied grins on two lean, smooth, brown, handsome faces nodded in unison, their locs bobbing with their nods. They rarely gave me such open praise anymore, but whenever they did, my heart filled with light and joy, a rush of pure warmth filling me at seeing them growing so well.

“Yeah, and our cheerleading practice.”

“That’s right!” I completely forgot about their practice. This current client I was working with for their upcoming event was truly driving me wild. I needed to sit down this weekend and straighten up my calendar and the boys’ to keep track of it all. This weekend was their father’s, which meant cleaning, organizing, and, hopefully, a few glasses of wine with my girls. Oh, and maybe another date with Milton.

Suddenly, the pasta hardened in my stomach, becoming a ton of granite.

I’d been postponing speaking with the boys about possibly going to the Poconos with Milton in two weeks. I’d never taken a weekend away from them like this. The few vacations I had in the past were with them. The only time I’d gone on a girls’ trip was in August of 2019 while the boys were visiting my parents in San Pedro de Macoris. I had a time with a gentleman I met in Trinidad during a night out, one of the best nights of my life.

If only I could have sex like that again…Trinidad, focus!

Milton was great. He was…a communicative partner with very specific and particular ways he liked to perform in bed, which I respected. He liked cleanliness, no sweat, a leisurely pace, calm, and peace. I understood peace. I craved peace. But once in a while, I craved chaos, passion, and ecstasy. But I very much understood the price I’d pay for that type of burning chemistry.

I bet Orlando was the opposite of Milton. Wild, energetic, acrobatic—

“What’s wrong, Ma?”

Oh my.My brain needed to take a chill pill. Pausing for a second, I took in the comforting air of our living room, a mixture of my cooking, my sandalwood candles, my own lemongrass scent, and male teenager-raging hormones.

Home.

“So…if I were to have a…trip with Milton soon, how would you both feel about that?”

Their downturned eyebrows were not a good sign. The subsequent silence wasn’t either. My heart plummeted to the depths of my body, wondering if the boys truly didn’t like Milton. I’d attempted a few outings with the four of us, for them to connect on a deeper level. Still, any of those times, the twins stayed resolutely by my side, polite and kind to Milton but never saying much more than monosyllabic responses or audible nods, the most Caribbean thing they ever had done since I birthed them.

Their Bajan grandparents would have been proud of their grandsons’ quiet but clear disapproval masked by quiet,politebut clear disapproval. It was an art many couldn’t master. By the end of the third time we hung out together, I could sense Milton’s desire to spend time with the boys decreasing by the second. Not that the levels were ever high to begin with.

“So what do you think?”

“I mean, not like you asking for our permission, right?” Brandon’s deeper timber resonated in the dining room. That deeper voice was something I was still trying to get used to; one day, he woke up and had no falsetto, just a baritone exactly like his father’s. Brian’s voice had dropped, too, but he still had moments where his old little boy’s voice would try to creep in at the funniest times, to his overwhelming embarrassment.

My instinct was to ask Brandon to remove the bass from his voice, but raising Black young men meant understanding that people around them would attempt to remove their power on a daily basis. It was a fine line between allowing Brandon and Brian to assert themselves confidently while understanding and abiding by the rules of my home.

“I understand you might not be thrilled about my potential relationship with Milton but…”

“So you planning to claim him now? I mean, y’all were dating, but we…we thought it wasn’t super serious,” Brian asked, a thread of panic underneath his self-assuredness. His face scrunched up, just as it did when he couldn’t play with his favorite toy as a toddler, and my heart squeezed, wanting to reassure him. Another lesson I was imparting to them, wishing I didn’t have to—we do not always get what we want, and we have to live with the uncertainty and unfairness of it all. I wished they weren’t learning that lesson this way.

“We are discussing potentially becoming serious, yes. And let me remind the two of you that I am a grown-up, and I make my own decisions. I will always take your needs into consideration, but I need you both to remember, I am the adult here.” The more resolute and decisive I sounded, the better for the boys.

“Yes, Ma, sorry. I’m sure we can hang with Dad or…maybe Orlando would be down to letting us stay.”

My insides vibrated and warmed. Their dad had them this weekend; I doubted he’d volunteer another one so soon, but Orlando? He’d probably jump at the opportunity to spend more time with the boys; he’d offered to watch them on occasions when I was extra busy at work. Of all the three men currently in my life, the two that I needed to be attentive to my boys didn’t cut it, but Orlando…

“How about you start your evening chores? We can discuss more in a couple of days. There is no rush. I only wanted you both to know what was coming.”

“Can we do the chores a little later please? I needed to do some quick homework, and Brian wanted to shower. You know how he is,” Brandon said with uncharacteristic calmness. His jaw was rigid, and I could see a vein throbbing on his neck.

Brian stared at his twin as if he’d put on a clown suit, got on the table, and started dancing. Brandon’s eyebrow twitched, but he kept his eyes resolutely on mine.

A gathering tension rose in the kitchen; the boys rarely asserted themselves as the “men of the house.” I understood gender constructs and society enough to try a balanced approach at home: this all-gender shit is bullshit, but you gotta understand it well in order to be able to smash it. So watching him apply some of the things I had tried to explain was disconcerting, at least. As the pack leader, I sat calm, not letting Brandon’s temper activate mine.

“I what? Oh, oh yeah, that homework.” Brian broke the impasse with a burst of movement, standing up and drawing my attention away from Brandon.

“We’ll take care of the kitchen, Mama; we’ll be right back,” Brian assured me with his sweet smile.

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