Page 93 of Jaeda

“Oh my! How far along is she?”

“Six months now. We tease her, but she looks so cute.”

Jaeda pulled out her phone to show her a picture of her mother.

“She’s beautiful. Look at that glow. I always wished we could have had more children. The good Lord blessed me with my baby, though.” She reached out and pinched my cheek. “He’s more than made up for it. We’re so proud of him.”

Jaeda gave a gentle smile, and she looked at me. “You raised a great man, Mrs. Michaels. I’m lucky to have him.”

“He’s all right,” my father jested, playfully shoving me. “We know who will take care of us in old age.”

Just to fuck with them, I said, “Well if anything ever happens to me, I left you guys to Titan.”

My mother’s head swung in my direction. “That’s not funny, Quaid.”

I laughed. “My brother would take excellent care of y’all off the strength of me.”

“And I’d have to kill him in the process. Have you met Titan, baby?” she asked Jaeda.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s um, . . . kinda dating my sister.”

“Bless her heart.”

Jaeda laughed. “Bless his too. She’s a handful. It’s a wonder they haven’t killed each other.”

“Oh my!”

“Well, I think he needs somebody that’s gonna give him the same energy in return,” my father said. “He’s not a bad guy. Just a little . . . extra at times. You know we banned Quaid from hanging out with him growing up? Didn’t do us any good. He would sneak off to hang with him anyway.”

Jaeda gasped. “Not you being sneaky!”

I chuckled. “Titan was really my only real friend. The other guys I hung out with were only friendly because we were all getting bullied. Titan came along and told me I was messing up any chance of having street cred if I kept hanging with them.I guess it was kinda peer pressure, but we’re still locked in all these years later. That’s my brother. Don’t let them fool you, baby. They love him.”

My mother rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you two make yourself useful and set the table.”

“You see how she deflects from the truth?” I said, playfully nudging my mom.

She swatted me with her dish towel. “Go!”

I laughed as I showed Jaeda where the plates and placemats were. By the time we got the table set, my parents were bringing the dishes to the table. My mother had prepared a spread of baked chicken, rice and gravy, mac and cheese, collard greens, and sweet cornbread muffins.

“This looks delicious, Mrs. Michaels,” Jaeda complimented.

“Thank you, baby. Do you cook?”

“Yes, ma’am. My mom and grandma made sure they taught me everything they know.”

My mother nodded. A light silence fell over the room as we all dug into our food. In the pit of my stomach, I felt like the vibe was about to shift. Mom had been nice, but I knew she had questions and needed answers. When she set her fork down and took a sip of her wine, I knew it was coming.

“Jaeda?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Your family?—”

“Ma,” I warned.

“It’s okay, Quaid,” Jaeda said. “Go ahead.”

---