Page 41 of Gotta Jones For Ya
I grinned, inching closer, whispering, “Probably hidden behind the jungle juice Uncle Buck made in that baby bathtub.”
She cut me a sharp look. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll get your wine, lady,” I said quickly, kissing her cheek and glancing toward the drink table where the baby tub was already half empty.
My stepfather, Carl, stood next to her looking like a retired deacon turned jazz radio host—linen button-up, brown leathersandals, and a Bluetooth in his ear that he hadn’t taken out since 2009. “Wine? They got wine here?” he asked, eyes low from edibles he’d taken with Knuck’s cousin Antt a while ago.
My mother sighed. “Carl,Ibrought the wine.”
“Oh. Right. I thought that was for the house later.”
“See, I told you not to eat that damn brownie.”
“What? I’m just saying…” He looked around, scratching the back of his head. “This is… not quite what I expected, Debra.”
“Me either,” she muttered, eyes following a different cousin doing the heel-toe while holding a blunt in one hand and a slice of pound cake in the other.
“Y’all knew what it was when I told y’all we was doing a backyard baby bash,” I reminded them with a laugh, handing my mother a red plastic cup of wine.
“You know I love Knuck. I just thought you would take more… initiative,” my mother said, lowering her voice like she didn’t want the cousins to hear. “You’re usually the one with taste.”
“My girl, it’s a celebration,” I said, patting her arm. “I’m happy. Keon’s happy. His people are happy. Loud, but happy.”
“I can see that,” she gave a light smile, sipping her wine. You know I’m happy for you both. I can’t wait to meet my grandson and spoil him.”
Meanwhile, my high ass stepfather was still stuck on the earlier thought. “So wait. Is the wine...?”
“Oh my God, Carl,” Mama muttered, shoving him along, and I just laughed, the memory of when they met Knuck bubbling up.
It wasn’t at dinner at a bougie restaurant or a formal sit-down at their house. It was the first OB appointment. Around week ten.
Knuck insisted on coming—even though I told him it wasn’t that serious, that it was just an ultrasound. He told me to stop playing with him, that any room I was in from now on—medical, emotional, spiritual—he would be there too. My mother and Carl had flown in the night before and showed up a few minutes after we did.
The moment she caught sight of Knuck, her whole posture changed. “Keon,” she gasped, grinning from ear to ear.
Knuck stood up, gold-mouthed, smiling hard. “What’s good, Ma?”
Before he could offer a handshake, she pulled him in for a hug. A real one. Two arms. Squeeze. A light pat on the back like he was already family. “It’s so good to finally see you in person,” she said as she stepped back, her eyes misty but not letting them fall. “You’ve been a FaceTime square on my phone for too long now.”
Knuck chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told Ny I was tryna meet you sooner, but y’all stay OT.”
“Mmhmm,” she teased. “Or maybe I was waiting to see if you were gonna stick around.”
He didn’t flinch. Just nodded, all serious. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
She stared at him a second longer, then reached up and straightened his collar like she’d been doing it his whole life. “I can see that now,” she said softly. “Welcome to the family, Keon.”
“‘Ppreciate you. For real.” He glanced over at me, then looked back at my stepfather, who stood there all poised and trying to be stern.
“This is your… friend?” Carl asked, trying to keep it casual. “Knuck, right?”
Knuck gave him a nod, then held his hand out. “Nah, I ain’t her friend,” he said. “I’m herman. And her protector. And now, the father of her child. Keon, sir.”
“I like that better. What kinda name is Knuck, son?” Carl asked, extending his hand as well.
“I was a lil’ bad ass growin’ up. What y’all old folks call a knucklehead type shit.” And just like that… the wall cracked with laughter.
“Go ‘head, Nae! Ayyeee, you betta hit that shit!” Knuck hollered from the middle of the backyard, bringing me back to the present. His drink in one hand, phone in the other, recording the whole thing like his niece was on payroll. Chris Brown and Bryson Tiller's latest joint was blasting, bass shaking the rented chairs. Monae was fucking up the TikTok dance rocking a custom powder blue tee that said“Lil' Knuck Loading…”
