I love being with my ma. Even though a huge part of my brand is my Southern charm, I still tone down the accent, especially in public settings. But with my ma, I can let it go. I can be myself. I always feel like she has my back, and my wholelife, she’s never given me trouble for whether I’m dating or not. Even now, she’s bashing Ricardo for invading my privacy rather than asking the same question that he and everyone else are asking—and no, I’m still not gay. My only wish is that she and my daddy could have stayed together. I still don’t really know why they ended things. It hurts my heart to think about it.
My mom walks in with a glass of wine in her hands as I pick up another cookie. “Kyle Theodore Weaver, have you eaten anything else today?”
I look at her with wide eyes and a full mouth. I shake my head.
“You darn boy,” she says. “Come on. Let’s get some lunch.”
I swallow, and despite all these cookies, my stomach grumbles. “Jimmy’s diner?”
She looks at me above her reading glasses. “Where else?”
I rise to my feet, already salivating at the thought of Jimmy’s double steak burgers. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
When we get there, I’m immediately recognized, and the entire diner is in an uproar. An older couple that lives near my ma asks how life is a star in a big city. One of my high school friends, now a waitress, tries to tell me about all the drama that’s gone on as my Ma drags me to my seat.
“Jimmy!” my ma shouts. “Your NFO brother is here!”
A burly man with a surprisingly well-kept beard longer than mine—I don’t know how he manages it—barrels out of the kitchen wearing a dirty apron.
“Well if it isn’t the best linebacker that the NFO has ever seen,” he says. He swings his hand out and I shake it, and he’s damn near stronger than me. A patch of his dark chest hair pokes out of his shirt, and he smiles at me, his eyes bright.
Jimmy’s a few years older than me, and we became good friends when my mom moved here. He’s practically my brother now. With how confident he is being gay, I’ve wanted to ask him so many questions. But I’ve just never been able to for some reason.
“I don’t know about best,” I say with a shrug. “Not after our last game.”
By now, the entire diner is crowded around us as I stand and talk with Jimmy. Ma sits patiently in her seat looking over a menu.
“Pfft,” he says, swatting his hand at me. “The fact that the team relied on you for that just shows how good you really are.” He pulls out my chair. “Have a seat.”
I tap him on the arm. “It’s good to see you, buddy,” I say.
He pulls me into a bear hug. For a second, I let myself melt into him. This touch is nice. Then I pull away.
“Now y’all need to give them some space,” he says, addressing the crowd. “We may have a celebrity here, but he’s a person like all of us.”
At that, the crowd reluctantly goes back to their seats.
Jimmy looks at my mom. “The usual?”
She sets down the menu and takes off her reading glasses. “Please.”
He looks to me, snapping and tapping his fists together. A small grin forms. “We got something new on the menu,” he says. “Spicy triple steak burger.”
I roll my eyes in ecstasy. “You’re killing me, Jimmy. I’m tryna slim up.” I grunt. “Just gimme two.”
He taps my shoulder and laughs. “I’ll give you extra lettuce for your conscience.”
And then he saunters off. I forgot how welcome I’ve felt here, how loved. Sure, a lot here worship me as a celebrity, but it feels more familial than anything else.
“So,” my mom says, leaning forward. “Anyone special in your life right now?”
I deflate slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she says, knowing my signs well. “It’s just—I couldn’t help wondering as well after that interview.”
“Ma!”
“Oh hush,” she says. “I’m not out here harassing you about who you love. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”