Page 2 of Without Bound
“What is it, ma? I can do it.” I press my hands flat against the counter and stand.
“No honey. You sit. Let me take care of my baby boy.”
“Francine, he’s a grown man who towers over both you and I. There is nothing baby about him,” dad replies as he comes walking into the kitchen.
“Oh hush. He’s my baby and always will be. Now get me that big jug in the cabinet over the fridge so I can mix some simple syrup in the tea.”
Dad grumbles something about me being a big ass mama’s boy, but does as mom asks.
I look over to see Vaughan chuckling at my parents who are basically his second set. We’ve grown up together and have been best friends since grade school. That means we were at each other's houses as much and as frequently as our own.
Both sets of parents call us son, and both sets scolded and disciplined us when it was warranted, which happened to be a lot.
The doorbell rings and I jump up from my seat, knocking it over but not wanting to waste one minute of seeing who I know waits on the other side of the door.
I swing the door open and see that bright smile that can turn a bad day into the best one. “There’s my girl.”
“Uncle Bishop!” Dagen yells and leaps into my open arms.
Vaughan’s eight year old daughter is a ray of sunshine, and right now I could use a big dose.
“It’s been forever since I’ve seen you,” she says, emphasizing forever.
“I know, my girl. Like a million years.” I tease her as her little arms squeeze my neck.
“A little dramatic Dagen Rayne. It’s only been four months since you saw Uncle Bishop. Quit squeezin’ him to death and get inside. It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra out there.” Maxine, Vaughan’s mom, steps inside with his father, Jim, on her heels.
“Gran! You said tit. That’s a bad word.”
“Well darlin’, now you’ve said it. Who d’you think your daddy is gonna get mad at?”
Dagen’s face pales and I see her little lip quiver. I hug her tight to me and whisper, “Don’t worry. I got you.”
She nods her head and a tiny smile appears.
With Day still in my arms, I reach out and pull Max into a hug and kiss her cheek.
“Hi momma Max.”
“Hello son,” she says, hugging me back. “You did wonderful today.”
“You sure did, son. Proud of you.” Jim steps forward and reaches for my hand.
I let go of Max and he grips it, pulling me in for an awkward side hug.
I give them both a sad smile then escort them into the kitchen. Not that they need an escort since they’ve been in my home dozens of times, but it’s the polite thing to do.
With everyone settled, mom and Max set the table and we all gather around it where dishes with delicious food waits for us.
Our parents talk like they don’t see each other several times a month, and Vaughan and I listen to Dagen retell a story about a “meanie boy” who pulled on her friend's pigtail then pushed her down.
“Well. What did you do?” I ask her.
Vaughan gives me alisten to this shitlook, and I wait for Day to give it to me.
“I told him his breath smelled like farts and that he should tell hismomma to teach him how to brush ‘cause it was burnin’ the hairs in my nose. Then I gave him a wedgie.”
I spit the bits of un-chewed food out and choke on the pieces that were trying to work their way down my throat.
