Page 28 of Wasn't Supposed To Be Yours
“Netta, your boy out here. Tank, what’s up?” one of the cooks Fred said the second he looked up from the station that he was standing in.
He was closest to the door, so he was the first one to see me. I fucked with Fred. He was a real cool dude. He was one of the head chefs that my mom hired, and he worked hard. Older guy, in his fifties, and one of the things that I liked about him was that he had the same passion for this restaurant that my mom had, and that was always a good trait for your employees to have.
“What’s going on Fred? How ya’ll looking on ribs? Who in the back? Dee?” I asked, calling out my mama’s rib man. I came out here with a goal in mind for food, so I was hoping that all the things that I wanted on my plate were here. It was late at night, so some things might have ran out, but damn I was hoping that that wasn’t the case tonight.
“Yeah, Dee back there. It’s plenty of ribs. You know we going to get you right. Who that is you got with you?” Fred asked me, picking up the spatula that was in his hands, and he pointed it towards Dionne.
I laughed because I knew that it was only a matter of time before his nosy ass jumped in my business. My mama was going to be even worst though. In all my thirty- five years of living, I’ve never brought a woman to meet her, so I knew that she was going to have all kinds of questions.
“Don’t worry about who that is unc. You don’t know what the fuck to do with this right here,” I talked shit, and it made Fred laugh.
“Tavion, why am I walking out here, and the first thing that I hear is you cursing? Please, watch your mouth,” I heard my mama’s voice before I even saw her.
My mama was the true definition of a black mama. She didn’t give a damn how old I was, she didn’t play that shit when it came to me sitting around her, cursing, and shit. She’ll be ready to pop me in the damn mouth for doing that.
“We’re at your mom’s restaurant?” Dionne asked me, after it finally registered where I’d taken her. I never got a chance to answer her, and she never got the chance to really show how she felt about where I’d brought her because in a second, my mom was rounding the corner, and there was a paper towel in her hand, that she was using to dry her hands off with.
I looked over at her, and I couldn’t help but smile at her. I felt like every nigga was going to think that there mom was the most beautiful woman in the world, but I was truly confidant that mine was. She was fifty- five years old, but even with that, she continued to hold onto that youthful look. It’s like she was aging backwards, and I think a lot of that had to do with her being in a place in her life where she was genuinely happy.
I felt like I witnessed my mom go through every phase in life. I’ve seen us struggle when I was a child, I’ve seen her bust her ass to take care of me because my bitch ass daddy didn’t want to help her out. I’ve watched her grieve from losing both parents. I watched the anger that she had with me for years, when I was out here doing my thing in the streets. Even though she was parentless, my mom was able to move forward. She had a son that she knew loved her more than anything. She had a business that she worked hard for. She had a handful of homegirls, so my mom would still be outside, living her best life.
“What’s up, ma? How you doing? You look beautiful,” I complimented her, just as I would always do whenever I was around her.
She was in a black, performance polo shirt, with her’ Sunday Table’ logo stitched on the left. The shirt clung to her, and because it did, you could see just how in shape my mom was. She paired it with black jeans, and black none- slip sneakers. She had the same long, jet black hair as Dionne, but because she was in the kitchen, her hair was covered by one of the nets. Not a lick of make-up on her face, yet she still was so beautiful.
“Hi son. Thank you. Who is your friend?” she asked, getting right to the punch, just like I knew she would. She didn’t even give me my usual hug because she was too busy smiling, looking at Dionne, wanting to know who she was.
“Hi. I’m Dionne,” Dionne introduced herself, trying to put her hand out for my mom to shake it, but my mom was a hugger, so instead of shaking Dionne’s hand, she walked into her, where the two of them embraced in a hug.
My mom wasn’t tall at all. I’d gotten my height from my dad, so as they were hugging, you could see the height difference.
“I’m Annette, but everyone calls me Netta. Girl, you are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I don’t know if this moment is real, or not because Tank has never in his life brought a woman to meet me. This boy of mine won’t even show up at my house if he has a woman with him in the passenger seat. Girl, what did you do to my son?” she asked Dionne, and Dionne laughed at her question.
“Ma, chill out with that. You gone run her away. I barely even got her yet,” I said, pulling my mom into me, so that I could get that hug from her that I didn’t get when she approached us.
In a respectful manner, I wrapped my arms around her waist, held her for a little bit, and I kissed her a couple of times on her cheek. As I was pulling away from her, I happened to get aglimpse at Dionne, and she was standing there with a smile on her face.
“Are you two staying to eat, or did you just swing by?” my mom asked, now that we had pulled away from the hug.
“We going to stay. We going to go outside in the back though. Fred told me that Dee is in the back, so I’m going to go out there with him for a little bit,” I let her know, and she smiled, and nodded.
“I already know what you want to eat, so I’ll bring it out. Dionne, what about you? What do you have a taste for? The only thing that we’re out of right now is the fried catfish, and the pigeon peas and rice. Everything else, we have it,” my mom directed her attention towards Dionne.
“I’ll eat whatever. What’s something that you’ll recommend?” Dionne asked my mom.
“Girl, everything. I’ll put a little bit of everything on your plate, and you can just go from there. You have any allergies to any foods?” my mom asked her, and Dionne assured her that she didn’t.
From there, I took Dionne back out through the back door, where we were going to have to round the corner, where the outside area was for the back of the restaurant. This is where I liked to hang out at whenever I would pull up.
Dee was an old friend of my mom’s. The two of them met years ago when they were in culinary school. My mom and I had a great relationship, so she told me how her, and Dee never had any kind of romantic relationship. She said that it’s always been just friendship with the two of them. Back when they were in culinary school, Dee had dreams of opening his own restaurant, just like my mom. He got into some trouble with the law, where he had to spend some time in prison. Over the years, him, and my mom rekindled, and when she opened her restaurant, shegave him a position, where he was in charge of the ribs. Nigga was getting paid lovely, too.
“You are so slick,” Dionne said to me, once we were almost to the back.
“What you talking about, love?” I asked her, as if I didn’t have any idea what she was referring to. She hopped her ass in front of me, blocking my view, and stopping me from taking another step.
“You just casually brought me over here to meet your mom. I’m not mad about it, but damn, I wish I had on something different. My stomach, and everything is out,” she fussed, and it’s like I was hearing her, but I wasn’t paying attention to a damn thing that she was saying because she looked so good, standing in front of me, checking me.
I took a step closer, leaving no room for personal space.
