Page 62 of Awakening
First course: spanakopita stuffed with smoked gouda and collard greens.
Second: grilled lamb lollipops with honey-thyme glaze and cornbread crumble.
Third: shrimp saganaki and creamy stone-ground grits.
Fourth: charred okra and tomato salad with feta and hotpepper vinaigrette.
Fifth: crispy catfish gyro sliders with spicy remoulade.
Sixth: sweet potato baklava with bourbon glaze.
I plated every dish myself, refusing to move until it was garnished perfectly. Watching my parents’ faces light up with every bite made every second worth it.
“You really outdid yourself, baby,” my mom said, licking a bit of glaze from her finger. “And the wine selections, my goodness, divine.”
Carlos raised his glass. “If this is what Olive & Oak is serving, you’ll be booked out for years, son. We’re so proud of you, kiddo, always have been, always will be.”
Then my mom turned to Ajaih, smiling, “And you, beautiful girl, you’re even more stunning in person. I see now why my sons stay wrapped around your little finger,” taking another sip of her wine as she asked Ajaih about her career and things she’s passionate about.
Ajaih laughed, a rich, rolling sound that made my stomach tighten.
“Well,” she said, “I’m retired now. Lt. General Ajaih Jeffries, formerly of the United States Air Force.”
My mom’s fork paused mid-air.
“Retired?” my dad asked, “How old are you, woman?”
“Forty-two,” she said, grinning, “I was a commercial pilot for a couple of years before I took my talents to the aviation academy where I’m one of the lead flight instructors. I’m also a volunteer aero firefighter. I also teach a drone class for kids at the Winston Hills Community Center.”
Carlos let out a whistle, “Okay, Renaissance woman.”
Olivia leaned in, clearly smitten, “You can fly planes, teach kids, put out fires, and keep my sons in check?”
Ajaih winked, “They keep me balanced, but I definitely do my best to keep them on their toes.”
We laughed, the kind of deep belly laughter that made the room illuminate with love before the conversation dipped into the real.
Carlos set down his wine, thoughtful. “I’ll be honest, son… I always knew you'd live out loud, and when you brought Maverick home and he told us that it was your love, support, and kindness that encouraged him to do the same, it blew me away to see how fearless you are, especially as a bi black man. People can be unapologetically ignorant and cruel.”
Ajaih leaned forward, eyes steady and proud. “They can, but Maverick and Knox? They are the bravest men I know. They love each other, and they love me with every inch of their souls. I’m lucky. Every damn day to know that no matter how the outside world tries to break us, in our world we build each other up.”
Silence fell for a heartbeat. Then my mother stood and walked over to Ajaih, kissed the top of her head.
“You’re family, baby,” she said, “And anyone who can’t see the beauty in what the three of you have? Let them choke on their bitterness.”
That night, we didn’t just break bread. We built something sacred and blessed.
The night was here. Months of searching, planning, creating, and now, Olive & Oak was alive.
Booked solid from the minute the doors opened, the soft murmur of conversations, the clink of glasses, the low pulse of jazz weaving under it all, it was everything I’d envisioned, and more.
I stood in the kitchen, plating duck breast glazed with fig and molasses, my black-on-black Tom Ford suit somehow still pristine despite the controlled chaos around me. Gold cufflinks, olive pocket square, and those glinting canines caught the camera’s flash as someone snapped a candid shot. A chef in couture, ridiculous, probably, but also me, authentically.
Maverick was working the room like a born host, and Ajaih looked devastating in a copper-colored, strapless leather dress that stopped just above her knees and hugged her like it was in love. My parents beamed every time someone complimented them on their “brilliant, fearless” son. The opening was star-studded as Brielle Banks and Stephanie Travers came through to enjoy a meal thanks to Ajaih. She’d kept in touch with both ladies since Monaco, and they’d even made plans to do some ol’ daredevil shit like skydiving. My parents nearly passed out when they met Caleb, but when Mario Black walked through the door, they went full-out fandom over the young man whooping ass and taking names in the NFL. I surmised that the man above had given Yanna an endless supply of charm as she had the whole restaurant under her spell in under five minutes—unsurprising as men and women alike watched her hips sway from side to side in a what would be a simple black bodycon dress on anyone but her, all those damn curves made the dress explicit.
When the final course had been served and dessert plates cleared, I stepped into the dining room to applauseand flashbulbs.
I cleared my throat, raised a glass.
