Page 70 of Ride

“Where’s Ma?”

“In the basement, doing laundry.”

I walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, then sat down next to him.

“I asked Amena to move in with me.”

“A big step for you.”

“It’s time, we’re not kids anymore.”

“Being a parent is tough. You ready for that responsibility?”

“Kayne makes it easy.”

The basement door opened. Mom smiled, holding a basket of clothes. “Hey, sweetie pie.” Mom dropped the basket on the floor next to the table.

“Ma, you good?”

“Great. Sweetie. How are Amena and Kayne?”

Dad cupped the coffee in his hand. “He’s moving her into his house.”

“A ring must be coming if you’re moving in together.” Mom grinned, rubbed her hands together.

I sat straight up. “In the future.”

“Amena has to think about her son. I expect you to not string her along.” Mom wagged a finger in my face.

“Damn, am I that bad?” I folded my arms.

Mom strode next to me and patted me on the shoulder. “My love for you will never stop, but I am a woman first, and I know how men can sell you dreams.”

“All right, Ma, I got you. Amena’s not going anywhere because I love her.”

“Then we support you, sweetie. Are you hungry?”

I tapped my watch to check the time. “I need to get going so I can make sure the movers have finished moving Amena’s stuff.”

“Call us if you need us,” Mom said, arm extended forward for a hug.

* * *

Driving from the condo to pick up Amena and Kayne, then heading home, felt like the best day and gave me a sense of balance. Kayne jumped around in excitement at winning the basketball game, while his mom was in the kitchen cooking dinner. The movers had the bigger items moved over and their clothes. I told Amena we could get the rest tomorrow before I go back to work.

“Kayne, what do you want for you birthday?”

“A party!”

“Let me guess—a Spiderman party?” We had made sure that his room was decorated in Spiderman stuff.

Amena put her wine glass to her lips. I stood at the side, watching Amena sway her hips to the music, while pouring wine in the other pan on top of the stove. She turned oven down with her baked chicken.

“Try this and tell me if you like it with the sauce.” Amena’s lips pulled together to blow over the heat.

The spiciness filled my tongue. “Good one, baby.”

Amena wiped her hands on the towel and pulled out plates and cups for dinner. “Can you set the table?”

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