Page 50 of Crossing Lines

“Come on in then.” She and Iree enter the house.

Kross bumps my side playfully. “Trust me. You don’t want to turn down her food.”

“I am hungry after a long morning.” I follow him into the warm and cozy home, feeling love in the air. As they enter the kitchen, I stall to view the pictures on the walls, noticing a bunch with Kross. He truly is part of the family.

“Here you go, hon,” Mama G says as I sit beside Iree at the table. She sets a plate before me, and I dig in when she joins us.

“Mm. It’s delicious, ma’am. Thank you.”

She beams in return. “Always good to hear that.”

I notice Kross observing with a pleased expression while he eats. “Mama G hooked me with her good cooking. No way I could leave her home.”

“He was so scrawny,” Iree teases. “You should have seen him.”

Kross hisses at her. “Chill with that. I wasn’t.”

“Mmhm.” She chuckles under her breath and continues eating.

“My house was always full when they were kids,” Mama G reminisces. “Kids loved it here ‘cause I always had food.”

“Just like my grandparents’ house,” I smile at the similarity.

“It’s quiet these days. Only my grandbabies and my son Falcon are eating here now. He should be coming in any minute from work.”

Right on cue, a man who looks to be in his fifties enters through the kitchen door in a plaid shirt and blue jeans, a grin on his auburn face as he oozes at the food. “Hey, Mama.” He pauses on me. “Who’s this pretty young thing?”

“Davia,” Mama G and Kross answer simultaneously and look at each other.

“This is my son, Falcon,” Mama G introduces us.

“Hi, Mr. Falcon,” I say politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Davia,” he sings, coming over to shake my hand. “Such a beautiful woman.” He grins at Kross approvingly.

“Sheisbeautiful,” Kross utters under his breath, and I hear Iree huff beside me.

“Don’t mess it up,” Mr. Falcon advises.

“Oh, we’re—”

“They’re just friends,” Mama G fans him off before I finish explaining. “Go eat.”

Chuckling, Mr. Falcon fills his plate and sits at the other end of the table, wiggling at the first forkful.

We get to talking, and amid all the laughs brought on by Mother and son’s playful banter, I learn she’s seventy-eight, her eldest son is the one who died, the father of both boys left her when they were young and didn’t show up until the funeral. Mr. Falcon has nineteen-year-old twin daughters attending college in New York. He confirms he and the mom aren’t together because he mentions hitting it off with someone atKrossfire.

I find their family so resilient. The fact that they can smile at memories and not tear up every second is admirable.

It makes me even more curious about Kross’s story. He hasn’t shared much except for life growing up here, with Iree throwing in playful taunts. Whenever she talks about moments with him, it turns me bitter.

As the conversations wind down, I glimpse the clock on the wall and realize I’ve been here almost two hours. “I should get going. I have to buy groceries.”

“All right.” Mama G stands to see me off. “It was lovely meeting you, dear. You’re welcome to stop by again.”

“She’ll be back,” Mr. Falcon chuckles slyly, looking between Kross and me.

Mama G throws him a scolding look.

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