Page 10 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

Solemnly my ass.

“And remember the two of you promised to watch out for Ma while I travel to Ofele Town in two weeks, okay?”

“Oh damn, that’s in two weeks? ’Cause there is this day party that I want to go to.”

I wasn’t a violent man nor prone to anger, but damn if I didn’t want to throw a couple of punches right now. Preferably at Milo. He was second in command and balked at the responsibility. Everything about home weighing on my shoulders would have been easily managed if each of us played our part. We could, the three of us, divide responsibilities for taking care of Mom, but that would require me telling them some ugly truths about themselves.

Their selfishness…But that shit would only cause another rift between us, and we couldn’t afford that.

“Y’all gonna watch her, or do I have to ask someone else?”

“Nah, we’ll watch Ma…” Celo nodded, looking toward her room. We all stared at the closed door.

The hunger that propelled me to cook a meal for my family fled quicker than my poise disappeared around Trinidad.

Cheerful thoughts.

Ofele Town had never looked better.

FIVE

Trinidad

Rush hour in Brooklyn meant what should have been a ten-minute drive ended up being a half hour. At this point, I didn’t even know why I’d moved the car instead of making the twins take the subway, but getting some quality time with them was always a good idea.

“…Orlando also told us about his years in college and how, even though he partied, he focused on getting good grades and graduated at the top of his class…”

Not today, though. Not when I yearned to relegate Orlando to the back of my brain, where I placed all the items I needed to compartmentalize. Not when they had chosen Orlando as one of their favorite topics of conversation and decided to give me a dissertation on all things Orlando.

There was no need for me to see that man-child without a shirt. That was knowledge I didn’t require, and on top of that, I didn’t need the reminder of how kind he could be and how he actually loved spending time with my sons. Unlike many a high-vibration man, or whatever they called them now, who felt an unmarried woman with children meant a woman that had failed at life. Especially at love. Immediately we are deemed broken.

“Yeah, he’s asked to work on our math grades, so I’m gonna ask Ms. Solis,” Brian continued.

“Man, more homework? We already do too much,” Brandon interjected.

Orlando had my two sports-driven, nonacademic children talking about math and homework—willinglytalking about it. He had this way of pinpointing what they needed to be improving, either at home or at school, that worked every damn time.

I remember the first Saturday I woke up to the smell of Pine-Sol and the sounds of deep murmurs debating which room to clean next. My mouth opened in quiet awe; I stayed still in my bed, enjoying the sound of the two young men I birthed being responsible and helpful.

The twins were maturing—whatever maturity looks like on a fifteen-year-old child—but some of those gestures came from beyond their evolving brains. Orlando was doing a great job guiding them during their sessions.

Beyond anything physical, that was the most attractive to me. Their father lacked in imparting any type of wisdom to them on how to prepare for life. Anytime they were with him, he would find ways to spend the least amount of time with them and fill their weekends with so many activities that quiet, quality conversations were few and far between.

Hearing that Orlando had referred to me as older was a good reminder. Talk about a splash of water over my overactive libido. I hadn’t checked my period app, but without pulling my phone, I knew what moment of the month it was. Hopefully, I would be out of the thick of things and back to my stressed normal self until next month if I was lucky.

“And he is gonna go on a trip with his friends soon! I think one of those historical towns you’re always telling us about,” Brian said, gifting me with so many words. I planned to write this in my journal as a moment to remember when we got home.

“Yeah, he was telling us that when we’re older, he’ll take us to carnival. And maybe we can come out with him for Labor Day and whine with the ladies,” Brandon interjected.

“Excuse me, you’re gonna what?” I exclaimed. My babies, talking about whining with women? At least Brandon saidladies instead of something else. Thank God for small mercies.

“Well, yeah, you know how Dad doesn’t take us to anything Caribbean even though it’s his heritage. He ain’t never including us when he travels to Barbados to see Grandpa and Grandma, so we’ve never seen Crop Over, but Orlando said…”

And so it went until we arrived at the house and settled in for the day.

My pantry was running low. The few boxes of pasta sat there waving at me, whispering that they’d be the quickest thing to make for dinner. I had already cooked today, but a brief glance at the pot on my way out told me the twins had eaten their weight in gold again. This would be the third trip to the grocer’s in five days.

Their father’s contributions barely covered the food for the month at this point.

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