Page 141 of Can't Get Enough

“It’s fine.” I lead them through to the kitchen. “She’s feeling much better now that she’s taking her meds again.”

I point to the garden through the window over the sink.

“Look at her,” I say. “She and Maverick started replanting her garden, and she’s been out there every day since.”

“Maverick, huh?” Soledad elbows me and offers a sly grin. “Sorry we missed him.”

“Yeah, he had a conference in Tokyo.” I blow out a breath because I missed that man before he was out of the driveway. “You’ll meet him soon.”

“We better,” Yasmen says.

“Next time.” I shoo them all to the table. “Now sit down. Mama’s leftovers are even better the second day.”

When we watch her, of course.

The four of them sit at the kitchen table and I go to the door to callMama in. Sometimes too many people at once disconcerts her, but it’s actually better when she meets new people. There is no expectation she would already know them, not the same pressure as with people who expect her to remember.

“Mama!” I shout.

She looks up from the flowers she’s been planting on and off since Maverick helped her a few days ago.

“Come meet my friends,” I say, waving her in. “They’re hungry.”

We had Mama athungry. Like Soledad, food is her love language, and over the next hour she loves on my friends. Her vocabulary is mac and cheese, string beans, Salisbury steak, and the sweet potato pecan pie she always had to make two of.

“Oh, this is fantastic,” Soledad says, cutting a second slice of the pie and loading it onto her plate. “I need this recipe.”

“It’s all up here,” Mama says, tapping her temple. Her smile dims. “Guess I better start writing things down before it’s too late.”

“Well, it tastes good,” Deja says, catching the last few crumbs on her plate with a fork. “That’s all I know.”

“Thank you.” Mama looks through the kitchen window to the garden. “It was good meeting you all. I think I’ll go out back again.”

“Sure, Mama.” I walk over and kiss her cheek. “It’s hot today. Don’t stay out there too long, and keep that hat on.”

I take them back to Aunt Geneva’s room to meet her, too. She’s a few weeks past her surgery and is moving around a bit more now, but she overdid it the last few days so is laying low just to be safe. She laughs, we all do, as Deja and Lupe regale us with stories from their summer program at A&T. Aunt Geneva attended North Carolina Central back in the day, so she reiterates they can’t go wrong with an HBCU.

“Tried to tell Hendrix,” Aunt Geneva tsks. “But she went on down to Georgia.”

“Where she had a full scholarship,” I say wryly. “And did not acquire student debt she would spend her twenties and thirties paying off.”

“Well, I guess some good came out of it,” Aunt Geneva concedes.“You met these beautiful people down there, but trust me, girls. There’s no experience likeourexperience.”

“Agreed,” Yasmen says. “Aggie pride!”

“Spelman’s great, too,” Soledad interjects. “And so close to home.”

Deja and Lupe exchange ahere we goglance.

“Howard is impressive,” Lupe says, mischief in her eyes. “DC isn’tthatfar.”

Soledad looks like she might have a breakdown right at Aunt G’s sickbed.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Sol,” I say with a laugh. “We’ll let you get some rest and back to your stories, Aunt G.”

Aunt Geneva’s had her recording ofGeneral Hospitalpaused since we walked in, and as much as I’m sure she’s enjoying our company, her attention keeps drifting back to the television. Her body may be with us, but her heart is in Port Charles.

“Y’all go on in the front room and rot on your phones for a few minutes,” Yasmen tells Lupe and Deja. “We need to talk to your aunt Hen.”

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