Page 45 of Mornings By the Linden Tree
“Yeah, she’s a really nice girl. Anyway…” I knew the ask was coming. I could sense it. “My mom wants to have a party for them. Just small. Only family.”
With seven children and their dates, I doubted it could truly be termed as small. “And you’re telling me this because…”
“I thought we could go. Together. I really would love to have them meet you and Valeria.” I could feel myself tensing up. This kind of thing was so incredibly far out of my comfort zone we might as well be on Mars. “Okay, I see by the fear on your face it’s a no, and that’s cool, I’ll just go myself and—”
“No, I…” It was ridiculous how a learned man known for his skills with the English language could be reduced to having the mental acuity of one of the clams resting in saltwater to my right. “I would very much like to meet your family.”
He stared at me. Hard. As if he were trying to see through my skull into my gray matter to find the lie. He wouldn’t have to look too hard.
“I’m not sure you’re being honest,” he replied as his phone rested in his hand. Was his mother privy to all this? God, I hoped not.
“I will admit I’m a little apprehensive about this. It’s a large step. One I had worked diligently to avoid in the past, but I have gifted you the flower of boyfriendship and so it is now time to get to know your family.”
“Okay, you’re serious. I am…” He rose to his toes to kiss me, and before I could think properly or straighten my tie, he had the phone spun around in selfie mode and there was his mother staring at us.
“Mom! So, this is Wesley. He and I are dating seriously. I’d like to bring him to the party if you have room at the table for three more?” Lennon said so rapidly his words were a blur.
I smiled feebly at the woman wearing a blonde pixie cut with sky blue eyes. She had a round face, one that was well lived in, with laugh lines that ran deep. There was no denying Lennon was her son.
“Oh, well, a boyfriend! Of course he can come! We’ll wedge him in between the younger boys and you. Hello, Wesley! What a handsome man you are. And that jacket!” I stumbled over a thank you for my tie. Itwasa striking blazer from last year’s Martino Spinella fall line of fine Italian silks. “Lennon, you said three more, but there are only two of you.”
“Uncle Wes! The DVD is stuck in the player, and I did not try to unstick it with a Barbie leg like last time,” Valeria announced in her not-indoor voice as she thundered into the kitchen. Lennon scooped her up with one arm, seated her on his hip, and then maneuvered the phone to include all three of us.
“Ma, this is Valeria, Wesley’s niece, who he is raising.” Mrs. Cole gaped for perhaps a tenth of a second before a grin broke free. “So yeah, three.”
“Hello! Your face is so small. Is your head real small?” Valeria asked. Mrs. Cole, Lennon, and I all laughed. Valeria seemed quite confused as to why we were not replying to her very serious question.
“I cannot wait to meet them both in person. We’ll make room at the table for sure. Tomorrow night at six. Oh, Lennon, she is adorable. Are you two going to get married anytime soon?!”
Lennon rushed to mute his mother, his cheeks bright red. “Pretend you didn’t hear that. There are no wedding bells ringing. Not a one. She’s just…well, you know.”
I didn’t know. Not really. My mother had been far from loving or exuberant about a possible grandchild. My mother was concerned with herself only.
“Why don’t we poke the spuds and let Lennon talk to his mother?” I took the child into my arms. Lennon slipped around the corner of the kitchen. I placed Valeria on the counter as Lennon could be heard, in an accent as thick as the soup we’d be eating soon, pleading with his mother not to bring up things like weddings tomorrow night.
“Is that lady Lennon’s mommy?” Valeria asked while poking at the fresh herbs on the cutting board. I took the knife away from possible grabby hands and put it in the sink.
“Yes, that is Mrs. Cole. We’re going to go to a party at her house tomorrow to celebrate a proposal.” I turned the heat up under the potatoes just for something to do. Now that I had agreed to be a good boyfriend, my internal clam was trying to snap my shell tightly shut.
“What is a po passal party?” she asked, then reached down to pull off a sock.
“Do not remove your sock in the kitchen,” I said firmly. She huffed but left the sock on her foot. “A proposal party is a gathering to celebrate when one grownup asks another grownup to marry them and the other grownup says yes.”
“Oh, okay. I seen a po passal on the ketchup monkey show.” I had no clue what the ketchup monkey show was or if it was something she had invented. The child had a wild imagination. “If we go to Lennon’s mommy’s house and you two are now boyfriends, does that mean she is now my grandma?”
I smiled down at the cherub and then explained that no, Mrs. Cole would not be her grandma.
Chapter Sixteen
“Sweet Nellie Beans, look at this child! She is too sweet. Honey, you call me Grandma, okay?” Mrs. Cole gushed at the front door of her modest West End home.
Valeria looked at me as if I knew nothing. Which, it appeared, was wholly true.
“It’s a pleasure to be invited to such a personal affair. Please accept these as a small token of my thanks.” I placed two bottles of Dom Perignon into Mrs. Cole’s chapped hands.
“Well, this is way fancier than the fizzy I bought. Thank you. Come in and meet everyone.”
“Ma, let’s not get carried away, okay?” Lennon pleaded as she pulled us into the small home to be greeted by a dozen people with Lennon’s eyes and chin. I meant to say something in reply, but Mrs. Cole was in full hostess mode. She led me around the packed living room by the elbow while Valeria clung to Lennon, completely overwhelmed. She, too, was not used to being surrounded by strangers. Her life had been mostly spent with my sister and whatever man she was sleeping with and sharing drugs with, which was a hard fact I’d learned to deal with a yearago, and a kindly neighbor. I nodded and shook hands with a slew of young men, several girls of college age or below, and one elderly gent who resembled nobody, given he was Black.
