Page 7 of Taste The Smoke
“Yeah, I know. You and that planner are closer than some siblings.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush.”
“Dinner’s ready,” his mother announced.
Sonya was up in a flash. “I’ll help bring everything to the table, Mom.”
“Thanks, baby.”
Alonzo hit the off button on the TV remote, then stood. He and his father followed the two women to the dining room, withAlonzo stopping first to wash his hands in the half bath off the kitchen. Once everything had been brought to the table, they all took their usual seats—his parents at either end, he and Sonya across from each other in the middle seats.
“I can’t tell you the last time I had a fried pork chop,” Sonya said, grinning and rubbing her hands together. “Hurry up and bless the food, Dad.” Laughter floated around the table before their father recited a short blessing.
Along with the pork chops, his mother had prepared sautéed cabbage with bacon, candied yams, cornbread and sweet tea to wash it all down. “This looks good, Mom,” Alonzo said as he filled his plate. He hoped she had extra chops for him to take home because he didn’t eat fried foods often, but would definitely make an exception when it came to her cooking.
As if reading his mind, she said, “I made a few extra of everything for you two to take home. Oh, and I also made extra dessert—brownies and 7-Up cake.”
Sonya did a little dance in her chair as she chewed and swallowed. “You’re the best momeva!”
“I agree. Thanks, Mom.” For the next few minutes, the only sounds were forks scraping plates and the occasional moan.
“So how are things going with Pamela, the young woman you met at that get together, Alonzo?” his mother asked.
Alonzo paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, then shoved the forkful of yams into his mouth.
Sonya sipped her tea. “He had a date with her last night. How did that go?”
“It didn’t.” He kept eating. When he looked up, three pairs of eyes were staring his way. Rather than explain, he just said, “Things didn’t work out, and I’m good with it.” He saw the questions in his sister’s eyes and knew this wouldn’t be the end of it.
“As much as I’d like to have a sister-in-law, I’m kind of glad.”
“Sonya. That’s not nice,” their mother said.
“Neither was she,” Sonya mumbled and forked up some cabbage.
For once, he agreed with his sister, and if he saw Pamela again, it would be too soon. Alonzo was glad she’d shown her true colors early on because he hated wasting his time. And had he gone out with her, he would’ve missed out on the most fascinating woman he’d met in a long time.
Sunday morning, Kenya dragged herself out of bed. She hadn’t slept well last night because thoughts of Alonzo kept her up most of the night. From his engaging smile, piercing warm brown eyes and solicitous manner, he was everything she had always hoped to find in a man. The only thing that could have put the night over the top would have been a kiss. A couple of times while they stood next to her car, she thought he might, but ever the gentleman, he didn’t. Part of her had been disappointed, but the other part said a kiss would only complicate her muddled feelings. He had turned out to be every bit theperfectdate as her sister had said.
After breakfast, she did her laundry, then mentally prepared herself to finally start sorting through her paternal grandmother’s things. When she’d moved in with Genevieve Grant to help after her stroke two years ago, Kenya never imagined living in the three-bedroom, two and a half bath Ladera Heights home without her beloved GiGi, or that the house would now be hers. But then neither did her father and his family. They’d all been pretty much MIA during GiGi’s recovery. If she was being honest, those relationships had been strained for years, particularly with her father. Her parents divorcedbecause of his infidelity, but GiGi kept her relationship with Kenya’s mother until her death two months ago. The two women had bi-monthly lunch dates and loved going to farmers markets and swap meets, as GiGi called flea markets. Sadness surfaced again and Kenya felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes. Willing them back, she headed down the hallway that separated the other two bedrooms from the primary one her grandmother and grandfather used.
Kenya wandered over to the fireplace and picked up a framed photo of her grandparents taken on their wedding day. The look of love between them was unmistakable. Because her grandfather had passed away when Kenya was six, she didn’t remember much about him. She also didn’t have the opportunity to see him do all the loving things GiGi always raved about, something she’d never experienced in her own short-lived marriage. Placing it back in its spot, she studied the one next to it of her and GiGi when Kenya received her master’s degree. A smile curved her lips as she recalled GiGi telling everyone they passed, “My granddaughter is going to be a psychologist.” Between the two of them, Kenya didn’t know who had been more excited.
She halted her trip down memory lane because it only served to make her sadder. Instead, she turned her attention to the large walk-in closet. Kenya had been given specific instructions to donate GiGi’s clothing to her church, along with her beloved Toyota Camry, which would go to a struggling young couple with two children from that same church.
Forty-five minutes into her task, the doorbell rang. As she made her way to the front of the house, Kenya chuckled thinking she wouldn’t be surprised to find her sister on the other side of the door wanting even more details. Instead, she saw her mother.
“Mom. Hey.” Kenya hugged her and stepped back for her to enter. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”
Her mother laughed. “I didn’t know myself until thirty minutes ago. I remember you telling me you were going to start going through Mama’s things today, so I figured I’d come and help you.”
Her mother’s words evoked another surge of emotions. “You’re the best mom ever.” Avis Grant had been there through every good and bad thing in Kenya’s life, even those times when Kenya didn’t know she needed her. Like now. She hugged her again. “I’m going through her clothes right now. I can’t believe how many outfits she had.”
Laughing as she followed Kenya back, her mother said, “She liked to look good.” When they got to the room, she stopped short. “Whoa. Okay, I didn’t realize it was this much.”
“Exactly. And I lived here with her for two years. I’m scared to start going through everything else.” Sharing a smile, the two women got to work folding and boxing up the clothes and shoes. As they packed, they chatted about memories attached to some of the outfits, hummed along to the music that Kenya had turned on and caught up on each other’s lives. Kenya had to take a few breaks in between when the back pain kicked up.
“I think we need to take another break,” her mom.
