“Absolutely,” she says quickly, but before I can thank her, she’s bringing my mom on the line. “Mrs. Raventorn, you’re on with Ms. Raventorn.”
Mom doesn’t hold back. “Jaylin Renee! He was a good man! Good money. He liked you a lot. How am I going to show my face around church? Now I’m going to have such a hard time getting my friends to get you dates.”
Oh, poo. “Mom, I don’t need dates, FYI.”
“Jaylin! You’re getting so old. I want grandchildren!”
That’s the second time I’ve been called old… It doesn’t bode well. “Mom, I’m nowhere near old. I am in the prime of my life. I don’t understand this—you wanted me to have a career. I got that, and now, it’s like, bam! Get a husband and a baby. Give me some time, Mom. Husbands and babies don’t fall from trees.”
I don’t have to see her to know she has her brows touching and she’s tapping the arm of her recliner. I give her the best headaches, which is unfair since it’s just me. Why couldn’t my parents have given me a sibling to take some of the pressure off? Nope. Just me to have the career, the husband, and the babies. Also, it’s on me to make sure they have the best care later when they can’t take care of themselves. She needs to relax before I put her in a home. Not that I would even do that or say it out loud.
My mom is terrifying.
“Malcolm is a good man.”
“He only wanted me because I was available and can have his babies. He wore his lab coat—all the time. It was weird.”
“He’s a doctor, child!”
“And apparently everyone has to know that. It made me feel a certain kind of way.”
“Honey, he is a good man.”
“Sure, but not the man for me.”
“Jaylin, child, you need a good, rich, black man—”
“I need a good man. The rest doesn’t matter,” I say. I will never understand my mother’s need for me to marry a black man. I’m not saying I don’t love black men; I do. I’ve dated or slept with men of every single skin tone, and it’s been a blast. For me, it’s always been the soul that attracts me…and the dick. He’s gotta have a huge one, or he can’t hang.
Literally.
“And I will find him on my own time.”
“You’re killing me, child.”
I swear she says that to me about six times a week. When my phone sounds, I look down to see a text from Aviva.
SistaFromAnotherMista: No, I haven’t forgotten about you. Things are a little spotty. Kirby got thrown a curve ball, so now they are moving things around. These two new players, who are twins, are coming in and they were supposed to stay with Kirby, but something happened. So now, everyone is trying to move them, but Nico doesn’t want them here because he thinks Callie will get gangbanged by them or some shit, so it’s a hot mess.
My brow perks as my mother bitches about how I don’t have any need for a man and this is her fault. I don’t have to agree with her for her to know she’s right. She is. She has raised me to be so independent that I don’t understand why she thinks I can just settle for some random dude and be happy. While I do want that, as of now, I won’t settle for anyone but the best. I deserve it.
I lift my phone up and text Aviva back.
Me: What happened?
SistaFromAnotherMista: Baby momma drama that I can’t talk about. It’s not good.
My stomach drops. Maybe I should call? That would be weird, though, and would completely throw Aviva under the bus. But what could have happened?
Me: Did they break up?
SistaFromAnotherMista: Jay, they’ve been broken up. It’s about their daughter.
Talk about being kicked in the stomach. I don’t even know the child, but the fact that she was made from Kirby’s genes, I feel she’s probably spectacular. Just like he’s spectacular… I really miss him. I’m a bit embarrassed by the spark of excitement at the thought of him being single and ready to mingle, but what if he is…
First, though…
Me: Is she okay!!!!!!
SistaFromAnotherMista: Yes, she’s perfectly healthy. Give me some time. I’ll get back to you.
Me: Oh, thank goodness. On a totally unrelated note, is he looking for some company?
SistaFromAnotherMista: Jaylin Renee Raventorn. First, that is the same note, and second, NO! Get it together.
Me: Geez, I was just asking.
When she sends me the side-eyed emoji, I make a face before setting down my phone. I’m so consumed with thoughts and worries, I completely forget that I’m still on the phone with my mom. She’s so far into her rant, she hasn’t even noticed I’m not listening or even contributing to the conversation. It’s quite pathetic.
“I have another friend. Her son is in the music industry. He has a music house or something. He helped with the last Taylor Swift album, and he’s got the most gorgeous skin. Y’all two’s babies would be such a gorgeous ebony.”