The smaller side streets only had one lane going each way and during rush hour, it was a nightmare. I decided to calm down. After all, I was a month away from marrying Yardley and I’d never been happier. As the wipers danced back and forth on my window, I daydreamed about what our children would look like.
We’d already discussed names. Our firstborn son would be named Yardley, Jr., and if there were a second son, his name would be Yavier. If we were blessed with a daughter, her name would be Yasmin. I was really feeling Y names because I was feeling Yardley so damn much.
Yardley. It suddenly dawned on me that I’d promised to cook him dinner. I was planning to make Cajun fried catfish and had forgotten to pick up flour the night before when I’d purchased the fillets. Luckily there was a small market on P Street; two blocks away from where I was inching along in traffic.
There was no parking along P Street during peak hours but I lucked out a second time by finding a space around the corner from the store. I planned to be in and out of there with a quickness. I had on a new pair of high-heeled pumps and my feet were killing me. Besides, I wanted to be home early enough to take a bath, or at least a shower, before Yardley got there around eight. With all the licking and sucking that went on during our lengthy lovemaking sessions, I always liked my coochie to be fresh.
I’d barely gotten out of my car when my cell phone started ringing. I hoped it was Yardley. I missed him and simply wanted to hear his voice. I cringed when I looked at the caller ID and realized it was Momma. As I pushed the talk button, I promised myself that I wouldn’t allow her to disrupt my flow of happiness.
I was trying to clutch my purse under one arm and juggle my phone and opened umbrella with the other. I was getting soaked.
“Hello, Momma.”
“Hey, baby,” she said anxiously. “I need to talk to you about something important.”
“Can this wait, Momma?” I asked, realizing that she was likely to start rubbing her stress onto me.
“No, this can’t wait!” she snapped. “I’m about to lose my home!”
I rolled my eyes up to the clouds. “Again?”
“Yes, Miss Smarty Pants! Again!”
Momma had gotten out of rehab and gone right back to drinking. I was so disappointed, but realized that it was a lost cause to expect her to reinvent herself after all that time. It was like that day in my apartment, when we’d revealed and supposedly released all our pain and built-up frustration, had never happened. It was like I’d never sent her to Atlanta to get help.
My friend Brook had hired Momma to help out in her accounting office, but called me less than a week after she’d started to tell me that she was showing up for work drunk. Under those circumstances, Brook couldn’t keep Momma on, or recommend her to someone else. I’d assured Brook that I understood. I loved my mother but she’d have to take a backseat to what I was trying to build with Yardley.
“Let me guess. You expect me to send you some money?” I asked her.
“Uh-huh, I damn sure do,” she stated demandingly.
“Momma, I’m in the process of making final plans for my wedding. A very expensive wedding, I might add.”
I could hear her hissing through the phone. “Rayne, no one told your fast ass to plan some fancy wedding you can’t afford.”
I was pissed then. How dare she come at me like that? Then again, being that it was Momma, how dare she not?
“Oh, I can afford my wedding. I simply can’t afford to do that and keep playing parent to you, too.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?” she asked with venom in her voice. “You better watch your tone, young lady, when you speak to me. If it wasn’t for me, your ass would’ve been a cum spot on my waterbed back in the day.”
I was in front of the store but didn’t want to go inside so people could overhear my responses to her.
“Listen, I’ll call you back in a few minutes, Momma.”
“But what about me and my problems, Rayne? I realize I may not be the greatest mother in the world, but I did the best I could by you, baby. I really did. Now I need you to do right by me. You owe me.”
“I know you did the best you could, Momma. And yes, I do owe everything I am to you,” I said, not agreeing with her but realizing she probably—in her mind—believed every word of it.
We were both silent for a brief moment. She was obviously waiting for me to hold true to form and give in. Eventually, I did.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Momma,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll take care of everything, like I always do.”
Instead of saying thanks, she held true to form. “Don’t you need to know how much money to send?”
“I’m about to run in this store. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
“But, Rayne, I need—”