When Yardley and I got back upstairs, it was like being abducted by aliens. Everything had changed. The three of them were sitting at the table eating sweet-potato pie and laughing. No further mention was made about my nameless father, his nameless other children, or group sex, and we all managed to get along for a few more hours.
When it was time to leave, Mrs. Brown pulled me aside. “Rayne, I want you to know that Corbett and I both think you are lovely.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Brown. I appreciate that.”
“Please, call me Agnes.”
“Thanks, Agnes, for dinner and for making me feel comfortable in your home; despite what happened earlier.”
“Your mother loves you, Rayne. She’s a confused soul and she’s led a rough life but that doesn’t reflect on the love she feels for you.”
“Wow, what did Momma say to you and your husband?” I asked in astonishment.
“She was open and honest; that’s all. She’s extremely proud of you, in case you didn’t know that.”
I was blown away. “Thanks for being so understanding. For the record, I’m nothing like my mother, Agnes. I care about your son a great deal and I do believe in monogamous relationships.”
Agnes grinned. “No need to go there. I can see that you’re a woman of integrity. Yardley’s lucky to have you in his life. He’s been hurt in the past but this isn’t a dress rehearsal, so I’m glad he’s found something unique with you.”
“Unique!” I giggled. “That’s a good word for it.”
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you soon.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Let me know when it’s time to plan the wedding. Even though it’s usually the bride’s family who handles all the details, Yardley’s my only child so I have to get in where I fit in.”
Was she serious about a wedding?
“You think he’ll marry me?” I asked, stunned.
“If you’ll have him, I know he will.” She let out a deep sigh and glanced at Yardley, who was helping Momma into the back seat of his car. “My son has never looked at a woman the way he looks at you. That’s the same way Corbett looked at me when we started dating in 1968. The way he still looks at me and the way Yardley will be looking at you thirty-something years from now.”
I was at a loss for words so I didn’t respond. I hugged her and went to get into the car.
Sitting there in the beauty parlor, I was mulling Agnes’s words over in my mind. Things were moving so swiftly. I wasn’t sure if I was coming or going. Yardley hadn’t mentioned the word “marriage” and I was hoping he wouldn’t any time soon. I had a ton of insecurities I needed to sort through before I could be mentally stable enough to trust like that.
“Rayne!” Momma pushed me on the arm. “Are you going to answer me or what?”
“Momma, do you have to be so loud?” I asked, trying to shush her.
“I ain’t loud, dammit!” she exclaimed. “I asked a simple fuckin’ question.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned in closer to her. “Baps are beautiful African princesses.”
“Oh, well, your ass wasn’t born in Africa and I sure as hell wasn’t. My parents made me in the back of your granddad’s 1957 Oldsmobile.”
“I don’t need to know all that, Momma.” I glared at her. “How do you know where you were conceived anyway?”
“Your grandparents told me as much, stupid, before they kicked the bucket.”
I couldn’t believe Momma would talk about her parents’ deaths so casually. I never got to know them before they were killed in a house fire. As for my father, Momma wasn’t exaggerating at the Browns’. My mother never mentioned him and since the sixth grade, I’d never asked. Momma never knew which one of her lovers fathered me. If they had been airing the Maury show back then, she would’ve been one of the women featured on his paternity episodes. One of the ones that had to test a dozen men and still be pressing her luck that one of them was actually the father.
“Momma, do you see a hairstyle you like?” I asked, changing the subject by
pointing to the hairstyle magazine she was holding in her lap. “I think that one would look good on you.”
“That would make me look old as shit,” she complained. “I need something that makes me look younger.”
“Momma, that style would look great on you,” I stated in disagreement. “But we can let Boom decide for you. She’s great with hair.”
“Boom?” she asked in disgust. “What kind of name is that?”