“Is she fine?”
“As hell,” I say, chuckling unabashedly.
“A sister?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I grimace, irritated by the question I’ve fielded in some form or fashion many times since I started dating and ultimately married Bridget. “You never objected to Bridget because she was white.”
“No, I objected to Bridget because she was a whore who cheated on my brother.”
I can’t argue, and yet I find myself doing just that. “Hey, ease up. She’s still Simone’s mom, and I never want my daughter to hear me or any of her family talking like that about her mother.”
“Okay, I won’t say it. Long as you know I’m thinking it.”
“Duly noted.” I turn on the shower. “And what about you? You seeing anybody?”
“I might have some news, someone for you to meet.”
I pause, a grin spreading on my face. I want my sister’s happiness more than I want my own. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You coming to New York anytime soon?”
“We have a game there in a few weeks. We’ll see how things work out,” Kenya replies cagily. “Oh, almost forgot. You talked to Mama?”
Guilt stabs me. I haven’t talked to her as much as I should have since my father died.
“I’ll call her,” I say, releasing a heavy sigh. “She didn’t sound too good last time we spoke.”
“Same,” Kenya replies, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “They were married forty years. Most of her life was with Dad, and they had one of those epic, forever kind of loves.”
“Yeah, if I hadn’t seen their marriage with my own eyes, I wouldn’t think it was possible.”
“Let’s both call this week.”
“I may do one better,” I say. “I need to go to Philly and check on Faded, that barber shop I invested in. I’ll swing through to see Mama.”
“Take Simone with you. She hasn’t seen her grandmother in a while, and Mama would love to see her.”
“As long as she doesn’t start in on Simone’s hair again,” I groan.
“Well, Simone does need to do something with that head, and Bridget has no idea how to help.”