Uh-oh.
“I’m talkin’ to you,” Aunt Lulamae snapped at me. “You hear me, you too big for your britches little bitch?”
I started to come unfrozen when Mitch said urgently in my ear, “Mara, listen to me –”
“Gotta go,” I muttered and put the phone in its cradle.
“Get yo’ hand outta my face,” LaTanya hissed.
“Kiss my white ass,” Aunt Lulamae shot back.
I could swear I heard LaTanya growl.
Uh-oh!
“Aunt Lulamae, Mom,” I said quietly, starting to move around the counter, “please, this isn’t –”
I stopped talking because Aunt Lulamae’s hand dropped and both she and Mom skewered me with a glare.
“What the f**k, Marabelle? What…the…fuck?” Mom asked, eyes following me as I got to them and positioned myself in between them, LaTanya and Roberta but I felt both my girls positioning themselves close to either side of my back.
As we all took our positions, I wondered what the f**k what?
Mom didn’t elucidate. She and Lulamae just kept glaring.
“This is your Mom?” Roberta whispered incredulously.
“’Course I’m her Mom,” Mom answered. “Shit, she’s the spittin’ image ‘a me.”
That was when I heard Roberta making a gurgling strangled noise at the same time I heard LaTanya make a strangled gurgling noise. Both Mom and Aunt Lulamae heard the noises, both their eyes narrowed and both their hands went to a hitched hip.
Oh boy!
“Listen,” I said quickly, “I know you want to talk to me but now is not a good time. I’m at work.” Then I said what I didn’t want to say at the same time I vowed that once they got gone, I’d buy a new phone. “I’ll give you my cell number. Call me tonight. We’ll arrange to meet and talk.”
“No, we’re gonna talk right here, right now, about my grandbabies,” Aunt Lulamae declared. “And we’re gonna do it here ‘cause you don’t got no stick up his ass po-lice detective here to get all…” she paused then considering she had about a quarter of the brain cells normal people have since she killed all the other ones, she went on unimaginatively, “stick up his ass po-lice detective on us.”
But it was with that, she made a mistake.
She’d insulted Mitch.
The Mitch who, just weeks ago, was my dream man from afar, smiling at me warmly even though he didn’t know me.
Then he was the Mitch who took care of my doohickey on the sink and even paid for it, no matter that it cost a few dollars, he did it. And then he was the Mitch who fed her grandkids Lola’s, which might have been the nicest meal they’d ever had in the nicest place they’d ever been. And that very night he was the Mitch who was going to feed them fish sticks. And he was the Mitch who held Billie close to him when she was scared and cared a great deal that Billy trusted him. And he was also the Mitch who handled me with care when my apartment had been torn apart, yes, exactly as LaTanya said, as if I was the finest piece of crystal in the whole wide world and he’d go direct into smackdown should anyone threaten to break me. And lastly, he was the Mitch who did hundreds more things to kick in for a woman and two kids he barely knew just because he was a good guy, a nice guy.
Okay, so, maybe it was in part to get in my pants but that, I figured, was a small part.
He was just a good, nice guy.
What he was not was a guy with a stick up his ass.
Therefore, as I felt my body freeze from head-to-toe, I also felt my lips move and they moved to whisper angrily, “Don’t talk about Mitch that way.”
“And don’t you tell your auntie how to talk,” Aunt Lulamae shot back then looked at Mom. “Always high and mighty, always –”
I interrupted her, still whispering but this time with a hiss giving words that had no sibilant edge a dangerous sibilant edge, “Don’t you ever talk about Mitch that way.”
“Uh-oh,” LaTanya muttered from behind me.