After the applause dies down, Jordan looks up at me. I lower my body to the microphone.
“Good evening everyone,” I clear my throat, uncharacteristically nervous about speaking publicly. The room goes up again. That, I’m used to. It comes with the celebrity. “I couldn’t let this little player steal the show. Sarah may be his grandmother—a super grandmother—but I often feel she belongs to me as well. I’m not a man of public display...” Laughter. “...unless there’s a ball in my hands, that is.” I have to chuckle myself for stumbling over my words. “But for this woman I’d endure the embarrassment to tell the world how great a woman she is and what a...” I lick my lips, braving myself. “...blessing she’s been to me and my fam—my son.” My eyes go to her. “Sarah, I don’t know any mother who loves as hard or extends herself as much for her den. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you...although you never ask. Thanks for...” I bow my head to control my emotions. It’s bad enough that I’m bent over, talking into a fucking mic that is as low as my knees, but my damn emotions are trying to surface, too. “Thanks for being an extraordinary grandmother to my son and a…an unexpected mother to me.”
I quickly stand and pat Jordan on the shoulder, providing his cue.
“Now, Daddy?” he looks up at me.
I nod.
“Grandmom, our birthday gift to you is a cruise...” Jordan looks up at me again. “What kind again, Daddy?”
The room laughs.
“Mediterranean.”
“Yeah...and a coupon—”
“Voucher,” I correct.
“Voucher for a pool in the backyard!” Jordan shouts his joy because, while Sarah has expressed wanting one, he knows he’ll benefit from it most.
The room goes up louder than they have all night. Folks stand from their seats. Jordan jumps in place, soaking up their response, not having a true appreciation of what he’s just gifted his grandmother. Sarah grabs her chest and cups her mouth at the same time. I give her a wink, having fun with her modesty.
Then my eyes land on Zoey, who’s just as elated by our gesture as everyone else. Her eyes are wet and nose is red. When we leave the stage, Jordan flies into his mother’s arms. She whispers something directly in his ear. I hear him say thank you, but not much else.
Then her eyes rest on me and for the first time in years, I don’t see acrimony. I see pride, similar to when I met her.
“I have someone I’d like you two to meet.” Zoey does a reverse nod, summoning me to follow her.
We walk a few tables over and come across a table full of people. Because I know Zoey understands how I feel about meeting strangers, I’m at ease. Yet I’m still curious about who this person is.
“Aunt Lucinda, this is my angel, Jordan, and his dad, Stenton,” Zoey initiates.
An elderly woman with smooth unblemished sable skin slowly turns in her seat and lifts her chin to regard me. Judging by her languid movement, I didn’t think she heard very well.
“You’s a tall boy, ain’t ya?” Her dentures are stained, but her smile is bright.
I give her a slight bow then offer my hand. “Nice to meet you, Aunt Lucinda.” She takes it shakily, which is indicative of her age. She must be eighty or so years old. I then turn to Jordan. “Greet your aunt, kid.”
Jordan smiles as he offers his hand. “I’m Jordan Rogers.”
As she takes his hand she jeers, “You must be if he’s Stenton. Your momma only introduced two people.”
Zoey and I chuckle. Seconds later, Lucinda joins in.
“Now where’s ya’ other family?” Lucinda tosses over to Zoey.
Zoey’s expression matches my bemusement.
Other family?
“This is it. You’re looking at it, Aunt Lucinda.” Zoey’s soft rub on her aunt’s shoulder mirrors her soothing tone.
The lady must be a bit senile at her age.
“No, honey. Ain’t you engaged, too? Where is that lucky fellow?” Lucinda clarifies. The whole table is quiet, raptly watching our exchange.