“Oh, yes, Stenton. Thank you.” And that was it.
No prying. No questions. No awkward staring to try and figure me out. I was grateful because learning my identity could have easily led down a road I wasn’t in the mood to travel. Although I didn’t know what the fuck Zoey and I were doing, I did view her as a part of my personal life. We’d had way too many intimate conversations not to.
I think in that moment I fell for Zoey’s mother. There was something powerful yet cautioning about her aura. I could tell that quickly that she was kind, with a degree of meekness, and respectful. There was a hidden grace to Sarah that suddenly illuminated where Zoey got her confidence from. It had all clicked in that brief and awkward moment. My guard had lowered just a bit.
“We’re going in the dining room. It’s empty, right?” Zoey asked. Before Sarah could answer, she continued, “Oh, and Daddy’s over at the Johnson’s praying for the sick and shut-in with the rest of the deacons.”
Then she moved left and traveled a short distance into the dining room.
“Sit right here, I have to go grab it, okay?” Zoey asked, damn near bouncing out of the room, leaving me alone. Again, she didn’t wait for a reply before proceeding.
I tapped my fingers as I inspected the room. While I wasn’t as nervous as I was when I’d rang the doorbell thanks to Sarah, I was still on edge about being in a stranger’s home without protection. There had been too many horror stories of dudes in my line of work getting set up, chasing ass. While I wasn’t exactly chasing ass, I still didn’t want to fall victim to that.
“Here we go!” Zoey sang as she entered the room with a small Christmas style gift bag. She handed it over then took a seat next to me, at the head of the table.
“What’s this?” I asked, inspecting it.
“Open it up and see, you dork.”
I went for the small ribbon tied around the handles and loosened it, then pulled out the green tissue paper inside. I stopped.
“Zo, you have to stop with the clicking sound. That…” I whispered my profanity with her mother in mind. Something about Sarah rang respect in my contaminated mind. “…shit gets to me.”
“What?” her eyes bulged. “What sound?”
“The one from the back of your throat.”
“Oh! I didn’t know I was doing it. I-I don’t know when I’m doing it. Sorry! I’m just a little—”
“Nervous?” I interrupted her.
“Yes.”
“About what, Ni?a?” And there was that pet name rolling off my tongue so naturally.
“Well, about this. I hope you like it.”
“Is this a gift?” I asked before going back to the bag.
I pulled out a cotton piece of clothing. When I unrolled it, I found a KISS t-shirt from their 2000 KISS Farewell Tour. On the back, sure enough, there was Gene Simmons’ signature with Zoey’s name.
“Holy shit,” I murmured in awe. I couldn’t believe she’d remembered to prove she owned this.
“Cool, right?” Zoey’s grin wasn’t haughty, it was giddy. She was excited.
“Yeah, it is.” My voice still almost a whisper.
“Can I offer you something to eat, seeing this child of mine has forgotten her manners?”
I looked up to find Sarah in the doorway. Still no glint of a fanatic in her eyes.
“Ummmm… Momma, Stent has to go. He only agreed to stop by for a few minutes.”
“Oh, okay. Are you sure I can’t get you some dessert to go, at least?”
This woman, who it still appeared to not know who I was just yet, was offering me food from her kitchen. I was taken.
“I have a few minutes to spare for Zo’s mom’s cooking.” How could I decline authentic hospitality?
Sarah nodded and took off for the kitchen.
“Dude, can you really stay?” Zoey whispered dubiously.
I shook my head. “Probably not, but fuck it.” I wanted to chat about this t-shirt. “This smells brand new. Have you worn it yet?”
“No. It’s too big, which is why I’m giving it to you.”