Mary's Bones

SEVENTEEN

Bernice Abernathy wouldn't stop raining me in kisses. It hadn't been that long, had it? I guess it was because she only had one child. And he just so happened to be a man. That meant she was always going to spoil me like the daughter she's never had.

"Oh, Angie! Look at you. I haven't seen you in so long! Oh, come, come! Your parents are already here." Bernice squealed.

She must have just come from cooking in the kitchen. The apron over her neck smelled of pasta and had dried sauce stuck to the fabric. It wasn't a secret that she had picked up two major things from her Italian roots—the homemade pasta recipes her family passed down and the frequent family gatherings she held. It was basically tradition.

"Thank you for inviting us, Bernice." I laughed and pulled away.

"It's about time you've come to see your old man," Malcolm stated profoundly. A playful edge masked his voice as he puffed up his chest.

John laughed. "Dad, you're not scaring anyone. What are you doing?"

We entered the house side by side, his parents barely giving us enough time to walk through the door. Cannoli's, pumpkin pie, and cinnamon buns wafted through my nose. The faint smell trailed from the kitchen, leaking into the living room, where a small group of people flocked. Most of which I'd never seen before.

I'd go off on a whim to say they were co-workers or maybe old friends of John's parents. But a few of them seemed to have recognized John at first glance. And somehow, I lost my husband to old folk conversation.

I blew out a huff, eyeing his head in the crowd gathering around him.

They were like a purge of zombies going in for the kill. And my poor husband got stuck in the middle. My feet led me closer to the crowd, but it was no use. My attempt to save him failed, as he was long gone now. And there was no way I was going to fight through that group to get to him.

"Angie, baby!"

"Mom!" I spun around, coming face to face with my mother. She walked down the stairs to the living room with a napkin in hand, drying water off her skin.

"I was wondering when you'd get here." She laughed. "Your father's in the kitchen making us a plate of food. Do you want one? I could tell him to make you one too."

"No, no. It's okay. I'll wait for John, whenever he's finished over there."

"Octavia! I've been looking for you. Have you tried the stuffed shells? I made them just for you. I know how much you like them." Bernice's silvery voice met my ears. She nudged my mother's side with a wink. I'd forgotten how much kindness that woman could beam at someone.

"I did. They're as lovely as always, Bernice!" my mother replied.

"Oh, right! Where are my manners? You can help yourself to some food if you want, Angie. Most of our guests are already here. We're not expecting many more. There are just a few stuck in traffic due to some, well, I don't know! Conditions? I guess you could say. Probably just an accident on the highway or something.

"Anyways, appetizers are on the table, and there's some food sitting on the stove. Don't be a stranger while you're here! You know Malcolm and I welcome you into our home with open arms always!" She slapped the edge of my arm playfully.

A small smile wrinkled my features. My gosh, I forgot how fast this woman could talk too. I could feel my mother laughing at me with her eyes as I struggled to compose a sentence.

"Thank you, Bernice. Really—"

"And this is my wife, Angie. I don't believe you've met her yet, Aunt Crystal," John's voice cut in. I could feel my shoulders slump drastically. Bernice stalked away with my mother in hand, leaving John and me alone with this woman I had never met before.