HARDAWAY | trilogy

V2 - Chapter Eleven.

𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

               Air Wick Essential Mist breezed around the house when I trudged in through the front door of Memaw and Aunt Mercedes house in my chestnut ankle UGG boots. I had on essential Dri-Fit tights and a Nike windbreaker. My hair neatly brushed into a bun. Overhearing noise from the kitchen, I walked in the direction and found my Aunt Mercedes in there. She wore a ribbed tank and tights with her natural, cherry-tinted coils in a fro-hawk with sleek sides and defined curls.

"Hey, Auntie Mercedes," Greeting I footed into the kitchen as she peered at me. "Smells good in here. What are you cooking?" I asked and placing my car keys on the counter.

"Hey, honey," she smiled. "Just fixing up some Shrimp Gumbo. Want a bowl?"

"Hell yes," Sitting down on the barstool, my thoughts wandered off to why the Gumbo is being fixed. "She's having another episode?"

Scooping the Shrimp Gumbo into the bowl with the stainless steel ladle, she sighed. "They are happening more frequently. She's been in her 23 year-old stage and in New Orleans for a week now." She admits, turning around and placing the bowl in front of me with a spoon, "I've been having to cook every meal she had from there."

Chomping down on the Gumbo, my stare landed on her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." She dismissed the conversation and switched it, "Heard from ya Mama?"

I scoffed, "yeah; last I heard Donnie's fat self has been driving the car I'm paying the car note on. Me!"

Shaking her head as she fixed herself another bowl of Gumbo. "I told you not to get her ass that car."

"She— I was tired of her calling me for rides." Rolling my eyes, I huffed. "Middle of class, out with friends, middle of my sleep; it's annoying. I knew she was irresponsible when I put down on it. Yet, I still done it."

"You love her; couldn't help it." She spooned food in her mouth.

"I have a hypothetical question."

"Hit me with it."

"So, I have this.... friend—"

"Kirby?"

"... A friend, Auntie. She has this boy that she really likes— possibly turn into love. Great guy; tall and toned. He's makes her feel like no other guy ever has."

"Sound as if she's already in love. What's the problem?"

"Well— he's.... another race; Caucasian."

"Oh..." She smirked, releasing the spoon from his hand and crossed her arms on the countertop, "Well, an interracial love... Tell your friend if she love this person. It shouldn't matter if he's white, Black, Asian, Latin... if she loves him; it's the only thing that matters especially when he has her feeling different than any guy ever made her feel. His family care?"

"Surprisingly, no..."

"And how long has this friend and him been together?"