SERIES SUMMARY: Kayla is on a quest to move beyond the hurt of her past as she realizes the impact that hurt has on her present and potential future. This is a modern tale of love that accounts the complexities of blending the lives of two thirty-somethings and all of their respective baggage. Read to see if Kayla will finally share her secret, embrace something new, and most importantly exercise her faith.
They were the last to arrive, and as soon as they walked in Kayla is introduced to the gang. Kareem’s mom and stepfather and his baby sister Hannah and her husband Marcel who are the hosts. Then she meets the notorious two, Aunt Helen and Barbara, and couple more aunts, uncles, and cousins whose names she can’t remember. Kayla is greeted with warm hugs and everything is laid out so nice. Hannah and Marcel have a beautiful home and three little ones running around it. Next, as Kayla makes her way over to the wine and hors d oeuvres she is introduced to Kareem’s older sister Natasha, who isn’t so welcoming. Kayla takes note of Natasha’s vibe but doesn’t pay it much attention. And then finally, she meets the guest of honor, Kareem’s Grandmother, who reminds her of her own who pasted a few years back. She spends a long time talking with her, and answering a lot of probing questions that only a grandmother would have the nerve to ask.
Surprisingly, Kayla feels comfortable as she mingles and converses with the various members of Kareem’s family.
“When we gone eat?” uncle Jimmy shouted out.
“The last dish is just finished cooking, come on everybody,” Hannah responded.
It was a mad dash for the kitchen as everyone formed a line to make a plate. Then unexpectedly the doorbell rings.
“Now who could that be?” Grandma asked.
“I don’t know, but I’ll get it Grans,” yells Marcel.
There was an awkward moment of silence then,
“Oh, hi Monique, are you here to pick up Jordan?”
“No Marcel, I’m not here to pick up my son, I hear for the same reason you are, to eat.”
“Well damn, you don’t have to say it like that, I didn’t even know that you were invited.”
By this time everyone has left the kitchen and is standing in the foyer.
“I invited her, if you don’t mine,” said Natasha.
“I do mind,” Kareem replied.
Now the room is scary silent with all eyes on Kareem and Natasha who are now standing face to face.
“Just because you two are no longer together doesn’t mean that we’re no longer friends. She is the mother of my nephew and that makes her family, and this is a family affair, so I invited her.”
From the kitchen, Hannah yells, “you could have asked me first considering that it is my house.” Hannah has nothing personally against Monique, she is just sick of their drama and want no parts of it at her house or Grandmother’s party.
Then Natasha walks to the center of the room. “I ain’t never had to ask you before for special permission to invite Monique, your nephew’s mother to dinner, but today since we have “Ms. Wall Street” in the house I guess it’s a different story.”
“I’m not welcomed here today Hannah,” Monique asks with serious attitude in her voice as she stares down Kayla? “Kareem, why didn’t you tell me that you were taking my son to church with another woman?”
“What,” Kareem questioned. “Monique you better go on with all that dumbness, I don’t have time for it today, for real. You live for moments like this. You probably rehearsed your lines on the way over here.”
“Rehearse this,” Monique quickly returns. “Don’t be taking my child around miscellaneous women that I don’t know anything about and then expect me not to come and make my presence known. I am his mother Kareem.”
“I know you’re his mother. We all know that you are Jordan’s mother Monique. There is so much that I could say to you right now. But I choose not to. It’s not even worth it. You’re not worth it. Let’s just say that there is a reason why you are alone.”
At this point, you cut the tension in the room with a knife and Kayla knows that things are about to get very interesting. She rolls her eyes and states silently, “so much for simply attending Grandma’s party.”
To be continued…
© LaRonda Moore