“Are you all right, Mr. Dee?”
He smiled at Kenny. “I’m good, son. Let’s start cooking.”
CHAPTER18
“I’m not ashamed to say that I could eat this every night,” Justine said after she’d finished her second helping of Bolognese with fresh-made tagliatelle.
Smiling, Frank raised his glass of red wine. “You have enough leftovers to last you for several days.”
Not only had she eaten too much, but Justine was also feeling slightly tipsy, because it was her first time drinking wine. It wasn’t sweet, but slightly dry, and when paired with the meat sauce, it was the perfect complement.
“I’m definitely going to heat the soup and put it in a thermos for my lunch.”
“Mr. Dee, you should have been a chef,” Kenny said, after swallowing a mouthful of pasta.
“I’ll probably say the same to you after my mother teaches you how to cook. And if you’re really good, then I’ll try to get you a position in the kitchen of one of my cousin’s restaurants several blocks from where I grew up. You can work there on the weekends once you’re in high school or college.”
“Really?”
Frank nodded. “Yes, really,” he said, “but only if it’s all right with your mother.”
Justine met Frank’s eyes over the rim of her wineglass, and there was something in his expression that challenged her not to deny her son the opportunity to travel to East Harlem, where he would earn money she wouldn’t have been able to give him.
“It’s more than okay if it doesn’t conflict with his schoolwork.”
“Why do you always say that, Mom?” Kenny asked, frowning.
“It’s just to remind you of your priorities.”
“I know,” he huffed, “keep my room clean and pass all of my classes.”
“That doesn’t sound like too much to ask,” Frank said, agreeing with Justine.
“I should know,” Kenny said under his breath, “that grown folks always stick together.”
Justine smiled, mouthing athank youwhen Frank winked at her. She didn’t know why he’d come into her life at this time, when her son was beginning to not only challenge her, but had begun asserting himself.
For far too long, she’d thought of him as a little boy who needed her to not only tell him what to do, but also think for him. Now she was forced to acknowledge that he was a young adult who still needed her, but not as much as he had in the past. She trusted him to get up and get himself ready for school without her checking to see if he’d showered, brushed his teeth, and put on clean clothes. And whenever he closed the door to his bedroom, she had gotten into the practice of knocking before entering before he told her to come in, because she now allowed him a modicum of privacy.
There were times when she wondered if her life would’ve varied vastly if she’d given birth to a daughter. The advantage would be renting an apartment with one bedroom rather thantwo, because they would be able to share the room. The disadvantage would be having a promiscuous daughter who could possibly make her a young grandmother. Fate had given her what she needed—a son who had made her proud to be his mother.
Watching Kenny interacting with Frank had her thinking perhaps she’d made a mistake not allowing a man in his life. Perhaps he did need a man he could talk to about things he hadn’t felt comfortable discussing with her; a man who would take him to baseball games; a man to show him how to treat a woman with love and respect.
Justine refused to dwell on how giving Kenny a stepfather would impact her life, because she wasn’t ready to share hers with a man. The only personal interactions she’d had with men were her shell-shocked, alcoholic uncle and the bombastic, narcissistic Dennis Boone. They were not what she thought of as good examples. There were boys in high school who wouldn’t have anything to do with her because they thought she was stuck-up, and the ones who claimed they liked her but wanted to cheat off her test paper.
Then without warning, like an unpredictable thunderstorm, Francis D’Allesandro had swept into her life, making her feel things she didn’t want to, while also making her acknowledge how predictable her day-to-day existence was. Kenny was right. She got up; went to work; came home and prepared dinner; then, if time allowed, she’d type or sew, before going to bed and turn around the next day to do the same thing. Weekends were no different, when she cleaned the apartment, went grocery shopping, and every other week emptied the hamper to take dirty clothes to the laundromat. It didn’t matter if others thought her life boring, or her existence parochial; Justine had no intention of changing it, not until Kenny was emancipated.
“Are you certain you don’t want to take any of the leftovers with you?” she asked Frank.
“No, because I usually share dinner with my mother. That will probably change once my brother and his family move in with her.”
“When is that happening?”
“Gio wants the move to be final before the Labor Day weekend. He wants his kids to get used to the neighborhood before they go to their new schools.”
Now Justine understood why Kenny was so upset about losing his friend. She’d never had that experience. Even in grade school, she hadn’t formed any close friendships with any of the girls in her classes. She would see girls congregating in small groups, and at no time was she bothered she hadn’t been included. She told herself she didn’t need friends because of what she’d witnessed with her mother, aunts, and their so-called friends during their weekly card games. One day they were best friends; then they were cursing one another out and repeating gossip that should’ve remained within the group.
However, it had been different with Kenneth, Frankie, and Ramon. They had attended the same elementary and junior high schools, and even though they talked about going to different high schools, they’d made a pact to remain friends for life.
