“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Mrs. Whitby waves from the front step. “Safe travels! Say hi to your Mama for me!”
???
Mama and Celia are waiting at baggage claim when I get off the escalator at Tampa International Airport. Mama is wearing a tank top and flowing boho-chic skirt with what looks like miniature coins sewed into the hip area. Celia rocks her shorter haircut, T-shirt, and jeans.
Holy shitballs. My perfectalways-wears-white-suits-because-she-cansister is wearing jeans. And a T-shirt.
I spin, looking for Stephen King. Surely, I’ve gone throughThe Langoliers’wormhole, and I’m now in an alternate dimension.
“Sis?” I blink as she yanks me down for a crushing hug. The woman barely comes up to my chin but somehow,woman-handledme into submission.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Celia squeals in my ear.
I pat her on the back. “Me too.”
“Mija!” Mama pushes Celia aside to hug me too. “You look too thin. Are you eating? What are you wearing?”
I glance at my black pants and black shirt. “What?”
“It’s so dark,Mija,” Mama clucks her tongue. “You have such beautiful skin. You should wear more strong colors.”
I open my mouth to tell her black is a strong color, but she gives me the Mama Stare that shuts me up. When Carmen Saber decides something, you best not interrupt her or fight her on it. This tiny Cuban woman will cut a bitch.
“Papa getting the car?” I swivel my head as we walk toward baggage claim.
“No, he is staying with Wil and Carmine,” Mama smiles.
Wysdom and Luke’s twins are the light of our family. It probably helped that Carmine is named after his Saber grandparents.
“I thought we could have a little girl time today,” Mama smiles brightly. “Mani-pedis, maybe a haircut?”
I narrow my eyes. She’s up to something. I just don’t know what.
Celia shakes her head. “Come on, sis. Let’s get your suitcase. It’s just best to go along with it because if not, your day will be miserable.”
Oh, yeah. Now, I’m even more suspicious.
Mama grabs my suitcase. “Let’s go,Mija. No time to waste. We have an appointment at Hairapy!”
When she turns toward the parking garage, I hear tinkling from the coins sewed into her skirt.
“Mama, what’s up with the coins?”
She stops and peers down at her skirt. “Oh, this? It’s my belly dancing skirt.”
“Belly dancing?” my eyebrows shoot straight up to the sky.
“It’s the latest fitness craze at Legacy Lakes. And your Papa certainly likes it,” with a wink, Mama turns and sashays toward the garage, adding a slight jiggle in her hips when she does it.
Celia snort-laughs. I choke on my own spit.
Sweet baby Jesus.It’s going to be a long day.
Chapter 11
“When you find your brand of crazy, hang on for dear life.”
-Carolina
