Chapter 21
“My eyes!”
-Cam
That was a close call.
No matter how many times I’ve told Ryan to let me handle things, he keeps pushing for a quicker resolution.
Ryan is on that cusp between Millennials and Gen Z. Always wanting an answerright fucking now. He hasn’t learned the art of patience.
Not that I had any patience at his age.
Or now, for that matter.
And that’s making it much harder to protect him from the hot mess that is my love life.
I sigh and push my way into my parents’ house.
I texted Mama last night to let her know I was staying with a friend. Thankfully, she didn’t ask a lot of questions.
“Mija,” Papa shouts a little too loudly from the kitchen. “You’re home!”
I frown at him. He’s wearing Mama’s robe and - wait a minute - is that -silk scarvesaround his wrists?
Aw, hell no.
Retreat! Retreat!
I turn around to face the wall. “Papa! I don’t know what’s going on here, but y’all need to hang a sock on the door for chrissakes!”
“Language!Mija! What is it with you girls and your cussing?” Papa chides. “Celia is the only good one in the bunch!”
“Mija! What are you doing home so early?” Mama’s voice calls out from behind me along with something that sounds a lot like jingle bells.
“Listen, I don’t know what I walked in on, nor do I care for the explanation,” I hold up my hand before my Mama can scar me for life. “I’ll head over to Wysdom and Luke’s house for a while until you - uh - finish what you started in here.”
Jingle. Jingle. Jingle.
Mama is beside me with her hand on my arm. “Nonsense,Mija. We’re already finished. Your Papa was making me a post-coital snack!”
I clap my hand over my eyes. “Motherfucker!”
“Mija!” Papa cries out.
Mama chuckles. “Well, Luis, I guess in this case, she’s not cursing. She’s correct. And I don’t know why you’re embarrassed, Camellia. In the immortal words of George Michael - ‘Sex is natural. Sex is fun.’”
“That’s a big ‘ole NOPE BUFFET with an ALL-YOU-CAN-NOPE DESSERT BAR! Please, for the love of cheeses, stop talking!” I yell.
Mama yanks my arm, dragging me into the kitchen. When I open my eyes, I see Papa is more appropriately dressed. On the other hand, Mama is still wearing her belly dancing skirt.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
“Sit right down,Mija, and tell us about the wake,” Mama points to a stool at the counter.
I shake my head. “Mama, it was a long day. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I want a shower and a nap. Can we do this when I’m rested and caffeinated?”
Mama gives me a sad nod, and I’m off like a dirty shirt toward the guest suite.
