Sincere opened the door with a key, and warmth rushed out to meet us, along with the aroma of food, music, and voices layered over each other.
The house was already full. People turned when we stepped in and were instantly so happy to see Sincere.
“Ayyye, there he go!” somebody yelled.
“Sincere!”
“Look at this nigga coming in here looking like schmoney!”
He laughed and started hugging aunts, uncles, and cousins. He didn’t have siblings, but he had plenty of people who loved him like they were. And he kept pulling me into it without making it feel like I was under a spotlight. He included me in the greeting without making it feel awkward, and I appreciated that.
“This is my cousin, Tasha,” he told me after greeting a woman who immediately gave me a welcoming smile. “This my auntie, Denise. This is Uncle Marcus.”
He introduced me to everybody, but he didn’t give me a title. He just said my name and held my hand, and that was enough for me.
People kept complimenting me as they greeted me.
“She pretty.”
“Hey, baby.”
“I love your locs.”
“You look nice.”
“Your locs are beautiful.”
“C’mon, dark-skinned beauty!”
Then he led me toward his parents. I didn’t realize my grip had tightened until he glanced down at our hands and his mouth twitched in amusement. “Relax, baby.”
I blew a heavy breath, trying to, but I felt like rich people could see the poor all over me. Though I now had more money than I ever had, I still felt like the woman who was late for her rent a few months ago because Kodi couldn’t help financially.
His mother and father stood together next to the buffet.
“Ma,” he said first, leaning in to kiss his mother’s cheek.
She turned her head slightly, accepted it, and her eyes went past him to me. The look she gave me wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t warm either. I saw Sincere notice it. Then he played it off like maybe he didn’t see what he thought he did.
“Dad.” He shook his father’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug.
His father smiled. “Good to see you, son.”
Then Sincere turned back to me. “This is Rhythm.”
I held out my hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”
His mother took my hand like it was a formality. Her grip was light. Her eyes were judgmental and barely landed on me.
“Hello,” she said, tight-lipped.
His father shook my hand next and actually looked at me. “Nice to meet you, Rhythm. Welcome.”
For the first time since I’d met this man, Sincere looked uneasy as he looked at his mother with confusion in his eyes, as his mother seemed to purposely look everywhere else but at us, specifically me.
Sincere tried to get his mother’s attention. “Remember I was telling you all Rhythm was the featured artist of Mothers of the Block. The show was last weekend...”
“I need to check on something,” his mother cut in, already turning away. “Excuse me.”
