Mummy throws her head back dramatically, hand to forehead like a theater actress performing on stage with Za.
“Ha hi!” she exclaims. “Francine, what kinda mix-up yuh put yaself in now?”
“I didn’t mean to!” I cry.
“Yuh neva mean fi do nuttin,” she mutters, shifting her peas aside so she can focus fully on my disaster.
“I’m serious!” I say. “It just… happened…”
“Hm,” Mummy narrows her eyes. “Is mussie just now happen too, yuh walking like a fowl.”
“Mummy, please,” I bury my face in a pillow to hide the pain. “I’m in pain.”
“And the pain? Where?” she demands.
“Everywhere,” I whine.
“Yuh using protection?”
“Yes,” I lie because I don’t want to hear her speech.
She shoos me. “Move this thing from ya face. Let me see you.”
I drop the cushion. She cups my chin, turning my face side to side like she’s inspecting livestock.
“Chinaza know?” she asks.
My throat locks. “No.”
“Oh Jesus,” she says, looking up at the ceiling. “Dat girl gon murder you.”
“I know!”
“Frankie,” she sighs, settling back into her seat and shaking her head slowly, “yuh must stop taking man like dog, especially when the man connected to ya friend family.”
“Tuh, you make me sound like a jezebel,” I murmur. “And besides, it’s not like that.”
“So how it be?”
“…casual.”
Mummy stares.
“Casual,” she repeats. “Mi daughter. Mi flesh. Mi blood. Yuh sound like a real jack ass.”
I bury my face again. “Mummy, please. Just…help me.”
She pats my back once. “I making tea.”
Oh my DAYS.
“Yuh need to flush out dat man energy,” she instructs sternly, walking toward the kitchen. “Before him seed take root inna your womb.”
“MUMMY.”
She waves me off. “Hush. And when you done, you goin’ bathe in some herbs, light a candle, and pray fa sense.”
I sink deeper into the couch because she’s right.
