Chapter 22: Thanksgiving

A/N: As proud of it as I am, this chapter was without a doubt the hardest to write. Regardless, I was still happy to write it for you all.


Two days. Two full days of hard, backbreaking work in the kitchen with your mother and there's still other food to prepare. With all the effort you've put in, it feels like you've been working for forty days and forty nights.

This is why you hate the cooking process more than anything - it's unnecessarily grueling for no reason. Having to prepare a large meal spread for an unlimited amount of people is unequivocally stressful. It's the only thing you hated about the holiday and if not for the delicious and worthwhile outcome, you wouldn't dare put yourself through this.

There's four humongous pots on the stove while three long pans were cooking in the oven. For the dishes to be immaculate, whoever was cooking had to be steadfast and methodical in making sure it cooked evenly. You were so close to perfecting the prized family dressing recipe by yourself without the added help from your mother.

The aching has receded enough for you to be able to walk normally and sit without grimacing.

Truthfully, your mother is the one mainly cooking, moving around in her robe and you're just providing her some much needed assistance. With your grandma and mother fighting for full control of the kitchen you didn't have to do much this time around. You were taught to clean as you cooked so the kitchen wouldn't be a complete disaster. You just about cried when your grandma walked through the door since it meant you'd be allowed some kind of reprieve.

Worse still, your mother hasn't stopped complaining about your current performance. "You're moving way too slow for me."

What did she expect when she woke you up at five in the morning both days to help?

"I'm tired...and this is child labor."

"Girl you grown, talking about some child labor. And get away from the oven. I don't want my cake to fall." She admonished, moving around the kitchen.

"Leave my grandbaby alone."

You grandma had cooked some portions of the food at her own house the previous day and just had it brought over to the house. Now her and your mother were in the kitchen bickering over the pettiest things concerning all the food. Considering that both of the women were one the same, that's likely why they butted heads so much. Their arguments are hilarious and you just love to sit around and listen.

That reminds you...

"Ma I thought you said only a few people were coming up?" You questioned.

According to your mother, some of the family had already shown up early while the others were still on their way. Though most of your family is from the southern states, some of which decided to move up north for better life opportunities, like your parents for example. They'd moved up to New York with your grandmother when you were seven. As of now, you only have vague memories of what it was like living down south but that doesn't stop you from missing it.

"Well your daddy decided that we'd host thanksgiving at the house this year instead of your grandmother's."

Speaking of your father, he'd decided he would wait until the day of to start his cooking contribution. He's in his most comfortable element on the grill just outside on the patio with a beer in his hand. He wanted that 'first day' taste but you didn't really think it mattered. All the barbecue would be eaten the very same day anyway. You can already hear the arguments between him and your uncles just before they force everybody out of the living room and turn on the Thanksgiving football game.

Three generations of family will be occupying the house and you're entirely sure if you're ready for it. The holiday stress can't start already. Thanksgiving ready snuck up on you this year and hadn't had the time to properly mentally prepare for it. For you, just being able to get through the holidays is an important milestone.

"I thank God we won't be hosting Christmas this year. Everybody can stay at their own house." Your mother voiced, placing her coffee mug into the microwave. "I can't wait to put the Christmas tree up in the living room."

It's a saying you've heard many times before over the years, one you've gotten used to by now.

You smiled fondly at the thought. There wasn't any doubt in your mind that she planned to decorate the entire house like she does every year. Honestly, you thought the custom would stop once you moved out but you were sorely mistaken. With Black Friday looming on the horizon, you wonder if she's going to risk the chance to buy new ornaments to decorate with. Knowing your mother, the possibility is never completely off the table.

Christmas time was always your favorite holiday due to not having any siblings, you knew that all the presents under the tree were excitement you felt opening your presents on Christmas morning was unmatched and the living room would be an absolute mess when you got done. Those were the days and you couldn't believe they were behind you now. Another reason why being an adult sucked.

Now that you think about it, you almost forgot about the extended invitation you'd given to John for him to spend Thanksgiving with you and your family. You'd been waiting to speak with your mother about it for two days now. Now it's time to lay it out.

Pulling in a deep breath, you poised the most awaited question. "Hey ma. You don't mind that I invited somebody over today do you?"

"Girl I already know Jas and Alexis are coming. They here every year."

"No. Not them. Somebody else."

At this, she promptly turned on you, resting one hand on her hip while the other lay atop the surface of the counter. "Who is this somebody?"

"A friend."

"A man?"

You're aware of how much of a surprise this might come to them, especially since you'd flat out denied that you had a man in your life when your mother chose to question you about it. You have to tread lightly with your words.

"...yeah."

An undefinable sliver of emotion passes over her features before it disappears with a lowering of her brows. "Mmhhh."

The look caused a tinge of unpleasantness to settle in your gut that lingered for a second longer than it should've. She didn't have to reveal what she felt in the moment because you're positive that you know what she feels. That in turn made you feel something akin to guilt. You made a mental note to have a talk with her about it later.

While your mother didn't openly convey what she was thinking openly, your grandmother didn't bother to filter her thoughts in the slightest. "Suki you got a little boyfriend?"

She's the real issue to worry about - the old woman doesn't care what she says. Your grandmother, universally known as "Big Mama', is the head honcho of the family as is customary with every Black family. She's at the very top of the familiar hierarchy. What she says, usually goes. Her approval is highly sought after and needed by everyone.

No one likes doing the dishes afterwards so that's why it was important to stock up on paper plates, napkins, utensils, and styrofoam cups.

Although she'd acclimated to the times, your grandmother is still pretty much old-fashioned but still the sweetest lady ever when she wants to be.

"He's not my boyfriend, we're just good friends, grandma."

"That's what you say but that look on your face says something else."

Your mother turned back around with the steaming coffee mug carefully placed in her hands. "I don't care about you inviting your little friend over but you sure chose a good time to bring somebody to the house."

Even with that statement, you couldn't allow yourself to feel relieved just yet.

"Well, I think now is as good a time as any." You shrugged.

Both women seemed taken aback by your nonchalant answer but said nothing further.

The kitchen goes silent for all of ten minutes but your stomach is rumbling uncomfortably. You hadn't eaten a single thing all day due to helping your mother in the kitchen. Being tired and hungry don't make for a good combination. In fact, you didn't even realize that you were staring into space. It's probably the fifth sleep you've rubbed at your eyes in an effort to try and will the tiredness away.

"Baby go on up there and lay down if you tired." You grandmother sweetly urged.

For once you didn't refute the claim, you just got up from the island and heeded her suggestion.

The food probably won't be ready until later in the day anyway so that gives you plenty time to nap.

The ascent up the stairs to your old bedroom is slow and measured. You dragged your feet up the stairs, surprised when you didn't stumble once. Your limbs are weak and your movements are sluggish but you can't help that. If you could just get at least one nap in, you'd feel much better. Once in the room you literally fell onto the mattress in a heap. The cool comforter felt good against your skin.


It's mostly all the noise from downstairs that wakes you up, with your vision still slightly blurry, you sit up in bed. According to the digital clock on your nightstand, you slept for a good three and half hours. You know you were tired but you don't think you'd sleep more than an hour or so. You'd slobbered all over the pillow but you felt more refreshed than before, more well-rested. Like you were actually ready to tackle the events of the day. One thing's for certain, the nap definitely put you in a better mood to tackle the day. The older you get the more you appreciate sleep.

From what you can make out by ear, a great majority of your family has arrived and is clearly congregating both inside and outside of the house. Either way, the house is definitely more lively than it was before.

Before you make the decision to go downstairs, you decide to change your outfit from an oversized hoodie and leggings to a comfy weather and jeans. You were too lazy to find an outfit to wear to the living room two weeks before so this is the best you can do. It really didn't matter to you what you wore but you wanted to look presentable in some way - it was a festive holiday after all.

The aroma of food is wafting heavily in the air even with you being upstairs and your stomach is essentially begging to be filled. Though everything you decide to eat will hit like never before, you're more excited for the macaroni and cheese and the candied yams over everything. Aside from the fact that you hate for your food to touch, those two are the only exception you're willing to make.

You glanced at your phone in hopes of any form of communication from John but there was nothing. It doesn't really surprise you, apart from the small conversation about it in the kitchen, you and him hadn't discussed it any further. Yesterday, you just randomly shot him your parents address without much thought as to whether he'd actually take you up on the offer. He did mention that he had to see to some important matters to take care of and you took it as he could possibly come along if that's out of the way. For all you know, you could be getting your hopes up for nothing. You just wish you hadn't jumped the gun and told your folks that he might show up. Alexis had sent a text about thirty minutes ago saying she would come by after her shift while Jasmine was still in the process of trying to sneak away from her own family gathering without being noticed and come over.

The house is brimming with excited energy, the ongoing activity surrounding the air is almost overwhelming. Your grandma had eight children that gave her a lot of grandchildren and great grandchildren. Everybody and their mama was here. Literally. Apparently, everyone had been asking where you were and you're surprised that no one came up to disturb you from your sleep.

As soon as you stepped down from the stairs and came into view the hugfest officially began.

All types of loud conversations are taking place, ranging from everything from sports to Tik Tok.

The slightly older children are mostly assembled in one place - the small den area next to the living room where they were supposed to supervise the smaller kids. Despite being charged with being babysitters, the older kids were only concerned with scrolling through their phones that they didn't even realize when someone walked into the room. You can't fault them for that however, you know how addictive Snapchat and Tik Tok can be.

You didn't want them to get in trouble so you hissed for them to be more quiet. A game system was plugged into the tv and they were arguing about taking turns playing. They'd estimate that they probably have another hour before they're kicked out by the men arguing about which football team will win the Thanksgiving game this year.

Sheera is one of your favorite cousins. She's the artsy, free-spirited cousin that you always admired whose ideals always conflicted with the rigidness of the elder women in the family. You and her virtually grew up together until you ultimately moved away. Her little boy, Sterling looks exactly like her. He was currently clinging to her while situated on her hip, refusing to let her put him down. For her, it was a source of irritation but you thought it was adorable. You miss being around her. The last time she came to a family event, she brought another ex-convict to the family function, your grandma made you hide her pocketbook in a secure location.

You can't really say anything about that, seeing as you were attempting to bring a whole ass professional hitman to the function.

On your way to the kitchen, you see two of your uncles in the middle of the, 'I'm tryna get like you' banter. Best to leave them to it. They're already going to town on the brown liquor and you know they're about to get ignorant real soon. The sad attempt to get by them without being noticed is quickly thwarted and you're pulled into such a strong hug that you lean in a way that doesn't disturb the Black'N Mild tucked right behind his ear. Uncle Reggie makes every function more entertaining and is rarely seen with a cup of liquor in his hand. You can smell the liquor on his breath. A few more drinks and he'll be two-stepping into the kitchen. It's basically an open secret in the family that he sells drugs on the side.

You know what happens at the family gatherings when alcohol comes into the mix. Your folks are about to show their natural born asses. It never fails. All you need to do is steer clear of him before he gets too drunk and starts going on about how proud he is of you.

Meanwhile, your Uncle Tommy is walking around way too jovial given that he and your Aunt Bev are both in attendance and they've supposedly separated for a few years now. While it's not any of your business but it's still interesting to know. Despite them being 'separated', they both still kept up with each other's romantic life extensively and it became almost normal to see them beefed out with each other. Regardless, it shocked you every time he showed up at the family events trying to stunt on her.

The men in the family are quite the characters, it's the main reason why you had trouble taking men seriously in the first place before you met John.

The rest of the men were likely outside in the back with your father and you were relieved about that. Clearly, the unspoken rule that no one other than the cooks are allowed in the kitchen until the food is finished is being silently enforced.

Alexis comes around the corner still dressed in the clothing you assume she wore during work.

"The food done?"

"Almost."

She groaned.

"You already knew that so I don't know why you acting like you didn't."

"I was holding onto hope."

Not long after Alexis' arrival, Jasmine is walking in the door, looking as tired as she could though you're sure it's not intentional.

"Bout time." You mumbled.

"Don't do me okay. You don't know what I've been through today." Jasmine answered.

You'd been telling them about the impending meeting between John and your parents. They were present anyway but you suspected that they just wanted to spectate the occurrence rather than provide you the moral support you needed. You can't blame them for it, in fact you'd be more upset if they didn't show up at all. If you were gonna witness a shitshow then you'd rather do it with them around. Someone had to take care of you when checked out.

When you finally walk into the kitchen in search of your mother, you observe that all the older women had assembled in the kitchen. You also see that there's some new faces in the room.

"Hey there dusty mae!" Your Aunt Denise greets you. She's sitting at the island dressed to the nines which is right on brand. There's never a time where she wasn't dressed in the best. She pulls you into the biggest, most suffocating hug. You eventually go around giving each one of them a hug and greeting. Each of their individual perfumes is strong and distinguishable. White diamond was clearly someone's favorite and you hoped the strong smell wouldn't stay on you for the rest of the day.

"How you doing in school?" Your Aunt Clara asked.

"Um...I'm doing pretty good. Made the dean's list last semester, so that's something." You shrugged, rubbing nervously at your arm.

Your Aunt Denise beams with genuine delight. "Girl, yes that's good! That just gives me a reason to brag on my niece some more!"

"How you doing this semester?" Aunt Sharon asks.

How did the conversation about your life turn into an interrogation of the worst kind? You forgot that having a simple conversation with them was like navigating a landmine. You didn't like this but you couldn't just avoid the topic without casting some suspicion.

"Actually, I'm taking a small break right now but I'm going back in January."

"Oh...okay." She murmurs, the tone awkward and a bit condescending to you. "As long as you keep your head in them books."

"I am." You assured her tightly, trying to keep from narrowing your eyes.

It's at this moment that you can see why her and Aunt Denise didn't really get along and threw shady barbs at each other whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Whose children had given her an extended number of grandchildren neither of which were produced out of a single marriage. And that wasn't you passing similar judgement - it was the unfiltered truth. There's not that much godliness in the world.

"Are you working?" She continues, fork clanking loudly against the plate as she samples a slice from one of the pies.

"Not at the moment. I left my last job because of a bad experience."

"Baby that's enough, you don't gotta answer all that." Your Aunt Clara waves a firm hand. "Sharon, stop questioning that girl's life."

"I'm not doing anything but asking her about…"

"If you wanted you to know all that, then she would've told you herself." The woman asserts, using her wine glass for emphasis but careful not to spill a single drop.

"I heard that she's bringing her boyfriend to the house."

Your entire body tensed defensively, trying not to let your cheeks heat with embarrassment. "I said I'm bringing my friend."

Your mother is mixing a pitcher of sweet lemon tea and doesn't turn around to join the topic of conversation and you push down the surge of excitement at the prospect of tasting it.

Not only that but damn near all of your family is nosey as hell, especially the women. It's a wonder that none of them knew anything about John in the first place.

This time, Sharon leaned forward interestedly. "Your friend? Tell us about this friend."

"Well…" Alexis started.

Your gaze turned on her immediately, and she clamped her lips shut. You didn't want to hear a single word out of her mouth. That's the last thing you need right now. If she even attempts to open her mouth again, she'll be sitting at the kids table.

"You see she clearly doesn't wanna talk about it. Leave it alone."

The woman is comfortable sitting back, enjoying a glass of wine that she brought.

"She's just shy about it, that's all."

"No, she just don't want nobody in her business."

"Mama, don't you have something in the oven?"

"Oh lord! The cake!" She cried.

That was a nice save on your part.

You don't need them becoming so immersed in your life that they start to dig too deep and even if they did you knew better than to take it personally. You don't have time for anyone's criticisms today.

Sheera didn't even bother burning her boyfriend this year. You thought you'd once heard your Aunt Denise mention that her boyfriend had just got out of jail for a weapons charge. You're just grateful you don't have a terrible ex for them to hound you about. But clearly your love life will get brought up regardless.

Your Aunt Sharon is the really saved aunt that always tells you to keep God first in everything that you do. When you were younger she used to rub you the wrong way growing up due to how she acted towards you when your body started to develop.

The thick smell of the potato salad is irritating your nose, a dish that can only be made by sacrificed and appointed hands. The deviled eggs or 'decorative' eggs as your grandma liked to call them, are sitting in neat rows in trays stacked on the countertop. With her religious old self, she hated the mere correlation of the devil being made toward the food she prepared.

The first plate will likely be fixed around three and you make a mental note to prepare a to-go plate and hide it in the back of the fridge until it's time to go. Your mother had been saying the food was almost done since early in the morning and you're just about ready to end it all.

The congenial mood is quickly dashed when two of your little cousins are heard running down the hallway leading into the kitchen.

'Hey! Y'all stop running in this house! Matter of fact, come here!"

"Kids nowadays don't care about nothing." She muttered in the process of refilling her emptied glass.

"Didn't I tell y'all to stop running in and out of this house?"

The kids were instructed to either stay in the house or go outside as there would be no 'running in and out.' You've seen firsthand how quickly someone's house can get destroyed at their hands. Your little cousins were bad as hell when they wanted to be and you can tell that some of them have nothing but candy for breakfast given how they were practically bouncing off the walls.

"I ran in here to tell you that it's a man outside in a Black mustang and he started chasing me for no reason." He explained, pointing a finger at his brother.

You turned in a haste.

A man in a mustang? It couldn't be could it?

While your auntie continues scolding the boys, you hurry out of the kitchen towards the front door.

You practically flew down the hall to the door, the cold air outside that meets you is unpleasant and biting even with your sweater on but you ignored it. Winter in New York is harsh and frost usually starts covering the ground in early October.

Just as you're bursting through the door, John is causally standing beside the mustang with surreal grace. He's dressed casually, a brown leather jacket over a dark skirt and denim jeans. Quite a step back from the sleek, black suit he favors while on business. You're elated and horrified all at the same time. He didn't tell you when he'd be making an appearance. The fact that he even came meant he'd successfully handled whatever business he had to tend to.

His calm gaze lands directly on you and it didn't take much for you to leave the porch and amble down the long driveway towards him.

If this is what you truly wanted then why were you dragging your feet?

You're not prepared for the discomfort of knowing that John would probably be the only non-melanated person at the gathering. Now you know your folks don't mind about you possibly bringing a 'white' man over for Thanksgiving as they're not really the type to give you flack about who you choose to date but they will still clown you in spite of. The cultural differences are already insurmountable as it is but he wasn't too distant to partake in your family's traditions.

As a non-black guest, unnecessary attention will be brought to him. You can't even successfully code switch in front of your family. Your family is black and welcoming, they don't do stiff handshakes and formal greetings. You don't expect him to come out of his shell even while around lively people like your eccentric family members but you don't want him to become overwhelmed either, especially since he seemed somewhat reluctant to agree to come in the first place. It's causing you a good amount of stress.

Frankly, you weren't worried about John making a good impression, you're far more concerned about the impression your family would ultimately leave on him. You loved them all and you could never be ashamed of them but…it's the principle.

Your family is going to test him no doubt. You know it. Especially the men. You've seen them do it to your other cousins that decided it was serious enough to bring their male or female companions to the family functions. It wasn't done out of mean-spiritedness, they just have a knack for roasting and being playful all the time. Given the type of man John is - you don't know how the behavior will go over with him. All it took was one messy family member to pop it off and there was no going back. You would never forgive them if they embarrassed you in front of the man.

There's still a chance that you're worrying over nothing. It's a mistake to be overthinking like this but you had no way to stop it.

You don't know who he's celebrated the holiday with before you came into the picture but you know full well that the Black Thanksgiving experience will be much different for him. He has no idea how the culinary traditions go down with your family.

In spite of that fact, John's not the type to feel threatened over something as trivial as that. He remains quiet unless spoken to, observant. Hell, you're more nervous than he could ever be - you're practically shaking with fear and anticipation.

You looked up at him from under your eyelashes, wringing your hands together nervously. "You came."

You spent a lot of time wondering if he was ready for this but you never asked if you were. You thought you were ready for this but your confidence seems to have fled the scene fairly quickly. All of it was your idea from the start and you did a great deal of time thinking about it because it was that important to you.

Now is literally the worst time to be apprehensive but you needed a little mental preparation before you walked back in.

This is probably a step back from his usual routine and it's not your intention to put him on the spot and throw him out to the wolves, the wolves being your family. You don't want him to be shell-shocked about the things he would witness. In all sincerity, it likely would've helped to set-up some guidelines for the meeting but what good would that do when it came to your folks? Not much at all. Perhaps you were expecting too much from them but it's also unfair to place those expectations on your family for simply being themselves. In certain aspects, your family's opinions, especially your parents, matters to you.

When it all comes down to it, you believe that this is the most honest, simple way to present him to your parents that you know of. First impressions make a big difference.

Having sensed your acute distress, John wordlessly enveloped your smaller hand into his larger one.

The moment of hesitation is interrupted by your cousin calling out to you from his car, which is currently filled with smoke. "Suki, who all in there?"

"Everybody."

"Aunt Sharon in there?"

"You know you she is."

"Fuck...ight." He answered, rolling the window back up.

He's already higher than a Georgia pine, he clearly snuck out with two of your other cousins to smoke. You wouldn't be surprised if they used the going on 'a store run' excuse to just hotbox the car out. You have a feeling he doesn't want to be cursed out in the name of Jesus by grandma. You suppose it doesn't really matter because he'll probably smell exclusively like weed whenever he comes into the house.

Thereafter, you're back leading John to the porch. He opens the door and holds it open for you to carefully step through.

In leading him straight to the kitchen, you notice your gait is slower and your heart is thumping obnoxiously. When the two of you step into view, unsurprisingly your Aunt Clara is the first to speak and her response seems to address John directly.

"You lost baby?"

The way in which she asked the question made you want to laugh but now isn't the right time for you to convey your humor.

"No, he's with me Auntie."

The once lively kitchen went completely still right away. All the attention is directly to you and your supposed 'guest'. As the women fixed inquiring gazes on him, you tried your hardest not to fidget. Your Aunt Denise clutched the set of pearls hanging from her neck. So far no one had given the side eye, not even your judgmental, bible-thumping aunt. And even if she wanted to, what about him could she effectively look down on?

They can form their own opinions about the man but they wouldn't even scratch the surface of who he truly is. He's a puzzle they won't be capable of solving.

Please don't ask about his profession.

Reserved brown eyes calmly roved over the space of occupants and you tensed. John is already an intensely quiet person to the point where his silence sometimes worries you. You don't like how you're basically nervous and having trouble knowing what might be going on inside that head of his at the moment.

Hopefully, it doesn't turn into an interrogation - they don't need to know that this particular man has literally shot people dead for you. John himself isn't the best conversation starter and getting him to engage in actual conversation might not be that easy. The plan was to introduce the man and go about your business.

Without further prompting, you went around the room introducing everyone from your grandmother to your aunts. "John...these are my aunts. Aunt Clara, Aunt Denise, and Aunt Sharon."

"John, this is my mother."

John's brows lifted slightly when he looked at your mother - the physical resemblance must've taken him by surprise as it happens with everyone.

"Mama, this is the one I was telling you about."

A ghost of a smile is set in place on his lips. "I'm pleased to meet you." He's straight-forward with response, polite.

You waited patiently for a response from your mother. Jas and Alexis seemed to be holding their breath just like you.

"Oh. It's nice to meet you. My baby told me she invited a friend over but she didn't say who." Your mother commented, pulling the man into a hug.

You couldn't believe it. You're really standing in your parents kitchen introducing him to your over enthusiastic relatives in real time. It felt like you were having an out of body experience.

Everyone's behavior is so calm and civil - it's unbelievably shocking. Though they're probably more intrigued than anything. They were all so talkative before and now they're as quiet as church mice, nearly all of them grinning ear to ear like Cheshire Cats. It has you flabbergasted. Why the hell were these women blushing and acting like schoolgirls? Was he having that much of an effect on them just by standing there? Truth be told, you actually prefer this reaction as opposed to them disliking him. You don't want to have to fight all of them because of it though.

Throughout the entire exchange his face maintained a serious disposition. You're more than aware that his demeanor makes it apparent that he's broadening and therefore unapproachable but that's not the case. Being courteous and respectful is a part of John's nature. And you can imagine him spending most of his time here observing since being around so many people might distress him. Considering he's always been a man who prefers solitude over any company and that fact is unlikely to change anytime soon.

After the exchange, your grandmother is quick to throw her unneeded two cents in. "So you're the friend whose dog she had at my house?"

You could've choked on air in that instant.

"Grandma, what are you talking about?" You laughed nervously. "Is daddy out back?" You asked, attempting to change the topic before it went any further.

Why did she think this was the perfect time to snitch you out?

"Now that's the real question." Aunt Clara chackled. "To tell the truth it doesn't matter what we say, I just wanna know what her daddy gon do. That's the real issue."

"Mmmhhh." Everyone hummed in agreement.

"Alright now, y'all get off my husband." Your mother demanded, pointing at everyone in the room.

You can't deny that fact though. In fact, they might be worse than the women except they would pull no punches. You can only hope and pray to God that there are no playful quips about white people.

Taking John's hand once more, you led him outside to the patio.

Old school, down home blues is playing, having been given the okay by your grandmother since she couldn't stand hearing all that 'cussin music'. Your father and the OG's are seated at the folding table trash talking each other over a game of spades. They hadn't yet started their drunken rambling so this was the perfect time.

"Daddy you done on the grill already?"

"Yep. Finished about an hour ago." He answered before his brow creased with suspicion." Who this?"

You didn't miss the look in your father's eyes when he saw you coming with John in tow behind you.

The encounter could go one of two ways.

You hear a noise near the window and easily conclude that the women had to be watching from the inside. It wouldn't be like them if they weren't.

"Daddy. This is John. I wanted him to meet you and mama." You spoke over the music and loud conversation, slightly surprised they can even hear what you're saying.

At the moment, your father drew in a long breath, leaning back slightly in his chair and looking as though his chest had been caved in. Much like your mother, he flashed a similar look that made a shred of guilt burn in the center of your chest. You bringing a man to meet him is the last thing he expected. John and him made clear eye contact, staring at each other icily, though the former was less antagonistic in his stare since John isn't the type to be intimidated like that if not at all. No words were spoken, no handshakes or personal introductions.

You can almost see a vein pulsing in his head because of how his jaw is clenched. Which is strange in itself since your father isn't known to be a tight-lipped man. He's composed, though it appears that it's quite the task for him to fix his face into something non-hostile.

The look in your eyes sharpened, not in a threatening way, as it was more pleading than anything else. The look said, "I know what you want to say but please don't." The situation is awkward no doubt but your father wouldn't intentionally go out of his way to embarrass you. You were practically begging him not to make a scene. You would hear all of his complaints and grievances later.

In your father's mind, there isn't a man on the planet that would love and care for you better than him. In some aspects, you agree with him but given John's track record, you can accurately say that your father might've met his match this go around. John pampers and cares for you in different ways that your father can't and that's the honest to God truth of the matter. John makes you feel secure and loved. You have to admit it but as of now, John Wick has him beat.

You're his one and only baby girl that he spoiled rotten since birth. At the prospect of another man coming in and changing that, it's easy to understand why it would upset your father.

The other men sitting at the table eyes went wide before they shifted over to your father to gauge his reaction. It's probably because your father is notoriously protective of you. In fact, all of the men in the family are naturally protective over the women and girls in the family. But you don't need him in a protective role right now, you need him in an understanding role. Surely, the man can be civil towards the other man for your sake.

The other men at the table could hardly contain their chuckles.

"At least, she brought her boyfriend to meet you. My daughter won't even let me know she got her a man. I only find out after they long gone and she got another one." The man, you recognize as Mr. Harmon spoke briefly, puffing on a cigarette while he looked over the deck of cards in his hand.

"They way you act, I don't blame her."

Though, you deemed his reaction to be less than favorable but it could've been worse.

In retrospect, it probably would've benefited you to tell your parents about John in advance but so much had gone on that you hadn't thought of it.

A family friend you recognize as Mr. Hampton. "Girl, I ain't seen you seen you were this tall!" He asserts but you're aware that's an exaggeration.

When the initially awkwardness passes, you know your father must feel some type of way.

You'd rather not let your lover listen to the old men's childish bickering.

When you walk John back into the house, all of the women are back in their original spots pretending as though they didn't just watch the whole interaction from outside.

With Alexis currently, in the living room playing Mario Kart with the kids because she's childishly competitive and Jasmine dozing in and out of sleep from her comfortable spot on the loveseat despite the noise around her, you'd rather John be designated to the den with the smaller kids for now. Even though you bid him to sit where he felt comfortable, you didn't want him to leave your sight, even for a moment. Not one to draw attention to himself, the man chose to enter the quieter, less chaotic den.

When your lover wordlessly does as you bid him to, Sheera walks by you, her son asleep in her arms. "That's yo man?" She nudges you with her shoulder. "Okay girl, I see you."

You smirk a bit before giving her a goofy look. When you come back into the kitchen with the women, you're immediately bombarded with responses.

"Good lord child, where you meet him at?" Your Aunt Clara asked, tapping you on the shoulder playfully with her hand. Without looking at her, you could hear the smile in the woman's voice despite her trying to keep the amusement concealed.

"Um...at my old job a while back." You answered nervously, not really wanting to get into the specifics.

How you and John met wasn't some whirlwind romance story. He just walked in and shot a guy he might've already been targeting who was intent on harassing you.

"Lord, I don't blame you chile." Aunt Clara said, clapping her hands and throwing her head back to laugh. "Honey, I had a few of them back in my day too."

You released a shaky laugh, silently hoping he couldn't hear them. Though he wasn't currently within your sight, he remained in close proximity, never really venturing too far away. Apparently, it looked like the clean, ruggedly handsome visage of John has been given the green light of approval from the older women. He cultivated this air of mystique around him, it's the same exact thing that pulled you in.

"I don't know. He looks a little too...advanced." Her head tilted off to the side.

"Advanced like what?" Your Aunt Denise inquired, placing a manicured hand underneath her chin.

"Advanced like older." The matriarch of the family concluded.

Shit. Nothing can really get past their eyes.

"I'm grown." You proudly asserted.

"Not as grown as him." Your grandmother noted, she seemed beside herself with amusement, though you could be mistaking it for something else.

"So he looks about twenty-six -twenty-seven. That's not too bad."

Aunt Denise scoffed. "Please...that beard says thirty-five to forty."

Needless to say, you didn't think that the seemingly unnoticeable age difference would be the thing to raise the eyebrow of your grandmother above all else. It's strange that it's the only concern she has about your silent beau.

For all intents and purposes, John is a mature, seasoned man even more so than anyone you've ever met. The age range never bothered you in the slightest. That polite, older man is breaking your back like a glow stick almost every night but they don't need to know that.

With her there's no such thing as reading the room.

"Let me tell you...they don't make em like they used to." Aunt Clara laughed aloud. "I'll be happy to take him if you get tired of him, that's just how lowdown I am."

"I bet you would." Aunt Sharon murmured.

"Don't start with me Sharon." The woman warned. "Suki knows I'm just playing, I don't mean no harm. That's the difference between me and you."

"Alright now, I don't wanna hear all that arguing and going on today." Your grandma interjected. "Y'all cut that mess out."

After a good thirty minutes, your mother loudly announces that the food is done and it's like the whole house breathes a collective sigh of relief. You leave the kitchen to retrieve the guest of honor.

In the short time it took to look for him, you find him in the den sitting on the couch next to the smaller kids watching Cocomelon on the tv. Not only that but all of the kids themselves are just as subdued as him, their eyes fixed firmly on the colorful images on the screen. Your mouth twitched as you tried to keep from laughing at the scene. Obviously you were a bit worried that he might not be enjoying his time but here he was chilling with the kids, seeming more content and interested in watching an obnoxious children's show. There's a red toy car next to him on the couch that seems out of place.

Cocomelon is without a doubt one of the most popular kids shows and the hold it currently has on toddlers around the world is unprecedented. For him to actually choose to sit there and watch the show is so hilarious. He's so unintentionally funny for no reason, the embodiment of chaotic neutral.

Naturally, the kids are the first to receive their plates of food while it's naturally understood that the 'grown' folks are expected to fix their own. While your mother reminds everyone that the cranberry sauce is in the fridge and that all the drinks are in a cooler on the back of the porch. It's made clear the kids are not to touch it since they have the small barrel juices in the fridge for their consumption.

The extensive menu included a spread of turkey, glazed ham, mac and cheese, sweet potatoes, collard greens, and dressing along with other side dishes and desserts. Most of which were made the night before. You hope he's not expecting any pumpkin pie. Hell, it's almost a crime to even say pumpkin pie around here.

With every head bowed, the prayer begins extensive and extra as always. The prayer could just be a two sentence, ten word minimum scripture. An entire sermon wasn't needed to bless the food.

A quick side glance at John reveals his eyes closed in the midst of the prayer.

Using what you know about your cooking experiences with him, you start to craft a perfect plate of food for the man to the best of your ability. Aside from your cooking, you don't think he's ever had food like this. From your perspective food like this speaks to the soul. Hopefully, everyone eats everything by the third day, that way your mother won't be imposing cooking strikes and trying to force you to eat the 'leftovers' a week from now.

The table in the dining area isn't that long where a lot of people can sit there and eat. Typically, everyone just eats wherever they feel comfortable. Not surprisingly, your mother and her sisters all choose to sit at the dining table with you and John.

Subtle intrigue flashed within the hitman's eyes at the sight of the plate food. He regards it a moment longer before he silently picks up his fork and begins to eat.

Predictably, the women all appeared to be eyeing the man with some description of caution in regards to the cooked food. He has to pass the visual and behavioral test before he can be deemed worthy enough to progress further into the family initiative.

He chewed the food evenly without the slightest hint of disapproval. Practically, everything he does is done with monastic grace and that includes eating. Just watching him eat is something - it's no wonder why your folks are so enamored with him.

Focusing all your attention towards your own plate of food, your mouth is watering at the sight. Just inhaling the plate of food has your stomach in an uproar and you waste no time going in. You thought you were eating carefully and paced enough not to choke but clearly you were wrong. Inadvertently, you wind up choking and coughing after swallowing a piece of bread roll too quickly.

John pauses in consuming his food, places a hand on your back and hands you your drink to clear your throat. Your mother, grandma, and aunts pretend not to notice but you know they're watching the scene play out like hawks.

You could tell that they were watching him from the corner of their eyes. They made quite the peculiar bunch.

By the time you finished eating, you were quite literally ready to burst at the seams. Unfortunately, you did not save room for dessert and you're extremely close to passing out from a full stomach. You don't even have the energy to do anything more than sit still but you don't want to stop eating. You want to cry when you see a freshly cooked poundcake being placed on the table. Tragically, there's no place for it to go inside of your stomach, you're literally incapable of making room for it.

In the end, you suppose you still got your wish of wanting him to be around other people for the holiday, to see what having a family and possibly being a part of one is like. From the start, you looked at it as a mutually beneficial endeavor for the both of you. It goes without saying that has become an important person in your life, you love him. Why wouldn't you want him to meet the other important people in your life? For you to want to do this, you must see some kind of future with him. Above all, you just wanted the man to know that he was welcome among your people.

Still, you're thankful for them nonetheless - each and everyone of them. These are the people you love the most.


After everyone eats, the house is more quiet. Mostly, everyone has already left with their takeout plates. And someone reliable has been assigned to take your grandma back home. Before long, you figured it was time for you and John to take your leave as well. You eventually venture upstairs to grab a few essentials before you say your goodbyes and officially head out. You're not surprised to find that there's a random baby asleep atop the covers on your bed. It's a typical thing that happens at a family gathering and the baby probably isn't the first.

When you turn you jump slightly when you see your mother standing in the door frame with her arms crossed. The thing that bothered you the most was that she didn't say anything, she just watched you with those perceptive eyes that watched you grow up.

"What?" You barked with a nervous smirk.

Your mother looks dead at you and shakes her head, giving a tight-lipped smile.

"I knew it. You tried to make it seem like I was crazy but I knew it."

By not telling them beforehand, you think it might've made the process harder than it needed to be. You can admit that and it isn't a wounding thing to do.

"Mama you know it's not like that. I wasn't hiding him from y'all it just happened so fast...that even we weren't expecting it." You sighed, careful not to raise your voice and wake the sleeping child up. You hoped someone was checking up on him periodically.

"I'm sorry, okay. I just wanted to wait until the timing was right ma. You know I never even entertained the thought to bring a man to see y'all."

She raised a fine eyebrow in question.

"This is serious. Really really serious."

"I didn't know how you and daddy would react."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "He ain't got no choice but to accept it! If you have a little boyfriend just say that, you don't have to hide it."

You shoulders dropped. "I just know your daddy is about to get on my nerves about this." She explained walking out of the door and heading back downstairs.

"Thank you ma!" You call out.

"Yeah...yeah." She dismisses in a playful tone.

In that instant a thought occurred to you. Hopefully, she and your father can get to know John better in a more intimate, less crowded setting.


It's well past sundown when John pulls smoothly into the garage and takes the keys from the ignition and the whole space is lapsed into complete silence. Neither of you move to exit the car, choosing to take a moment

Your eyelids are weighed with fatigue. It's been the longest, emotionally strained day and you can't wait to jump straight into bed. There's about five to-go plates on the floor behind your seat ready to occupy an empty space in the fridge at least until you're struck with ravenous hunger again.

After some time, those eyes fell unto the man that held your heart in the palm of his capable hands. You can't help but imagine what he might be contemplating. What did he make of your family? Today he'd essentially gotten a glimpse of how a family unit generally operates or how it feels to be a part of one.

"Did you like it?" You ask tentatively.

"I enjoyed it."

It's an honest response, with no cryptic meaning behind it. Just a candid answer from a man who had no discernable expectation from your point of view.

Shocked is certainly an understatement. The man went into a situation unassumingly just because you invited him to a family gathering, something you were certain was out of his normal comfort zone. You can't tell just how agreeable he was from the moment you pitched the invitation but you're just happy the man was able to share commonalities with your family and converse with them without issue. You find yourself thanking Black Jesus for ensuring that nothing went left.

He then leans over to kiss you softly on the cheek and a warm rush of heat seems to go right through you at that moment. That one kiss left your entire face flushed and your heart beating faster. You can't stop the smile that graces your face in reply.

In turn, you place your hand on the side of his face and you see his features soften as a result. "Thank you." You whispered.

Admittedly, today went about as well as it could've. You hope you made the day special for him, if not special then at least interesting.


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