“And I wanna live in a real house with a garage-door opener, but a condo would be just fine, as long as I can have enough yard to plant a handful of something.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Now, this last one might seem outlandish,” she says. I assume because the others haven’t.

“What’s that?”

“I want a brand-new car. I don’t care what kind it is. Did you know that me and your daddy ain’t never had a new car?”

“Nope. But, Mama, I don’t mean to put a hole in your balloon, but how are you planning to get all this stuff?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have to have some idea.”

“I might start a day care.”

“A what?”

“You heard me.”

“I thought kids got on your nerves.”

“They do. I could just run it. I wouldn’t necessarily have to take care of ’em.”

“Good idea. But you have to get a license.”

“So I’ll get one.”

“You have to take classes.”

“I can read.”

“I know that.”

“Plus, I been playing the lottery and been hitting for four numbers off and on this past year, and my palm keep itching which means something’s gon’ happen in the very near future. I just feel it.”

“So—I’m assuming you’ll be alive when you hit the lottery?”

“You go to hell, Paris.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, Mama. But, in all seriousness, I might have a few extra dollars to spare. After my taxes are paid this quarter I’ll check with my accountant and see what I can do to help you out in a few of those areas.”

“That would be nice, but don’t strain yourself.”

“Well, I have to do something.”

“You ain’t gotta do nothing.”

“But I can, Mama.”

“Okay, can I ask you something else?”

“No, Mama.”

“Why don’t you wanna do that television program?”

“Because it would be too time-consuming.”

“What ain’t? It sounds like a whole lotta money.”

“That’s why so many people are miserable as it is, doing it just for the money. And it’s not as much money as you think.”

“Well, what about that cookbook idea?”

“I’m working on it. I just need time to develop the proposal. It’s more to it than handing over a bunch of recipes, Ma.”

She rolls over and, out of habit, reaches for her inhaler and takes a few puffs, then rolls back over and looks up at the ceiling. She’s quiet for a few minutes. I’m listening to the silence. “Janelle is going through something. I think she done found out that George been doing what I suspected he was doing all along.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Can’t you see how grown Shanice is looking, not to mention acting?”

“I didn’t notice one way or the other.”

“She’s different.”

“She’s going through puberty, Mama.”

“Puberty, my ass. Somebody done messed her puberty all up, and his name is George or my name ain’t Viola Price.”

“So what should we do?”