Then there was three halfway-cute little kids who looked like they could use some Dixie Peach around their nappy edges, them gray elbows and knees, and a hot bath wouldn’t hurt, since it look like Cecil musta took ’em to his favorite store in the whole world—Target—for them brand-new outfits they was wearing, but he shoulda kept on walking till he hit the shoe department. I just smiled and pushed Shanice past the whole group and led her to a table way back in the corner, where we couldn’t see none of ’em.

But what did Cecil do? Come back to our table and just stood there, and said, “Happy birthday, Viola.”

“Well, how nice of you to come to my party, Cecil. Thank you,” I said, and picked up my menu and started reading it. When the waitress came, I ordered me a Margarita and Shanice a Shirley Temple. Cecil just kept standing there like a damn fool. “Go,” I said. “Go on back over there with your new family.”

“You gon’ be home later?”

“No, I will not be home later. It’s my birthday. I’m celebrating it.”

“I wanted to drop something off for you.”

“I got a date.”

“You got a what?”

“A date. Just like you on a date. I’ma be on one, too, tonight.”

“With who . . .” Shanice was about to ask until I kicked her under the table. “Oh, him, yeah, I forgot about him.”

“I just wanted to give you a little something, Viola. It ain’t got to be tonight.”

“Then don’t let it be tonight, Cecil. Look like you got enough to keep you busy. Now go. Go on.”

“All right,” he says, and turns and walks away like his bunions hurt. Good enough for his old ass. Sometime I wish I had a giant vacuum cleaner so I could suck up all the stupid men in the world and put ’em in a big hole and bury ’em in hot mud and not let not a one of ’em out until they realize that the women they married—the ones that stuck by their sorry asses all them years—is the ones that truly loved ’em, and even though these new and improved models may give ’em a quick thrill, it won’t last longer than the time it takes to get ’em off a few times. What do he think a young girl with a houseful a kids could want with his ancient behind? The idea that Cecil and the rest of ’em actually think these girls might like (and we don’t even wanna use the word “love,” but let’s say “love”) ’em, you know they must be “tripping”—as Dingus would say. All these old farts really got to offer ’em is some hard plastic and hot cash. But I didn’t spend thirty-eight years of my life to fatten no frog up for no snake. And just watch: when he ready to come crawling back home, my back gon’ be turned or I ain’t gon’ be nowhere around. They always a day late and a dollar short, but that ain’t my fault, and it sure ain’t gon’ be my problem.