“He didn’t do it to you, baby. He did it for hisself. It wasn’t meant to hurt you. That’s why he snuck and did it. But you can’t pretend it don’t hurt. You won’t forget this business either. But what you can do is put it in a corner of your mind you can do without and get on with your lives. Women do it every day.”

“But what if he do it again, Aunt Suzie?”

“Then that would leave you with one of three choices: divorce his ass; get you somebody; or blow his brains out.” Then she started laughing so hard I could see her gray edges.

Two days later, I went home. But only after hours of crying and negotiations and threats and promises of never-will-I-cheat-agains. Al went out of his way to show me how happy he was to have us back. He took me shopping, took me to the movies, let me get on top, and swore that this was the only time during all our years of marriage that he’d ever messed around. I decided it was easier to take him back than it was to leave.

So here we are. A little more than ten years later. I guess we still in love, but we got more problems than fish. That much I do know.

“Ma, what’s for dinner?” Trevor is asking me.

I look over at him, looking just like his daddy—except Trevor got my Maxwell House color, but those green eyes from them Toussaints. He’s much taller than Al—almost six four—and the doctor say he still growing. How I don’t know. I get on up out this chair. “Order a pizza,” I say. “I don’t feel like cooking. Go tell the girls to come on in and get started on their homework. And I don’t wanna hear no whining today.”

“Can I go get the pizza?” This means he wants to drive. He just got his license a few months ago. How, I’ll never know. As Mama would say: His mind ain’t long as a toothpick. He so busy watching what everybody else is doing that he don’t pay enough attention to what he doing. He can’t parallel-park to save his life, and the way he change lanes scares me, but what the hell. It’s only down the street.

“Go,” I hear myself say. “And pick up my lottery ticket, would you? I forgot.”

“What about some money? Who should I get it from, you or Daddy?” He standing right next to me and I gotta look up to him. He’s not only taller than Al, but better-looking. Even though I didn’t think that was possible.

“Ask me what?” Al says, standing in the doorway.

“For pizza money,” Trevor says, as he heads toward the sliding glass door to go yell to the girls.

“Did you hear the messages on the machine from Paris and Janelle about your mama?”

“Yes.”

“So—she’s all right, then, ain’t she?”

“I haven’t talked to her yet.”