I sit. She starts to say something to the man, but the waitress comes. My aunt holds her words—flustered—and starts to wave the woman off, then sensing my mother watching her, she changes her mind and sends my sundae off for the whipped cream.

What do you say, Gabe? Mom says.

What?

What do you tell your Aunt Jessica?

Thank you.

I look down at my hands. Across the table Stone keeps very quiet. My mother smiles to herself, pleased.

Aunt Jessica seems to forget what she had to say, and we all wait for the waitress to return. About five minutes later she comes back and sets down my sundae. A mound of whipped cream has dropped off to one side, and you can see the ice cream has melted.

Take this back, Mom says.

The waitress turns to her.

What?

It’s melted.

It’s okay, I say.

No, take it back.

The waitress makes a face but picks the sundae up and leaves. Her pocket rag whips across her thighs as she steps around a corner, finger flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder.

Stone turns to Aunt Jessica.

I’m sorry, he says, but I don’t think I’m understanding. You’re not the boy’s mother?

A silence.

She looks at him. Well—no.

But—

I’m his mother’s sister-in-law.

I see, he says, looking down at his hands.

The table is quiet.

After a moment of brooding he abruptly laughs. Oh, I see. I guess she couldn’t make it then.

Who?

His mother.

Aunt Jessica reddens. Mom nervously fingers her earring. It has happened before that people assumed I was white and that Mom was not my mother.

I can tell that both Mom and Aunt Jessica would like to not have to say anything to this man, but Aunt Jessica feels an obligation to in front of my mother, and forces herself to speak. It is obvious she knows Mom would rather she keep quiet, so it is a mystery to me why she would feel a necessity to talk.

Well no, Mr. Garret, she has made it here.

He pauses. I don’t understand, he says.

My mother’s head is lowered. She looks into her hands.

Well she’s Gabe’s mother—she’s Mrs. Sullivan.

Stone turns to my mother and regards her and his expression betrays the fact that this possibility had not occurred to him before.

But—

What, Mr. Garret?

Never mind.

No, what?

He stares at me and I look down. Mom sits there beside him. Suddenly his neck and cheeks turn red.

What? Aunt Jessica says.

I can tell he wants to say that I told him Mom was our maid, but is too embarrassed. He shakes his head. My eyes fix on my knuckles. Getting no answer from him, Aunt Jessica turns to her food and we finish in silence.

III