“So is that Justin Beavers kid gay?” Tonya asked me with her baby on her lap while she ate some of Ms. Woaweesa’s potato salad.

“Ya never know,” I replied. “I think he has a girlfriend, but it could all be smoke and mirrors.”

“Hold on!” Ms. Woaweesa declared from beside me at the picnic table. “That Justin Beavers is a boy? I thought he was a female—one of them lesbians! I saw a lesbian that looked just like him on Maury Povich! I think the episode was called Too Fat to Be a Drag Queen!”

“He does look like a lesbian,” I admitted. “Of course, I’ve never seen him up close or anything. Personally, I always thought he might’ve gotten neutered at the vet or something. He does nothing for me.”

“We all know what your type is!” Tonya interjected sassily.

I blushed. “You’re right about that,” I replied, looking over at Hank, who was speaking with Rob and Coach Murdock across the yard.

“Well, what about the black man that plays that drag queen in all them movies? Madea or something like that… Is he gay?” Woaweesa asked.

“Hell, naw!” Tonya replied, getting fired up. “Tyler Perry is not gay! My baby boy is named for him! He’s a good Christian man and he’s got a girlfriend and a baby!”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Yeah, right!” I shot back, doing some air quotes. “He’s got a girlfriend, and I’d bet a million dollars that baby wasn’t conceived in a bed!”

“Well, what about Tom Cruise?” Woaweesa asked.

“Who do I look like?” I laughed. “The spokesperson for closeted gay celebrities?”

Woaweesa glowered playfully. “Well, excuse me for living!”

“It’s okay, Ms. Woaweesa,” I replied. “It was meant with all of the affection of a loving neighbor.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she looked past me toward the back door. “Who is that?”

“Who?” I asked, turning around.

I spotted a woman, standing at the back door of our house.

“Austin!” she screamed out as she emphatically waved in my direction. “Happy Birthday!”

My world stopped and my mouth fell open. I shot a panicked look over at Hank, who was gaping back at me.

“Who is she?” Tonya asked.

“I think that’s my mother,” I replied blankly.

With the wind nearly knocked out of me, I stood and approached her like a prisoner headed toward an executioner. Within seconds, Hank was at my side. He was speechless as well. Everyone watched as we moved toward her.

The woman looked sort of like Angie. She had the same bleached-blonde hair, but she was about 200 pounds heavier than when I’d last seen her. Dressed in a halter top and mini-skirt, she had a similar wardrobe to what Angie used to wear. Instead of having a svelte frame like she did two and a half years ago, this woman was portly and her skin hung in rolls over the tight and constricting outfit. There’s nothing wrong with being a heavier person, but a halter and mini-skirt weren’t usually good ideas. She was wearing jelly shoes and had a blue jean purse over her bare shoulder. Although she wore make-up, she had blotchy skin and missing teeth.