BUTTERFLIES
When we walked into Chevy’s, the same cute white girl hostess told us it would be a ten minute wait. She had one of those high pitched voices that would get on my nerves in a matter of ten minutes. This time, I looked at her name tag.
Her name was Sarah. How fitting, I thought.
Mama thanked her and we sat down. To avoid the anxiety that was trying to build up, I noticed Mama and I had on the same maxi dress, except mine was green and hers was purple.
She looked good for her age. Mama was almost sixty, but could pass for one of my friends. She made me not have worries about aging, because Mama was looking too good.
“How we know that Chris is working today?” I asked.
“You’re right Nee, let me go ask.”
She jumped her light brown self up from her seat and headed towards the dining room. I was going to stop her, but this matter was about her daughter and I was here to support her on this. I did think coming up here was awkward, but it was worth a shot.
I laid my head back on the pillow on the bench we were sitting on in the lobby. I closed my eyes and then opened them. I was feeling some kind of way about this. I was praying and hoping for the best outcome. I wondered if we were in the wrong for approaching this stranger about my sister’s sexuality?
I tried to remember what Mama said exactly that made me roll with this idea.
I turned to the left, and looked out of the window at people walking by, wishing I could be with them instead of in here. This had to turn out for the good. I didn’t wanna have to tell this to no one. I could classify it right along with peeing on myself. I kept myself entertained watching the other people coming in for lunch. I sat up and moved over to allow them to share the bench with me and Mama.
Just then, she came back with the hostess who was ready to seat us. I got up and grabbed both of our Coach purses. Mine was a satin fabric hobo with bright colored patch work, and hers was a magenta patent leather with big metal rings on the handle. I asked if I could have it and she refused because I gave it to her for Mother’s Day three years ago. I felt bad ’cause I forgot.
Then I remembered that shopping trip.
It was when Jason and I went to Napa for the weekend.
We stayed the weekend at The Silverado Spa and had a picnic at V. Statui’s Winery. I loved it. We both had massages outside under the cabana and also tried the mud bath. It was interestingly gross to me, only because I found mud in the strangest places on my body the next day.
We ate dinner at a restaurant called Mustard’s. We ordered the roasted chicken and had lemon drops. The bartender, Will, made a mean martini. Before we came back home, we hit the Coach Outlet in St. Helena and the Napa Outlets. Yeah, it all came back to me.
I walked behind Mama and whispered, “Is she here?”
“Wait, chile!” she said, turning her head halfway.
“Okay,” I said. I wanted to add, ‘that’s easy for you to say, you don’t look just like Jordyn, I do!’ But I took a deep breath instead and tried to mellow out, ’cause I was tired of that uneasy feeling.
Everything will be fine, I thought.
We sat down in a booth. Mama loves sitting in a booth. She likes to press the cushion. She says if she wanted to sit in a chair, she would just eat at home.
The hostess handed us menus and informed us our waiter would be coming shortly.
I wondered if Chris liked to be called a waiter or a waitress. Now, I really wanted to know. Chris looked more like a waiter than a waitress. I chuckled to myself.
“Mama, is she here today?”
“She’s not here yet but she will be.”
“Well when? I asked. ’Cause I got to get to the salon.”
“Wait, hold on now, let’s just order our food and see where this goes. Now, I trust God that He is here with us and He will guide us through this.”
“This is what you call an ‘act of God’? Aren’t we being messy?” I asked, voicing my thoughts.
“No, we are not!”
She was almost hollering, which shut me up quick. I ain’t never old enough to talk to Mama any kind of way, and she would remind us whenever we seemed to have forgotten.
Our waiter came to greet us with two glasses of water, chips and salsa. I asked for a side of sour cream and Mama requested a slice of lime for her water. He excused himself and went to get the sour cream and lime.
When he returned he took our orders, and we tore a hole in the chips and salsa.
Mama ordered chicken quesadillas with black beans. I ordered chicken flautas with refried beans. Just being here made me want a margarita, but I opted not to, not with Mama here with me anyway. No matter how old I get, I’ll never be old enough to drink in front of her. But I knew that a nice cantaloupe margarita would hit the spot and take the edge off.
I kept looking at the table drink menu. I licked my lips just imagining those cold beverages slithering down my throat, one after the other.
Maybe I could tell Mama I was going to the restroom, and go by the bar instead and order the cantaloupe margarita in a non alcoholic glass. Or maybe not. Knowing Mama, she would be able to smell the liquor.
Then, The Speech would follow.
Never mind. I was so tense about being here, because I looked just like the woman of interest. This being gay thing is becoming an epidemic. Is Gay the new Straight? Are people really born that way or are they making a choice? What was the difference, and was one way more honorable than the other?
The butterflies just showed up and now I really needed something.
A shot of Patron sounded like a winner to me. It would be quick and to the point.
Straight lace, no chase.
I excused myself and told Mama I was going to the restroom.
Three shots later, I returned to my seat with a light buzz. We had a good time eating our Mexican food. We enjoyed our time together. It was another priceless moment. That Patron had me at ease and I had this “I wish a nicca would” attitude.
We laughed so much about other stuff, we didn’t even worry about why we came in the first place. That’s when we were approached by none other than Chris Fuller in the damned flesh, live and direct.
“Is this some kind of joke Jordyn? You bring some other bitch to my job like you ain’t got no damn sense? Fuck you, fake ass gay bitch!” Chris shouted and punched me in the eye. My lights had been knocked out.
I laughed no more. I lost control of my body and my vision went coal black when I landed on the table.
Then stars appeared in my coal black vision. I immediately felt blood flowing from my mouth. I frowned from landing when my face hit the table.
It was on and poppin’!
I opened my eyes and my reflexes took over. I heard silverware dancing and plates landing on the floor. Mama was screaming and trying to cuss Chris out.
Our waiter and other servers looked on from a distance in shock.
They stood like mannequins.
Other customers were still seated as their eyes grew big and chattered but no one moved, not even Chris.
Mama was shouting for help, screaming at the top of her lungs trying to explain that she was our mother and I wasn’t Jordyn. I heard Chris react and question Mama, but before Mama could confirm any details…
“POP!” went my right fist.
I had collected my bearings and got with that butch broad. She wasn’t no punk, so I snatched her by the collar and pulled her down to the floor.
I had one foot stretched across the floor and my knee in her chest. I made it easy on myself and held her by her neck, so I was able to get all my punches straight to her face. The blood rushing from my mouth was creating a murder scene on Chris and the floor. Since I’m a ‘70s model—like a car—I cussed her out along with the punches.
“Bitch, don’t you eva call Mama outta her name eva, you hear me, you butch ass bitch nicca? Ya betta check your emotions and get yourself together, the one you lovin’ on is my twin sister, you twisted bitch!”
More punches.
Her responses were “ahhs” and other noises.
One of her co-workers ran over and tried pulling me off her.
I pulled my arm away and told her to get off me. The manager ran over to announce that the police had been called. I was tired anyway. I stopped to see if she calmed down, but still had my fists up. She wasn’t unconscious, but her body language and face let me know I won this and she had had enough. I stumbled getting up.
The same chick that grabbed me helped me up.
I told her thanks. I reached for a napkin for my lip.
Mama was a wreck, but commanded us to head out quickly before the police came. No time to think ahead, we were out of there and made it to her car in enough time to get away.
Next stop: Naturally Yours.