Free Baby, You're the Best by Mary B. Morrison

know our fathers. You’d rather take it to your grave than to do the right thing. If you want to talk about this, I’m willing to discuss it with you later.” She strutted away, stomping one foot in front of the other.
    Did she have to go there? Now each of my daughters was frowning. Attempting to regroup from the unexpected, I insisted, “Mercedes, apologize to your sisters.”
    “For what? Why do I always have to be the one to say I’m sorry? I’m telling them the truth.”
    “Because you are pathetic,” Devereaux said. “You always lash out at Sandara. You know she admires you. Stop beating her down all the damn time. So she made a mistake.”
    Mercedes stood. “And you didn’t? When a mistake is repeated more than once”—she paused, and stared at Sandara—“it’s stupidity. Maybe Alexis is right. I’m out. Mama, I’ll call you later. And we’re still on for tomorrow morning.”
    “Morning? I thought you meant six in the evening.”
    Mercedes looked at me. “I’ll meet you there in the morning. “She told Devereaux, “Since you rode here with me, you can catch a ride from Mom.” Mercedes picked up her designer purse, eased it onto her shoulder, and left.
    “I’ve lost my appetite. I’ma catch up to Mercedes. Plus, I need to get home to Nya . . .” Devereaux paused, then stared toward the bar. “Alexis doesn’t know when to quit. Let me go get that girl. Happy birthday, Mama.”
    I stood. I did not want to be responsible for getting anyone anywhere. “Go catch your sister.”
    Devereaux slid out of the booth. “I’ll meet you guys at the salon.”
    Gazing toward Spencer, I noticed him smiling at Alexis. For a moment, I was jealous. My daughter was decades closer to that young man’s age than I. Devereaux pulled Alexis away and I saw Spencer’s eyes follow Alexis’s jiggling behind until she was out the door.
    LB returned with five orders but only two of us remained.
    I looked at Sandara. “You can go, baby. It’s okay.”
    My child stared at the food, then at me.
    I told LB, “Please, package everything to go.”
    Sandara sat next to me, and leaned her head on my shoulder. I held her face with one hand as she cried.
    “Why does Mercedes hate me, Mama?”
    “She loves you. Baby, each of you are like me just in different ways. Mercedes has my high maternal standards. Alexis got my drive for college education. Devereaux desperately wants a family so she’ll hold on to Phoenix until he lets her go. And you choose to have sex with men who don’t do anything for you or your children.”
    LB placed a large to-go bag on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
    “The check,” I said, drying my baby’s tears.
    “It’s already taken care of. Courtesy of Spencer Domino,” he said, nodding toward the bar.
    Raising my brows, I was impressed. I’d thank Spencer later. Focusing on my child, Sandara was in a trance.
    “It’s just so hard for me. I give all my love to my children. Mama, I need someone to make me feel like a woman. I love my babies but why don’t their daddies love me anymore? They don’t even try to help us out.”
    I told my daughter, “It’s hard for a man to fall in love with a woman who never gives him a reason.” Those were the exact words my mother had spoken to me when I was twenty-five.
    Sandara cried aloud.
    I wish I had all the answers. God knew I didn’t want any of my children to end up like me but with four girls the odds weren’t in my favor.
    “Hush, honey. God doesn’t give us any more than we can handle. Just make sure your new boyfriend doesn’t eat before you feed my grandbabies.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “And, I’ll see you at church Sunday with my grands.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” my baby said, picking up the bag.
    I watched her walk away. Praying I could save her, I knew I couldn’t. Sunday couldn’t come fast enough but I was going to enjoy the night.
    Church didn’t make me a saint. God didn’t make me a sinner. The pastor