Free The Sunday Only Christian by E. N. Joy Page B

sounded overexcited to be getting rid of her son for the night, Deborah said more nonchalantly, “Because I know how you are about spending time with your grandson, so I don’t want you to miss a minute.”
    â€œOh, don’t worry. You let my baby know that Ganny Ban Banny will be there in a minute.”
    â€œAll right. Thanks, Mom.” Deborah exhaled. “Thank you so much.”
    â€œNow you know you don’t have to thank me. What kind of grandmother doesn’t love spending time with her grandkids?”
    â€œI don’t know, Ma, but she’s certainly not you. See you in a minute.” Deborah ended the call and smiled, feeling all warm inside for the love her mother had for her son. It was surprising to Deborah how good of a grandmother her mother was to her son. In Deborah’s opinion, her mother couldn’t have even been nominated for Mother of the Year, let alone hold the title.
    Deborah couldn’t remember, for the life of her, her mother ever being that excited to spend time with her when she was a little girl. Deborah had been on the high school drill team and not once had her mother ever even come out to a game to see her perform. She never sat down with her and did homework with her—even ask her if she had homework. And not once did Deborah ever recall her mother attending parent/ teacher conferences. What Deborah did remember, though, was her mother fussing, cussing, screaming, and hollering all the time.
    â€œOh, that’s just how black folks raise they kids,” Deborah’s Aunt Magnolia used to tell her whenever Deborah was upset and would talk to her about it. “That’s how your grandmother raised us. Black people handle they kids; yell, whippings, whatever it takes. It’s them white folks that do all that time-out stuff. Yo’ momma’s mouth might get on your nerves now, but once you all grown up, you’ll understand why she had to raise you the way she did. It’ll make you strong. Can’t make it in this world being all soft.”
    No matter what explanation Aunt Magnolia told her niece, Deborah still hated living on pins and needles not knowing when her mother was going to go on one of her yelling and hollering tangents. Deborah had made a promise to herself that if she ever had kids, she would not yell and cuss at or around them the way her mother had. She had done pretty good up until tonight. Tonight, she had broken her promise to herself. Tonight, she had both yelled and cussed. With so much going on, it was like a dam had broken and Deborah had just erupted. In doing so, she’d created a tension in the atmosphere that her young child had easily picked up on.
    Instead of loving on him and coddling him the last few minutes she had with him before her mother came to pick him up, she sat there with him nervous and tense. He picked up on it, too, as he tried to stay clear of her, and played over on his blanket covered with toys. When the doorbell rang, both Deborah and her poor child jumped. She answered the door and couldn’t ship him off with her mother fast enough. She couldn’t even recall if she’d kissed him good-bye. And that was the very thing she now sat thinking about. Her mind was so into trying to remember if she had kissed her son good-bye that she hadn’t even heard Lynox ask her a question. So he repeated it.
    â€œHow’s your steak?” This time Lynox reached over and patted Deborah on the hand.
    His touch, not his query, pulled her out of her daze. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
    Lynox pulled his hand away, sat back, and just stared at Deborah for a moment. Finally he said, “I know what’s going on here.”
    â€œYou do?” Deborah immediately sat erect in a panic. Had he read right through her? Was it something she’d said or done that blew her cover for being a mother . . . for being part of the readymade family he so