Free Mama Dearest by E. Lynn Harris

her and I did feel sorry for her. She had gained some weight, I thought, as I felt a lot of loose fat around her waist. Ava looked older and her skin looked like it missed her twice a week facials.
    “And don’t worry,” Ava said brightly. “I’m no longer upset with you for testifying against me and sending me to jail. It was good for me and I met some interesting people.”
    I crossed my arms defensively. “I only told the truth, Ava. I had to.”
    “Step back and let me take a look at you,” she said, sailing right over my last comment. “I see you still got that size-two figure. I hate you. You know I’m kidding, girl,” she added with a playful slap. “Where you been? Out in Hollywood working on some fabulous new television show or movie?”
    “I wish.”
    “So where have you been? I’ve been here a couple of days waiting on you. And hon, we need to go to the store and get some vittles, quick, fast and in a hurry. Ain’t shit to eat in this house.”
    I was still so stunned by finding her so unexpectedly that I hadn’t given a thought to her staying with me. I waved my hand distractedly. “We can order takeout tonight. I’m tired and I want to take a bath. There are some menus in the kitchen. Figure out what you want and I’ll order it when I get out of the tub.”
    “Aren’t you going to tell me where you’ve been?”
    She was in her mother full-bore mode, and I sighed. “In every podunk town in this country in a bus and truck of
Dreamgirls.
Didn’t I tell you that in my last letter?”
    “You mean, your annual letter?” Her mouth twisted, and her tone turned nasty. “I don’t remember a mother role in the play. What role did you have?” Ava asked with cool sarcasm.
    There it was, out in the open. The Ava I knew so well. She hadn’t changed a bit. “Deena Jones,” I snapped. “Who else would I play?”
    “Touchy, touchy, aren’t we?” she said, light as pie. “But don’t forget I birthed you, so I know how old you are, Yancey. I must say, you look good for someone in her forties.”
    “I’m not in my forties!” Ava and I hadn’t been in the room together for more than fifteen minutes, and she was already coming for me. I wondered how long she planned to stay, and if I was going to have to move S. Marcus’s trip back for a couple of days.
    “Chile, please, I know better. But that’s cool because it would be hard to explain how a mother and daughter can both be in their forties. Now, where are those menus? And is there a liquor store around here that delivers? I need a stiff drink. The champagne and wine has been cute, but your mother needs a good swig of something golden brown.”
    I could feel a familiar tension in the base of my neck. “Let’s order our food first. I might have something in the bar.”
    “You don’t. I’ve already checked.”
    I wasn’t putting up with her demands anymore. I picked up my suitcase and said, “Let me take these in the bedroom and then we can catch up.”
    As I started down the hallway to my bedroom, Ava called my name. All the sting had left her voice. I turned around to see a sad smile on her face, which touched me and made me blink back tears. As crazy as she was and as much as she deserved everything she got, I’d missed her more than I was willing to admit to her or myself. Here I was almost forty, still longing for a mother who would never show up.
    “I’ve missed you, boo,” she said tenderly.
    “I know you’re glad to be free once again.”
    “I sure am, baby. Jail ain’t for no punk bitches or deluxe divas.”

    A WEEK PASSED AND Ava showed no signs of leaving or heading back to California. As a matter of fact, she seemed quite comfortable in my guest suite on the first floor. I don’t know what I should do, since it is only a couple of days before S. Marcus is coming to New York. When I entertain, I certainly don’t need my mother close by. Plus, I am trying to figure out what Ava is really up to. She’d been pretty