Bloom

02 | someday

Giselle "G" Rowe
Wednesday, September 14| 1:49 a.m.
The Rowe Residence

-

The ride back home is peaceful. Alicia Keys' "Unthinkable" blasts through the speakers and it's almost like I'm in a trance as I watch the bright city lights fade in the distance.

I'm in a really good mood after counting up all of tonight's tips. Chance was right, it was worth staying after closing because now I have an additional $280 in addition to the $326 that I'd already collected. $150 of that came from one person; mystery man.

I wonder what he does to be able to spend that on a waitress. His fine ass. His gaze alone was doing something to me, but hearing him speak made everything so much more intense.

"You give me a feelin' that I never felt before and I deserve it, I think I deserve it. It's becoming somethin' that's impossible to ignore."

The volume lowers for a few seconds as a text message notification pops up on my phone screen and I already know who it is. Semaj ass stay begging. Maybe I'll actually respond since I'm already fantasizing.

My family's suburban brick home appears in front of me with the porch light welcoming me back and I park in my usual spot. The house smells like pot roast and cornbread. Anita Baker's voice sets the tone as my mother wipes down the kitchen counters. I close the front door a little bit too harshly, startling her and messing up her yawn.

"My bad. Hey, mama."

"I was just finna text you. It's a little late for you to be just walking in my house."

"We had some customers come in late. They held us up." I chuckle, laying my head on her shoulder briefly.

"Mhmm. Well, I still don't know if I want you working so late at night. There is nothing but trouble lurking for a young woman after certain hours, especially in the city. You may need to reconsider your schedule or your job all together."

"Ma, I am twenty-three years old. I can handle myself plus, I make good money there." I whine. Here she go. One thing about my mama, she gone blow my high.

"Girl, I don't care how old you are. You're still my child and I don't like anybody coming back to my house late like this. It makes me sick with worry."

"Okay, ma. I will come home a little earlier." I sigh and she kisses my forehead, seemingly satisfied for now.

"Your plate is in the microwave." She yawns again and rubs the bags underneath her eyes. I know that it isn't just this conversation that has tired her out.

"Thank you. I'll handle him for the night." I give her a knowing look before she focuses her attention back on the dirty kitchen.

I walk straight to my sister's old room and peek my head inside. The sight of my dad sitting in a chair in the corner, snoring loudly, while my nephew is sprawled out on the floor coloring in his book makes me laugh. His tablet is propped up next to him with the volume on full blast.

How can someone so adorable be the cause of my mother's exhaustion?

"Te-te!" Jamari screams as soon as he sees me. His face is greasy and his clothes have marker stains on them. He scrambles up and I scoop him in my arms.

"Hey, pooh. You smell like food." The sound of my voice makes my dad snap his eyes open. "I see papa fell asleep on you...again."

"Oh shoot. Where ya' mama at? I was suppose to put him in the tub while she cleaned the kitchen up."