Don't take it Personal

Nurturing Roots

Trey's POV

Inviting Stephanie into our lives was a decision I knew had to be made. I understood that my mom would be the best person to connect with her; they shared a bond that Stephanie lacked with her own mother. As kids, we cherished the time spent here, a tradition dating back to when my dad, Blacks, and Stephanie's dad were the closest of friends.

Growing up as my parents' only child, I was aware of my mom's unfulfilled wish for more kids. But Blacks and Stephanie, especially Stephanie, had always been embraced as family in our household.

My affection for Stephanie remained constant, from our childhood days right up to the present moment. Witnessing the genuine warmth between her and my mom only reaffirmed my belief that she belonged here.

In the kitchen, Mom pointed out the faucet that needed fixing. Ever since my dad passed away during my teenage years, I had made it a point to be there for my mom every weekend and call her every day. While working on the faucet, my mom knelt down and offered me some advice, reminding me to give Stephanie time and not to take things personally. Her words resonated with me, and I couldn't help but smile at her wisdom.

Mom's next question, though, shifted the mood. She asked if we'd like some curry chicken, boiled dumplings, banana, and yam for dinner. My enthusiastic response was a bit too hasty, resulting in an accidental head bump that made Mom and Stephanie burst into laughter. I hadn't realized Stephanie was in the kitchen; her presence was a delightful surprise.

As I completed the faucet repair, I headed to my old room, where countless memories of our childhood were stored. The room remained unchanged, still adorned in baby blue with a double bed draped in plaid blue sheets. My desk, adorned with game tokens from Frito Lay chip bags, marbles, dice, and my PlayStation, held relics of my youthful adventures. Posters of Vybz Kartel and Tupac adorned the walls.

Descending the stairs, I found both Stephanie and my mom enjoying Marcia Griffiths' electric slide as they prepared food. Watching them together brought a smile to my face, witnessing the joy and connection they shared. I decided not to interrupt their moment and instead ventured outside to the backyard.

The backyard, once a bustling chicken farm with rabbit cages, was now a serene haven. After my dad's passing, my mom had dismantled the farm, sold the animals, and transformed it into an open space. She had added wooden seats and a hammock between two East Indian mango trees at the back. Our house sat on five acres of land, lush with green grass, meticulously maintained by Mr. Moulton, the landscaper who visited every two weeks. My mom's garden, brimming with bougainvillea and other plants, including her cherished mint garden, was a testament to her love for creating beauty.

My parents had a comfortable life, coming from money, but they instilled in me the importance of valuing every dollar. These lessons had shaped my outlook on life.

Upon reentering the house, I found my mom kneading flour while Stephanie peeled a banana. Observing them, I couldn't help but think about the possibility of a future with Stephanie.

"To have a wife like her," I thought, my heart filled with hope and affection.

Stephanie's POV

With dinner behind us, we gathered around the sturdy dining table that had been a fixture in this household since my childhood. Its rich, dark-toned pine wood exuded a sense of history and warmth, comfortably accommodating seven persons. Mrs. Williams led us in a grace before we delved into the perfectly seasoned curry. It possessed just the right amount of heat from the scotch bonnet pepper, a delicate hint of butter, and the comforting fragrance of sautéed onions. The ground provisions accompanied it flawlessly.

Amidst the meal, Trey and I shared stories of our childhood, reminiscing about the simpler times we had shared. Mrs. Williams, with her infectious laughter, regaled us with tales from her own youth.

After we had our fill, Mrs. Williams surprised me with sweet potato pudding, my absolute favorite dessert. My excitement was hard to contain, and my applause was met with laughter from Trey and his mother. The dessert was a symphony of flavors, a fusion of sweet potato and brown sugar with a hint of cinnamon, and the raisins added a delightful contrast. It was a moment of pure bliss, especially when washed down with refreshing coconut water.

My belly content, Mrs. Williams enveloped us in a warm hug before retiring for the night. Trey and I decided to make it a sleepover, with me taking the guest room. As we stepped outside into the cool yet balmy evening, Trey proposed a walk. I agreed with a nod.

Strolling together, memories bubbled to the surface. I couldn't help but bring up a childhood escapade, recalling the time we played water war and accidentally soaked Trey's dad. We both chuckled, Trey reminiscing, "You mean I hit my own father, and you took the blame, which saved me from a whipping."

We found our way to the wooden seats, nestled beneath the starlit sky, and took in the symphony of crickets that accompanied the summer evening.

"Trey," I began, "I have to thank you. Seeing your mom today was precisely what I needed. Thank you for always being such a good friend."

His response was simple yet heartwarming, "You know I got you."

In that moment, silence enveloped us, but it was a silence filled with contentment and the reassuring warmth of companionship. These past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions, but right then, surrounded by people who genuinely cared, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness.