My eyes are zeroed in on the long table piled with bowls, dishes, pots, platters, and more food than you’d find at your average buffet.
“Yeah, it’s a lot.” Honey laughs as she drags me closer. “But it’s all good, so go slowly.”
“Are there…four different potato salads?” I ask with a wrinkle in my brow.
“Yeah,” she says rolling her eyes. “My cousin, Kanisha likes it extra mustardy and let’s just say, aunt Dot has this thing about putting mayo in hers. Gross. Pat hates celery in hers so she goes out of her way to make her own out of spite and Marie for some reason likes chili powder in hers. Hers is the best, so maybe there’s something to it, but don’t tell Pat I said that. Just be prepared for a kick after each bite.”
I nod along, my eyes dancing across the cornbread, rolls, coleslaw, mac & cheese (which looks nothing like I’ve seen before, for the better), some kind of greens with huge chunks of meat in it, about ten different kinds of salads, none of them healthy, and that doesn’t even factor in the meat.
“Say, you’re that attorney fella everyone’s been talking about?”
My eyes roll up to see an older man wandering over. “Maybe you can help me out with somethin’. You see I got this issue with my—”
“Oh no you don’t, Terrance. You’re not gonna pester him for legal advice today. He’s strictly off-limits. Besides, he’s an entertainment attorney these days and the only entertainment you bring to the table is when I kick your butt at spades.”
“Hmm,” he grumbles. “I guess New York got you forgetting yourself. Dang it girl! I’m your—”
“I know who you are and no,” she sasses with a smile. “Blame it on New York all you want.”
He grimaces for a bit, then smiles. “Come on over here and give me a hug.”
She does and they laugh about it. Just like family.
“So are ya’ll gonna stare at the food all day or come on over and introduce yourselves?” a voice shouts out.
We all turn to find the man I recognize from Honey’s photos as her dad. He’s grinning at us from the grill he’s camped in front of. I hate to leave the table of food without at least getting a sample of something but I curl an arm around Honey’s waist and head over anyway.
Priorities.
Fortunately, there are so many people here, they wisely congregate in groups as Honey continues on to introduce me around to brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews, grandparents, great-grandparents, second cousins, aunts and aunties (apparently there’s a difference), uncles twice removed, “uncles”, and uncles (with a wink).
The family tree must be the size of a redwood, with plenty of offshoots, but they’re all family, complete with the teasing and joking and friendly arguing that I’m used to back home.
Which means I fit in perfectly.
Especially after adding enough of Uncle Dickey’s moonshine (mint flavored to start) to my iced tea.
After several servings, the sun is low in the sky and I’m setting back in a chair watching a group of men play dominoes. It feels more like a convalescence considering how bloated I feel. The crazy thing is, I still crave more food.
I can only imagine what Thanksgiving is going to be like.
The moonshine has put a nice sheen on things. I’m currently sampling something that has hints of orange and vanilla, sipping it straight up. Mostly, I’m just trying to keep up with what’s going on in front of me.
Honey is on the patio dancing with some other women and hell if that isn’t doing a number on me as well. Stevie Wonder’s “I Was Made to Love Her” is playing and somehow it seems to fit the mood. It certainly fits with my current state of mind. I feel a stupidly drunk smile touch my lips.
“So you’ve survived your first barbecue,” Honey’s mother says, coming to take a seat next to me.
“Looks more like the boy is barely hangin’ on,” a man says from the other side of the game. That gets everyone laughing.
“You leave the boy alone,” her mother chides with a smile. She turns to me with a fine wrinkle in her brow. “You are doin’ okay, aren’t you, hon?”
“Yeah,” I say with a lazy smile.
“So, you and Allie been dating for some time now.”
“I love her.” I blurt it out with no forethought. Maybe it’s just Stevie Wonder working his magic through the power of verse. Looking at Honey, there’s no doubt I was made to build my world around her.
“That boy’s drunk as a skunk,” one of the players says causing an eruption of laughter.
“No, I really do.” Even I can hear how wasted I am, and part of me feels like a damn fool. Especially when the laughter only increases. I should have remembered how dangerous this moonshine is.
“Don’t you listen to them,” Honey’s mother says with a soft laugh. “We all know the truth comes out with enough of Uncle Dickey’s moonshine.”
“In vino veritas,” I mutter, not letting what little Latin I learned go to waste.
“No idea what that one means but I’m feeling pretty satisfied that our Honey is in good hands,” her mother says as she pats my knee.
“I don’t think those hands will even be able to handle that cup he’s holding before long.” Plenty more laughter to that one uttered by another player.
I see Honey making her way over with a sympathetic smile, no doubt having heard the laughter.
“Are y’all teasing my man?”
“Your man is making a damn fool of himself.” More laughter.
“Don’t you listen to them, Allie. Your man is just being honest.”
“Is that so?” Honey says, falling into my lap and throwing her arms around me. She stares at me and breathes out a laugh. “Oh, Uncle Dickey…”
I feel a sudden sense of clarity as I gaze into those big brown eyes. The moonshine hasn’t affected all my senses, but it’s damn sure
