Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
We met again the following Thursday, commencing our unofficial support group lunch date, and posted up in one of those plush emerald booths at Hot Chicken & Peach Pit Maison. The whole place screamed, Montana got money, from the gold sconces to the air heavy with crawfish etouffee and ambition.
I sipped the restaurant’s specialty, Hot Girl Sweet Tea, with extra lemon, because life would always trip you up and get sourer. Yeah, that sounded like a word.
As Zuri sat across from me on an emerald velvet banquette, I instigated our find-the-missing-twin campaign with, “So, voicemails are out. Texas’s phone is full, not accepting anymore messages.”
“Sorry, traffic.” Phoenix slid in next to me, super thick body built like a blessing and a warning label. “Have you tried texting? I would, but we had a situation in the fifth grade, me and the twins. So, I only text Ten.”
Code for Tennessee’s ass got jealous. Good, she was here. We’d hit the heavy stuff before Virginia sat down. My head tilted. “Texts are a superb idea, assuming he responds. Each time I pop in a message, I feel like I’m ghosting myself.”
Phoenix gave me that gentle smile of hers, eyes soft but reading me like the substance one only tells their diary. Her Louisiana Creole accent slipped out like butter. “Mo komprenn,” she murmured.
I knew she understood, but it was nice of her to say it. Her deep, kind eyes seemed to glimpse the parts of me that were tired of hoping.
“It’s discouraging,” Phoenix said, agreeing with a smirk. “Honey, I feel you. Sometimes, though? Folks need to know you’re reaching out. Even if they’re too broken to reach back.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been there. I’d been so depressed my prayers had side-eyes. I sipped my drink again, craving Swamp Water Sangria with an extra oomph of courage. But alas, sweet tea and trauma were my cocktail today.
Momma Virginia swept up to the table like Sunday service royalty, Genèse clacking behind her with knockoff-brand-VIP energy. We switched topics. Wedding colors, Sandstone Serenity, Champagne Toast, and Manchester Tan, became the focal point. Because nothing said classy chaos like shades that sounded drunk and rich at the same time. Those colors complemented Dodger Blue, since Zuri claimed she never had a favorite color growing up.
Virginia chuckled, holding up a pumpernickel swatch. “Surround me with more people.”
“You know she means little people,” I mouthed-whispered to Zuri, even if that was a stretch since we were talking shades of beige.
“Wi, chère.” Virginia laughed, bumping my shoulder with hers. “Surround me with more little people! All of you.”
“Not me.” Phoenix shook her cinnamon-colored curly fro.
My eyes watered. Damn emotions crept up with the same nerve as unpaid bills.
“I know my bébés that y’all talk about Texas’s disappearance before I sit, then when I get up, y’all recap your next steps. Don’t play with me.”
I froze mid-sip. “Well …” I began. She wasn’t wrong.
“I know y’all mean no harm, trying to keep me safe.”
“Yes, Momma Virginia. We didn’t want you to be hurt.” I placed my hand on hers.
“I know. It’s good, and I thank you. I think you needed this, too, Madison.” Virginia turned her hand over, clasping mine. “You let Wash back into your life. Now your sistahs.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I never meant to push y’all away.”
“You’re fine, mô fiy, but we’re not meant to go it alone. We don’t grieve like people without hope. We speak life over each other, chère. That’s our healing: community and sharing love.”
I cherished hearing Momma Virginia call me her daughter again.
Phoenix raised her glass. “We grieve with gumbo on the stove, Miss Virginia’s stove, and laughter in our bellies. That’s our healing.”
“Wait, I thought shrimp and grits were on the stove.” Zuri winked.
“Mm-hmm,” I said, “Momma Virginia knows our favorites.”
“Pah, you coulda fooled me, knowing that,” she said. “You haven’t come over for grillades.”
Since I lacked an acceptable answer, and she didn’t take no mess, I nodded to Phoenix. “How is it that you’re the youngest, yet you’ve bequeathed that seasoned testimony, though? Laughter in our bellies. I forgot how good it was for the soul.”
Phoenix blushed, cheeks the same color as her hair. She was always bashful. She had mentioned that joining a krewe helped her break free from shyness and embrace her full figure. But once in a while, it still peeked through. Phoenix had a good heart.
I glanced at Genèse, who sipped her free drink, eyes roaming the restaurant, eager for drama. How was this woman even a Babineaux? Genèse was the twins’ bio-cousin, and though I’d never had the pleasure of meeting Texas and Tennessee’s father, I knew his entire family were angels, so I wasn’t sure how this little demon manifested herself. We all knew she was only here for a free meal. She played with her phone the entire time, only chiming in to vote for Bougie Boutique Beige without raising her eyes to glance at any of the swatches.