Skipper's Heartbeat (PRN)

twenty

Fixing the way my shirt was tucked into my skirt, I do my best to look presentable for tonight's dinner. How bizarre is it that the moment Prince and I aren't on good terms, my family invites his family over for dinner? We all have to sit together at my family's dinning-room table and sing kumbaya. It can sound nerve wrecking but it is okay. Nobody said I had to talk to Prince.

"Monica, come set the table!" My mother shouts from the bottom of the stairs. I slip my earrings into my ears as fast as I can. Running down the stairs, I set do my best to set the table as neat as she likes. "I'm done, Mama." The doorbell rings.

In walks Ms. Bernadette with three of her seven children, including Prince. Everyone is seated at the table with empty plates. Linda sits next to me. The order is Prince; Me; Linda; Anthony; My Mother; Andre; Ms. Bernadette.

Andre sprinkles salt on his food. "Monica, how come you never came to see Grand Central play?"

"Prince says it's an age bar." I take a small sip of my ice cold water. "Otherwise, I'd have been there every time. I bet you guys are out of sight."

Ms. Bernadette focuses in on her children. Andre looks over at Prince strangely and then back at me.
Linda clears her throat, "We play gigs at hotels and stuff too! Tonight, Morris' mother scored us a gig down at Redlight. My mother says its too," Linda looks in her mother's direction. "What was that word, Mom?"

"Grown. You heard me the first time."

Linda snickers with a fork full of pasta bee-lining to her lips. "You should come on down, right?" Her attention pounces to Prince. He looks up at me as I'm mentally communicating with Anthony.

What do I do when he's sitting next to ms?

Prince has made it seem as if all their gigs were grown up at bars and clubs that we both know I can't sneak into. I've been lied to by boys plenty of times. Most of those boys were lying because they wanted to get in-between my legs but they never made it that far. Prince, on the other hand, has already been in that area. The only reason he has to lie is if he's hiding something. The only thing he can be hiding is a girl. I bet it's that hussy named Sharon.

"Can I, Mama?" I look at my mother with pleading eyes. The way her black shoulder-length hair is cut always keeps her curls sitting on her shoulders. These are the same curls that move every time she shakes her head and hummed a no. I hope Ms. Bernadette jumps in the conversation and convinces her to let me go. I have to go see the scene for myself. Lauren being my spy only goes so far.

My mother eyes me with close attention as Ms. Bernadette speaks. "She'll be with me, Brenda. I go to all the boys shows and even when I don't make it, my girlfriend LaVonne is there. She's Morris' mother. Remember her from the barbecue?" I watch my mother as she contemplates even harder. It doesn't look like she is having it. Now is the time to start praying.

Dear Lord...

"I guess," reluctantly agrees my mother. Linda and I celebrate at the drop of her last syllable. Linda is only a year younger than Prince and a year older than me. We have been handing out since we were kids, way before Prince was around. In fact, that is way back when the Andersons and the Wells families lived across the street from each other. "Only if Anthony is going."

Anthony nonchalantly glances up with a shrug and says, "I was going anyway." His statement earns a laugh from the table.

Dinner goes on in its usual fashion. By the middle of the dinner , Prince warms back up and is laughing with the world again. The entire time throughout dinner, we were sitting next to each other and barely uttering two words to each other. A lot of our exchanges were in third person through one of the fellow teens at the table. If they weren't there, we probably wouldn't have talked at all. Once the night slows down and it is almost time to go down to the club, the women of the building make us all wash dishes.