Page 5 of When Love Takes Over
“You do that, Grandson. Whoever it is has a talent that needs to be tapped into. Let me know what you find out.”
“I sure will. Ma, whatever you’re cooking smells good,” I said, looking over her shoulder.
My mother, Dinah, was a corporate attorney and retired a little over a year ago. Before my grandmother passed away, she and my grandfather alternated preparing most of our meals because they were home all day. After she died, my grandfather wasn’t motivated to get in the kitchen as much, so we hired a chef who comes a few days each week.
Since my mother retired, she found joy in cooking and did so when the spirit led her. She spent the rest of her time volunteering on various committees for causes benefiting the Black community. When my father officially retired, they planned to travel more often.
“Gramps wanted chili, and I figured I’d better make it today because soon it’ll be too warm.”
The weather in mid-April in the Midwest, specifically in the Chicagoland area, could range anywhere between the twenties and the eighties, and that could happen within the same week. It had been in between the forties and fifties this week, and a bowl of chili sounded perfect.
“How long before it’s done?”
“Soon. Have a seat. We need to talk to you about something,” she said.
For some reason, the tone of her voice caused my stomach to sink. I flipped through my recent memories to see if I’d done something, which was crazy because I was a grown-ass man. There was no reason a conversation with my family should make me nervous.
I sat with my father and grandfather, and a minute later, my mother joined us. The expression the three of them wore toldme to take this conversation seriously, so I mentally prepared myself for what they would say.
“Your thirty-fifth birthday is in three months, Son,” my father said.
“I know when my birthday is, Pops.”
“Good. We think it’s time for you to get married,” he continued.
“Married? That’s funny.”
“It shouldn’t be funny, because we’re very serious,” Ma said.
I scanned each of their faces, and from the looks of it, they were indeed serious.
“Okay. What does my birthday have to do with me getting married?”
“I think you know exactly what one has to do with the other,” my father said.
I took a minute to replay what we’d discussed so far, and the conclusion I’d come to couldn’t be why they’d mentioned my birthday and marriage in the same conversation.
“You want me to get married before my birthday?” I asked cautiously, hoping I was wrong.
“Preferably,” Ma responded.
“Three months isn’t enough time to determine if I want to marry someone.”
“If you date with intention, that’s plenty of time,” Pops told me.
“I knew I wanted to marry your grandmother the day we met,” Gramps added.
I shrugged. “Times are different now, but what’s the rush?”
“Rush? Son, your grandfather is eighty-five, your father and I are sixty-five. We’d love for you to find a suitable woman to build a life with and give us some grandchildren before we’re too old to enjoy them,” Ma said.
“Or before I die,” Gramps added.
His old ass said something about dying daily. I guess, at his age, that was normal.
“None of y’all are dying any time soon. I got plenty?—”
“Did you forget your uncle Ronin died in his fifties?” Ma reminded me.
