be, Senior? You know once you and Mama give the command we follow orders!” Mason Boudreaux III said.
His siblings laughed, their heads nodding in agreement. Donovan leaned to kiss his mother’s cheek, his arms wrapped around her shoulders as he hugged her close. His own eyes roved from one face to the other. There was no escaping the Boudreaux lineage. Their distinctive features hinted of an African-Asian ancestry, with their slight angular eyes, thin noses, high cheek lines and full, pouty lips. Side by side they were a kaleidoscope of colorations that ranged from burnt umber to milk chocolate.
His brother Mason, who could have passed for his twin, stood at his side. The low lines of their closely cropped haircuts complemented their distinctive facial features. Mason’s wife, Phaedra, clutched his elbow on his other side. Then there was his very pregnant sister, Maitlyn, and her husband, Zakaria Sayed. Maitlyn was the second child and oldest girl in the Boudreaux family. Standing beside them was his sister Katrina, who was a year younger than Donovan, with her husband, Matthew Stallion, and their two sons, Collin and Jacoby, or Baby Jake, as he was affectionately called. On his right side stood his younger brother Darryl, and Darryl’s wife, Camryn, who held their newborn baby, Alexa Michelle, in her arms. The twins, Kendrick and Kamaya were next, Kamaya linked arm in arm with their baby sister, Tarah, and Kendrick’s wife, Vanessa. His brother Guy, and Guy’s wife, Dahlia, the twins’ parents, closed their family circle. In that moment, the love between them all billowed like the sweetest breeze all around.
“Can we please go eat now?” Tarah suddenly whined. “This lovefest has made me hungry.”
Katherine shook her head. “I declare, child! You are always hungry.”
“I would really like to know how you stay so thin!” Kamaya exclaimed, her head waving.
“Good genes,” Tarah said with a soft giggle.
Maitlyn rolled her eyes, slapping a hand against her hips. “We have those same genes, so I don’t think that’s it,” she said with a warm chuckle.
They all headed in the direction of the exit and home. Minutes later the joy and laughter continued at the Boudreaux family’s Broadway Street house. The food was abundant, plates overflowing as the family all caught up, conversation sweeping from one room to the other.
“I like the name Rose. Rose Lynne Sayed,” Maitlyn was saying, her hand gliding in a tight circle across her abdomen. “Although Zak is still insisting we’re having a boy!” she said, leaning in to whisper with her sisters. “He even told the technician that did the ultrasound that she didn’t know what she was talking about.”
Kamaya laughed. “At least it’s not twins!”
“I wouldn’t mind having twins,” Tarah said. “A boy and a girl. You get it all done in one shot. Dahlia never has to be pregnant again. How perfect is that? You, on the other hand, might have to do it again to get a boy. Maybe even twice.”
“If I had thought that way after Kendrick and Kamaya were born, you wouldn’t be here,” their mother interjected as she joined in the conversation. She took the seat beside Tarah, giving her daughter’s ponytail a playful tug.
Kamaya laughed. “I know!”
Katherine turned her attention to Donovan, who was leaning against the home’s brick fireplace, a glass of red wine in his hand. “So, Donovan, what’s going on with you? What’s the big news you wanted to share?”
“Yeah, Don Juan! Are you engaged? Pregnant? What?” Tarah said teasingly.
“You have to date first,” Kamaya said with a deep chuckle. “Are you finally dating, big brother?”
Donovan shook his head, amused by his sisters’ teasing. “Don’t call me Don Juan,” he said, cutting an eye at Tarah.
“What’s going on?” Kendrick asked, moving into the room. “Who’s calling who names?”
“Tarah,” Mason said, sauntering in on his brother’s heels. “You don’t even need to ask.”
Tarah threw her brother a look. “Why do you assume I did something? How come it can’t be Maitlyn or Kamaya who’s doing something?”
“Because it’s always you,” her brothers all answered in unison.
The women laughed, Maitlyn and Kamaya nodding their heads in agreement.
Tarah rolled her eyes skyward, her arms crossing over her chest. Her lips were pushed out in a full pout as she tossed her body back against the sofa cushions.
Katherine smiled. “Y’all stop now. Donovan was just about to tell us his news.”
The family all turned in Donovan’s direction, eyeing him curiously. He shook his head, the attention suddenly unnerving. His brow furrowed.
“Well?” Katherine prodded. “What is it, baby?”
“I’m moving to Italy,” he pronounced, his gaze sweeping around the room. “I leave at the end of the semester. I’ve been invited by the University of Siena in Tuscany, Italy, to come teach there. I’ll be a visiting professor for one year teaching the structure of associative algebras relative to their radicals.”
Tarah jumped up excitedly. “Hot dog! I get to visit Italy! Yes, yes, yes!” she exclaimed as she rushed to Donovan’s side. She threw her arms around her big brother’s shoulders.
“I didn’t hear anyone in the room say anything about you going to Italy,” their mother noted. “Sit your tail down, Tarah, and give your brother some space.”
Tarah tossed her hands up as she moved back to her seat, plopping her body back down against the sofa.
Everyone in the room laughed.
Donovan laughed with them. “I hope that once I get settled, you’ll all come visit me at some point,” he said.
“You couldn’t find a college in Texas or Florida or someplace closer? You’re a mathematician, after all. Everyone needs a good numbers man,” Katherine said, her bright smile dropping into a deep frown.
He shook his head, meeting his mother’s gaze. His smile was consoling. “This is a great opportunity that I can’t pass up. It’s a definite résumé builder.”
Congratulations rang warmly through the room as his siblings moved to shake his hand and give him hugs.
His mother moved to his side, her hands clasping his shoulders. There were tears in her eyes. “Why must all of you move so far away? Italy is halfway around the world, for heaven’s sake!”
Senior joined them, wrapping his own arms around his wife’s shoulders. “Leave that boy be. Your son’s almost forty years old! Cut them apron strings already, woman!” The man’s smile filled his dark face as he kissed her cheek.
She rolled her eyes, fighting the smile that pulled at her own lips and the tears that burned hot behind her eyelids. “He’s only thirty-seven. He’s nowhere near close to forty yet. And I’ll cut the apron strings when I darn well please, Senior Boudreaux!”
Donovan smiled, the pad of his thumb swiping at a tear that had rolled down his mother’s cheek. “It’s not like I won’t
