Page 80 of The Don

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Shae

I am a fully grown adult. I am.

But sitting in front of the Council of Aunties always makes me feel like a kid. Or guilty. And I’m neither of those things this time! Innocence doesn’t alleviate the phantom guilt, unfortunately.

“Well, then,” great-great-aunt Mina says, sitting imperiously in her chair, looking vaguely in our direction. “Someone tell me what he looks like.”

“He’s white,” someone says.

“Well, she did bring him back from Italy,” another auntie says in my defense.

“There are Black people in Italy,” I say. I’ve been doing some research.

“Did you think about bringing one of them home, sweetheart?” auntie Mildred asks.

“Love is love,” my mother says. “Isn’t that what the kids say?”

“Mama, when have you ever heard me say that?”

My mother throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, somebody said it.”

“Is ‘white’ all y’all got? Lord, let me use my imagination. But after that other sad white boy she was dating, I hate to say it, but I don’t have much hope.”

“Auntie Mina?” I whine.

“Oh, no judgment, honey. We like what we like.”

“How is that not the same thing I just said?” mama cries.

“Lord, please end my suffering today.”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Nana Geraldine chides me.

“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling younger every moment.

I steal a peak at Salvatore, and he seems…ecstatic. “Why are you smiling?” I ask.

He squeezes the hand he’s holding in his lap. “How could I not? Your family is wonderful.”

“What?” I shriek.

“What? I have faced worse,” he says nonchalantly.

“We’ll see about that,” auntie Mildred says, eyeing me through her glasses with a hard frown.

He wipes the smile from his face, but I can still feel his glee at this spectacle. I cannot understand it, but I think it’s going to take more than auntie Mildred’s stare or auntie Mina’s interjections to strip him of his excitement.

I guess I’m going to have to shoulder all this embarrassment on my own.

“Auntie—”

Mildred holds up her hand to silence me. “I sent you and Zoe to Italy, but only you returned.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but Zoe and Zahra’s mother steps in to save me. “I’ve talked to my girls,” she says. “We can handle them at a different meeting. But they are happy and healthy, and their decisions aren’t Shae’s responsibility.”

The Council nods in agreement.