Rain Drops on My Head:

We made it to your grandfather’s house by six that evening. He pulled out his key and unlocked the door. He turned to me before we went inside.

“Now remember what I said about my family,” he said. I nodded at him.

“Yes, mama expects respect,” I said. “Papa barely talks, Aunt Jimmy asks many questions, always say ‘yes sir,’ ‘no sir,’ ‘yes ma’am,’ ‘no ma’am,’ use manners, Trish is very blunt, Cousin Andy is flirty, and Uncle Chuck is also flirty.” Jim nodded at me.

“Very good. I think you’re ready,” he said. Your grandfather opened the door.

His family sat around the dinner table in the dining room. They looked up when they head the door close. Jim and I stood inches from the table.

“I’m home,” Jim said. His family all stared at me. Your grandfather grinned.

“Everyone,” he said. “This is Starlette.” I gave them a nervous little wave.

“Hi…” I mumbled. Nobody spoke. His sister looked me up and down. She sneered at me.

“This is Starlette?” she asked. “She’s just a skinny little white girl!” I tried to stay pleasant then. Mama hit Trish in the head.

“Ow!” she cried.

“You don’t blurt things out like that!” your great-grandmother barked.

“But it’s true!” Trish wailed.

“Hush child!” Mama snapped. She turned to me.

“I am so sorry about that,” she said. I gave her a little smile.

“It’s okay,” I said. I looked at each of his family. Mama reminded me of my own mom. She looked like she ran the house with a firm hand. She certainly ate. Mama wasn’t fat, but she looked rather healthy. She even towered over Cousin Andy. Uncle Chuck patted the chair next to him.

“Take a seat, Starlette,” he offered me. I gave him a little smile.

“Yes sir,” I replied. Jim and I joined the family at the table. Uncle Chuck looked like a nice, normal guy. Nothing like the randy pervert your grandfather made him out to be. Mama rose to her feet.

“Good, now that we’re all here, I’ll go get the food,” she said. Mama walked into the kitchen. As we waited, I looked around. It feels weird to be the only white girl at a table of black folks. I tried to keep smiling. Come on, I thought to myself. They are nice people. They aren’t going to kill you! Relax, girl!

Silly to think like that, I know. It was different times, Frida. Different times.

My thoughts were interrupted by someone grabbing my hand under the table. I looked to my right. Jim gave me a little smile.

“It’s okay,” he mouthed at me. “Remember what I said and everything will be fine.” I only pressed my lips together and tried to smile. Mama came back out with many plates of food. Texas’ finest, I must say. Rich barbecue. Soul food cooked with rough hands. Pork, all of that pork. Freshly cooked green beans. All served with sweet tea. I don’t think I’ve seen so much food in my life. When we got our plates, I didn’t know where to start. When I took the first bite, shock slapped me in the face. Mama looked up and noticed my face.

“What’s wrong, child?” she asked. I shook my head.

“You made all of this?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mama said. “Why? Is that a problem?” I shook my head.

“No! This is great!” I said. “I’ve never had food like this before!”

“Really?” Aunt Jimmy asked. “What do you usually have?”

“TV dinners, microwave food, stuff like that,” I answered. Everyone gave me a funny look. I couldn’t understand it.

“What?” I asked. Aunt Jimmy smiled and shook her head as she reached across the table and gently took my head.

“You poor child,” she told me. I fell into a loss of words at that moment. My eyes shifted over to your grandfather for help. He only shook his head at me. Clearly, I was alone on this one. I glanced back at Aunt Jimmy. Her smile crept me out.

I still had so much to learn.

1984