Any Way the Wind Blows by E. Lynn Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

a bus trip down there. It was good, too, but not as good as
One Monkey,”
Aunt Toukie said.
    “So I guess you’ve become a patron of the arts,” Windsor teased.
    “You could say that,” Aunt Toukie said, as she walked out of the kitchen, and I started to follow her.
    Windsor and her mother were alone in the kitchen; at least they thought they were. I stood in the hallway between the dining room and kitchen and listened in. I didn’t have a relationship to speak of with my mother, or any other members of my family, so I was curious about theirs. Through the crack in the door I could see Windsor put her arms around her mother as she asked, “So what do you think about your future son-in-law?”
    “It don’t matter what I think. You the one gonna marry him. What do you think of him?” Mrs. Adams asked.
    “I love him, Mama. I love him a lot,” Windsor said.
    “Then that’s all that matters, baby girl.”
    “What about Daddy?”
    “What about him?”
    “Has he said anything to you about Wardell?”
    “Now, Windsor, you know your daddy and I don’t do no talkin’ until we go to bed. You know that’s when we do our personal
business
kinda talking,” Mrs. Adams said.
    “Will you let me know what he says?”
    “Not unless he tells me to,” Windsor’s mother said as she pulled the pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator. “Now, come on and let’s go on out there. I’m hungry and I know your daddy is starving.”
    That was my cue to hightail it to my seat.
    “I still think you should have let me and Toukie cook,” Mrs. Adams said under her breath as she approached the table.
    Windsor followed her mother out of the kitchen, and everyone else was already seated at the table. Mr. Adams was at one end of the table looking miserable, and Wardell was at the other end, forehead shiny and covered with sweat. Aunt Toukie was sitting in the middle, spreading butter on a piece of corn bread.
    “Windsor, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m having a little smidgen of your corn bread. Your auntie is famished,” Aunt Toukie said.
    “Toukie, why can’t you wait for everyone else? And in front of company, too!” Mrs. Adams asked.
    “’Cause she wouldn’t be Toukie,” Mr. Adams said, his voice sounding like he was coming out of some kind of trance.
    “Louis, don’t start with me. Don’t let me remind you who drove you to the airport and who is supposed to take you back. I wouldn’t feel nuthin’ putting your ass on the airport bus when we get back to Detroit,” Aunt Toukie said while pointing the butter knife sideways toward Windsor’s dad.
    “Toukie! Stop with that filthy language,” Mrs. Adams screamed. “You know we don’t talk like that.”
    “What did I say? All I said was ‘ass.’ We all got one.Wardell, do you use the word
ass?”
When he didn’t answer quickly, Aunt Toukie looked in my direction and said, “Miss Yancey, I know that word has crossed your lips a time or two, hasn’t it?” I didn’t answer but gave Aunt Toukie a polite
that’s right, girl
smile.
    Wardell still seemed a little startled but looked at Aunt Toukie, smiled and said, “I have used it on occasion.”
    “What about
shit?”
    “Toukie, please,” Mrs. Adams said.
    Before Wardell could answer, Mr. Adams looked at Windsor and said, “Let’s hold hands and say grace. Father, we thank you for this food our body is about to receive, amen.”
    Mrs. Adams and Aunt Toukie looked at Mr. Adams in shock. Windsor had told me many times that her father was known for giving a five-minute sermonette at every meal.
    “Eula, if you can get him to say grace like that in New York, then maybe y’all need to move here,” Aunt Toukie said, and laughed.
    For about five minutes, the dining room was filled with the sounds of utensils hitting plates and the subtle smacking of lips. Then Wardell looked up and said, “Windsor, the food is just delicious. You did a wonderful job.”
    “Thank you, Wardell,” Windsor said as she put