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become ten years, now nineteen years old, and still I could not remember its passing, as much as it seemed a blur anyway. He pulled out the stool next to me and sat down. Then he filled my glass one-quarter full with wine.
    â€œHow’s school going? ’Bout time for midterm grades, right?” I took a sip of wine.
    â€œI don’t get midterm grades. I mean, unless I’m doing bad. You haven’t gotten any notices, I’m taking care of business. Only students who are failing get midterm grades, notices, whatever.”
    â€œWell, I haven’t gotten any notices.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œYou know what happens if you don’t take care of business.”
    â€œNo. What?”
    â€œDon’t mess with me, boy.”
    He hesitated, then asked, “Laughton working on any new projects up in here?”
    â€œI told you not to mess with me, boy,” I said, punching him in his shoulder.
    â€œI got your boy, alright.”
    â€œSorry. Don’t mess with me, man.” I waited for whatever was coming, but not for long.
    â€œSome of the guys are cruisin’ up to New York this weekend. We’re going to stay at Sam’s aunt’s place in Queens. Sam’s moms is driving us. You know Sam’s moms. She’s a sociology professor at Chestnut Hill College. We’re gonna catch Patrice in Rent , an off-off-Broadway number.”
    â€œWho’s Patrice?”
    â€œSam’s sister. Girl is a sexy . . .” The sudden remembrance that he was talking to his mother, not one of his boys, brightened his face. I gave him my sideways look, the one I inherited from Mom that had immobilized me whenever I had carried a moment too far.
    â€œI’m saying she’s dope. You know she went to New York after high school. Her moms was pissed that she skipped college. Moms is cool with it now, though, cuz girlfriend is doing it.”
    â€œShareen.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSam’s mother’s name. Nice lady.” I took a sip and savored the crisp semisweet flavor of melons, citrus, and dried herbs that made Massaya’s Classic White one of my favorites. For a moment, I closed my eyes and went away.
    â€œShe says the same about you, then goes into how you helped her father beat some kinda altercation with the po po. Heard it a hundred times at least, but she never gives us the scoop, just that you helped her out, end of story.” Travis pulled a box of Carr’s water crackers from the cupboard and Brie from the fridge.
    I smiled. “Some things are better left where they lie.”
    â€œYou aren’t going to fill me in? That’s cold, Ma.” He stood beside me at the counter and methodically placed water crackers in a circle on a saucer and slices of cheese in the center, then set the saucer in front of me. I scooped up a cracker as he slid into the stool across the counter from me.
    â€œPolice business, end of story.”
    I remembered Shareen’s father had been stopped while driving erratically down I-95. Police found an unregistered. 38 pistol under the car seat. I called in a few favors, kept him out of jail.
    â€œGood explanation at ten. I’m a man now.” He punched his chest once with both fists, King Kong–like, groaned, and fell forward ending with his head on the counter.
    I patted his tousled hair. “A haircut and a shave would do you good.”
    â€œYeah,” he said, sitting up, “So can I go?”
    He badgered me until I agreed, then left to hang out with his friends.

    My muscles resisted the hot water. I got out of the shower as strained as I entered, my fingertips wrinkled and mushy. I wiped the mirror and studied my reflection. “He’ll be fine. ’Bout time you gave the boy some room to move,” I said out loud. Poor Travis had endured my overprotective antics all of his life without protest, mostly. He was nineteen and a freshman in college and I still treated him