The friendly twenty-three minute long-distance phone call from Omar’s sister ended abruptly on a firm note. Her words echoed through the airwaves between them, emphasizing the seriousness of her speech.
“Don’t breathe a syllable of this to Mom, Omar,” Shelly warned, “but I’m bringing someone to Janelle and Ray’s wedding this weekend. But you can’t tell Mom.”
“Don’t worry about it, Shell, I won’t say a—”
“I am not playing with you, Omar. I mean it. Do. Not. Tell. Mom.”
“She’s bringing a date?!” exclaimed their mother, Corinne Banner. She and Omar pulled into the New Hope A.M.E. Church parking lot behind a line of other guests, following a sign on the lawn proudly announcing the nuptials of Mr. Raymond Washington and Miss Janelle Banner. “Lord Almighty, I don’t believe it. She must have inhaled something over there in Los Angeles. All that smog … That girl can’t even keep track of what day of the week it is, much less a boyfriend! What’s his name, did you get that much out of her?”
“Who says he’s a ‘he’?” Aunt Yolanda snickered, the mother of the bride, as she and Corinne stood speaking in low voices in the church lobby. “Oh, don’t give me that look, girl, you know I’ve always loved that child, and she is my niece and you are my big sister. But do you actually remember her dating any boys when she was in high school? Hmm?”
“Shelly’s a what?” sputtered Mr. Mason Washington, the groom’s father, upon hearing the news from Yolanda. “I’ve known that child since she wasn’t no bigger than my thumb. Better yet, I’ve known the whole lot of y’all, the entire Banner family, black sheep and all. Our families been friends forever. Ain’t no way she’s a … a … well, you know.”
By the time Miss Clarice, Wedding Planner Extraordinaire, started pushing for the guests to file into the sanctuary, every respective member of the families knew all they believed they needed to know about Shelly Banner and her mystery guest. As they separated into their appropriate pews—on the groom’s side, the Washington family; the bride’s side, the Banners—the air buzzed. Not with thoughts on how magnificent the magnolias looked tied together with organza or how anxious Ray looked in his dashing tuxedo standing at the altar alongside his matching groomsmen, an assortment gentlemen from both clans; instead they whispered furtive speculations about sexual preference and the possibility of adopted Chinese children appearing in the primarily African-American family tree.
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