A House Is Not a Home (22 page)

“Sorry,” Raheim said, a little embarrassed.

“You don't have to be sorry; just be careful. I know you anticipate this leadin' to somethin', but . . . just slow your roll.”

Raheim was shocked he even knew that phrase.

And the elder Rivers could tell. “Your father may be older but he ain't
ancient
.”

They smiled.

“You've been through a lot. And you just got out of a relationship.”

“You're the one who said I need to date more,” Raheim reminded him.

“Yes, date, not
mate
. You're already lookin' forward to a reconciliation. But that kind of reunion ain't gonna happen just like that.”

“I know it ain't gonna happen just like that.”

“And the reality is . . . it might not happen.”

“It's gonna happen.” Raheim pouted, hanging the suit back up.

His father approached him, putting his left hand on Raheim's right shoulder. “Son, if you get your hopes up and it doesn't come off, you'll be crushed. I don't wanna see you get hurt. Besides,
I
want it to happen, too. That'll mean you'll finally be moving out of here.”

“You tryin' to get rid of me?”

“Tryin'? I thought I was succeedin'.” He winked.

Their doorbell rang.

He playfully pushed Raheim out the room. “
You
get that. This way I know you're not trying on something else.”

Raheim trudged up the hall. He looked through the peephole. He opened the door.

“Hay, Amelia.”

“Hey, Junior.”

They hugged and kissed.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I'm jood. You?”

“I'm jood, too. Ooh, I
love
that shirt.”

“You should. You bought it for Pop.”

“Oh. You look even jooder in it. And I'm sure Mitchell will love
you
in it.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

“Well, you should be. But that's a jood thing. It'll keep you focused and on your toes. Just don't start trippin' over your feet and knockin' shit over. That will not make a jood impression.”

“Ha, I won't.”

“Is your father ready?”

The elder Rivers appeared with his bowling bag. “I am. Hey, baby.”

“Hey, TB.” She calls him TB, short for Teddy Bear, since he's six inches taller and almost a hundred pounds heavier. They kissed.

“Have a jood time, son.”

“I will.”

“And, please, don't spend another hour goin' through our closets.”

“I won't. Jood luck today.”

“Thanks. But we know luck ain't got nothin' to do with it.” He trumped up his chest.

“That's why I love this man—he's so humble.” Amelia turned to her man. “Uh, aren't you going to wear a jacket?”

Pop Rivers frowned. “What for?”

“It's raining,” Amelia matter-of-factly stated.

He shrugged. “I've had worse things fall on me.” He opened the door.

“And when you catch the flu and have to miss the championships . . . ?”

He stopped. He turned. “I'll get a jacket.” He made his way up the hall.

She looked at Raheim. “Right.”

“Son, I'm gonna borrow your light blue breaker.”

“A'ight.”

“What would that man do without me?” she boasted.

Raheim chuckled. “You two act like husband and wife.”

“And that's how it's gonna stay. Girlfriend is
not
messin' up a jood thing by gettin' married again.” She's been divorced—twice. “Did you pack a toothbrush?”

“Huh?”

She put her left hand on her hip. “I'm sure I don't have to explain that.”

She didn't; he got it. “He only asked me over for
dinner
.”

“Uh-huh—and
you'll
be the dessert.”

R
aheim rang the downstairs bell at 3:59
P.M.
Mitchell opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hay. These are for you.” He presented him with a dozen roses—four white, four yellow, four red.

It had been years since a man had given Mitchell flowers (and, yeah, that man had been Raheim). “You didn't have to do that. Thank you.” He beamed.

The look on his face was something Raheim hadn't seen in a long time—and one he never thought he'd see again. He beamed, too. “You're welcome.”

“Come on in.”

As soon as he stepped into the house, Raheim caught a whiff of the food; it was heaven. “Somethin' smells
real
jood.”

I could say the same thing about you . . .
“I hope it'll taste jood.”

He followed Mitchell into the kitchen. “I'm sure it will.”

Mitchell filled the aqua-blue vase on the island with water. “I
love
that shirt.”

It was canary yellow; Raheim's ensemble also included black slacks and shoes. He'd known Mitchell would love it. “Thanks.”

“I'm sure your son will want to borrow it.”

“He'll have to ask his grandfather.”

“Mmm . . . loving bright-colored clothes must be genetic.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Mitchell arranged the flowers, admiring them, while Raheim admired him.

“Would you like another cranberry-apple mix?”

“That'd be cool.”

As he made his drink, Mitchell eyed the black leather clutch under Raheim's arm. “That's a handsome case.”

Raheim had forgotten all about it. “Oh, thanks. I've got a script in here. It's the lead in a movie.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was hopin' you'd read it. Tell me what you think.”

It had been a
loooong
time since he asked Mitchell for guidance in his career, for his opinion on any decisions he planned to make—and it felt
jood
to be asked. “I'd love to.” He handed Raheim his juice.

“Thanks.” Raheim handed him the case.

They stood in stone-smiling-silence for several seconds. The bell rang.

“Excuse me.” Mitchell placed the case on the hall vanity as he made his way to the door. Raheim guzzled down his juice.

“Hi, Daddy!”
Destiny had her arms up to hug him.

Mitchell knelt to receive it. “Hi, Sugar Plum. Oh, I missed you . . .”

“I missed you, too, times two!”

“How was your weekend?”

“It was . . .” Destiny caught a glimpse of the figure standing in the hall. Her entire face glowed; her mouth opened and she breathed in a sigh of joy.
“Uncle Raheim!”
Her arms stretched wide, she zoomed into his arms.

He scooped her up. “Hay, Baby Doll. How you been?”

She lovingly clutched him by the neck. “I been jood. How
you
been?”

He chuckled. “I been jood. Thank you for my card.”

“You're welcome. You liked it?”

“I
loved
it.”

“Jood. I'm glad. Ooh, I saw you on TV yesterday.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh. With Janet Jackson. In a video. Gran'ma said you was in Africa.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“It looks so pretty. Was that a
real
elephant?”

“Sure was.”

“Wow. It looks so big. Did you get to touch it?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You like elephants?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, maybe one day we can go to the zoo to see some.”

“Okay. I would like that.”

“Well.”
It was Mitchell's aunt Ruth. “I decide to surprise my nephew and
I
get a surprise. How are you, darling?”

Raheim put Destiny down to give Ruth a hug. “I'm jood. And you?”

“Honey, I can't complain. No, scratch that: I
could
complain, but what's the use? It ain't gonna change a thing.” She took him in, head to toe and back again. “You are
still
the cutest chocolate thang I've
ever
seen.”

Raheim blushed.

Mitchell's mother kissed Raheim on the cheek as they hugged. “Mitchell didn't tell me you'd be here. It's so good to see you.”

Destiny took Raheim's left hand. “You mean jood, Gran'ma.”

She nodded. “Oh, yes. Jood.”

Ruth inhaled the aroma. “That food
smells
jood. Is it ready, Honeysuckle?”

“In about fifteen minutes.”

“That'll give me just enough time to have an appetizer.” She took a pack of Virginia Slims out of her pocket. She looped her arm through Raheim's. “While you and Ann get things ready, Raheim and I can catch up.”

“Can I come?” asked Destiny, still holding on to Raheim's left hand.

“No, Sugar Dumplin',” Ruth replied. “This is grown-up talk.”

“Oh,” she sighed, disappointed.

“You need to get that voice ready. I still wanna hear that song.”

“Okay. Uncle Raheim, you have to stay after dinner and hear me sing, too.”

“Of course. You know I wouldn't miss that.” He pinched her right cheek. She giggled.

“You don't mind if I borrow him for a moment, do you?” Ruth directed toward Mitchell.

“No.”

“Where we goin'?” Raheim inquired.

She swiped an ashtray off the hall stand. “The smoking section.”

They sat opposite each other on the stoop's top railing.

After some small talk and a picture show of her five-year-old identical-twin grandsons, Ruth cut to the chase. “So . . . how long you been single?”

“What makes you think I'm single?”

“Why else would you be dressed so sharp, havin' dinner with your ex?”

“I could be dressed sharp for Destiny,” Raheim argued, unconvincingly.

“Uh-huh. Like,
Destiny
loves the way you look in bright-colored clothes . . . ? How long . . . ?”

“Six months.”

“What took you so long?”

“Uh . . . I . . . he . . .”

“Let me guess: You didn't want it to seem like you were on the rebound; you didn't know if he was involved with anyone; and you weren't sure, even if he
wasn't
, he'd be interested.”

He looked at her in amazement.

“Honey, I ain't get this age bein' stupid. I had a
feelin
'. I never woulda guessed it would be about you.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“It's rare that I am at my sister's on a Sunday—or leave the state of New Jersey. So, when she called to see if I'd take the trip to bring Destiny home, I knew there was a reason why I was supposed to visit. I've been watchin' you.”

“Have you?”

“Mmm-hmm. As Billie once crooned, you've changed. I know it's not just an act I've seen on TV. And I'm sure he can see it, too.”

I hope she's right . . .

“Goin' through what you went through . . . it must have been hard, without him.”

“Yeah.”

“I know how tough it can be.” She jiggled her cigarette. “I've gone from a pack a day, to one a day, to one a
week
.”

“Wow. Congrats.”

“Thanks. And I joined the ranks of the divorced four years ago, too.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“Ain't no need to be sorry about it. I'm not.”

“Did you want to get divorced?”

“No.”

“Then he wanted to . . . ?”

“No.”

“Then why did you?”

“We had to. Sometimes two people may love each other, may still be
in
love with each other, but love ain't enough to keep them together. You know what I mean?”

I sure do . . .

“Tweed and I became different people with different journeys to take. And we had to accept that we'd have to take those journeys without each other as husband and wife.” She sighed.

“You sound sad about it.”

“We were married for thirty-seven years. I was sad to see it end; I still am. But in order for us to be happier, it had to.”

“Happier?”

“Yeah. It wasn't that we didn't make each other happy; it was that we both knew we would be happier if we weren't together. And we are. In fact, he's gone on to find happier times: last June, he remarried. And that makes
me
even happier.”

“It does?”

“Of course. Just because he's no longer with me doesn't mean he should be
un
happy. Love means you wish that person well no matter what. Just because the union died doesn't mean the love you have for them does.”

Amen to that, too . . .

“Besides, he ain't the only one with somebody new.
I'm
currently seeing a man.” She grinned. “A
younger
man.”

“Really? How much younger?”

“Try fifteen years.”

“Damn. You got your sister beat.”

“And after teasin' her so much about Anderson, you know she never lets me forget it.”

“What's his name?”

“Freedom. Free for short.”

“And I bet he sets you
free
,” Raheim joked.

She slapped him on the hand. “Hush yo' mouth, chile. You ain't old enough to have that kind of conversation with me—are you?”

They laughed.

“Let's just say that his mama must've known the power he would unleash, for she gave him the right name. If Tweed could put it down
half
as jood as Free, we might still be married.”

“How long y'all been seein' each other?”

“Like two years. I never thought I'd be dating at my age. A
grand
mother.” She puffed. “But Free has shown me that, you can think your life—or a part of it—is over, but it ain't over till it's over. Another chapter can start with someone new.” She leaned in. “And, sometimes, with someone old.”

Destiny tapped on the second-floor door. Ruth opened it. “Yes, Sugar Dumplin'?”