Anytime Soon (19 page)

The man turned beet red and walked away.

“Catie, you didn't have to be so mean.”

“
Me?
He's the one coming up, acting like he knows me. You like this clutch?”

“It's okay. How much is it?”

“Six hundred and fifty dollars.”

“No.”

“Neither do I. You hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too.”

Before leaving, Catie picked up a couple of scarves, and I got two shirts and a sweater.

Lunch was fun. We ate at a little café near Barneys. I continued to feel guilty about not telling her about Jeff and Carl. But I figured I'd get to that later. I didn't want to ruin the trip with my issues.

“It was good seeing you, girl,” she said, as we drove back across the Bay Bridge.

“I had a good time,” I said. “We can't let such a long time go by without hanging out.”

“I concur,” she said with a chuckle.

After Catie dropped me off at my car, I drove to Aunt Marie and Uncle Allen's house. I hadn't talked to Aunt Marie since the family meeting that had been a failure. I wanted to see how she was coping. The last time I asked, Mom didn't have any news on Amber, so I hoped the matter had calmed down some. I called Amber last week and tried talking to her. As suspected, she blamed her parents for everything and said she wouldn't respect them until they respected her. I had no intention of sharing that bit of information with mom; she would come over and deal with Amber herself if she heard that.

When I pulled up in front of Aunt Marie's house, I looked at her impressive front yard, which had always been immaculate and beautiful. I noticed that Aunt Marie's car wasn't there, but Uncle Allen's truck was. I went up to the door and rang the bell.

When Uncle Allen answered, he was wearing sweats and an Oakland Raiders t-shirt. He needed a shave and a haircut, but he still looked handsome.

Uncle Allen was a good provider. Whatever Aunt Marie and the kids wanted, he gave it to them if he could. Mom thought it had backfired on him now, and that was why Amber was acting out.

“How you doing, Ny-Ny?” Uncle Allen said, giving me a bear hug.

“I'm good. How about you?”

“Ah, doing okay.”

He rubbed the stubble on his face and looked blankly at me in a way that made me uncomfortable.

“Your aunt just ran to the post office,” he said. “Should be back any minute. Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

“No, I'm okay, thanks. Is Amber here, or Adam?”

“Adam's at basketball practice. Amber's up in her room.”

“Okay, I'll go and say hi.”

I walked through the entryway, which was completely empty except for a huge black-and-white print of Amber when she was a toddler. There was something dramatic and beautiful about it. There was a baby grand piano in the living room, which Mom always thought was unnecessary, but it fit right in with the rest of the décor. No one in the house played piano, so Mom said it was just for show, like everything else in Marie's life. I didn't care whether it was for show or not; Aunt Marie had a beautiful home.

I ran up the circular staircase to Amber's room. She was sitting yogi-style on her bed, thumbing through a magazine while listening to the radio. When she saw me, she got up and gave me a hug.

“Hi, Anaya. What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to say hi. What are you up to?”

“Nothing . . . Grounded.” Her eyes and her voice fell. “My parents treat me like a little kid. I have a boyfriend, and my parents hate him. They don't let me do anything.”

I looked around the room. Amber's walk-in closet was full of shoes, clothes, and purses. On her bed was her iPhone, which was sitting next to her MacBook.

She looked away, clearly irritated.

“Your parents are the only ones you get. They treat you as if they love you. You have to respect them.”

“I
do
respect them,” she said quietly.

“You need to show it,” I smiled.

“Hey, Ny-Ny!” Aunt Marie said, walking into the bedroom.

“Hey, Auntie,” I said.

“How are you doing? Come on down into the living room.”

I looked over at Amber. She was pretending to be engrossed in her magazine, as if Aunt Marie and I weren't even there.

Aunt Marie looked gaunt. She had lost weight.

Probably from stressing over Amber.

She offered me everything under the sun, but I refused it all. I wasn't hungry. I wanted to talk to her, but she seemed too distracted. I would probably have to catch her when no one else was home.

TWELVE

I
left Aunt Marie's and came home to Roscoe sleeping in front of the television. Mom and Ava were gone, so I had no one to talk to or distract me. I put on some gym clothes and attempted to exercise and hopefully work up a sweat, but that didn't quite work out. My attempts to call both Sophie and Catie were also colossal failures, as I got voicemail for both of them. After roaming anxiously around the house, I decided to put my gym clothes and sneakers to use. The air was crisp but not too cold. As I got to the end of the block, I stopped to play with Scooter, the cocker spaniel that belonged to old Ms. Grier. She was the resident grumpy lady, so I was naturally shocked when she walked over to me. I was really taken aback when she actually spoke to me.

“Hello there,” she said, not sounding unfriendly in the least.

“Hi, Ms. Grier. How are you?”

“I'm good. Y'all doing all right down there?”

“Yes, we're doing fine, Ms. Grier.”

“That's good. Y'all miss Andrew, huh?”

“Yes, Ms. Grier. We miss him a lot,” I said, not surprised by her comment. Andrew had been gone for a long time, but in Ms. Grier's mind, everything had happened recently.

“Yeah, he was a sweet boy. Nothing like these other knuckleheads running 'round here. When he would see me picking up in the yard, he would come right up and help me. Never asked any questions. Just helped me pick up. Never asked for any money, either.” She winked at me.

“Yeah, that was Andrew. He always wanted to help.”

“Sweet boy he was. Shame what happened to him.”

“Yeah.”

“So, when's your daddy gonna paint that fence? Makes the neighborhood look a mess!”

“Have a good day,” I said, walking away.

“It looks a mess,” she said to my back.

I kept walking.

When I had warmed up enough, I began to jog, and it felt good. I started to run a little faster. It was a challenge for me, but I needed it. I ran fast, but my mind ran faster. I thought about Jeff's last message: “Hey, it's me. I'm heading out of town for a day or two. It's my anniversary. That's why I was pushing so hard to see you earlier. I wanted to tell you in person. I'll call you as soon I get back.”

I felt the ground pound against the bottom of my feet. It hurt, but I didn't stop. Instead, I ran faster and harder. I ran until my thighs felt like they were on fire. I could barely breathe, but I kept running. I was trying to run from
me
, but I kept catching up with myself.

Sweat poured, and I could feel the dampness all the way down to my socks. I had no purse, no money, not even any identification. If something happened to me, nobody would even know who I was.

My attempt at forcing myself to think I could run any farther was futile; soon, I was walking.

I turned to look when I heard a car honking behind me. If I had the energy, I would have jumped for joy to see Irma driving slowly next to me. She asked if I needed a ride, and breathlessly I asked if she could take me back to Aunt Marie's house. I wasn't sure what led me back to Aunt Marie's house, especially since I had just been there earlier that afternoon. I didn't want to overextend my welcome, but I desperately needed to talk to someone. Before I got out of the car, Irma confided that Sophie was not home much, except to sleep.

When we got to Aunt Marie's house, I thanked Irma for dropping me off.

“See you later,” she said.

When I knocked on Aunt Marie's door, I knew she was going to be surprised to see me back so soon.

“Anaya? Hi, sweetheart.”

She looked puzzled but stood back to let me in. Then she threw a look out to the street.

“How did you get here?” she asked, looking confused.

“I ran part of the way, and Irma brought me the rest of the way.”

“Who?”

“Sophie's housekeeper.”

I followed Aunt Marie to her huge gourmet kitchen with stainless-steel appliances. Despite the grandiosity, she had Chinese takeout on the stove. The house was quiet—totally different from my house, with Ava's radio blasting, Roscoe's TV screaming, and Mom tossing complaints from the kitchen or the dining room. I noticed how different Aunt Marie's kitchen was from ours. There were no family pictures on the refrigerator and no sticky notes or flyers announcing events. I didn't see a cookie jar or any empty water bottles set to the side for recycling.

“There's Chinese if you're hungry,” she said, smiling sincerely.

No matter what Mom said about Aunt Marie being a phony, she had always been sweet and genuine to me, and I liked her a lot.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I'm not hungry.”

I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the mahogany hardwood floor. Aunt Marie sat down across from me.

“Where is everybody?” I asked.

“Oh, Allen took the kids and some friends skating. They'll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Why didn't you go?” I asked.

“Girl, your auntie been wearing stilettos too long. Bad feet.”

Then, without warning, she asked me gently, “You wanna talk about something, sweetie?”

I tried, but I couldn't speak. The lump in my throat had already formed, and my eyes were brimming with tears. I nodded and waited until I could get the words out. She sat there, patiently waiting for me. I swallowed a couple of times, wiped my eyes and my nose with the back of my hand, and began to spill out everything about Jeff.

I told her how I met him, how the friendship began, how we let it evolve, and how I was heartbroken and conflicted. When I got to the end of my story, I felt relieved. I still had a heavy heart, but I didn't feel so alone. I could breathe again.

Aunt Marie hadn't said a word the whole time, and her face offered no clue to what she was thinking. When I stopped talking, she went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of mineral water.

“Wow,” she said at last. “That's a heavy load for such a young lady to be carrying around.”

She walked back to the table, sat down, and grabbed my hands, which were crusted with tears and snot.

“Anaya, don't feel bad for falling in love, and please don't condemn yourself for making a mistake. We all make mistakes. But we also learn from them. As I listened to you talking just now, I realized that you're a woman now, and you have a woman's feelings. What you have done is classic. You have bitten the forbidden fruit by falling in love with a married man. It's similar to falling in love with the wrong man, but with . . . special circumstances.”

I nodded, which was about all I could do.

“Love's a funny thing,” she continued. “If you aren't careful with your feelings and how you wear them, love will sneak up on you. Is that what happened?” she asked.

I nodded again.

“I'm not condoning it in any way, because it's wrong.”

“I know,” I said.

“But I understand your heart,” she said tenderly. “I'm certain you don't mean to hurt anybody. What you need to do now is the hardest part, but it's also the most relieving. Whether you think he's going to leave her or not, whether you think he loves you or not, you need to stop now.”

Knowing what I had to do ripped at my heart. My head ached. I started crying all over again. A fresh flow of tears broke, and with it, a fresh flow of pain.

We talked, Aunt Marie ate Chinese food, and we talked some more. She told me a story about when she was sixteen. Something similar had happened to her with a football player. He wasn't married, but he had a steady girlfriend. According to Marie, it came to the same thing.

“Women need to stick together,” she said. “If he's got a woman, he's off-limits.”

I agreed with her. I wouldn't want somebody running up on my man, if I had one, and I wouldn't want anybody doing that to my mom or aunt, either. I knew Aunt Marie was right, but how was I going to break up with Jeff?

“Where is he now?” she asked.

I almost started to cry again. “He went away with his wife and kids for the weekend.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and for a minute she looked exactly like Mom. Then she opened her mouth, but no words came out. Finally, she said, “How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“He
told
you?”

“Yes.”

“That's honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Does he normally tell you when he's going away with her, or if he's going to do something special with her?”

I nodded.

“What else does he talk about to you?”

“We talk about everything: school, my dreams, my sadness about Andrew. He talks about work, his future, his family, his in-laws. Why are you asking?”

“Does it bother you when he talks about his family? I mean, do you get jealous, or does he worry about your getting jealous?”

“I guess sometimes I do,” I admitted. “But no more than he does when I go out with my friends. When we do get time together, it's good. I look forward to being with him, and he likes being with me. That's why it will hurt so much not to be together, because we're happy when we are.”

She was quiet for a few seconds.

“What, Auntie?”

“I guess I wasn't expecting him to tell you that kind of stuff. Or expect that you two had real conversations about life.”