Anytime Soon (24 page)

When I got out of the shower, Travis was gone. On my computer monitor, he had left a note that simply said, “Call him.”

I wish it were that simple, Travis. How do you call somebody
after pulling a disappearing act, and say, “Hey”?

That night, I dreamed that Jeff was in the hospital, and I had just delivered a baby—who looked exactly like him, mustache and all. The nurse who came to take the baby away was Travis. He kept looking at the baby and shaking his head, saying, “This is not that man's baby.” Jeff kissed me on the cheek. When Travis brought the baby back to me, it was Chinese. Jeff flew into a rage and started cursing that the baby wasn't his. “A damn Asian, Anaya?” I woke up, dripping in sweat. The dream freaked me out.

Ava called me and reminded me that Roscoe's birthday that year landed on a three-day weekend in the middle of the semester. I packed some stuff and hit the road. I was homesick. Living alone had some advantages, but I wasn't used to the quiet and the routine. I was used to living at home, where people stopped by unannounced, and there was always good food in the fridge. Travis invited me to stay with his family for the break, but I told him there was no way I could miss Roscoe's party. Plus, I had promised Catie and Sophie I would go to the Seafood Festival with them that weekend.

When I got home, the first thing I noticed was the smell of gumbo. I walked into the kitchen and kissed Mom on the cheek.

“You lost a little weight, girl,” she said. “I guess you're happy about that.”

“I know, Mom. It's been ninety-five degrees almost every day down there. The only thing I can do is drink water and eat popsicles.”

“Well, you're home now, and it's only sixty-seven degrees today, so grab a bowl. You better not be out there dieting in that heat.”

As I fixed myself a bowl of gumbo, I thought,
I'm a size two,
and I like it that way.

The gumbo was good—so good that I had three bowls before the company arrived. That's how I knew Mom missed me. She never let us eat before she served food to company.

“I'm gonna fix you some things to take back with you,” she promised, as she watched me down the third bowl. “You're already too thin. What do you wanna do? Blow away?”

I sighed and shrugged.

“You heard about Mister MVP?” Mom asked, referring to the hoop star in trouble with the law.

“Yes, I can't believe it,” I said. I didn't normally get into Mom's celebrity gossip conversations, but I wanted the full experience of being home.

“Just trying to bring another black man down,” Mom said. “Happens every day.”

I was
so
not in the mood for a “holding the black man down” conversation.

“Where's Aunt Marie?” I asked, changing the subject.

Mom shot me a sideways glance.

“Girl, you know Miss Prissy is always late, trying to make her diva entrance.”

“Oh. Who else is coming over?”

“Aunt Deb and Uncle Riley,” Mom said. “Plus whoever he's dating this week.”

“What happened to Miss Troy?”

“Who?”

“Mom!”

“I don't know. I guess he's still dating her.”

“Where's Roscoe?”

“He's next door, putting on Miss Baby's screen door. You know her sons don't help her out much over there.”

“Oh, yeah. Where's Ava?”

She paused.

“Ava . . . she's with her boyfriend.” She said this very slowly and with a huge grin on her face. “They'll be here for dinner.”

“Well, I guess she's human.”

I heard someone come through the front door.

“Is that my Ny in there?”

I grinned and walked out to greet Roscoe. He was sweet when he wasn't drinking. Reminded me of Andrew.

“Hey, Roscoe,” I said, hugging him tight.

“You look good, girl. You must like it out there in the boondocks.”

“It's okay for work, but I wouldn't wanna live there.”

I followed him to the den and sat down in front of the TV with him. I told him about the apartment and my student teaching assignment. He listened intently to every word and asked a lot of questions about everything under the sun, from what the job was like to whether I had found out if I had timed sprinklers at my apartment complex. After a while, he started flicking through the channels.

“So, what's been up around here?” I asked.

“Ah, nothin' much. I think your sister got herself a boyfriend.

And I think your mom's finally ready to clean out Andrew's room.

I don't know if it's time, but you know how she is, once she gets somethin' in her head.”

“Do you think she's ready for that?”

“I don't know. She says she is. I told her we need to ride out there and see about you. We haven't been out there but once since you moved.”

“I know.”

He reached over to pat my knee and rested the remote on a basketball game.

“I heard about your boy,” I said, referring to the disgraced basketball star.

“Yeah. That's a shame. When the party's over, it's over. And there ain't no rehiring of the DJ.”

“You think he deserved it?” I asked, just for fun.

“Sometimes people deserve things, and sometimes they reserve things. In this case, he reserved good judgment . . . And there you have it.”

Good ol' Roscoe.

Just as I stood up to kiss him on the forehead, Aunt Marie came in with her family.

“Hey, there!” Aunt Marie called, walking in the den. She looked good, in a tan pantsuit and black flats. After patting Roscoe on the shoulder, she gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Auntie.”

Uncle Allen walked in, with Adam and Amber right behind him. Both Allen and Adam hugged me, but Amber, looking sullen, sat down in the chair near the entryway, fidgeting with her fingernails.

“Hi, Amber,” I called.

“Hi,” she said listlessly.

“How you doing?” Uncle Allen asked me.

I caught him up on my new job, and then he and Adam started watching the game with Roscoe. Uncle Riley turned up with Troy.

I walked back to the kitchen with Aunt Marie. Aunt Deb called a half hour before brunch to say that she couldn't make it. That pissed Mom off. She was big on punctuality and courtesy. For the first time that day, I realized how good Mom looked. She had lost weight! I was so busy trying to defend my own weight loss, that I hadn't recognized hers. Then I noticed something else.

“Mom, you're wearing jeans!”

She smiled.

“Yes, I am. I was wondering when you were gonna say something.”

“You look great, Mom. Are you dieting?”

“No,” both she and Aunt Marie said in unison.

“I'm not dieting, girl. I'm eating right, and I'm exercising. It's not
what
you eat, it's
how
you eat. I walk the lake with Miss Thing here three times a week.”

She nodded in Aunt Marie's direction.

“Sometimes, four times a week,” Aunt Marie added.

“Go, Mom! I'm happy for you.”

“I'm happy, too. I was walking to the laundry room the other day, and I caught your daddy looking at me, girl.” She giggled.

Aunt Marie rolled her eyes as she nibbled on a celery stick.

“Merle, don't touch my vegetable tray. I have food already set out on the dining room table. That's the food you can eat. Anything in the kitchen is still being prepared and is off-limits.”

She tried to swat at her hand, but Aunt Marie was too quick.

“Hush, Anita!”

Marie picked up another celery stick. Mom swatted but missed again.

How do they manage to walk together three or four times a week?

Brunch turned out nice. Mom doted over Ava and her handsome boyfriend, Stanley, but I understood her joy at Ava's finally acting like a normal teenager. Aunt Marie tried to downplay it some, and Ava seemed downright irritated by Mom's doting.

We got to know Stanley a lot better. He seemed smart. And most importantly, he loved God. He smiled at Ava a lot, and each time she responded with a nod. She was wearing a yellow shirt and a light-blue denim skirt. It was the first time I had seen her in a light color since third grade. I didn't think she would ever in her lifetime wear anything but black. Once, during dinner, she and Stanley slightly disagreed about the nutritional value of asparagus. It was cute.

Aunt Marie and Uncle Allen barely spoke to each other; they had no problem letting the world know when they were feuding. In contrast, Mom and Roscoe fought like cats and dogs at home and then pretended in public to be best friends. During brunch, Uncle Allen asked Aunt Marie to pass him the salt, and she completely ignored him. When he asked her again, she continued to ignore him. I loved Aunt Marie, but sometimes she acted like a teenager. Uncle Allen got up, walked around Aunt Marie, grabbed the shaker, plopped back down in his seat, and sprinkled the salt on his macaroni and cheese.

After this little scene, Roscoe and Troy got into a discussion about car engines. No one joined that conversation. When brunch was finished, everyone went to the living room to watch Tyler Perry's new movie. But I went up to my room to change into cooler clothes. I had promised Catie and Sophie that I would go with them to the Seafood Festival, and I knew how hot it could get in the South Bay. I didn't really want to go, but I didn't want to flake out, either. The three of us had made a deal to start spending more time together.

If they wanna walk around a hot, crowded marina with tent-cooked
food, who am I to spoil the fun?

On the ride down to the marina in Catie's car, we listened to old songs on Catie's iPod and talked about old boyfriends, old rivalries, and old fashions. It felt good to catch up. Every song Catie played reminded us of someone or something. When she played our favorite Aaliyah song, we all smiled. It reminded me of Justin. For Sophie, I knew it brought back memories of Andrew. And for Catie . . .

“Big Bear!” I screamed over the music, and we all laughed.

Catie looked back at me through her rearview mirror with a huge grin on her face.

“Girl, I loved me some Big Bear. He had those deep dimples and those long eyelashes.”

“Yeah, and that rashy neck,” Sophie said.

“He had eczema,” Catie said. “Be quiet, Sophie.”

We all laughed again.

“Um, you be quiet, Miss Ny,” Catie said, “with your down-low boyfriend, Justin.”

“Justin wasn't gay,” I said, defending him once again.

We continued to laugh and dance in our seats during certain songs.

“What's up with the married man?” Catie asked.

“Haven't talked to him.”

Sophie looked back at me and smiled.

“I'm okay,” I said.

“No, you're not,” Catie said. “But we'll talk about it later.”

The parking lot at the festival was full, so we had to walk four blocks to the marina. Then it took us fifteen minutes to get through the entrance line. There was a five-dollar charge and a hand stamp at the gate.

Sophie was talkative, and that made the day a lot of fun. Sometimes, when she was moody, it impacted our moods, too. She talked about a new group that Terry had decided to manage.

“He finally dipped his hand into managing, after toying with it for all these years,” she said.

I watched her talk about her dad, noticing how cute she looked in her cropped Joe's Jeans, striped halter, and flip-flops. She wore the simplest things, but she was always so stylish. I had to work hard to look cute, and I almost never accomplished Sophie's “no fuss” look.

Catie was overly sexy, as usual, in a white tank dress without a bra, white tie-up sandals, and huge diamond studs in her ears. One could say she was overdressed for the occasion, but she either didn't think so or didn't care.

I was casual, in some Paige cut-off denim shorts, a clingy tank, and gladiator sandals. We ignored the whistles and ridiculous lines from guys standing around. You would think, after all these generations of dating and courting, men would have figured out more interesting ways to approach women.

I pretended to ignore it, Catie was flattered, and Sophie was truly oblivious.

“Must be nice to be unaffected by the animalistic wiles of the male species,” Catie said to Sophie.

“I'm not unaffected,” Sophie replied. “Just because I don't always date men doesn't mean I don't go through the same things you guys do.”

“I guess that's true,” Catie said.

“I wish people could be themselves from the beginning,” I said.

“You mean instead of letting you date their well-behaved ‘representative' for six months?” Catie laughed.

“Yeah. When you meet them, they're all good. Then, in six months—”

“You find out they drink too much,” Sophie said.

“Or have bad credit,” Catie said.

“Or already have kids and a wife and pretend to love you,” I said.

They both stopped walking and looked at me.

“Ny, are you sure you're okay?” Catie asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Really, I am.”

They continued to look at me.

“You'll find somebody,” Sophie said in a soothing tone.

“I know,” I said. “And he'll be honest and sweet.”

“And single,” Sophie added with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” I said. “And single.”

“And don't forget fine,” Catie said. “He's gotta be fine. Just like that fine candy bar over there.” She looked across from us. “Ooh, he's cute!”

“Careful, Catie,” I said.

“I know, but why does he have to look so
good
?”

“He doesn't,” Sophie said.

“We're here to eat and have fun together,” I said. “Not find boyfriends.”

“Speak for yourself,” Catie said with a sly smile.

There were a lot of vendor booths at the festival. Some had food, and some had clothes or jewelry. There was a stage in the middle of the grounds where a bunch of preteen girls tap-danced to old songs. The music was loud, and the atmosphere was positive. We went from booth to booth, trying to figure out what to eat. A couple of places claimed to have real Louisiana gumbo, but I didn't try them, because only my Mom made the best.