“Of course it wouldn’t be my fault. Why would you say that?” Now Ava had her attention.
“Well, it was on the evening news that your department is responsible for doing the research and that the county is so focused on revenue that they aren’t considering the atrocities that happened on the property. I told my Bible study group that my sister has a conscience and would only give the board good information.”
Anaya hadn’t heard the news story, but she wasn’t surprised. Since the board resurrected the idea of reopening the base, everybody wanted a piece and rumors abounded. Anyone who had even a small part in the redevelopment would make a ton of money. There were three new tech companies looking to build in the area, and the base would be a prime spot for development.
Anaya shrugged, realizing she wouldn’t get the answers she was interested in from Ava. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You always downplay everything. If you’re overwhelmed, just say it. It’s okay to admit it. Dad told me you were stressed.”
“You know how he sometimes embellishes when he is worried,” Anaya said dismissively. “I’m fine. When did you talk to Dad anyway?”
“Don’t call Dad a liar, Ny. It’s disrespectful,” Ava said.
“I didn’t call him a liar.”
“Yes you did. Anyway, do you know why he has so many plants in the garage? He can’t possibly use all of those.”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Anaya said, grateful for the change of subject. “He visits the nursery at least once a week. He gives half the stuff he buys to Miss Grace.”
“Probably just trying to keep busy. He misses Mom. And I think it’s good for him, as long as he stays away from those insecticides. Do you ever wonder about the breast cancer rates in Marin County? It’s because of the insecticides they use on those redwoods out there. Did you know . . .” And Ava was off, lecturing Anaya about increased cancer rates in areas that used large amounts of insecticides.
Anaya fell silent as Ava continued. She studied the room, which was bursting at the seams with five people’s stuff. This place is big enough for now, but they will need more room soon. But who will pay for it? Not me.
“And that’s why it’s been so hot.” Ava finally came up for air. “Ny, you aren’t listening to me.”
“You’re right, I’m not. You’re talking about too many different things. Besides, global warming and cancer are depressing to talk about. I’m not in the mood. I was actually thinking about mom. Do you ever miss her?” She looked at the picture of her mother.
“Of course. I miss her every day, and I hate that the boys never got to meet her. She was such a wonderful person.” Ava paused. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I just miss Mom sometimes.”
“It’s okay to miss her. She’s always with us. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do,” Anaya said, standing. “I have to go. I need to get some work done. I just wanted to get this check to you.”
“It’s Friday night. Who works on a Friday night?”
People with jobs. Anaya thought.
“I’m just really busy. I also need to get to bed soon because I’m going for an early run tomorrow.”
Ava frowned. “Girl, you are already too skinny. Stop running and exercising so much.”
“Okay, Ava.” Anaya reached into her purse. “You know what I need far better than I do. Please forgive me.” She pulled out the envelope with Ava’s check and handed it to her sister. That would shut her up.
Ava’s eyes lit up. “Thank you so much, Ny. You’re always so helpful. I promise Joe and I will pay you back.”
On cue, Joe walked in and dropped his gym bag by the door.
“Sis!” he said, grabbing Anaya in a huge embrace.
“How are you, Joe?” Anaya’s voice was muffled beneath his massive arms.
“Chitty chitty bang bang! Life is good,” he said huskily, still holding her tight.
“That’s good, Joe.” Anaya’s face was smushed into his bicep.
“Joe, let her go before you squeeze her to death.” Ava chuckled. “How did it go today?”
Joe released Anaya, swept Ava into his arms, and gave her a wet kiss on the lips. Anaya cringed.
“Went great. I think this thing is really going to happen.” Joe put Ava back on her feet and began to pace, his face bright with childlike excitement.
“Did I tell you Joe is going to make an exercise video?” Ava asked proudly.
“No. No, you didn’t.” Sweet Lord, help these people.
“He is. Tell her about it, babe. Ny, are you staying for dinner?”
“I can’t, I need to get some stuff done,” Anaya said.
“Let me tell you about this video I’m in before you go!”
“I’m all ears.” Anaya couldn’t help but appreciate Joe’s big smile. He was under-unemployed and clueless, but he was easily one of the nicest people she knew. She was intrigued about how this exercise video had come to be.
“I met this guy at the gym a few weeks ago, and we just started talking. He asked me if I was a trainer, and I told him I was. I started helping him with his routine, and you know, we bonded while working out and got to know each other. One day, he asked me if I had ever thought of doing an exercise video. Said he was part owner of a production company and he thought we could make a lot of money.”
Oy vey. “Wow, that’s incredible, Joe.”
“Yeah, we should start shooting in about a month at his house, so I’m working on the routines for the video now,” Joe said, practically jumping with excitement.
“That’s great, Joe.”
It would be cruel to burst his bubble with reasonable questions like whether he would get paid, if he had signed a contract, or why this guy had randomly chosen him. If they asked for her help, she would give them her opinion, but if they didn’t, she was not going to interfere.
Ava gushed. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”
Anaya just nodded.
“Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?” Ava asked.
“I can’t,” Anaya said, inching towards the door.
“Do you need me to do anything for Dad’s party?” Ava asked.
Anaya did, but she knew she couldn’t count on Ava. “No. I got it. That’s why I gotta go.” For the thousandth time.
“Ny just doesn’t have time for us anymore with that big fancy job she has,” Ava told Joe sadly.
That big fancy job pays your bills.
“Love you, bye.” Anaya hugged her sister and left.
EIGHT
“Yeah. Just out doing some work. Okay, Antoine. I will. Okay. Yes. Bye.”
Catie hung up with a groan. She had just left the house, and Antoine had already called to ask where she was. It was okay for Antoine to be concerned, but he was taking the “concerned father” thing too far. Catie had told him she’d be home in an hour, so why was he calling? All his “where are you?” and “make sure you check in” requests were getting on her nerves. She had always come and gone as she pleased. Being pregnant wasn’t going to change that.
She called Ny to gripe, but got her voicemail and then a text that said she would call back after she left Ava’s. She was probably loaning her sister money again. Anaya was a good person but man, she was overworked by her family.
Catie drove through her charming Piedmont neighborhood. Initially, she had reservations about moving into the exclusive community, but it had grown on her. It was the best of living in the Bay. Comfortable twentieth-century homes in a bucolic setting that felt like the suburbs but was only steps away from the urban life.
She drove past her store, FastLane, and made a mental note to have the exterior power washed. She hopped on the freeway and headed west on Interstate 80. Thirty minutes later, she entered North Richmond. North Richmond was a forlorn community chock-full of low-income housing, multiple liquor stores, and insufficient social services. The first thing one noticed upon crossing the railroad tracks to enter North Richmond w
as two churches on opposite sides of the street, an inoperable RV, and blight. Unkempt lawns hid discarded beer bottles and other litter. Some houses were barely standing with broken windows and shoddy frames. A stray dog walked in front of Catie’s car, sniffing for food.
Catie parked her Cayenne in front of a small, neat-looking house with dull yellow paint and bright blue trim. It needed a paint job and new stairs but was still one of the nicer homes on the block. Next door, a little boy with platinum bangs tried to dribble a basketball between his legs.
She rolled down the window and felt the sunshine on her face. After a few minutes, she pulled out her phone to schedule a fitting and confirmed an appointment to style a fashion blogger for an upcoming photo shoot. She’d be a happy woman if she could do onsite styling exclusively, but the store brought in the most revenue so that was her priority for now.
Catie looked at the small yellow house again, and then read a few more emails before getting out of her car. She didn’t like coming here, but she felt obliged. She told Antoine she was working and technically she hadn’t lied. She was working, just not at the store like she had implied. Some things were better left unsaid.
As she walked up the stairs and across the porch, she remembered the face of Amelia Govan, her childhood best friend and neighbor who would sit with her on these porch steps, eat chips, and dream about the future. Sometimes they played in the yard waiting for their moms to call them to dinner. If they got too hungry, they walked around the corner and stole chips from Gunny’s corner store. Old man Gunny had been in the neighborhood for over fifty years and knew all the families. He fussed and shooed Catie and Amelia out of the store, but there was never a real consequence beyond a wag of his crooked forefinger and a threat to tell their parents. Back on the front steps of Catie’s house, they would crunch the salty treats and talk about how much food they would buy when they got older. Catie always said she was going to be a zillionaire and buy a room full of sour cream and onion potato chips. Before going home every night, they did their secret handshake and wished each other sweet dreams.
For a long time, Amelia had been Catie’s only friend. The other kids at school didn’t want to be friends with Catie because of her knotted hair and tattered clothes. Amelia was a compassionate but quick-tongued scrapper from the south side of Chicago, and she defended Catie when Catie had been too afraid to speak up for herself. Their friendship blossomed beyond the school yard and sometimes they ventured around the neighborhood, but none of the other kids gave them the time of day. No one wanted to play with the kids of dope fiends.
One afternoon, Amelia went to Gunny’s alone to get chips. But Old Man Gunny’s daughter had sold the store to a new owner. The new storeowner saw Amelia stealing and told her to put the chips back. Amelia ran. The storeowner shot Amelia in the back. Amelia died in the hospital the next day.
Nosey Ms. Grier, who had nothing to do but meddle and feed her thousand cats, told the police that Amelia and Catie always stole from the store because their mamas were too busy using dope to mind their kids. She also added that the electricity was often off in Catie’s house. This was all true, but it wasn’t her business. The police called child protective services, and though the electricity was on when they arrived, there was no food or running water in the house. Catie spent two weeks in foster care until her mother could prove that there was sufficient food in the house. A year later, when Catie was six, her mom lost her parental rights, and Catie entered the bottomless depths of the foster system until the Johnsons adopted her when she was seven years old.
Catie shook her head and pushed the bad memories back to the dark corner where she kept them buried. There were some things she had never told anyone. Anaya and Sophie knew some things about her past, Antoine even less. They thought that Catie had been in foster care because she didn’t know her father and her mother had died. Catie didn’t correct them, as that would lead to talking about the other stuff.
The inside of the house smelled like olives. Catie struggled to pick up the mail from a small basket on the floor. An unopened Amazon box sat near the basket and she struggled to remember what it could be. The baby kicked and Catie realized that she wouldn’t be able to come as often once the baby was born.
“Hi Miss Catie,” a sturdy woman with white hair called from the kitchen at the end of the hallway.
“Hi, Stella. How’s everything?” Catie waddled into the living room and sat on the flower-patterned couch with matching cushions. It needed to be reupholstered—or better yet, replaced. The mirror above the fireplace was old, the frame cracked on the side. She made a mental note to buy a new one.
“Everything is good,” Stella said, entering the living room. “Been quiet around here.”
“Okay. I’m just going to catch up on the mail,” Catie said to the round woman in the yellow sunflower tunic dress. “I won’t be here long.”
“I see.” Stella sounded disappointed but sat down on the matching chair next to the sofa. She pulled her red strands behind her ear and looked expectantly at Catie. Stella was nice and Catie didn’t mean to be rude to her, but sometimes Stella forgot that she was responsible for the domestic duties of the house and nothing more.
Catie scanned each piece of mail before throwing it onto the floor. She was sure she filled out something to have all the junk mail stopped. She could feel Stella staring and tried not to indulge, but Stella wanted to indulge.
“Look at you, your little niño is growing.” Stella reached over to put her hand on Catie’s belly.
“I know. But I’m not sure it’s a boy.”
“Has to be. Look how low your stomach is,” Stella said, imparting her Dominican cultural beliefs about pregnancy.
“Either way, I’m excited.” Catie looked instinctively toward the back of the house before returning to the stack of mail. She added a few more junk letters to the pile on the floor; the bills went in her bag. The hardwood floors were scheduled to be buffed next week. Once that was done, she would replace the dingy throw rug in the front hall that was as old as Catie.
After glancing at her phone, Catie struggled to her feet. She was late for her appointment with Dr. Rhonda. “See you next week, Stella.” She walked out to her car, remembering that tomorrow would have been Amelia’s twenty-ninth birthday.
“Have you talked to Antoine about your struggles?” Dr. Rhonda asked after Catie had settled into the oversized recliner. Catie sat on a blue couch with her hands folded. She didn’t like coming to see Dr. Rhonda but it was necessary. Especially if she was going to deal with the demons that increasingly haunted her lately.
You already know the answer to that question, yet you ask me the same thing every time I come here.
“I haven’t.” Catie sighed, examining her cuticles. She had tried the new dip powder and liked it much better than gel polish. She looked at Rhonda expectantly. She wanted to heal, and she thought she was ready to do the work, but the process was difficult. All the recounting and pain and accountability. It was hard stuff.
“Why not?” Dr. Rhonda tilted her head to the left and squinted her eyes.
Catie racked her brain. There had to be a legitimate reason. “I get mad at Antoine a lot and I need a peaceful, calm atmosphere to talk about this. I can’t remember the last time there was peace or calm in our house.” Catie pursed her lips and crossed her ankles.
Dr. Rhonda nodded. “Okay, and why isn’t there peace? You guys talked about the text message, correct?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not? That was one of your assignments.”
Yes it was one of her assignments—the one she avoided. “Same reason,” she found herself saying. “I just don’t want to have a big blowup right now. If Antoine wants to canoodle around with some floozy, more power to him,” she tried to hide a wince. “Right now, I need to make moves to make sure I’m okay, and then I will talk to him.” It’s funny that the text messages didn’t bother her until she started talking about them. How could he?
<
br /> Catie had too many things on her plate to be derailed by flirty messages between Antoine and this mystery woman. Catie had heard that pregnancy enhanced emotions, and she was emotionally fragile. She worried about failing as a mom and felt she was already failing at being a girlfriend and a friend by keeping secrets. She worried that her business would suffer while she was on maternity leave and was scared that if she confronted Antoine about the texts, he would leave her. There was too much stuff for anyone to stomach, especially a pregnant woman. She’d have to deal with it later. Now wasn’t the time.
“You treat your relationship like a stock option,” said Dr. Rhonda, leaning on her right elbow. She was a big-boned woman with square glasses and a natural fro. “Do you realize that?”
Of course she did. Catie was strategic. After everything she’d been through in her life, almost everything she did was calculated. She was a boss with too many things to juggle, and Antoine’s mystery fling wasn’t on her urgent list.
“I know. I have a few things to take care of before I can talk to Antoine about the text message.”
“And in the meantime?”
“What do you mean?”
“In the meantime, what happens to your relationship?”
Catie shrugged. She was accustomed to the silence now. Most evenings she came home, took off her shoes, and started working on her laptop. She wanted to get the new LA store up and running within a year. “We co-exist pretty well. We don’t fight.”
“Not fighting is not a solution. It’s complacent.”
Thank you for the prognosis, Dr. Obvious. “I’d say we are coping, and that works for now.”
“And your secret?”
“What about it?”
“When are you going to tell Antoine and your friends?”
Catie glared at Dr. Rhonda. “I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure anybody is ready for that.”
NINE
Somewhere between preparing for her father’s birthday party and a boss named Godzilla, Anaya found herself going to work three hours early to catch up on the mounds of paper piled on her desk. It had been a week since the board approved the draft contract for the navy base with the assumption that local contractors would be given precedence in the development bids.
Never Too Soon Page 7
