Sinclair walked over to her mother.
“Hey Ma. Where’s Pop?”
Her mother pointed to the other side of the conveyor belt. “Over there. We missed one of the bags.”
Four matching red pieces of luggage sat on the floor around her mother. One lonely black duffle bag mingled with the others. “Ma is all of this stuff yours?”
“Well baby, we’re going to be here for a week. I didn’t know what to bring.”
Sinclair shook her head and laughed. “How’s all of this stuff going to fit in my car?”
She grabbed a cart, as her father retrieved the last red bag. They loaded the cart, and headed towards the ground transportation exit.
“Hey you guys wait here at the curb, and I’ll go get the car. Are ya’ll hungry? We could get something to eat at one of the diners I like.” Sinclair said.
“Baby girl, that sounds good. You know I never eat before a flight. Is the diner a buffet?”
“Oh, Pop. Buffet. No, but you can have whatever you want. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Sinclair looked behind her as she made her way back to her parking spot. After her father helped her mother find a spot to sit, he stood guard over the luggage with his thumbs tucked in his belt as he rocked back and forth on his heels. Her mother pulled out a compact, and checked her chocolate reflection in the mirror. She patted her skin with the sponge housed in the compact until she was content. Once satisfied, she put it back in her purse, turned toward her husband, and chatted about something. He listened contently.
Instead of the diner, Sinclair decided on the Petro Truck Stop. For eight bucks, her father had his choice of salad bar and a main course, and it was served in the cute little cast iron skillet Chance liked. Her father’s soft snoring from the backseat let her know he was satisfied.
As she drove into her condo community her mother exclaimed, “Clair baby, this is so adorable.”
Her mother waved at neighbors as they walked their dogs and set out their trash. She even spoke to a few through the closed window, and they spoke back.
“Ma, they can’t hear you.”
“Oh, I know Clair baby, but they seem friendly. I can’t wait to see the inside of your place.”
Clair slid into her numbered parking spot, and clicked off the smooth jazz radio station. Her father woke up.
“Hey Baby girl, we’re here already?”
“Pop you slept the whole ride.”
“What do you expect after a meal like that? I couldn’t even stretch out back here in this tiny car. You need a Lincoln or an Oldsmobile. A real car. This tiny thing I could pick up, and throw.”
Sinclair laughed when she looked at her father in the backseat. His legs were intertwined with her mom’s red luggage. His one duffle bag served as a pillow/backrest.
“Pop this car is free. No car payment, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah Baby girl, but there’s nothing like an Oldsmobile.”
“Come on, let’s unload all this stuff.” Sinclair gave direction as they entered. “Mom, Dad put your bags in the back bedroom. That bed is larger, and newer. I think ya’ll will be more comfortable there.”
They darted in and out of every room exploring.
“Clair baby, this is a cute built-in vanity in your bedroom. You know, we should go and buy a little bench or chair. That way every morning you could do your hair, and apply your make right here,” yelled her mother from the back bedroom.
Her father’s muffled voice from the inside of the refrigerator responded for her. “Jill Marie, leave the girl alone. She’s moving in a few months. She doesn’t need to buy anything. When she’s back home you can help her decorate.”
A knock at the door.
“Sinclair. Hello. Sinclair.”
Marcus?
“Marcus what are you doing here.”
“I thought I’d take a chance to see if you were available for a late dinner.”
She took a quick glance at her watch. “Dinner? Marcus it’s late, and I have family in town. Maybe next week or something.”
Before she could close the door, her parents had tip-toed back into the living room. If she shut the door now, they’d think she was being rude to a guest. You always had to invite a guest in, and feed them. Always. They gave away so much food at their restaurant; it was amazing the place made any money. Every Sunday, they shut the restaurant down to paying customers, and only served people who were ‘down on their luck’ as her mother would say.
“Excuse us. We didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Sinclair’s mother.
Sinclair turned to see both of her parents smiling. They couldn’t be any more obvious of their curiosity.
“Young man, come on in. I’m Robert—Sinclair’s father, and this is my wife Jill Marie.”
Marcus shook hands with Sinclair’s parents. “Hello Sir, I’m Marcus. A friend of Sinclair’s.”
“Well, it’s nice to know Sinclair has made some friends up here.”
Sinclair stood with her hand on the doorknob. She waited for her opportunity to close the door, throw on her pajamas, and relax.
“Well, would you like to come in and join us for a little desert? We picked up some ice cream—butter pecan, and chocolate cake on the way home,” said Sinclair’s mom.
Everybody turned, and looked at Sinclair.
Hesitantly, she said, “Yeah, sure Marcus, why don’t you join us.”
Sinclair’s mom looped her arm around Marcus’ arm, and guided him toward Sinclair’s small glass and black metal dinette table.
Marcus sat at the table with Sinclair’s father. As Sinclair walked past the table toward the kitchen with her mother, she heard her father discussing his favorite subject—Atlanta Falcons. Surprisingly, Marcus had something to say not related to his Barber Shops like maybe he could theme his shops after football teams or something.
“Marcus what would you like for dessert?”
“Chocolate cake would be fine, Mrs. Mosley.”
“And Honey, what about you?”
“Chocolate cake with ice cream,” responded Sinclair’s father.
Sinclair’s mother’s right eyebrow raised a little, and her lips tightened.
Robert Mosley threw up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay. Ice cream no cake.”
“Alright. Sinclair and I will be right back.”
“Mom, I think I’ll only have ice cream like Daddy.”
“I’ll have a little bit of the cake myself.” Sinclair’s mom patted her hips with both hands, and then she paused for a moment. “Clair baby, I see I didn’t have to worry about you so much. You haven’t been terribly lonely here have you?”
“No, Mom. I’ve met a few people.”
“I’m so glad. I really thought you were spending all of your time alone. But that young man is quite attractive, and friendly.”
Her mom’s face beamed.
Sinclair avoided direct eye contact. Instead she took plates from the cabinets, and forks from the drawer. “Mom, it’s not really like that.”
“So, there’s someone else?” asked her mother.
“No. Yeah. I don’t know. I thought…maybe?”
“So, this other young man, Chance, you care for him?”
“What? How’d you know about Chance?”
“Well, you never mentioned him or anyone to me or your father, and we worry about you. So, we called Kendra.”
Sinclair closed the cabinet door a little harder than necessary. “I swear.”
“Now, don’t be mad at Kendra. We called her.”
“He’s a great guy Mom, but people at work seem to have a problem with it.”
“People or one person?”
“One person. One woman.”
Sinclair’s mom took the small maroon and white bowl she handed her. “You’re not scared of one woman are you?”
“No, I’m not scared of her. I just don’t want a lot of drama at work. That’s all.”
“Oh, so you don’t love him?”
; While her mother cut a slice of cake for Marcus, Sinclair ate a spoonful of ice cream.
“I don’t know Mom. I haven’t even seen or heard from him in weeks. And Mom, he’s Irish.”
Sinclair’s mom scooped up the slice of chocolate cake, and put in on a plate. “I know.”
“What didn’t Kendra tell you?”
“Clair baby, I don’t care if he’s purple with antlers if he makes you happy.”
Sinclair hugged her mother. She knew she would understand. “Yeah, but what about Daddy? You know he always says, ‘If he can’t use your comb, don’t bring him home’.”
Her mother sat the plate in her hand on the countertop. She cupped her hands over Sinclair’s cheeks. “Clair baby, don’t listen to any of that junk your father says. He wants you to be happy. He doesn’t care what race Chance is…just that you are happy. It’s just when we were young things were different. Things could get really nasty. We had a hard enough time as it was. People always thought your dad was something other than a Black man.”
“I remember Daddy saying…papersack tan was what he was.”
“Yeah, he would have you saying it, too, because that was really all a Black person needed. If you were lighter than a paper bag, and you could get into buildings, colleges, etc. But for me…things were a little harder.”
“But Mom it’s hard. This woman at work, people in restaurants. If it’s like this here…what will it be like at home when he comes to visit?”
“Clair baby, I remember times I’d push you around in a stroller, and people wouldn’t even think you were mine unless your daddy was with us.”
Tears welled up in Sinclair’s mom’s eyes. She blinked them away.
“Mom, I didn’t—”
“Clair baby, who cares what other people think or say? You have to do what feels right for your heart. Kendra told me about the protest, and she told us about his father, and mother. He sounds like a man worth getting to know. A strong man. That young man out in your dining room is nice and attractive, but if he doesn’t make your heart happy, find out what will.”
Her mother brushed tears dangling from Sinclair’s eyelashes away, and went back to preparing desserts. As if for the first time, she analyzed every feature of her mother’s face. She was her mother’s twin, but she had her father’s complexion. Suddenly, she felt stupid. How could she give up so easily?
Sinclair kissed her mom’s cheek. “I love you Mom.”
Her mother looked at her and smiled. “You better. Now let’s take this food out to your friend and your father before they come searching for us.”
Chapter Eleven
“Baby girl, eight dollars a person? We can skip this, that’s a lot of money for three people.”
“Pop it’s only eight dollars.”
“Hey Honey, look.” Sinclair’s mother pointed at a sign near the cash register. “With a college I.D., we can buy one, and get one free. We’ll only have to pay for two.”
“Perfect Ma.” Sinclair reached into her wallet, and pulled out her student I.D.
“Okay, ma’am. That’ll be sixteen dollars,” said the cashier.
Sinclair’s father said, “Wait. What about senior discounts? Do you offer discounts?”
“Yes sir, but you have to be over sixty-two years old.”
“Sixty-two?”
“Well, Honey, that counts us out. We are too young,” said Sinclair’s mom with a smile, and gentle laughter.
“Honestly Pop. It’s okay. Mom said you really wanted to see this show.”
“Thank you, Clair baby. Your dad missed this show twice...in Memphis and Nashville.”
“Yeah, well, I’d miss it again if it would help her save her money.” mumbled Sinclair’s dad.
Sinclair’s mom took her husband’s hand and guided him onto the auto show floor of the huge Pennsylvania Farm Show Complex and Expo Center.
The complex was bigger than Sinclair thought it would be. When she purchased the tickets on-line, the website said the center was over a million square feet. Silently, Sinclair hoped they didn’t have every square inch covered with cars.
Sinclair couldn’t remember when she’d seen her father so happy. He raced from concept car to concept car. Buick, Chevrolet, Chrysler, Dodge and every other American-made car he saw increased his excitement. They didn’t have any Oldsmobiles, but they did have a couple of Lincolns. He must have circled each car twenty times, and snapped photos.
Her mother had to drag him on to the next grouping of cars. Her father couldn’t resist taking a photo in front of the Denali Hybrid. Sinclair stepped backwards, and pressed the telephoto button in order to center her parents on the display screen of the digital camera. The man in the background of her picture staring at her caught her attention. Chance. He was back.
She clicked the photo.
“Come on Ma, Daddy let’s go.”
“Sinclair.”
His hair was longer, and his eyes were bluer. Was that possible? No. His arms were bigger. Yes. So was his chest. The memory of the weight of his body on top of hers almost made her moan. The car cut him off at the waist. Thank goodness.
Ignoring the voice behind them, she pointed to another section of the expansive show room. She wanted to talk to him, but she didn’t want the first time she’d seen him in weeks to be with an audience. Her emotions were playing havoc with her. She wasn’t sure if she’d cry or yell and scream if he came closer. “Come on Daddy, I think I saw Jeep.” Retreating in the opposite direction with her parents made better sense.
Over thousands of people’s voices spread across a huge showroom, she still heard him. “Sinclair, wait,”
“Clair baby, I think the young man over there is trying to get your attention.”
Chance and Craig walked around the hybrid truck, and stood in front of Sinclair and her parents.
Craig spoke first. Chance eased up beside her. “Hey, Sinclair. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She could feel Chance standing beside her, but she couldn’t make herself look at him, not yet. “Hey, Craig. These are my parents...Mr. and Mrs. Mosley.”
“Hello Sir, Ma’am.”
“Hi,” said Sinclair’s mom.
“Hello,” said Sinclair’s dad.
Sinclair’s parents waited for her to introduce the other person standing beside them.
“Mom, Dad this is Chance.”
“Chance.” Sinclair’s mom smiled, and she shook Chance’s hand. “Hi, Chance. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Chance? I’ve heard of you,” said Mr. Mosley.
Craig and Chance exchanged glances, and then Chance looked at Sinclair.
“Don’t look at me.” She wanted her words to be as hurtful to him as his absence had been to her. “I didn’t tell them about you. Kendra did.”
Chance was speaking to her parents, but he didn’t take his eyes off of her. “Mr. and Mrs. Mosley, I’ve been gone for awhile. I had to settle some things back home in Long Island, but now I’m back.”
“When did you get back?” asked Mrs. Mosley.
Briefly, he faced her mother while he answered. “Yesterday, ma’am.” He turned back toward Sinclair. “I stopped by your office, and Sharon told me you took the week off. She told me your parents were in town. I didn’t know...I don’t know if you...”
Chance didn’t finish his statement.
Sinclair’s mom took Chance by the elbow, and guided him toward Jeep. “So, Chance, do you like Jeeps, too?”
“Yes ma’am. I prefer GMC. My Dad left me his truck when he died, and I’m still driving it. I kind of thought I might find something I was interested in here that could replace it, but I don’t really see anything.”
“Why replace it? You could keep it, and buy another,” said Mrs. Mosley.
“Yes ma’am. I think I will keep it. It’s never let me down.”
“Chance, there’s nothing like a good American-made car. Your father knew that, too,” said Mr. Mosley.
When they reached the Je
ep Wrangler, Mrs. Mosley let go of Chance’s arm, and stood beside her daughter. Sinclair and her mom watched as her father, Chance and Craig flitted back and forth among the new concept trucks for Jeep.
At the front entrance, they left Craig standing with her parents as she and Chance circled through the massive display of cars in the parking lot searching for her car.
“Sinclair, I’m sorry it took me so long to return.”
Again, her body was not listening. She wanted to be angry, but she was happy. Happy that he was back, but was he going to leave again. “Chance, it’s okay. You had to do what you needed to do for you.”
“I wasn’t just doing it for me. I needed to put some things in order for both of us.”
Us? Put what in order for us?
“Like what?”
“I’ll tell you about it, but not yet.”
“Not yet?”
What was he thinking treating her like a child? “Why not? You left me hanging out in the wind for what? Do you know what I’ve been through?”
“I know. I’m sorry, but it’ll be okay, now.” He reached out for her with his free hand.
She swatted it away. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because I’ve never lied to you about anything.”
To her knowledge, he hadn’t lied to her. He’d told her when he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and when he was, but still he’d left her. “Let’s talk about this later. Right now, I want to get my parents home.”
Chance waited for Sinclair to get in her car, and then he followed her back to the main entrance. At the front doors, he pulled up behind Sinclair in the fire lane, and exited his car.
He reached through her window, placed his hand on her neck, and whispered in her ear. “Bye for now Sinclair, but I’ll be coming over as soon as your parents leave. We should talk.” He kissed her on the cheek. The touch of his lips against her skin sent a rush of heat through her entire body. Vivid memories of every touch between them flooded her mind. Before she forgave him, she needed to get away from him, and think.
He looked over the hood of the car, and said, “Good bye Mr. and Mrs. Mosley. It was nice to meet you both.” Then he rounded the car to stand beside them.
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