Homecoming Weekend

by Curtis Bunn

  “Holy shit,” Jimmy said. “Really? But you look like that’s a problem. You told me you all are in love. Why isn’t that good news?”

  “Man, I do love her, Carter said. “But I wasn’t trying to have her live in New York. That changes everything.”

  “What? Why?” Jimmy said. “Just yesterday—yesterday—you talked about how into her you were, how you all have been in love since college. So help me out here: How can you not like her moving where she’ll be close to you?”

  “There’s a lot I have going on in New York,” he said, which was code for he had another woman.

  “Did you tell Barbara you were seeing someone else? Or did you let her believe you were waiting on her?” Jimmy asked.

  “Neither,” Carter said. “She never really asked me if I was in a relationship. She knew I dated.”

  “Do you love the girl or not?” Jimmy asked. “You told me you’re in love and now she’s available to you and you have a problem.”

  “Forget it, man,” Carter answered. “You don’t understand.”

  Jimmy smiled to himself. He knew Carter too well to believe that would be the last he heard about the situation.

  But his attention shifted quickly to one of his Maurice Roper, who had the look of a man headed to the gas chamber. They hadn’t seen each other in ten years. Through the expanded waistline, glasses and gray hair, Jimmy was still able to place him.

  “Mo, what’s happening?” he said with a broad smile.

  “Jimmy!!! Damn,” Maurice responded.

  The two men hugged. “Damn, boy, you look just about the same,” Maurice said to Jimmy. “You look good.”

  “You look different, like you’ve been living a good life,” Jimmy said to Maurice, laughing, patting his protruding stomach.

  “Yeah, well, you know,” he said. “Married life can do that.”

  Then he turned to his right to introduce his wife, Eula, who was not smiling. In fact, she stood with her arms folded, like there was someplace else she’d rather be.

  “Eula, this is one of my good friends from college, Jimmy,” he said.

  “Hi, Eula. Nice to meet you. Your husband and I had some good times together,” Jimmy said.

  Eula gave Jimmy a meek handshake and a faint smile. She did not say a word.

  Jimmy kept his smile and turned to Maurice. “So, catch me up on what’s been going on with you,” he said.

  Eula rolled her eyes and told Maurice she was going to find the bathroom.

  “Yo, everything okay?” Jimmy asked when she walked away.

  “Man, I could hurt that woman right now,” Maurice said. “But it’s my fault. My instincts told me to leave her ass at home. But she really wanted to come, so I gave in. We got married six months ago. She went to NYU. She’s smart as hell. But she doesn’t get the black college homecoming thing.

  “I met her in New York, at the play The Mountaintop on Broadway. We were both waiting afterward for Samuel L. Jackson and Angela Bassett to come out after the show. She was holding her program up in the crowd to get it signed and I volunteered to do it for her because I was taller and could reach closer to the actors. We started a conversation from there and here we are.

  “But she’s had attitude ever since we got to town and I ran into some honeys from school in the bookstore—Gina Dorsey, Terry Hodge and Deberah ‘Sparkle’ Williams. They were looking great and, of course, we hugged and chatted for a few minutes. They actually told me about this day party. When they left, Eula starts going in about how disrespectful it was for me to hug women in her presence and all this bull.”

  “What did she expect you to do?” Jimmy asked. “They’re your friends from college.”

  “That’s what I said,” Maurice added. “Then she said, ‘I know you slept with one of them.’ And I was like, ‘No, I didn’t. How did you get that? And if I had, what difference does it make? That would have been ten or twelve years ago. I had a life before you. We’re married.’ But that didn’t seem to matter. So, we get here and I ran into Carter and Barbara and her friend and she starts the same stuff.”

  “Man, I hear you,” Jimmy said. “But I felt like that would be me if I brought my wife with me to homecoming. I’ve been married for a few years, but something about me coming back to Norfolk State made her feel like she needed to be here, like I was going to be screwing old girlfriends or something. But I told her I was coming alone, and you can believe she is pissed at me right now. I just want to have a good time, see my school, see old friends and go back home. I didn’t need her telling me it’s time to go or asking me about everyone woman I hug.”

  “I wish like hell I had done the same thing you did,” Maurice said. “I’m really shocked by her attitude. I never would have expected it. I thought she was more secure than this. But she’s making this trip hell—and we just got here about three hours ago.”

  “Well, it will get better once she sees how everyone is interacting and sees how innocent it is,” Jimmy said. “I know some people do come back to hook up like old times or whatever. But that doesn’t mean that’s what you do.

  “How’s she going to be at the game tomorrow? She like football? She like to hang out at the tailgate?”

  “Shit, that’s going to be worse than today,” Maurice said. “You see her in those high-ass heels? That’s all she wears. I told her the tailgate is awesome and that a lot of standing is involved—and walking. But I don’t think she brought any really comfortable shoes. She thinks she needs to look glamorous to impress people for me.

  “But that’s where she still doesn’t know me. I never tried to impress anybody.”

  Maurice was unlike Alex Ervin, another guy from their time in college who seemed to return every year to homecoming to boast about his accomplishments. He was successful in his own right—he owned a brokerage firm that was ranked in the Top 100 businesses by Black Enterprise magazine. Everyone knew it; he was featured in Behold, the NSU alumni magazine. But that did not stop him from yearly parading around spreading the word—and exaggerating his success—at homecoming, which was the ideal time because many of his classmates that did not think very highly of him were there.

  “What’s up, Maurice? What’s up, Jimmy?” Alex said when he showed up at the party at The Mansion. “What’s happening?”

  They had small talk for about a minute when Alex started in. “Listen, I’m going to have some people over in my suite at the Sheraton Waterside tonight around seven,” he said. “Nothing heavy, just some good food and an open bar. Something intimate for people I’m cool with. A couple of doctors I know in Hampton Roads and a few other business associates will come through, too.

  “Let me know if you need a ride. I have a limo for the weekend. You know, in New York, I don’t drive. I have a driver most of the time. It’s just too hectic to be behind the wheel when I have to be wheeling and dealing. Things are going great for me, man. You should come up to New York for a weekend. I have a lot of connections up there—and you know New York is the center of the world.

  “Lot of people wouldn’t be able to make it up there. It’s a beast. But my thing has just taken off. Shoot, I have forty-seven employees now and I opened an office in Atlanta. I picked Atlanta because I have a loft down there and it’s a good place to do business. I thought of doing something in Norfolk, but not enough is happening here.”

  Alex said all that seemingly without taking a pause to breathe. He was short in college, grew some as he got older; enough to be considered a small guy with small-man syndrome. But apparently when the Napoleon complex sets in, it does not leave, even if you grow to average height.

  “Yeah, I’m happy for you, Alex,” Jimmy said. “One of the great things about homecoming is to learn how people are doing. And the way I see it, the way things are in this world, if you are employed, have solid mental and physical health and some values, you’re successful—no matter how much money you make.”

  “Yeah, because you can’t judge happiness with money,” Maurice
added. “We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do to be happy. But we’re all proud of what you’ve done with your life. It’s good stuff, great stuff.”

  “Yeah, man, you’re right,” Alex said. “I try to tell people that all the time. I might be a millionaire, but it’s not the money that makes me.”

  Maurice and Jimmy glanced at each other.

  “I have flown around the world probably seven times,” Alex went on. “I have three houses and the loft in Atlanta and three cars—even though I hardly drive anymore because I have a driver. But what makes me happy is my family. My brothers, son, nephew, niece and uncle all work for me. Through my company I’m able to provide jobs for my family. That’s what I feel good about.”

  Jimmy wanted to say, Get away from me. Instead, he asked, “Are you married?”

  “Hell, no,” Alex said. “Married? Man, the one girl I was interested in marrying—and she was bad, too, a dime—didn’t want to sign a prenup. She must have been crazy to think I was gonna put her in a position to get half of my company, what I have built, my millions? NO way. She said it was unromantic to ask her to sign a prenup. I said look at some of these celebrities and how much they end up losing in divorce.

  “So, I’m just doing me. I really don’t know if a woman is interested in me or interested in my money. So I’ve got to be careful.”

  Before leaving to bore others from his college days, Alex hit Jimmy and Maurice with the bombshell.

  “Listen, I haven’t announced it yet, but I’m thinking about running for president,” he said.

  “Of what?” Jimmy cracked.

  “The United States,” Alex answered.

  “What political experience do you have?” Maurice said.

  “Donald Trump was thinking about running; he didn’t have any political experience,” Alex answered. “Ross Perot ran and he didn’t have any experience. Look at Herman Cain. He was leading before all his dirty laundry got exposed. He’s like my blueprint. He led a large company to financial success. That’s all his credentials consisted of. I did the same thing. You don’t have to have experience in the political arena. You have to have ideas and knowledge and money—and I have all that.”

  It was bad enough that he bragged about his success and exaggerated his wealth. But to think Jimmy and Maurice were foolish enough to believe he was even capable of running a campaign for the Presidency was downright insulting.

  “I gotta be honest,” Jimmy said to Maurice and Eula, who had returned from the bathroom, “if this guy thinks I believe he would run for President, then he’s even more fucked up than I thought—excuse my language, Eula. I mean, he can’t speak intelligently about himself, so how can he possibly . . . I don’t even want to say it, it’s so damn dumb. He’s insulting our intelligence by saying something so preposterous.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Maurice said.

  “Why can’t he run for President if he wants to, if he’s capable?” Eula chimed in.

  “Baby, you have to know the guy,” Maurice said. “Think about your friend Lucy from Long Island. She’s successful, but many times you’ve told me she’s hardly a genius. She reminds me of him. So, if I told you there was nothing wrong with Lucy running for president, you would cuss me out.”

  “I might, but maybe they would surprise us. Look at George W. Bush. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer,” Eula said.

  “There’s no comparison. Bush was governor of Texas. He had a pedigree,” Maurice said. “On top of that, I know this guy. And you know Lucy. They belong in the same egotistical, inferiority complex camp. Plus, he’s just talking, trying to impress. I actually believe he’s smart enough to know his limitations. He just doesn’t think we know his limitations.”

  “Maybe you’re hating on him,” Eula said.

  Jimmy looked at Maurice and could sense the tension building up in him. He had seen that look before. Maurice actually got suspended from school for being at the center of a brawl in the cafeteria. It seemed someone challenged his manhood by suggesting his girlfriend was sleeping around on him with some guy who was considered a geek. Maurice and his roommate took on three guys, knocking over tables, sending girls screaming.

  This wasn’t the infamous food fight in the café that left dozens of people doused in mashed potatoes and gravy. This was a straight-up brawl. Jimmy found himself pulling Maurice off one guy whose nose was bloodied in the skirmish. When the campus police arrived on the scene, Maurice admitted he threw the first punch to start the fracas.

  All that came to mind when he saw the expression on his face following his wife’s comment. So he did the smart thing. He excused himself.

  “I’m going to the bar,” he said. “Can I get you all something?”

  “Yes,” Maurice said. “Please get me some ‘Hater-ade.’ And get Eula some Kool-Aid.”

  He smiled and wrapped his arms around his wife, showing growth and an ability to laugh at himself that was not there in college. Jimmy had not seen his classmates in so long that he did not realize that most people—while they are the same at the core—grew into different people.

  He was expecting an eruption from Maurice but instead got a touching moment that showed his sense of humor and love for his wife. His act even drew a smile from her, her first showing of teeth since arriving. It was a beautiful smile, one that reminded Jimmy of his wife Monica’s smile.

  And for a brief moment, he wished she were there. She would have appreciated the nice venue and the great music. She also might even have appreciated seeing him so excited about seeing old friends—some he had even forgotten about over the years.

  But that moment was fleeting. He knew Monica well enough to know that her trust issues would arise when they need not. In Eula’s case, Maurice explained that she had been married before to a creep, a man who had taken her kindness as the green light to break her trust. More than twice information was revealed to her that he had been with other women. It tarnished her outlook on men in particular, people in general. In one case, his mistress was an old girlfriend. Her ex-husband told her it was “nothing. We’re just comfortable with each other. It was just sex.” She was astonished he did not see the gravity of his actions.

  But she was in love and wanted her marriage, so she gave him another chance. With it, he eventually got involved with one of her friends. Amazingly, she told Eula, “It was just sex. He loves you.”

  She could not get beyond the betrayal and moved forward with the idea that anyone is capable of anything. Maurice caught hell proving his commitment to her, to the point where his friends hardly saw him—unless he was with her.

  “I’m just trying to keep the peace,” he said.

  His peace-keeping showed a strength he had not displayed in college. And it impressed Jimmy.

  “You’re better than me,” he said when they connected just before leaving the party. “You handled that situation well. Even bringing her with you, although I know it hasn’t been good so far, that says a lot about you. I hope she appreciates that.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” he said. “But she won’t be coming again. I can see this will be the weekend from hell. I’ll survive it. We’ll survive it. But I feel like any move I make, she’s examining and trying to put together stuff that’s not even there. I haven’t even seen anyone I messed with in college.”

  “Well, at least she’s talking to you,” Jimmy said. “My wife, Monica, won’t even answer the phone when I call. The one time she did, she basically hung up on me. So I’m in the doghouse. But that’s for when I get back. While I’m here, I’m going to have a good time.”

  “I bet you are because I saw Regina—your old girl—just a minute ago,” Maurice said.

  “Carter told me the same thing,” Jimmy said. “Where is she?”

  “And she looked damn good, too,” Maurice said, looking around. “She has on an orange top . . . Look, over there, on the dance floor. That’s her.”

  Jimmy focused in as if he had telescopic vision. That was his c
ollege sweetheart, all right. Regina Anderson.

  Carter came over just as Maurice and Eula departed. “Where are they going?” Carter asked Jimmy.

  “Probably back to the room so she could kick Maurice’s ass,” Jimmy joked. “Can’t believe how calm he is. That’s good to see.”

  “It’s because he was a damn wild man back in the day,” Carter said. “But we all grow up. Well, some of us do.”

  “So, how is Barbara?” Jimmy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Carter said. “I mean, she’s cool. But she’s looking for me to make her feel better about her situation and I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Jimmy said. “You made her feel like she had a future with you. Now that she’s set it up, you go left on her? How you think she’s supposed to feel?”

  “She should have asked me or at least told me what was on her mind,” Carter said. “I would have discouraged her from doing it.”

  “I understand her getting a divorce if she’s not happy. And knowing her, the guilt was too much,” Jimmy said. “But I don’t get her moving across country, moving her kids away from their father. That’s the really tough thing about a divorce. Not just going through it, but when there are kids involved, how that plays out.”

  “It’s probably too late, because she’s already taken a new job,” Carter said. “But I will bring that up to her. From what she said, he was a bad husband but a good dad. So those kids need to be around him. And he needs to be around them.”

  “She probably just did it because she believed you might try to talk her out of it,” Jimmy said. “You never know. Women are crafty. They are manipulators by trade. They have mastered that.

  “Look, you told me you loved the woman. You told me it was real. You told me that was the main reason you came down here to homecoming. So if it is all that, then why all the bitching right now?”

  “I ain’t bitching,” he said. “I’m just not ready for her to be in New York while I’m there. I feel like she left for me, and that makes me responsible for her happiness.”

  “Who you think you fooling?” Jimmy said. “You have a girl-friend and you don’t want things to get messy with Barbara there. At some point soon, you’re going to have to figure it all out. But it doesn’t have to be this weekend. It’s homecoming. Have some fun.”