Homecoming Weekend

by Curtis Bunn

  Don handed Jesse a Heineken. “I didn’t know it was that bad,” Venita said. “When you don’t have trust, you can’t have a relationship. I do trust my husband. I do. But I ain’t stupid, either. While I’m here for homecoming, he’ll be at home doing whatever it is he does when I ain’t there. I guess all you can really ask is that he’s responsible, don’t bring any drama into our house, no diseases—and that I don’t find out.”

  They laughed.

  “But here’s the thing,” Venita added. “When your wife did what she did, it was the end of your world, right? You were devastated. Men. I’m not saying it wasn’t horrible or anything. It was. But women have had to deal with y’all’s crap forever. And you men just expect it to run off our backs and for us to keep moving, forgive you and be okay with it. Not all men, but it still amazes me that when I woman does what men have been doing since the beginning of time that the woman is looked at as this awful person unworthy of you.

  “There’s something wrong with that. That’s what’s been the norm in how people look at that; that’s how men look at it. And I hate that double standard.”

  “It never fails,” Don said. “We get here for homecoming and start tooting and the next thing you know we’re in some really deep conversations. I thought we’re here to have a good time.”

  “Nah, this is a good time,” Jesse said. “We’re going to get our drink and our party on; you know that. It’s good to exercise your brain a little bit, too, with people you love and respect.”

  “Oh, boy, Jesse’s getting ready to cry,” Don joked.

  “Kiss my ass, fat boy,” Jesse said.

  Venita laughed. “Okay, get out of my room—the both of you. I will catch up with you later at the jazz concert. You behave between now and then.”

  “We will if you will,” Don said, with a smile and raised eyebrow.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE?

  Tranise, Brandon and Kwame

  Tranise received more attention in an afternoon than she’d had in the last year in Atlanta. It made her feel good—and conflicted.

  She only fantasized about one unattainable man in her life; Denzel didn’t count. Brandon Barksdale aroused her interest not just because he was a good-looking man (although that certainly helped). She admired the way he was with people. She did not know him, but she certainly paid close attention to him and his actions and demeanor whenever they were in the same room.

  “I like the way he makes everyone around him feel good,” she had told Mary back when they were in school.

  Other men might have sparked an interest; Brandon struck a chord.

  Even as she socialized at the bar with Kwame, she occasionally glanced across the room to see Brandon mingling or dancing. Kwame, an apparent catch in his own right, did not know what distracted Tranise, but he knew something was there.

  “So,” Kwame said to her, “here you are at homecoming, looking great and standing here with this great guy—if I’m allowed to say that about myself—who is very interested in you, has had a crush on you since he was a kid . . . and your mind seems to be somewhere else. I don’t know how to take that.”

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not distracted. I’m just a little overwhelmed. This is my first homecoming since I graduated, and I had no idea how warm it would feel. Seeing old friends and old faces has brought me back in time and has made me feel good.”

  “That’s a great thing,” Kwame said. “I can tell already I’ll be returning every year. It kind of validates the beauty of going to an HBCU.

  “I actually was going to go to the University of Virginia. I got accepted. My parents wanted me to go there. It was expensive, but I got some scholarship money. But you know what sold me on Norfolk State?”

  Tranise sipped her cocktail. “What?”

  “I was a senior in high school and I came over to Norfolk State for the Battle of the Bay against Hampton,” he said. “The game was sold out. The tailgate was amazing. It was like homecoming, there were so many people. The sprit in the air was so festive. I just felt at home.

  “I visited Virginia—beautiful campus. Great school. But I didn’t quite feel like I did at Norfolk State. It was like the school wrapped its arms around me and hugged me. My cousin, Mike, told me that was the same way he felt when he got to Norfolk State. It’s something about the HBCU experience that gives you the feeling of family. We know family can get on your nerves and be a pain in the butt. But we also know family loves you. And in the end, you can rely on your family.”

  Listening to Kwame made Tranise look at him differently. The way he crafted his statements, the thought he put into his expressions . . . she saw something in him. He wasn’t just talking. He was expressing himself. Big difference.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Tranise said. “I can’t believe I haven’t been back in five years. But the one good thing about it is being away so long and now being back has made me really appreciate it so much more—the education, the friendships, the experiences. This was home when I really turned from a teenager into a woman.”

  “You have done just that,” Kwame said with a coy smile. “So, you don’t have a man waiting for you in Atlanta?” he asked.

  Even the way he asked her that made an impression on Tranise. It was strong but not aggressive.

  “I’m sure there is somebody there for me, but I haven’t met him yet,” she said, smiling.

  “Well, that means the men down there are not doing their jobs,” Kwame responded with no hesitation. “I don’t understand it. Are you some undercover psycho or something? Why wouldn’t you have a man? I’m glad you don’t. But I still don’t quite get it.”

  Tranise had asked herself the same thing more than twice. The men who crossed her path wore an arrogance that she did not appreciate—or would not tolerate. It was as if being in Atlanta spoiled them. The numbers were what they were: women with something going for themselves outnumbered men in the same category by leaps and bounds. And there were enough women who would accept a man who was short of what he should be because they preferred to not be alone.

  Tranise was not that way. She preferred her dignity over a warm body. So, when men approached her with too much aggression and too little chivalry, she was turned off immediately. And she had no problem letting them know it, either.

  “I had to tell this one guy, ‘Excuse me, but I’m not pressed for a man. You seem to think I need you in some way. Wrong.’ He looked at me and said, ‘No problem. Women are a dime a dozen in Atlanta. I ain’t pressed, either.’ Then he walked away.”

  “Are you serious?” Kwame said. “Guys are that rude down there?”

  “I would never say all guys,” Tranise said. “I can say I have met more than enough of them. And every time I get so pissed because it’s insulting. It’s like they’re saying, ‘Take me with all my arrogance and flaws because if you don’t, someone else will.’ I’m a nice woman. I am. But that gets me going.”

  “I believe you,” Kwame said, smiling. He put his hands on both her shoulders. “Don’t get riled up. You look too good to have steam coming out of your nose. You handled those guys the way they needed to be handled. As much as we’d like to, we can’t account for everyone’s actions. You gotta just pray for them.”

  “Pray?” she said.

  “Yes. I’m serious,” Kwame said. “I visited a church in New Jersey one time: First Baptist Church of Lincoln Gardens in New Brunswick, I believe. The pastor said, ‘When you pray for those that anger you, it lifts the burden off of you and places it back on them.’ I tried it and it works.”

  Tranise was more intrigued. She was having a real conversation with a man, a conversation of substance. It had been so long that she did not quite recall when it was or whom it was with.

  “So, don’t you know I’m four years older than you?” she said. “Why aren’t you with ladies your age?”

  “You don’t remember me telling you I had a crush on you from way bac
k, when I met you when I was in high school?” he said. “At that time, I was sixteen, maybe seventeen, I think. You were probably twenty, twenty-one. Age mattered then. I knew I couldn’t get anywhere with you if I had the nerve to even say something.

  “But I’m just about to turn twenty-two. Age matters much less, if at all—at least as far as I’m concerned. I’m ready for you now.”

  He smiled the brightest smile she had seen in some time. It was like he amused himself while totally serious. Or that he said something daring, something he wanted to say for years, and he delighted in it.

  “You don’t really know that,” Tranise said. Her smile was bright, too. “As a matter of fact, what do you mean you’re ‘ready for me now’?”

  “I am very clear about that,” Kwame started. “I’m ready in the sense that I understand a woman’s needs, how to treat her. And I understand who I am, what I can offer a woman. When I saw you when I was in high school, I was just, you know, taken by how you looked. Talking to you now gives me a better sense of who you are. So far, I like you—and want to get to know you better. I’m ready now to hold up my end of a conversation. That’s where it all starts. Conversing.”

  Tranise smiled again. He showed a lot in that statement. One of her pet peeves, especially as a middle school teacher was the use of proper English. She cringed every time she heard someone say, “conversate,” as if it were a word, instead of “converse.”

  She was interested in Kwame. He had a youthful exuberance but did not necessarily look younger than her. But there was an age difference that Tranise did not want to overlook.

  And Kwame sensed it. “You’re not old enough to be a cougar—and there aren’t enough years between us, either,” he said. “I saw the movie, Jumping the Broom. We’re not like those two characters. The older we get, the more age makes less of a difference.”

  He had a point, but Tranise knew admitting it would relinquish any advantage she had with the young man. “I like the idea of conversing,” she said. “What could it hurt?”

  “And it could help a lot,” he said, smiling.

  Before Tranise could respond, she felt the presence of someone behind her. She turned, looked up and saw the smiling face of Brandon, her personal heartthrob.

  “Hey, I was just saying good-bye before I leave,” Brandon said to Tranise. She was flustered and looked at him.

  Kwame introduced himself. He was a little taken aback at first. But then he saw Brandon’s wedding ring and relaxed, so much so that he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

  Brandon slid into Kwame’s position. Tranise gathered herself.

  “I heard you married Felicia,” she said. The alcohol made her more daring and she just put it out there.

  “Yes, you know my wife?” he said.

  “I do know her. I haven’t seen her in a long time, but we met when we were freshmen,” she said.

  “So, you know she’s pregnant, too?” he said.

  “When is she due?” Tranise wanted to know.

  “January,” he said. “About three more months to go. I’ll be glad when that baby pops out. Being pregnant has turned Felicia into a, uh, a . . . ”

  “I can only imagine,” Tranise threw in.

  “Are you being sarcastic?” Brandon said.

  “A little,” she answered.

  “Why?” he wanted to know.

  “Well,” she started, “your wife and I did not get along in college. In fact, we were like archrivals.”

  “Oh, my God,” Brandon said. “You are the woman she was talking about with so much venom? What happened? You seem harmless to me.”

  “I am harmless,” she said. Then she decided to flirt. “Well, I used to be harmless. Now, well, I can show out when I want to.”

  “So what makes you want to show out?” Brandon said. He picked up on Tranise’s flirtation.

  “You’re a married man,” she said. “You don’t want to know.”

  “That could be the reason I really need to know,” he said.

  Tranise smiled. She was having a suggestive back-and-forth with the one man she always admired. It was hard to believe.

  “We’ll see, I guess,” she said. She didn’t mean it. Well, she didn’t really mean it. She abandoned her early thoughts of stepping into the land of a “bad girl” and seducing Brandon as a way of fulfilling a fantasy and earning some level of revenge against her nemesis, Felicia. But talking to Brandon reopened the door on that possibility.

  “I guess we will,” Brandon said.

  Their eyes met for an extended period. Tranise almost had to shake herself out of the mini-trance she could feel herself slipping into.

  “Well, you’d better get away from me before someone tells your wife you were talking to me—and flirting with me,” Tranise said.

  He smiled. “I’m not sure I was the one flirting, but OK,” he said. “She actually should be here any minute. She’s not coming in, though; she’s just picking me up out front. But before I go, you never told me what the problem was between you and her. You seem like a lovely young lady. She’s a lovely young lady. I don’t get it.”

  “Well, you have to ask your wife about that,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to share with you. I’m surprised she hasn’t already.”

  “It’s weird because she made these general comments that led me to believe she didn’t like you and you didn’t like her,” he said. “But she never said what happened.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” she said. Immediately, she knew it sounded too suggestive, so she cleaned it up.

  “You going to the jazz concert on campus?” she added.

  “I might,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Felicia said she’s not feeling so well today, so I might be out solo. Here’s my card. My cell number is on there. Just text me and let me know where you’ll be. Maybe we can connect.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Tranise said as Kwame returned from the bathroom. He and Brandon shook hands before Brandon headed to the exit.

  “I thought about you the whole time I was gone,” Kwame said to Tranise, making her blush.

  “The whole five minutes?” she responded.

  “Seemed longer,” Kwame said.

  “I see you have a verbal gift,” Tranise told Kwame.

  “That’s hard to say,” he said. “I think it’s more accurate to say that when inspired, the right words come into my head to express what I’m feeling. That’s the best way to put it.”

  Even with that explanation, he charmed Tranise, whose ego was massaged more than she could have hoped for—and home-coming was just beginning.

  “So what are you doing the rest of the weekend?” she asked Kwame. “You’re so young, you’re probably going to the school’s homecoming concert in the gym.”

  Kwame was hardly fazed by her attempt to fluster him. “I might,” he said. “I look at it as a positive that I relate to the college student and the more mature world away from school. I take that to mean I’m diverse.”

  “Good attitude,” Tranise conceded. “Good attitude.”

  “Positive over negative—that was the mantra that my psychology professor at Norfolk State taught me,” he said. “And I have been practicing it ever since. And it works. I read somewhere it takes seventeen muscles to smile and forty-seven muscles to frown. And I associate smiling with positive and frowning with negative. So you won’t see me frowning often.”

  A man with a rosy outlook on life . . . Tranise became even more intrigued. And she was intrigued by Brandon, her teenage crush.

  “Girl, this is so crazy,” she told Mary when they finally left the party. “I haven’t been this popular since I ran for homecoming queen.”

  “Well, you’re not up for Homecoming Slut,” Mary said, and she and Tranise laughed long and hard, so much so that Charlene felt left out when she rejoined her crew.

  When told of Mary’s comment, Charlene bumped into a passer-by as she fell back laughing.

  “I could see from the d
ance floor that she was getting a lot of attention,” Charlene said. “I guess that’s what happens when you come back to school after five years with some titties and ass for the first time in your life.”

  And the three friends again laughed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE AFTERMATH

  Catherine and Earl

  The morning after they made love for the first time, Catherine and Earl did it again before Catherine left the hotel to go home and then to work. It was another passionate experience that further strengthened their bond.

  When he walked her to her car, they embraced and kissed deeply. Earl had not been moved to be so outwardly affectionate. But Catherine touched parts of his heart that no one else had.

  It was no wonder that he was floating as she drove off. He showered quickly and got dressed in his golf gear so he could be ready when old classmate, Warren Jones, picked him up. They had competed in the Norfolk State Alumni Golf Outing the year before. This time, they and a group of friends decided to play a round at The Signature in Virginia Beach.

  They all graduated around the time Earl did and were friends of varying degrees; nice guys that settled into their lives but remained lively and playful. All of them knew Catherine; none of them knew she and Earl was a couple. He was itching to let them know because he was so proud of what they had built over the summer. But he also liked surprises, and all those guys would be at homecoming’s biggest and best event, the Best of Friends party Saturday night. That would be their coming-out party.

  In the meantime, Earl kept in his exciting news and played golf all day with a smile on his face and in his heart. Never before had he reacted to a bad shot with a grin, but because he loved Catherine, his wayward golf shots mattered less. Even in the breezy and cool morning air, Earl carried a warm feeling.

  “What you smiling about?” Bob White, one of his playing partners, said after the first hole. “You just took a double bogey.”

  “I’m good,” Earl said. “We’re just getting started.”

  That attitude helped him hold it together when he usually lacked patience. Instead of sharing the news, he engineered lighthearted banter that started the group to reminisce.