Homecoming Weekend

by Curtis Bunn

  “I’m willing to bet that he wants to go there with you,” Starr said.

  “That’s why I love you, girlfriend,” Catherine said. “You always have my back. You’re always positive . . . I’ll be at your house around ten to pick you up. Hopefully you are right and Earl will be with me.”

  Catherine moved from the balcony and back onto the couch. She flipped channels on the television, but found nothing that captured her interest. She got up and washed dishes and put a load of clothes in the washing machine. She changed the linen on her bed and took garbage to the trash chute. She was piddling around, doing things to pass time.

  By the end of the Norfolk State easy victory over Howard, she realized she had not determined what she would wear to the party. So she searched her closet, pulling out and trying on a number of elegant dresses before deciding on a violet number that draped just above the knees. It had a low back and hung off the edge of her shoulders.

  It was made of spun wool and with a crochet covering, providing a see-through effect on her arms. It was sexy and classy. Content with her selection, she pinned up her hair and finally drifted off to sleep.

  Earl sent her a text message later, saying, “We won, baby. Hope you had a peaceful day. We’re going to get something to eat. Call me when you have time.”

  Around seven, Catherine woke up to Earl’s text message. She smiled while reading it, and then called him. He was at Captain George’s all-you-can-eat seafood buffet with a host of fraternity brothers. She could tell he was having a good time.

  “I don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” she said.

  Earl left the table and found a more quiet place near the entrance. “I’m good, baby,” he said. “We got here before the big rush. I figure I should be back at my hotel room by eight. That’ll give me some time to rest before the party.”

  That was Catherine’s moment and she seized it. Well, sort of.

  “Do you want me to pick you up? You can ride with me and Starr to the party,” she said. “Or do you want to go there with your friends and meet me there?”

  For Earl, that was a peculiar question. Why would he not want to go to the party with his woman? Why would he want to go with his boys that he’d been hanging with all day? The question threw him. In an instant he had to process whether she was simply giving him an option or whether she wanted to meet him there instead of walk in with him.

  He finally told her, “I will figure it out after we leave here and call you back, okay?” Catherine offered a cheery “okay,” but it was not okay. Why doesn’t he know, she questioned.

  Now, she was back in a tailspin, analyzing and overanalyzing everything to the point where she actually started to feel sad. She hadn’t eaten much, so she put together a salad and baked a piece of salmon with her “world famous” cabbage. She ate most of it, but she did not enjoy it as she normally would because of Earl’s indecision.

  In the shower she worked on her response to him, saying he would meet her instead of going with her to the party. None of it sounded genuine. She decided she was going to go with what he wanted. They would meet there and have a great time and how they got there wouldn’t matter. That’s what she tried to convince herself of. Until he called her back with his decision, she was on edge. It was a little thing, but it was a big thing, too. If they walked in together, among their friends, it would announce to them all that they were together. It would show that he was proud of their relationship. If they did not, then maybe he wanted to temper Catherine’s expectations, she surmised.

  Earl continued to devour the crab legs and other items on the lavish buffet and he continued to laugh and share stories with his friends. But he could not shake the thought that Catherine would rather meet her at the party instead of arrive with him. He dared not share the question with his boys. Many of them would be surprised to learn he and Catherine was a couple.

  Then he figured that she received the poem and thought it was too much, so she started the backing-off process by suggesting they meet instead of going together. I knew I shouldn’t have written that damned poem, he said to himself.

  He caused himself all kinds of inner tumult that he could not take any more. He rode with frat brother Ronnie Bagley from Captain George’s to his hotel. Halfway there he placed the call.

  “Hey, how are you?” he asked.

  “I’m great, baby,” she answered.

  “I’m almost at the hotel,” he said. “I decided that I’d like to ride with you to the party.”

  He was relieved to get it out. Catherine was relieved to hear his words. Her heart fluttered. “Great,” she said. “I can pick you up first and then we can go get Starr.”

  “Cool,” he said. “I will call you a little later from the room.”

  Behind the wheel, Ronnie smiled. Then he looked over at Earl.

  “Smart choice,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  REVELATIONS

  Carter and Barbara

  Barbara was at her wit’s end. Hardly anything she hoped would happen at homecoming had happened for her. Worse, she got the feeling that Carter did not want her to move to New York because he had a girlfriend there.

  After masking her discontent through the tailgate and the game, she asked Carter the question of the weekend:

  “Do you have a girlfriend in New York?”

  “Why would you ask me that?” he responded, which was not a good one.

  “Just answer the question, please,” she implored him.

  “No, I don’t,” he said.

  “Carter, please, the least you can do is be honest,” she said. “We’re at a critical point right now.”

  “We are?” he said. “When did it become critical?”

  “It has been critical ever since I told you I was moving to New York,” she started. “Since then you have been distant, like you’re either mad at me or that you don’t want me being close to you. And then there is Marlena.”

  Carter had been looking away as she spoke, but he turned when Barbara called that name.

  “Marlena who?” he asked.

  “Marlena ‘baby,’ that’s who?”

  “What?”

  “While you were snoring like an animal last night, you received a text message from Marlena. And she called you ‘baby.’ That’s the Marlena I’m talking about.”

  Carter stared at Barbara. He was fuming. They had not argued since their college days, but there were some memorable, loud arguments. This had the potential to be another blow-up. Because they were among the thousands after the game marching with the band up Presidential Parkway—which led from Dick Price Stadium, behind the old gym and the prodigious new Lyman Beecher Brooks Library, through the massive tailgate area, past the president’s house and into Park Avenue—Carter controlled his voice level.

  “So now you’re reading my text messages?” he asked rhetorically. “You can’t invade my privacy. Do you see me doing that to you? Do you think that’s okay? And now you want me to answer questions about something you read on my phone? Well, that’s not happening.”

  “Carter, I am sorry,” she said. “I agree; it was stupid and I am really sorry. It will never happen again. But I can’t forget what I saw.”

  “Well, I can’t help what you saw and I can’t help that you can’t forget it,” Carter said. “But I’m not discussing it. You had no right to violate me in that way. That’s not cool. This isn’t the first time I have had this happen and I guess it won’t be the last. But I’m not taking it like it’s a small thing.”

  When Carter got that way, she knew breaking his position was virtually impossible. So she let it go. Barbara was desperate for a turn of emotions, so she tried a different approach.

  “I am really sorry, Carter. Do you forgive me?” she asked.

  “I do,” he said sternly. “But . . . ”

  “I promise, it won’t happen again,” she said. “I promise.”

  Carter didn’t respond, but he lowered his shoulders, indicating he had
relaxed at least a little bit.

  “Can we spend tonight together?” she said. “I came here thinking it would be like it always has been with us. But it hasn’t been that way so far. I am finally not married and can enjoy you without a black cloud hanging over me. I hope we can make these last hours special. Seems like we might not have many in New York.”

  There was a sadness in her voice when she spoke that last sentence, and Carter picked up on it. As salty as he was about her going through his phone, he could not deny his heart. He had feelings for Barbara that were more than casual.

  “Yes, definitely,” he said. “Listen, I want us to have a good time, too. I love coming to homecoming, but the main reason to come was to see you, to spend time with you. New York is going to be all right. We just have to figure it out.”

  Barbara lit up. It was the first time Carter expressed any notion that her move could be a good thing. She did not want to over-react to his comment, but she did want to acknowledge it . . . gently.

  “Thank you for saying that; it means a lot to me, Carter,” she said.

  “And you mean a lot to me,” he said. Something came over him. All the posturing and frustration melted away. Carter had a revelation: Enjoy Barbara.

  “I’m not sure where this came from, but just now, it hit me,” he said. “Life is short. You’re a beautiful person. Embrace it. Embrace you. I sometimes get too serious. You’re moving to New York and I have to accept that and make sure we make the most out of it.”

  Barbara smiled. “I’m so glad to hear you say that,” she said. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear. And I am sorry for not discussing my divorce and move with you. I just thought it would be a surprise, a good surprise, and not a shock. But, thinking back on it, if it were reversed, I would have the same issues you had. I would have felt like I should have at least had some heads-up about what was going on.

  “Part of my thinking was that I didn’t want to bury you with all that was going on with my divorce. It wasn’t ugly or anything, but it was taxing.”

  Carter was empathetic. “I’m sure it was,” he said. “I’ve broken up with women and that was drama. I can only imagine what a divorce is like, and with kids involved . . . How are your kids?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m a little worried. At the tailgate I saw Lisa Godley—remember her?—and she was with someone who seemed sad. I asked her if she was okay and she said she was. But after a few minutes, she started talking about being single again with two kids. The transition can be harder for the children than the parents.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to really put in the time and effort to make sure they are okay,” he said. “That’s why I questioned you about moving so far away from their father.”

  “I was so mad when you said I was selfish I just didn’t even bother to tell you that my husband—ex-husband—and I picked New York together,” she said. “He’s an artist and can live wherever he wants. He wanted to go to New York to open a studio. I felt the least I could do was to move there, too, so he could be close to his children. So I had my job transfer me.

  “Pretty selfish, huh?”

  Carter felt like a fool. He had made leaps about Barbara’s character that were insulting. Turns out, she was the opposite of selfish when it came to her kids.

  “Wow, baby,” he said. “I guess I owe you a big apology. I’m so sorry. I should not have gone there with you. And I should have known better. That’s pretty awesome of you. Come on, let’s go get some dinner.”

  They had gotten back on course. They spent their dinner at The Bistro downtown, across from Nauticus, gossiping about what and whom they had seen at the tailgate and the game. The tension that enveloped them was released.

  “I tell you what, Ramona Detrick looks crazy,” Carter said.

  “Carter. That’s not nice,” Barbara countered. “It’s not like she didn’t look crazy in college. She just looks like herself. Hairstyle from the ’70s, clothes out of place. Even her glasses were not up to date. I don’t get it.”

  They laughed.

  “What about Peter? Did you see him?” Barbara asked.

  “Pete Lomax?” Carter said. “Yeah, I saw him. I talked to him. And you know what he was talking about?”

  “Women,” Barbara said.

  “Every word he had to say was about getting with a woman,” Carter said. “I don’t like him so I will say this: He told me that last night he banged Wendy Minor.”

  “You lying? Wendy is in a relationship with Andrew . . . I can’t remember his last name. The guy who is the TV anchor in Hampton.”

  “What? No, that’s not right. Andrew Blackwell is his name,” Carter said. “Andrew Blackwell is tight with Jimmy’s home boy, Rocco, who said Andrew was involved with Dylcea, the cheer-leader who fell from the top of the pyramid that time and broke her ankle. She’s looking great. Did you see her? She looks better than she did in college. She’s the vice president of marketing at Norfolk Southern or some big company.”

  “Well, I talked to Myron, the Alpha, and you know how crazy he is,” Barbara said. “He thought I was married. We stood there as I waited for Donna to come back from the bathroom at the game, and in five minutes, he pointed out three women that he had slept with in previous homecomings. One of them was Audrey Jackson; one was Judy Richie; and the third was Stacy Bridges. He was proud of it. I said, ‘Myron, who you sleeping with this weekend?’ He said, ‘I got two offers already. I’m holding out for a third.’ And he was dead serious.”

  “Well, he isn’t married, right? So, technically, he can do whatever he likes,” Carter said. “The thing about all those women you named is that they are all married.”

  “Well, Myron was married three years ago,” Barbara said, “so some of his dirt was done when he was wearing a wedding band . . . But who am I to judge.”

  “The difference between you and them is that we are in love,” Carter said. He had held back his feelings about Barbara the entire weekend. He poured her another glass of chardonnay from the bottle he had ordered. “They were doing their ‘What happens at homecoming stays at homecoming’ thing. It was for simple gratification or to just be bad. We are connected out of love. I ain’t judging them for what they do; they have to do what they have to do. But I know we are on a love thing.”

  Barbara smiled. “See, this is the Carter I know and love. I don’t know who that other person was.”

  Carter pulled out his cell phone to check for calls, raising Barbara’s awareness that there appeared to be someone else in Carter’s life. He sensed it and quickly generated another conversation.

  “So, Jimmy,” he said, “he had to put Regina in her place last night. Apparently, she pretty much threw herself at him.”

  “Really?” Barbara said. “And he turned her down? That’s surprising. I’m not saying anything about Jimmy. I’m just saying a man has an opportunity to have sex and there is no way his wife will know about it—Regina is married and lives in another city—and he turns it down? That’s not the norm. Plus, we used to spend a lot of time with them in college on double dates. They have a serious past. Why would he not do it? His wife would never know.”

  “Because he would know,” Carter said. “Some of us—a very few of us—are built differently. We don’t have to screw anything that is in front of us. I admit: There are only a handful of men who have those kinds of standards and those kinds of morals. This guy is one of them. I have known him since he was nineteen, maybe twenty.

  “When he was with Regina, he had plenty of chances to cheat on her in college. I was with him when he was propositioned by, uh, shit, what’s her name? She was the SGA vice president one year. From North Carolina.”

  “Oh,” Barbara said, “we, the women, called her ‘Booty Girl’ for obvious reasons. And we know it was real because they weren’t even doing butt injections back then. Anyway, you’re talking about Melissa.”

  “Yes, Melissa. But I thought she was from Staten Island,” Carter said. “Anyw
ay, when he was dating Regina and we were living off of Azalea Garden Road, I remember Melissa coming over the apartment. It was a Friday night and Regina went to a party at Hampton with her girls. I don’t know how Melissa ended up at our place, but I opened the door and there she was. She liked to show off her body—and her booty. We weren’t mad at her, either.”

  “Yeah, I bet you weren’t,” Barbara said.

  Carter smiled. “Anyway, I was surprised to see her there,” he said. “Before I could even ask her anything, Jimmy came from the back and walked her in. I just stood there . . . ”

  “Watching her butt, right?” Barbara cracked.

  “Can’t lie, yes. That girl had the best body—other than yours, of course—I have ever seen,” Carter said.

  Barbara curled her lips and looked at him sideways. “Anyway,” he continued, “I stayed in the living room—hey, come to think of it, where were you that night? It was a Friday and we spent every Friday together. Who were you off seeing on the side?”

  Barbara curled her lips again and looked at him sideways. “Anyway, a few hours later, they came from out the back. He walked her out, to her car. When he came back, I was like, ‘Dog, what’s up?’ He said, ‘Nothing. I couldn’t do it. Good girl. Phat ass; oh, my God. I did squeeze it. I had to. And it felt like it looked—luscious. But I couldn’t do that to Regina. I told her about Regina. And this girl said, ‘I know about you and Regina. I know Regina. I’m not trying to take you away from her. We’re just here in the moment.’ I don’t know, man. I would have to look Regina in the eyes tomorrow. I don’t want that on my conscience.’ I said, ‘Dude, you’re better than most.’ ”

  Barbara wondered about Carter. Was he “better than most”? As a woman, she knew Marlena calling him “baby” meant he had been intimate with her. Or they had built something that was headed that way. In a sense, she could not blame Carter; she was married and felt trapped, as if there was no way out. She even told him that because of the children, “I can’t go anywhere.”

  And the fact that he was having a once-a-year-affair with her meant that he was not above doing the unscrupulous, even if they declared their relationship special.