by Nikki Harmon
After I close the app, I glance at my Facebook icon. I see a few notifications. I glance up at Viv, but she is busy at the bar talking to Elena. I hate to be “that” girl at the club all in her phone, but I pull up my Facebook anyway. I have a message from Candace. It’s a friend request. I confirm it and go to her page. Her profile picture takes my breath away. It’s just a close-up of her, but somehow my heart still skips a beat.
I write a quick message on her wall. “Happy New Year to you and your family, Candace. Sorry I missed you in Philly, maybe next year?” I glance at her picture again and am about to close the app and put my phone away when I see a message pop up. It’s her. “Hi Dee, Happy New Year to you, too but it’s just me now. Thought about you a lot tonight, like every New Year’s Eve. Probably shouldn’t say that. Sorry. Wine …”
A current goes through me. I pause and read back through her message. “What do you mean, just you?”
She responds, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about in Philly.” My heart starts racing and I don’t know why. I mean, I know why but … slow down … slow down. Take a breath, Dee.
I look at Viv. She is laughing and flirting with the Elena. She notices me and smiles. She mouths, “You OK?” I nod yes and wave her back to her conversation. I stare at my phone and bite my lip.
I type, “Oh.” She replies, “Where are you?” I respond, “I’m in LA with Viv. Where are you?” She writes, “Albuquerque. I got in this morning.” I type back, “Can I come see you?” A pause, then she responds, “Yes!” I type, “I’ll be there tomorrow. Sweet dreams.” I close the app and put my phone away.
Feeling anxious and excited, I look for Viv but she is back on the dance floor with Elena. I head out to join them and I can’t stop smiling. My phone vibrates and I look down at a picture of a smiling Candace raising a glass of wine to me. Viv sees the picture and says, “What???” But I yell, “I’ll tell you about it later. Your friend wants to dance.” I spin her around to Elena and make eye contact with an unattached beauty. The DJ puts on “It’s Time for the Percolator”, and the whole club loses its collective mind. I dance my happiness into the universe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
On New Year’s Day, I manage to get a 3:00 p.m. flight to Albuquerque by going stand-by. Viv was not at all mad that I cut our visit short. I actually think she was more excited than me when I showed her the messages. And I think she may have already made a date with Elena for that night. Viv is not one to be patient. The flight is short but sweet. I vacillate between being excited and hopeful to being cautious and practical. I try to nap, but that is a lost cause and not even Steven King can distract me. My stomach has butterflies and I fight to keep my composure.
When I finally get to baggage claim, I am tired. I step out of the airport to look for a taxi and am again enthralled by the sky. The sun is setting and the contrast of the glowing orange clouds against the clear azure sky above makes me want to weep. The arrival of a cab interrupts my reverie but the driver understands. He gets out to gaze as well. I can hear him sigh. A minute later, we look at each other and smile.
“That’s why I moved out here, young lady. Now, can I help you with your bags?”
I nod. His gentle, pleasant conversation is just what I need for the drive to Candace’s house. On the way, I text her that I will be there in a few minutes. She just sends an emoji with big wide eyes. I laugh. The driver drops me off at her house and I tip him well. Her block is weirdly quiet until I remember that it’s New Year’s Day and most people are recovering from something.
I walk up her steps, familiar and unfamiliar to me now, and I ring the bell. She answers the door in a simple but becoming yellow wrap dress. A matching scarf that drapes over her shoulder ties her hair back. She looks beautiful, but I try not to notice much. She moves back to let me in and I feel self-conscious about my bags. I lug them in and try to set them down gracefully and out of the way.
“Happy New Year,” I say.
“Happy New Year, Dee” she replies.
She closes the door behind us and we embrace. I inhale. She smells sweet and spicy, like ginger. When I open my eyes, I can see her dining table is set for dinner. There are flowers and candles and wine glasses. She grins at me and my stomach starts rumbling.
“So, you can you cook?” I laugh.
She looks insulted. “Of course, I can cook! My mama didn’t raise three girls and not teach us how to cook. Come on. I’ll show you.” She takes my hand and walks me to the table. Black-eyed peas with turkey legs, collard greens, candied yams, corn bread, and tamales are all laid out in matching dishes.
“It’s ready. Would you like some wine?” she asks.
“Oh God, yes I would. Thanks.”
I take a seat while she pours and serves us both. She says the grace and we begin to eat. The food is delicious, but after a minute I put down my fork and look at her.
“Am I really here? I feel like this is a dream or I’m on some kind of trip. You know, Viv gave me weed. I just…this is crazy. I can’t believe I’m here and you’re here.” I shake my head.
“OK, tell me what happened,” I say.
She sits back and looks at me.
“OK,” she replies. She takes a deep breath then just blurts it out all in a rush, “Ramon and I did not work out. We went to couples therapy and we ended up talking about you and our relationship in high school and when I told him you had come out to visit …”
She pauses and shakes her head.
“He couldn’t really forgive me for cheating on him and he just couldn’t get past my past with you. And I … I tried but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either.” She paused, thinking. “And I was honest about that. But I wanted to stay anyway, for the kids, but he was angry at me and they could see that and it just wasn’t going to work. So he left and took the kids with him.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say, waiting. She takes another big breath and continues.
“So, I went home at Christmas to tell my family about that…and to tell them that I am gay.”
“Oh!” is all that I can manage.
“For years, no, for my whole life, I have done what they wanted. I have tried to live up to their expectations, but where has that gotten me? I moved to New Mexico to get away from them so I could be my own person, but I’m not, I wasn’t. I was still living by my mother’s rules, still doing what she says. I’m a grown woman. Why am I still trying to live my life to please my mother?” she asks.
I shake my head and hold my tongue.
“I mean seriously, Dee. When I was out to dinner with you, I felt like that was where I was supposed to be. I didn’t feel weird or awkward. Nobody pointed fingers at us or even paid any attention to us. Why should I be miserable because my mother might be embarrassed at church? She should love me no matter what. And if she has a problem, that’s just it, that’s her problem. I am choosing to be free, I am choosing to be happy,” she declares. She could not be more beautiful in her determination. I am trying not to notice.
I am speechless, but I have tears in my eyes. I know what a big step this is for her, for anybody, and I am happy for her. I am trying to remain neutral, to not think ahead, to not guess or imagine or hope. I want to be supportive. I want to be a good friend. I nod. I smile. I close my eyes and try to shake off hope.
“When the therapist made me talk about you, it took me back to who I was back then. When I was your girlfriend, I felt like I could do and be anything. I felt like I was truly myself.”
“I recently had the exact same thought, but I thought it might be, you know, the weed or something,” I say. We laugh.
“We were good together, Candace. I’m really, so, so very sorry that I ruined that. I was young and immature and it was all so new and so perfect and I was just so jealous…”
“Stop, Dee. I know you are sorry and so am I, but that was the past. I have forgiven you for that. And I don’t want you to carry that anymore, OK? Can you forgive yourself for it?”
“Yeah,” she says. “We were just kids but I have a question for you, the grown-up Dee.”
“Yes?” I say in my most grown up and sultry voice.
“Are you seeing anybody right now?” she asks.
I shake my head and say, “No, ma’am.”
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” she asks.
I want to say something like ‘maybe we should wait, you’re new to all this, you’re just getting out of a marriage’ but instead I say, “Yes.” I’m suddenly choked with emotion.
“I don’t know how this would work, but I know my heart still beats for you. I don’t know how or why but when I saw you, when I kissed you, I knew I was still in love with you. It doesn’t even seem possible after all these years…but I do love you, still.”
I look at her and shake my head. I feel utterly amazed.
She takes my hands in hers and leans forward to kiss my tear. It feels like a blessing. I open my eyes and laugh. She laughs too. I lift my head and kiss her lips. They are soft and sweet and full of the love and passion I remember.
“Candace, I know we have a lot of things to figure out, but I just want to enjoy this. This day, your face, this relief I feel. I know I went looking for you, but somehow I feel like you found me!”
“Sorry it took me so long.” She looks genuinely remorseful.
“It’s OK. I think I’m finally ready to be found.”
I catch my breath and smile at her smiling at me. I’m nervous but excited all the same. I feel happy, hopeful … and whole.
“Try the black-eyed peas, Dee, before they get cold. That’s my signature dish.”
I turn back to my dinner and still smiling, I begin to eat. It’s delicious. I look up to tell her so but her gaze silences me. I remember that look. She still loves me. After all this time, she still loves me. I close my eyes for a moment and offer up thanks. When I open them, I begin my life again, with Candace.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special thanks to my fellow creative sisters; Angelou Deign, Yvonne Jones, Aishah Shahidah Simmons, Kelly Ward, Roxana Walker-Canton, and Julie Yarbrough, who took the time to read my manuscript and give me honest feedback. But most of all, thanks for the wonderful support and encouragement. I especially want to express my gratitude to Yvonne Jones, who guided me through this maze of self-publishing, and availed me of her editing expertise. I also want to thank Marva Smith for her excellent copyediting and wonderful words of wisdom. I would also like to thank Melicia Escobar, CNM who helped me keep my midwifery within the realm of reality, though I still took some liberties. Finally, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge two excellent women who have passed on but whose friendship, generosity of spirit and unfailing support still inspire me, Leslie Esdaile Banks and Sharon Campbell Evans.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Acknowledgements
