by Nicole Falls
“Well dag, I’m two for two with my assumptions this morning, huh?”
I laughed, neither confirming nor denying the very accurate self-assessment of Emerson.
“So…you ready for your reunion? I shouldn’t be worried about sending you back up to Braxton to any of your old work, should I?”
“You just refuse to give my town its respect of calling it by its name, huh?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question, woman.”
Emerson giggled, “You definitely don’t have to worry about any of my old work being in Ragston. I didn’t even date in high school. You know Chuck wasn’t letting me fraternize with any of those worldly kids of Westfall High like that.”
I had to laugh at her choice of words. One of the things that Emerson and I had bonded over was our parents shared a religion. It had affected the both of us in significant ways over the years, leading to years of disappointment and estrangement.
“Speaking of fraternizing with worldly folks, you wanna hear something wild?” I said, launching into the details my meeting with Alice the other day.
I felt like Emerson was the only person I could have a conversation with about my struggles with deciding how to resolve this situation because she knew how it felt to be in my position. She still had a reasonably good relationship with her mother, but she and her father had yet to come to terms with their rift, despite it being something that I knew really bothered her. She hadn’t shared the full details of their disagreement and eventual dissolved relationship, but she gave just enough for me to know that it was a decision that she, if given more of a choice, wouldn’t have been the one to make.
“So, what are you gonna do?” Emerson asked, gently.
“I…” I sighed, running a hand over my head, “I honestly don’t know. This is a lot, you know? Pushing aside decades of hurt to what? Just forgive her and act like the single most defining thing in my life never happened? To bring her around my future children, have them get used to her presence in their lives, and then disappear because we don’t go to the Kingdom Hall and we celebrate birthdays? Forget all of the times I cried in MaDear and Pops’ arms, asking why my parents didn’t want me? How I am supposed to just up and forgive that?”
Emerson said nothing, got up and came to sit next to me on my side of the booth. She used the pads of her fingers to wipe away tears I hadn’t even realized were streaming down my face before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.
“I’m so so sorry, you have to deal with this, Roosevelt,” she murmured, “I can’t even imagine the depths of the conflict you’re feeling right now. You are definitely entitled to take your time with this. You don’t owe her anything, and if she’s truly sincere about trying to build a relationship with you, she should respect that this isn’t a decision that you can make quickly or lightly.”
“Can’t believe this shit got me out here crying in public,” I said, shaking my head.
“Hush,” Emerson said, before pressing another kiss to my lips, “I actually think it’s kinda sexy, you being all in touch with your emotions. Kinda wanna mount you right here, but I’ll behave.”
“You know you wild, right?”
“But it made you laugh didn’t it? Then my job here is done.”
When Chantrelle brought our plates of food back to the table, Emerson stayed on my side of the booth, chowing down. She’d gotten Petey’s famous caramel pecan challah French toast today, and I’d gotten the same omelet that I got every time I came here. Based on the moans and groans she was emitting while eating, I could tell that Emerson was enjoying her breakfast.
“We can’t come back here tomorrow,” she said suddenly, in between bites, “I’ve probably gained ten pounds in the two days we’ve had breakfast here.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” a deep voice intoned above us.
I looked up to see my boy Petey grinning down at Emerson and me.
“What up, duke?”
“Shiiiiiid, can’t call it. I had to come out here and see it for myself though,” he replied.
“See what for yourself?” I asked.
“Channy said you been in here with—in her words—a baddie with a fatty for two days in a row and I just knew she was lying, so I came out to see it for myself.”
“Chill,” I warned, as Emerson looked on in amusement.
Pete slid into the booth opposite us, extending his hand in Emerson’s direction, “Peter Williams and I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss…?”
“Emerson,” she responded.
“You just gon flirt with my girl right in my face though, dog?”
“If she’s truly your girl, then she can’t be taken,” Pete replied smoothly, making us all laugh.
“Man, if you don’t get your Billy Dee lookin’ ass outta here!”
“Nah, for real man, I came over to tell you that Gram Debra wants you to come by the house for dinner one of these days. She said, and I quote, I can’t believe that nappy headed negro has been in town and ain’t been by to see me! So, I’m passing the message along.”
Miss Debra was Pete’s grandma and one of MaDear’s running buddies. You rarely saw one without the other around the neighborhood and at various different functions around the city. I’d been planning to make my way around there to see her, but right now it was a little too hard to see her and not immediately think of MaDear. I was going to have to get over that though, because if she was sending word through Petey that meant it was only a matter of time before she showed up on my stoop delivering the news herself. Since I had no relationship with my maternal grandparents at all, she nominated herself to be my second grandmother and treated me no differently than she did Pete and Chan. She was there for all of my significant milestones, right alongside MaDear, cheering me on to greatness. I’d had a bit of a reprieve since she didn’t live in the neighborhood anymore, living clear across town with one of Pete’s childless aunties, but I knew I needed to go see her soon.
“Aye man, tell me when you’re going over there so I can make sure I’m there. It’ll be nice not to be the one being grilled about when I’m gonna give her some great-grandbabies for once.”
“She still on that kick?”
“Harder than ever, bruh.”
“Damn. Aight, I’ll make sure to text you when I make the plan to go over and see her at Dawn’s. Take the heat off you for a lil bit.”
“My nigga!” Pete exclaimed, holding his fist out for a dap,” Aight lemme get back in this damn kitchen since Kelvin’s raggedy ass called out once again, so I’m by myself back there.”
“You need to fire that nigga,” I said.
“Can’t do that when he owns one-third of the business,” Pete shrugged.
“You and Chan gotta buy him out, man. Y’all basically running this joint on your own anyway.”
“Man, who you telling? Chan is on her Soul Food we a family and one fist strikes a mighty blow nonsense and ain’t tryna hear me tho. But…we can talk about that later, man. I’ma let you and your lady get back to your breakfast. Nice meeting you again, miss lady.”
“Likewise,” Emerson replied.
When Pete walked away, Emerson was still staring a hole into the side of my face as I ate, not saying a word.
“What?” I said finally after her piercing gaze became a bit unnerving.
“You called me your girl…”
“Okay?”
“Twice. Once just a minute ago with Peter and once before at the studio with Nat.”
“I’m aware.”
“Am I?”
“Do you wanna be?”
“Don’t answer my question with a question.”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to then.”
“I’m serious, Roosevelt. I…we never…you…” she trailed off, turning her head away from me, clearly flustered.
I grabbed the hand she had resting on the table, interlinking our fingers and squeezing until she turned her
attention back toward me.
“Look, I know you aren’t looking for anything serious right now, but you can’t deny that there’s something undeniable here and I’d be foolish if I didn’t try to see what could be. So, to answer your question, I’ma borrow some words from my boy Freddie Jackson,” I said before launching into the song, “You are my lady; you’re everything I need and more.”
Emerson shook her head, laughing, “You are so freakin’ corny.”
“You like my corny self though, don’t you? Was ready to throw hands with lil Channy over me if it came to it and everything.”
“Shut up!” she exclaimed, slapping me across the chest.
“Wow, this relationship is already abusive.”
I felt her stiffen as soon as the word relationship left my mouth, but I wasn’t taking it back. I said what I said. It made no sense for us to dance around it. I wasn’t in the business of dealing in the abstract. I was feeling her and knew she was feeling me, so there was nothing else to it in my mind.
“You don’t think the r-word is a little strong? I mean, I live in California, you live here. It’s not exactly feasible to think…” Emerson trailed off.
“I’ll ignore that because it’s your fear talking.”
“You make it sound so easy. I barely managed to maintain a relationship with someone who lived in the Valley, but you think I’ll be able to sustain this one spanning multiple time zones?”
“Well not with that defeatist attitude,” I replied smoothly.
Emerson sputtered, but I continued speaking, “It’ll work because it’s us. That other relationship didn’t work because that nigga wasn’t me. I’m not backing down because you’re scared, and you don’t scare me. Now if at least putting in the effort to see what this could be isn’t something you’re interested in? Then just let me know, and I’ll think about letting you lease my body so that you can have your way with it on demand. Otherwise, I’m about to say the one word a man should never say to a woman, but that is absolutely necessary right now, relax.”
“This is heavy breakfast conversation,” Emerson sighed, effectively signaling that she was done with this conversation.
“Nice segue. I’ll let you cook though because I dropped a lot on you just now, but do know, we will be revisiting this conversation at some point.”
“Message received and noted.”
A few hours later found us back at the studio, it was just Emerson and me, Rich had just taken off because he had a family emergency. One of his kids got it in his mind to break a world record, and Rich didn’t have all of the details, just that it involved marbles, some body orifice, and a trip to the emergency room. In the meantime, Emerson and I were hanging out messing around as Doug, the engineer, mastered the last song on my EP. I’d just finished recording the final song today and was pretty excited to hear the finished product. He and Rich were the only ones who’d listened to the final mixes on the previous songs, and they kept raving about how good they were. Rich wouldn’t stop going on and on about how I needed to at least upload them to SoundCloud or something instead of holding onto them for myself. I was reserving judgment after all this project wasn’t about that. This was fun for me, getting back in the stu, burning that midnight oil making sure compositions were just right, recording, then re-recording vocal takes—trying to outdo myself after each one. I’d forgotten how much making music energized me, which is precisely why I think MaDear stipulated this as a condition of her will. She always knew what I needed even when I thought I had it all under control.
“Hey,” I said, shifting Emerson’s attention from whatever she was looking at on her phone to me, “You never my question earlier. About the reunion, you ready for it? Are you excited?”
“Those are two different questions, sir, which would you like answered,” Emerson hedged.
“Fine, I’ll rephrase. How do you feel about the reunion?”
“I…I mean, it’s… Okay, I’m gonna go, but I’m not especially excited or whatever.”
“Didn’t you tell me you haven’t seen most of your classmates since you graduated? It’ll be fun to catch up with some of your old crew, right?”
“I mean…I really only had two friends back then, and we’ve actually already reconnected, so I’m not really super excited for any of it, honestly. If I had brought enough clothes, I would’ve just blown it off and stayed here with you.”
“Whaaaat? Reunions are a good time. I hear that’s when you get the chance to see who got fat, who got skinny, whose high school romance stood the test of time, flex on your haters with your glow up…all that.”
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Emerson laughed.
I joined her in laughter, “Nah, I actually missed my ten-year reunion a few years back, but Nat had hers a couple of years ago, and she definitely partook in all of those things. You said yours is a multi-day function, right?”
“Yep and once again I’ll be fifth wheeling it alongside Rocki and Charli,” Emerson sighed, “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“You wouldn’t happen to want to come to Ragston and my reunion with me, would you? Save me from the madness, maybe help me flex on a hater or two with your fine behind on my arm? It may make it a little more fun for me.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“Time away from the big city to clear your mind…and also more of that thing I did last night with my tongue right before we fell asleep the second time,” Emerson replied, with a wink.
“Well when you put it like that, how can I resist?”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Ok, that’s settled then,” Emerson declared with a smile, “Oh wait…we need to get you a flight back with me. Ooh and a place to stay for the weeke…shoot!”
“What?”
“Charli’s inn won’t be completed before then, and there aren’t many options of places for you to stay that aren’t someone I know’s house. And I already know trying to bunk you at Grace’s would be a no go.”
“A definite no-go for me.”
“Hey! She’s not all that bad,” Emerson weakly defended her sister.
“Bad enough to warrant you hopping a plane just to be out of her sight for a while. I’m good on that.”
“Okay, while you do make a very salient point, I maintain that on a larger scale, my sister really does mean well. She just…has a hard time figuring out how to handle me as a real live adult and not her little baby who needs constant care.”
“If you say so,” I replied, “How about your friends who live in town? None of them have a spare room for me to bunk in? Never mind all that, we can figure it out later. For now, let’s just plan on me driving us up to Michigan instead of you flying back. That way if push comes to shove and I have to stay in Detroit, I won’t be at your mercy.”
“Hey!”
“I’m joking, sweetheart. I just think it makes more sense for me to drive. It’s not that far, and we won’t have to bug your people about coming to get us from the airport on Friday morning, aight?”
“Fair enough. Thank you, Roosevelt. For coming with me. This…I…it just means a lot that you’re willing to put up with hanging out with a bunch of people you don’t know for an entire weekend just to make me happy.”
“Making you happy is just a perk, honestly. I’m more excited about all this free food I’m about to get this weekend.”
“Shut up!” Emerson laughed, slapping me across the chest.
“There go those abusive tendencies again.”
I didn’t know what I was thinking inviting Roosevelt up here to attend this reunion with me nor what he’d thought when he accepted the invitation. It was too late to dwell on either of those things now, however, as we merged onto I-75 from I-90 traveling towards Ragston. When I informed Rocki and Charli that I was bringing him with me, both of them responded with enthusiasm in our GroupMe chat. Charli with encouraging words about her seeing growth in my mental evolution
and Rocki with three simple emoji—an eggplant, the fingers giving a peace sign, and a bomb. That girl was too much. Chatting with them also solved the problem of lodging for Roosevelt though, as Charli offered up the carriage house on the Winterborne property in which she was currently staying until the renovations were completed. The house had three bedrooms and was plenty spacious, so it wouldn’t feel like we were imposing on her space. I’d decided to stay over there with Roosevelt, so it didn’t seem like I was just abandoning him after requesting his presence here.
I hadn’t spoken to Grace for any extended time since I’d been away beyond letting her know that I’d made it to Chicago safely and was coming back in the same fashion. She didn’t press for details, but I figured we could stop by the house for a quick second so that she could meet Roosevelt in person and she could see that he wasn’t an ax murderer.
“You all right over there?” Roosevelt asked.
I looked over at him and smiled. He’d been so great over these past few days, exhibiting an incredible amount of patience with me that I know I’d tried four times minimally. He remained unruffled though, taking my ridiculousness in stride.
“Yeah,” I replied, grabbing the hand he rested on the gear shaft as he drove, lacing our fingers together, “I’m all good.”
He raised our joined hands to his mouth, placing a kiss on mine before lowering them, “Good.”
“You just let me know if you want me to take over,” I offered knowing fully well that he’d refuse.
We’d been on the road a little over three hours with less than forty minutes to go. While I would have been chomping at the bit to hand over the driving reins to someone else, Roosevelt was perfectly content to keep driving and probably could have kept on for hours beyond. He told me that his love of driving long distances came from riding shotgun with his grandfather who was a truck driver. In the summers, Roosevelt would accompany him on long hauls that included anywhere from twelve to thirty-six hours of straight driving. This love of driving also came with an encyclopedic knowledge of the interstate system, I learned as Roosevelt spouted off random facts about the highways we traversed as we drove. It was cute, how nerdy he was about it, honestly.
