Page 2 of Lease to Love

Backyard Band songs blasted from the open door of the corner store at the end of the block. Somebody had a grill going nearby, the smell of charcoal and barbecue drifting through the warm June air. Kids darted through a spray of water from a busted hydrant, shrieking with laughter while their mothers and grandmothers watched from brownstone stoops. A group of old heads argued over dominoes on somebody's porch like national security depended on the outcome, and one uncle was getting increasingly loud about the fact that he was losing.

“That's because you can't count!” somebody yelled.

“I can count just fine!”

“Then why you down forty?”

The entire porch erupted into laughter. I smiled without even realizing it.

It was the sound of Langston Park. The sound of home.

The place that knew me. The place that had watched me grow up. The place where everybody knew Mama worked too hard and where I could never sneak and do anything because somebody's auntie would report me before I even made it home.

It wasn't just a neighborhood. It was family.

Three aunties sat on folding chairs watching everything and everybody at once. One of them pointed at us.

"Y'all better not be out here acting grown just because you graduated!"

We waved.

"We aren’t!" Autumn called back.

"Pshh… I am!" I yelled with a shameless little smirk.

The aunties cackled.

Autumn fell back into step beside me and automatically looped her arm through mine. Neither of us even thought about it anymore. We'd been attached at the hip for so long our bodies just knew the routine.

Mama and Aunt Sage had matching pictures hanging on their walls of us at thirteen months old. Matching Strawberry Shortcake onesies. Matching pacifiers. Leaning into each other while we took our first wobbly steps.

Most everybody learned how to walk. Autumn and I learned how to walk together.

“You get a pass on one or two bad ideas,” Autumn decided. “Only because your good ideas are usually ridiculous enough to make up for them.”

I grinned. “Thank you.”

“The dresses you made for prom were incredible.”

“Yes, they were.”

“Our graduation cap decorations?”

I lifted my chin proudly. “Impeccable.”

“I didn't forget, Miss Most Fashionable.”

I snorted. The title had been one of my proudest achievements of senior year.

“Just making sure,” I said. “I may not be Most Likely To Succeed, or Valedictorian, or whatever-other-itorian you've got going on, but I can sew a dress, style an outfit, and craft some shit better than anybody else.”

“Believe me,” Autumn said, “I know.”

The smile on her face softened before she continued, “I'm gonna have to FaceTime you every morning before class. Gotta make sure I don't leave my dorm looking crazy.”

I groaned, my amusement fading on the spot.

Because there it was again. The reminder.