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When Mack informed me that Ciara had left early, I slumped. Something wasn’t right; I just knew it. Ciara and I had grown to love each other over the past several weeks, and though I hadn’t known her for long, I didn’t think she would duck out of her own party early.
But I didn’t push it. Instead, I tried my best to enjoy the rest of the party and leave a little early myself.
As I entered our empty apartment, I sighed. Even though she was only gone for the night, the place felt hollow without Ciara’s physical presence. It reminded me that I would have to get used to this loneliness when she went off to school.Or maybe I can just go with her,I thought with a smile.
As that thought settled me, I went into the bedroom to undress, feeling the weight of the clothes dropping to the floor as if they were anvils I had been carrying on my shoulders. While I loved my collection of suits, I hadn’t wanted to dress up and perform for a crowd. After ten minutes of smiling for the guests, and the cameras, my mouth was frozen in place and my jaw ached. And occasionally, I would get a whiff of someone’s perfume that was similar to my mom’s, or I would look around expecting to see her working the room, and I would have to remember that she wasn’t there. Grief had hit me hard, and I couldn’t shove it all in a box the way I had before. The very idea of having to be “on” made me tired. But I was informed—in no uncertain terms, by Mack—that the rehearsal and dinner were mandatory.And everyone in the wedding party must attend, she had said, giving me a stern look.
Despite my earlier misgivings and brief moments of pain, the rehearsal and dinner had quieted my grief for a moment, had reminded me that I wasn’t alone. Dad had pulled me aside and shook my hand, tears in his eyes as he told me my mom would’ve been proud of me and would have loved Ciara.Take comfort in that,he said, pulling me to him for a hug. And it was a nice moment.
But now, as I stood in my apartment alone, the feelings overtook me once again.
Maybe I can stave them off for longer if I just hear Ciara’s voice.
I knew it was supposedly bad luck to see Ciara before the wedding, but no one said anything abouthearingher. I dialed her number, tapping my fingers as the dial tone droned on.
Finally, she picked up. “Nathan?”
“Hey, pretty girl,” I said, sighing with relief. “Mack told me you left early.”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not feeling great. Brooklyn took me back to the hotel. Are you home?”
“Yep. All by myself.” I tried to make it sound upbeat, but even I could hear the desolation in my voice.
“Everything okay?” Ciara asked.
Tears came to my eyes with those two little words. I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand, trying to keep it together enough that Ciara didn’t hear the pain in my voice. “Yeah, I’m fine, my love. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
She sighed. “My love. That’s new.”
“Well, it’s true. You are my love. You have my heart.”
There was silence for a moment before she said, “And you have mine. Of course.”
I squinted at the off note in her voice. But still, I didn’t press it. “Well, I don’t wanna keep you,” I said instead. “I’m sure you ladies have a beauty ritual to go through to get ready for tomorrow.”
“That we do,” Ciara said, sounding distracted. The sound was muffled for a second, and I could hear someone in the background even with the low sound. Soon, though, Ciara came back on the line. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I won’t. See you in the morning; I love you.”
Another pause before Ciara replied, “I love you, too. Bye.” And then, she hung up.
I sighed, dropping the phone onto the couch next to me. More tears came to my eyes that I didn’t even bother to wipe. At that moment, I wished for my mom, feeling her absence acutely and painfully. Though she was never particularly affectionate with me, she was one of the only ones that could get me out of my funk when I was feeling bad about myself or my lack of accomplishments.
I could see her in my mind’s eye, the glint of determination in her eyes as she gently squeezed my arm.You are a Hemingway,she would say.You’re destined for greatness and success. You will pave the way for your siblings, who look up to you. And one day, you will lead this family. I believe in you. Chin up. You’ll do great.
I tried repeating those words to myself, hoping to get the same feeling I got when my mom said them. But it just wasn’t working.
“Mom,” I whispered. “Why did you have to leave me?”
Suddenly, a loud banging came from my front door. I blinked, startled, then looked at my watch. It was close to midnight; who the hell was banging on my door like they were the police?
“This better be good,” I muttered, quickly wiping my face. I jogged down the stairs and opened the door.
“Nigga, are youcrying?” John asked. He looked behind him at Brandon, Damien, and Harold. “Yo, he’s sittin’ in the darkcrying.I told you we shoulda come sooner.”
“I’m not crying,” I said, clenching my teeth to stem any incoming tears. Of course, John would call me out on something I wanted to hide from the world.
I sighed. “Come in.”
