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“Didn’t you do that already?” I asked, my attention now on the white-draped tabletop. “You apologized. We’re good. It was a long time ago, anyway.”
“Brooklyn, look at me.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“If you can’t look at me then we aren’t good. You’re angry at me?”
I wanted to scream“Yes, negro!”I wanted to admit how deeply he’d hurt and disappointed me all those years ago. I wanted to blame him for the shitty mess I’d made of my life trying to chase what I’d only felt with him. I wanted to admit all that and add that coupled with my rage was a longing so deep one could drown in it. My feelings for him were real and dynamic and complicated. Maybe he needed to know that and maybe he didn’t, but the best I could do at that moment was to rise from my seat and join Sharla and Messiah onstage.
VANN
My mom always smelled like a mixture of coconut oil and lavender, and I deeply inhaled the scents as she tightened her arms around me in the middle of my sister’s living room. She hugged me like she didn’t ever want to let me go, and I reciprocated because for all her weirdness, she was everything to me and I’d missed her. I left Guilty for a lot of reasons when I was younger, but she wasn’t one of them. People’s reactions to her? The way they treated me because of their beliefs and biases? Those things had a lot to do with it, along with my father’s rejection, but not my sweet mama.
Releasing me, she held my face in her hands and smiled. “You look good, better! Looks like you’ve gained some weight!”
Returning her smile, I nodded. “Yeah, ain’t been doing much of nothing but sitting around here and eating up all the food Jovani’s dad keeps cooking and bringing over here.”
“Well, I’m glad. You cut your hair?” she said, reaching up to rub a soft hand over my newly bald head.
After sound check, I’d asked Jovani about a barber who might work on Sundays and was directed to a guy his father used. Initially, I was just going to get a trim, but once I sat in Zameer Winton’s chair, I was inspired to get it all cut off.
“Yes, ma’am. What you think?”
“I like it. Nothing wrong with changing it up.”
Behind her, I spied Rabbit hugging Sharla and shouted his name. In response, he released Sharla and rushed over to me, yanking me into a hug. “Vann-Vann! I’m so happy to see your ass!”
I chuckled as I patted his back. “Good to see you too, man!”
Backing away from me, Rabbit loudly declared, “Your ass done cut all your hair off!”
I grinned. “I did. You like it, man?”
“Naw.”
That was Rabbit, always brutally honest.
“I got a new suit for Pattycake’s party. You like it, Vann-Vann?” he asked.
Both Mama and Rabbit arrived dressed for the benefit, her in a nice black dress and my uncle in a suit. They both looked good.
“Yeah, man. Looks good!”
“Where your clothes at? Your ass got a new suit?” he questioned.
Chuckling, I said, “Yeah, gonna go get dressed now.”
CHAPTER17
BROOKLYN
The huge space felt regal—walls draped in shimmery gold fabric, large, round tables covered in white with gorgeous centerpieces of royal blue roses and gold pebbles encircled by bottles of champagne, red wine, and white wine, all donated by a black liquor company located in Texas. Before chairs also draped in white sat place settings atop which lay elegant menus on thick card stock.
Rectangular tables also covered in white cloths lined the walls holding donated auction items and bid forms attached to clipboards. The donations were impressive—one-of-a-kind pieces of artwork and sculptures, jewelry, gift certificates from local boutiques, designer purses, and even a voucher from a local travel agency. The big-ticket items, including dinner at Lorenzo Higgs’s—Sharla’s famous author father-in-law’s—home would actually be bid on live, although this was supposed to be a silent auction. Sharla thought the live bidding would be exciting for the guests and I was inclined to agree.
The room was empty of people save for me and the wait staff. I’d arrived early to be sure everything was as it should’ve been, and it was. Sighing, I recalled this being my life once upon a time. As the wife of a wealthy man, I’d been at the top of Romey society, an expected attendee at countless charity functions, a proud member of volunteer organizations including the Romey, Tennessee, chapters of The Links, Inc., Jack and Jill of America, and Mahogany Women in Motion. I’d donated innumerable hours of my time and amounts of Isaac’s money for various community programs because it was a passion of mine. Giving back was essential for me given how I grew up. I didn’t benefit from these organizations as a child as my mother didn’t know to make those connections for me, but I had been blessed to live near community centers, one of which held a weekly free dance class. That class is where I sprouted wings and learned to fly, to allow at least my mind to escape the grimy claws of poverty. That dance class gave me the tools to earn a scholarship to Romey U, which led me to so many other wonderful things and people.
Members of a jazz quartet entered the ballroom and began to set up on stage. Comprised of members of the university’s marching band, they would be providing music as guests arrived up until the program began. I smiled, feeling accomplished in the few weeks I’d been working this new job. Although much of the event was planned before I came onboard, I’d made some suggestions that Sharla admitted would enhance the experience. The pain of my divorce had largely taken away my desire for volunteerism but working on this event had sparked a flame inside of me. I might not have been a rich man’s wife anymore and maybe I was too embarrassed to recommit to the organizations I’d once been an active member of, but I could still give back, and at that moment, I actually wanted to.
