Today was a good day. And not because Ice Cube was rapping on the “oldies” station, the name some disrespectful person in radioland had given 90s music. Today was the big “M” day—moving day—and the biggest day I’d ever had.
I breathed in the freshly painted walls and looked around the room, taking in my new home. I wanted to explore: push buttons, open and shut cabinets, play with the thermostat, and revel in the fact that my mom wasn’t here to yell at me for running up the bill.
I toyed with the wood blinds that covered the windows in the living room and peered out. The neighborhood was quiet, neat rows of cookie-cutter houses, even-spaced rosebushes and even-height trees. Even the kids who skipped rope in their driveway were quiet. Everything seemed perfect.
This was the complete opposite of the run-down apartment complex on the outskirts of Atlanta where I grew up. Ten-year-old me would’ve been ecstatic at the upgrade, but thirty-two-year-old me was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
My boyfriend Cameron and I were moving to our four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath home in the ’burbs of Atlanta, though technically it was Cameron’s house. Thanks to my poor decisions in college, I had no power and bad credit. Free pizza for credit cards. Damn, I’d been greedy, stupid. Stupid and dependent on a man.
And I could tell from the excitement that made Cameron bounce with every step and the light that ignited his already warm eyes that he was just tugging me down the path of adulthood. Suburbia. Everlasting commitment. Marriage.
What in the hell have I gotten myself into?
My palms were a soupy mess, I wiped them on my shorts, while my heart pounded against my chest.
The screechy squawks of packing tape being ripped off cardboard and the sound of occasional grunts coming from Cameron, who was unpacking boxes and shifting furniture, forced tendrils of guilt down my spine. He was grinding away getting things done while I sat motionless, alternating between Disney Princess happy and trembling like a frightened kitten.
My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it from the pocket of my cutoffs. Nikki’s name flashed across the screen.
I pressed the answer button, but before I could greet her, she said, “How’s your scary ass doing?”
“I’m good. Just getting things organized.” I lied easily to my best friend from college. And like all best friends, she knew I was full of shit.
“You’re a damn lie.”
“What’s up, Nik?” My annoyance was clear in my tone. “You know I’m busy.”
“The girls and I were talking . . . and anyway, I volunteered as tribute.”
The girls she was referring to were my two other best friends from college, Sienna and Kara. We were always up in each other’s business, so I wasn’t surprised they’d gotten together to discuss God knows what.
“Volunteered for what?”
“Volunteered to talk some sense into you. We know you have cold feet about moving in with Cam.”
What did they think I would do—run away from home? I squelched down the flare of irritation that prickled my skin. My friends meant well, but I wasn’t in the mood for the all men aren’t like your daddy lecture. I knew that already. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing a bunch of domestic shit like buying mulch and analyzing a dozen gray paint samples with stupid names like Mole’s Breath.
A roll of sweat trickled from my neck onto my chest. I used my hand as a fan. I was pretty sure the sweat was from the heat, not anxiety.
“Hellooooo, Raina? You still there?”
“Yes.” I modulated my tone to my late-night radio personality I used for my job. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Sure you aren’t. And don’t take on that bougie-ass radio therapist tone with me. You’re talking to a friend, not a caller from your show.” She smacked her lips. “Anyway, can you talk?”
I looked at my guy, who was whistling as he drilled studs above the fireplace to mount our big screen TV.
“Not right now,” I whispered.
“Good. You can just listen. Cam is a great guy, and this is a good step. You’ve been together for six years, and he’s been more than patient with your crazy ass. Who else would propose three times, get rejected, and then buy a house with you?”
“First of all—” I stopped myself when I caught Cameron’s attention. His eyebrows crinkled, and his eyes scanned me. I knew he was checking to see if everything was good. I gave him a smile and thumbs-up. “It’s Nikki. She’s just wishing us good