the Giants, Bills, Jets, Eagles, or your dream, the Kings, pick you up?”
That reminded me of why she bought the place. NormaJean wanted to be closer to me before I nixed Princeton for BSU, because my mother wanted me to have an HBCU experience. It was nice to be a factor when considering where she lived. But it was also a stark reminder of her disregard for my plans with Aivery after college. I wouldn’t bring it up now. It was late and I’d had a really good evening with NormaJean, seeing her newly renovated home and enjoying a delicious meal with her.
I pulled her into me for a hug, something she returned effortlessly. She hugged me tight and with a natural rhythm, she gazed up at me as I peered down on her. Then unusually, our mouths met and we deepened our embrace with a warm peck. It was intimate, but clean. My relationship with NormaJean was a hybrid of family and sensual companion. We no longer fucked—or kissed on the mouth—but she was a confidant and constant in my world I didn’t want to do without. She was a complication I wouldn’t undo until I had to.
“Stay,” she murmured. “I’ve got some good purple haze. And you can watch me get my life together while I tell you about the new guy I met in Paris.” Her gorgeous eyes blossomed wild with a new thought. “Or you can help me plan my thirty-fifth birthday!”
I found that funny. “As much as I would enjoy the laughs, I’ve got to check in with Ms. Wanda. Thanksgiving’s falling on her birthday this year. That’s a battle I can’t take on right now. I actually need to make sure her gift is in place.”
She pouted. “Okay.” Her berry lips met my upper cheek, above the beard. “Go! Enjoy the holiday with your family.” She released me.
“Hit me when you touch down. We can make plans to chill before Christmas break.” It would be her birthday season.
“Okay.” She ran her hand down my arm, then moved for the closet to grab my coat.
I could see the headlights from the car pulling up. NormaJean opened the door for me as I straightened my coat over my shoulders. She squeezed my hand as I walked out.
Ten minutes into the ride, I’d typed up a message to Tori, reminding her how rude it is to not check in after someone arranged for her transportation. I included a few coarse words and was about to hit send when her BBM came through. She said she had just made it home and tipped the driver twenty bucks. Then another message from her came through where she simply said, thanks.
My head fell back into the headrest as I exhaled a silent stressor away.
I slipped my Blackberry into my coat pocket and began my trek into the trailer park. The light posts lit the paths of the walkways, although I didn’t need them to find my way around here. I was all too familiar with this “campus.”
When we got off the Turnpike, I called my cousin, Renata, and told her I’d be in town soon. It wasn’t until the very moment that I began to get excited about being “home” and seeing them. My mother’s trailer was toward the back of the park, something I always hated when I moved there. It was too far from all my friends and family in the park, but I guessed that worked for her and Paul.
Even after dark, children were out playing. A group of guys had their lawn chairs bunched together as they drank beer and talked shit. The white people in this trailer park got loud and violent when they drank. The Hispanics were loud sober and when drinking; their music, too. The Blacks only got loud when talking sports and religion. A few spoke, but not many. It didn’t matter that they all knew me; some of the adults had all my life. I was comfortably invisible amongst these humans. Only a few of my Margaret’s friends who were still around really said hello.
My feet slowed as I approached my grandmother’s old trailer. The outside of it looked the same, but it felt different. There was no Margaret food wafting outside the windows in the front. And I’d bet the smell of bleach from deep, weekly cleaning couldn’t be detected from the back. The small flower beds she planted and grew around the entrance were gone, and so was the