Page 56 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

Because that’s the other thing keeping me on my phone all the time: texts from Reggie. We’ve only seen each other a couple more times—with his friends at the yogurt shop after he got off work, at another Fun Gi and Ryan Love show. And we’re definitelynottogether. Georgia’s comments have made me even more hesitant to explore how I really feel about him. But his texts are steady, a constant conversation that we both pick up when we can. I don’t always know when they’re coming, so it’s like when you find an unexpected twenty in your wallet and the whole day turns around, feels brighter.

It had major Real Housewives of New Jersey vibes

I swear he had the same blank, raging look in his eyes as Teresa season 1

Ok but how do you have such in depth Bravo knowledge?I send back.

Andy Cohen is right after Jesus on my mom’s list of favorite people. My dad is third.

Actually he may come after NeNe Leakes

I laugh, grabbing Mom’s attention away from her meticulous layering of noodles and sauce into the pan.

“That was what? Five minutes?” she says. “Don’t your eyes hurt?”

Andre comes in to my defense. “She’s got fans now, Annie. Let the girl do her thang!”

“Fans got you smiling like that?” Mom narrows her eyes.

Where do you fall then?I type superfast, trying to keep myexpression neutral. I put my phone facedown. “Yep. It’s the fans.”

But they’ve already moved on. “Bread crumbs? What are you talking about, bread crumbs?”

“Bread crumbs,” Andre repeats. “To put on top of the mac and cheese before it bakes.”

Mom puts her hands on her hips and looks him up and down like he just suggested cooking up some garbage in the stove and serving that. And I guess he basically did.

“Are you messing with me?” Mom starts out quiet, but her voice creeps up louder with each word. “Because I know you, someone I like very much, have more sense than to suggest I sully the perfect, melty top of my mac and cheese with some dusty gravel! Bread crumbs! Really!”

In the past few months, Andre has become a regular fixture in our house. And their banter has become part of its normal soundtrack—like the dishwasher running or Georgia singing scales. But still, I feel my whole body tense. I know Mom isn’t mad. This is just her way of communicating when she’s passionate about something. And this is a perfectly reasonable something. Bread crumbs on top of mac and cheese is a crime.

But with Dad, this would be the beginning of an all-night blowup. Because even if she was joking, he would take offense and storm out, muttering, “Do whatever you want then, Annie.” And then Mom would go after him, demanding a conversation, some sort of resolution. And then that would devolve into a screaming match, excavating every single grievance and slight and misstep since they met their junior year of college. And then Mom would eventually get quieter and passive to smooth things over and Dadwould accept her apology like she actually did something wrong, so we could all eventually go to sleep. All of this because Mom raised her voice or had an opinion.

“Does that mean no bread crumbs then?” Andre says with an easy laugh. “I’m still not one hundred on how you feel about them.”

Mom sucks her teeth and shakes her head, like she’s annoyed. But as she begins to sprinkle cheese over the top of the baking dish, a small smile appears on her lips. Andre smiles too as he helps her.

“Thank you for doing all this for my family.”

“You’re welcome, Dre.”

I feel my shoulders drop down as I breathe out. It’s okay. I keep forgetting it’s okay with Andre. He’s not Dad. He doesn’t get passive-aggressive or outright aggressive when Mom is just... herself. He likes her loud, big opinions—encourages them. With him, she never has to tone herself down or make herself small.

Did she luck out? Or is it possible for anyone to find this? I don’t know.

I sneak a glance at my phone, and there’s another text from Reggie.Sometimes I think I’m down there at the bottom of her list with Ramona and Vicki

I send back,Well you’re definitely higher than Ramona and Vicki on my list

That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

After thirty-five minutes of bake time and a spirited debate over just how brown the cheese crust on the top should be (correct answer: dark golden), we’re on our way to the park only an hour and a half late.

“So, the Parkers, they’re the ones that started this tradition,”Andre tells us as he’s driving. “I think they moved to Long Beach in ’seventy-four? ’Seventy-five? Something like that. And they came from Houston, where celebrating Juneteenth was just, you know,the thing.”

“Because Texas is where it actually happened, right?” I ask from the back seat. “There was the Emancipation Proclamation... but then it took a couple extra years for all the enslaved people to actually be freed?”

“Yep, that’s exactly it! On June nineteenth!” Andre says, tapping his steering wheel. “I’ve seen how it’s sorta come into fashion lately, and you know what, I’m not even going to knock that, because the recognition is good. But I’ve been celebrating with my family for as long as I can remember. We may not get the city setting off fireworks for us, but this is our independence day.”

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