Page 19 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
“Where is your mom? She’s like a real-life Carmen San Diego.” Lyric chuckles.
Ranson barks out a laugh.
Lilian Hamilton pulled the ultimate disappearing act five years ago. By that point, Chance, the youngest Hamilton, was sixteen, and Ranson’s mom had been living in LA for fourteen years. She was homesick and yearned to be back there. She told the other ladies and the kids. They all threw her a going away party. Parker tried to convince her to stay, but she refused. She hasn’t been back to LA since, but the kids, Momma Dola and Momma Peyton visit her at least once a year.
“She wouldn’t want me to tell you.” Ranson smirks.
“I get it. I’m protective of my momma too.”
“Now, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a man?”
“Sir.” Lyric playfully frowns at him.
“What? I’m curious. A beautiful, captivating and intelligent woman such as yourself has to be taken.”
“I’m not.” Lyric sips her soda.
“Interesting. So, when was your last serious relationship?”
“Oh, wow.” Lyric rolls her eyes upward as she thinks it over. “About five years ago. His name was Evan. We met at a bar and hit it off. He asked me out, and we dated for two years. Then, one day, I realized I was dating him because he looked good on paper but for not much else. I asked the girls what they thought, and my friend Bridget so eloquently said, ‘Ric, we were all waiting for you to realize that guy is duller than dishwater.’”
Ranson’s shoulders shake with mirth.
“So, you haven’t dated anyone since Evan?”
“Nope, not seriously. A few casual hookups and some dates that didn’t lead anywhere, but I’ve been single since him.”
“May I ask another question?”
“Yes, you may.”
“Why didn’t the dates lead anywhere?”
“Because men are …” She lets out a defeated sigh.
“Yeah, I know. A lot of us need work.”
“A lot of work,” Lyric agrees.
“What was the worst date you’ve been on recently?” He sips his soda.
“Oh, definitely the Hotep who was twenty minutes late on purpose talking about, ‘Time is a social construct invented by the white man.’”
His eyes widen in surprise, and he almost spits out his soda. “Please tell me you made that up.”
“Nope. I am not that creative.”
“Oh, man. I can see why the homies are lonely. Those fools are shooting themselves in the foot.”
“Which is why there was no second date.”
Ranson claps his hands and lets out a belly laugh. “I’m sorry, but I just keep picturing Allen Payne inCB4talking about, ‘I’m Black y’all, and I’m Black y’all’ over and over again.”
Lyric cackles. “That’s not too far off. I love how that scene pops up on the Black side of social media almost daily during February, and it’s never not funny.”
