Page 7 of Kassir and Rebel
“Vic’s does sound good. I’m getting a calzone too but I’m not running shit off tomorrow. My body doesn’t know how to act if I get smaller than a sixteen,” she says with a titter. “Losing weight means new scrubs and that’s a no for me. I love my collection.”
Teaira puts her calzone order into her phone then passes it to me. I add mine then hit submit. After I give her phone back, I take another sip from my drink then stand. My bladder is screaming and I need to clear my head a little so I practically sprint to her bathroom. When I walk back out, she’s in the kitchen, blending another pitcher of margaritas.
“I need to sober up, not drink more,’” I say.
“Just one more drink. I’m only making half a pitcher.”
Our food arrives about thirty minutes later and I practically inhale my calzone. Nothing beats Vic’s Pizza and it was exactly what I needed. Good and full, I take a shower, get myself together, and Teaira drives me to D-Ville.
“You know my guest room is yours,” she says once we are in front of the building.
“I know but Ma wants me here. If I need an escape, I’ll be right back there though. I love you. Now, go back home and sleep. I’ve interrupted your sleeping day enough already.”
“Having you back home was worth it.”
“Text me when you wake up. I’m not calling you,” I tell her. Normally, after four days on, she sleeps the next day. My arrival disrupted her routine.
“If you need to, call,” she insists before I get out. I grab my things out of her backseat then wait for her to drive off. When she does, I take a deep breath then walk up the few steps to the main entrance.
You’ve got this, Rebel.
It’s crazy how certain sounds and smells can trigger the oddest memories. The moment I walk into the building, the slight scent of lemon coming from Mrs. Johnson’s apartment takes me back to the very first time I was brought here. I was determined to hate it here. I hated everything back then but I remember smelling this lemon scent and thinking it already smelled better than any other home I had been in or that dingy hotel room my mom left me in months prior to those homes.
As I walk past Mrs. Johnson’s door, so many moments flash in my mind and I smile at the thought of some of them. My mother never came back for me. Never. Deep down, that fact will always haunt me, but thanks to Mama Chandra, my Ma, I survived and thrived. She showed me real love and I couldn’t ask for a better foster mom.
“Rebel, baby? Is that you?” her voice calls out from the other side of the door. My attempt to use my key and let myself in failed.
“It is. I was trying to sneak in,” I admit.
The door opens and tears well in her eyes the moment she sees me. We talk a few times a week and we even FaceTime, but this is the first time she’s seen me in person in years. Tears fill my eyes too as that fact hits me like a ton of bricks. Leaving my bag in the hall, I step to her and she pulls me into her loving arms.
“My baby is home,” she cries as she embraces me tightly.
“I am, Ma.” For a moment, we just hold each other and cry our happy tears. The sound of a throat clearing is the only thing that tears us apart. “Oh hey. Mr. James,” I say when Ma and I break our embrace.
“Just James,” he says while smiling. He’s a handsome man with a nicely trimmed salt and pepper beard. I can see why Ma fell for him. She’s beautiful as well and together they make a gorgeous couple.
“I have to get used to that. You’ve been Mr. James since I moved here,” I admit. He was the building manager before the renovations. He’s retired now and helps out part-time when needed. I always knew he liked Ma; it just took him a minute to let her know it.
“Don’t just stand there, Jimmy. Get her bags,” Ma says while still smiling. When he walks past us, I catch him lightly pat Ma’s ass and she giggles. “Boy, you better stop,” she says, blushing. Then she grabs my hand and leads me to the sofa. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me too and you look good,” I admit as I lean my head on her shoulder.
She drapes her arm across me then kisses the top of my head just like she used to when I was younger.I missed this. God, I missed her.Instantly, I regret leaving and refusing to come back.
“I stayed away too long. I’m so sorry, Ma.”
“You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We have so much to do before the wedding.”
“Including giving you a bachelorette party.”
“Girl, I’m too old for that. A nice little shower is fine with me.”
“Well, too bad. Thursday, we are having a party. It’s all planned. Ms. Cora has been helping me,” I say, referring to her best friend. Everything is planned. I booked a two-bedroom suite at The Drexel and invited her close friends, and Teaira, of course.
“Lawd, not Cora! As long as there’re no strippers.”
“Strippers,” Mr. James huffs as he walks into the living room. “What strippers?”
