Page 80 of Lily In The Valley
We pulled into the circle drive of my parents’ home just past dusk. The lights trailing the walkway from the driveway to the front door left a soft orange glow. Karter barked once in the backseat. I stared at the house. At one point, I ran from it like it might swallow me whole. Every time I visited, the walls seemed to close in tighter. Now, it looked suffocating, a cage dressed up as a shell of a home. Familiar, but heavy with silence. A mausoleum of memories I never buried right.
My father cut the engine and glanced over at me. “They’re here.”
“Who’s they?”
“You’ll see.”
It was then I noticed the extra cars lining the drive. I opened the car door and was instantly hit with the sound of familiar voices.
“Surprise!” Vivian and Lisa stood near the steps, both grinning like I was ten-years-old again. They rushed over and embraced me, showering kisses on my face. Nyah stood in the doorway with a glass of wine in one hand, a phone in the other. Vanessa waddled over with a glow that could only belong to a woman nearing the end of her pregnancy and the peak of peace, even though I saw the fretful worry in her eyes. Lynn, dressed in all-black, waved next to Nyah.
My throat tightened. I wasn’t ready for this. But I needed it more than I wanted to admit.
There was gumbo on the stove and a random bowl of potato salad sweating on the counter next to it. The kitchen smelled like what welcome used to mean. Karter padded through every corner of the living room like it was his now, sniffing discarded shoes and swiping licks at everyone’s ankles, wagging his tail like he’d been here all along.
I sank into the couch between Lynn and Nyah, a pillow shielding my lap, my hands balled into the sleeves of my hoodie.
“We missed you,” Nyah said, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “We came to see if you still know how to smile.”
“I smile,” I mumbled.
“Girl, that was not a smile. That was a polite exhale,” Vanessa teased, spooning a combination of gumbo and potato salad into her mouth.
I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “What happened to the juices?”
“I gave that up about two months ago. This baby wants some real food,” she said, eating another bite. “Mama, can you bring me some more potato salad? Your grandchild can’t get enough.”
Vivian walked in with Vanessa’s request and a photo album I hadn’t seen in years.
“Kenneth found this cleaning out a closet. Thought you might want to flip through.”
I opened it on instinct, and there we were–me in pigtails, my mama in a headwrap, my dad younger, tighter in the jaw, a little less round in the waist. Our faces frozen in moments I had forgotten I remembered. Happiness.
Nyah leaned over. “Our mamas loved them thick barrettes, huh?”
“The beads, too,” I said.
“And the white socks with the lace ruffles!” Lynn cackled. “Somebody’s Easter’s best.”
Everyone laughed. I forgot the heaviness for a moment. Forgot the grief. Forgot the letters and the silence and the exhaustion. I just sat there, surrounded by people who loved me, letting joy sneak in through the cracks, curling up beside me like a warm hand on a cold shoulder.
Later that night, when the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher to dry and the laughter had softened into yawns, I laid in my childhood bed, in a room too small for the woman I’d become and too big for the girl I used to be. The wallpaper hadn’t changed. The photos of me in awkward braces and honor roll sashes were on the walls like they were tired of pretending, too. A soft hum came from the ceiling fan. Karter slept at the foot of the bed. I was surrounded by history. By memories. And by my girls.
Nyah and Lynn were sprawled on the floor with wine and snacks like it was high school all over again. Vanessa stretched out on the bed, rubbing her belly in circles, eyes half-closed in peace.
“How are you really doing, Kelly?” Lynn asked.
“I’m not okay,” I said. “There’s a hole I can’t seem to fill, and I just want to not be okay for a while.”
“That’s real,” Nyah whispered. “Losing your mother is hard. There’s a piece of you you’ll never get back. That void, it never fills. You just learn to deal with it. Learn to live with it.”
“I’m just mad,” I confessed. “So fucking angry. I don’t want to feel this way forever.”
“Feel however you need to feel,” Vanessa said, patting the blanket.
We stayed like that until the wine disappeared and the conversation drifted into soft laughter and yawns you fought because you didn’t want the night to end. “I can’t believe I wasted my time on that boy. All he had going was a pretty smile.” Lynn smirked, pouring herself another glass of wine. “It doesn’t matter, because my dream man is right around the corner. I can feel it.”
“Lynn.” Nyah laughed. “How can you be so sure?”
