Homecoming Weekend (4 page)

“Teresa started crying and then quickly got herself together. She wiped her face. She pointed over toward their kid. I had to hear something, so I acted like I was shopping and I moved closer. I heard her say, ‘I'm ashamed that you are her father.' And she walked away. Moe put down the T-shirt he was holding and walked toward the door. But before he left, he turned back around to get another look at his daughter. And then he left.”

“Oh, hell,” Mary said. “I knew both of them so well. I just knew they were going to get married.”

“Me, too,” Tranise said. “I can't even believe Moe did her like that. That didn't seem to be something he would do.”

“I know,” Mary said, “But Ced, we've got to go pick up Charlene. We'll see you later, maybe at the step show.”

As they walked to the parking lot, Tranise asked the question:

“Have you seen Brandon Barksdale?”

“Oh, my God,” Mary said. “All these years later, you're still hooked on that man?”

“Well, he wasn't exactly the one that got away,” Tranise said. “But he was the one I wanted to get.”

They laughed.

“Girl, Brandon looks even better,” she said. “I saw him earlier. He said he was going to lunch at MacArthur Mall downtown. But I must tell you: He's married.”

Tranise's heart sunk. “What?” she said. She heard her clearly but she couldn't muster another reaction.

“And guess who he married?” Mary said.

“Oh, goodness. Who?” Tranise said.

“Felicia Waters.”

“Stop playing, Mary,” she said. Felicia was Tranise's archenemy. “Not that bitch.”

Felicia and Tranise had intense animus. Okay, they hated each other. The animosity stemmed from someone telling Felicia that Tranise was not going to pledge her sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha, because Tranise did not like Felicia. At the same time, someone else told Tranise that Felicia said Tranise was not AKA material. Tranise pledged Delta Sigma Theta, which was her first choice anyway, making the rivalry that much more intense.

From there, they would scowl at each other, compete against each other and generally hate each other from a distance. They never spoke to each other about the origin of the hatred.

“Not that bitch,” Tranise repeated. She was surprised she used that word because she didn't like it, but she considered Felicia the personification of the slight, in every negative way: conceited, envious, selfish, mean.

Tranise had rejoiced so much when she won the homecoming queen crown mostly because she beat Felicia.

“Might as well give you the whole scoop,” Mary said. “And she's pregnant.”

Tranise put her hand over her mouth.

“Come on, girl,” Mary said. “Let's go. You can't worry about that. She obviously fooled him, which means he wasn't that smart after all.”

Tranise nodded her head, but was not really listening. She was plotting. All these years later, she could get back at Felicia. Normally, Tranise wasn't the scandalous type. She actually kind of wanted to be that way a little in college, but she'd built a reputation and couldn't afford to lose it by sleeping around. Men run their mouths more than women about stuff like that, and the word would have spread the campus that she was a “freak.” She could not have afforded that.

So she held it together. But she was out of college and she actually had grown beyond being overly concerned about what people thought of her. She wondered how it would feel to conquer Felicia one more time after all these years, especially considering the rumors about her and Tranise's first boyfriend, Michael Jennings, killed that relationship.

She got even more excited about seeing Brandon. Felicia did her dirty. But this weekend was Tranise's opportunity to do some dirt herself.

Jesse, Don and Venita

A
s soon as the car hit Interstate 64 East, about ninety minutes from Norfolk, Jesse Jessup, Don Anthony and Venita Daniels broke open the cooler that rested on the backseat.

It had been there, untouched, since Jesse departed Philadelphia almost four hours earlier. He stopped in Fredericksburg, Virginia to pick up Venita and then they rode down to scoop up Don in Richmond. This was how they'd traveled to homecoming for the previous six years—Jesse driving down and picking up his two close friends along the way.

Don's seat was in the back, next to the cooler, and he passed Jesse a Heineken and poured Grey Goose and cranberry juice with a twist of lime for he and Venita in see-through plastic cups. They had stopped at a Burger King drive-thru and devoured the food. It was more a coating for their stomachs than a hearty meal.

They had not seen each other in about a year—or last home-coming. But they were used to road trips together; they took countless weekend excursions home during their college days.

Each of them was from Richmond but they did not meet until they were sophomores at Norfolk State. During a party at Spartan Village, the townhouse development across from campus on Corprew Avenue, the deejay named The Controller yelled, “Where Richmond at?” into the microphone.

Venita, Don and Jesse, dancing near each other, thrust their hands in the air and yelled. They were proud to be from the state capital, and they noticed each other's enthusiasm. They stopped dancing, introduced themselves and were surprised they were from the same city but had not met. They became nearly inseparable friends from that night on.

And so here they were again headed back to Norfolk, starting their traditional pre-homecoming drinking.

“This never gets old,” Venita said. “But every year we talk about getting together other than homecoming. And it never happens. We've got to do better. Y'all are my boys. This is crazy.”

“I know,” Don said. “But life keeps getting in the way. Plus, I'm not sure your husband wants us hanging out so much.”

“What about your wife?” Venita said. “She told me she was suspect of our friendship.”

“What? When?” Don asked.

“Last year when we picked you up,” she answered. “I told her, ‘I hope you're joking because we've been friends for years.' But I didn't say anything to you about it because I was hoping that was it.”

“Plus, Don can't beat his wife,” Jesse said. “If he said something to her, she'd kick his ass.”

Don nearly choked on his drink, laughing. “Whatever, Jesse,” he said. “Just keep the car between the white lines.”

They cruised along the highway, reminiscing and joking and generally leaving behind the trials of their everyday lives. Venita's cousin died of kidney failure at forty-eight. Jesse was recently divorced and troubled by his sister's recent marriage to a drug dealer. Don had financial concerns about the survival of his business.

None of that mattered homecoming weekend; well, not as much, anyway. This was the escape of all escapes.

“You know, my little niece, Diamond, is a junior at Norfolk State; she transferred from William & Mary,” Venita said. “I really want to see her. It was her uncle who was sick and passed away, as if she's not already dealing with enough family drama.”

“Diamond?” Don said.

“Don't you start, Don,” Venita jumped in.

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “But I'm just saying. Diamond? What's she majoring in? Pole-dancing?”

Venita could not hold back her laughter. Neither could Jesse. “I was wondering when it would start—I guess it's now,” Jesse said. “Okay. Cool. It's on.”

“Man, I couldn't help it,” Don said. “My bad. My bad.”

“Too late now,” Venita said. “It's been put in motion.”

“Well, you knew it was going to start at some point. I'm surprised it took ten minutes,” Jesse said.

“It's okay,” Venita said. “Diamond is an honor student, thank you very much. As I said, she transferred from William & Mary. But she's enjoying being a Spartan.”

“Lily-white William & Mary? I bet NSU is a shock to her system,” Jesse said. “She probably doesn't know how to act with all those black folks. She's probably the most popular girl on campus.”

“Hey, wait,” Venita said. “So now you saying my little niece is a whore? I know you don't want to start fighting in this car.”

“Like cousin, like cousin,” Jesse chimed in and even Venita laughed and slapped him on the arm.

“Excuse me,” she added, pushing aside the bangs that covered her oval-shaped face, “but ain't nobody get this at Norfolk State, thank you very much.”

“'Cause ain't nobody want it,” Don said, laughing.

“Oh, so the hate is everywhere; that's fine,” Venita said. “You know I was fine back in school. And I ain't bad now, either.”

“I'm just messing with you,” Jesse said, glancing over at her. “You know you were cute. You still are cute. You just weigh a pound or two more.”

“Yeah,” Don said, “a pound or two more in ten different places on your body.”

Venita laughed with her friends. She could take a joke—and deliver one, too. “That's okay. Wait until next Homecoming. This weight will be gone,” she said. “I already started my program. Cutting back on carbs and sweets and drinking more water—and I'm walking every night. And I don't eat after seven anymore. Nothing. You probably can't tell a difference, but I can.

“And it's not like I'm the only one in this car who needs to drop a few . . . am I, Don? You look like the Pillsbury Doughboy's overweight brother.”

Don had a thick frame in college and he gradually added on weight over the years after school. He looked like an out-of-shape football player—relatively short and round, bald-headed with a thick goatee.

“At least you don't wear clothes that are too tight,” Don said, after laughing at Venita's crack about him. “I feel like throwing up every time I see a big woman in tight clothes, accentuating their rolls and rolls of fat.

“Now, don't get me wrong—I know I'm big and need to lose some weight. A lot of people have weight issues. I'm not criticizing us for that. But to be big and put on super-tight leggings and tops that hug the body and have their blubber spilling all over the place . . . I don't get that.”

“Wait,” Venita said. “Are you saying I'm a big girl?”

“Nothing wrong with big girls,” Jesse said, smiling. “They are warm and cuddly.”

“No, I'm not saying that, Venita,” Don answered. “Relax and eat a doughnut.”

“Kiss my big ass,” Venita said, laughing.

“Pull those big pants down; I'll smack it and kiss it,” Don said.

Their laughter was broken by the sound of state trooper sirens.

“Oh, shit,” Jesse said. “Was I speeding?”

“No, you weren't speeding,” Venita said. “You know I was monitoring it. But we're in New Kent County.”

“Oh, hell. We got stopped in this stupid-ass county before,” Don said. “They're notorious.”

“Put those empty bottles in the bottom of the cooler, under the ice,” Jesse said, pulling over.

Venita slipped everyone a few mints.

“Okay, everybody be quiet. Let me handle this shit,” Jesse said.

He depressed the button to lower the driver side window. He placed both hands on the steering wheel to make it clear to the trooper he was not a threat.

“How you doing, sir?” the trooper said.

“Fine. How can I help you?” Jesse said.

“You can give me your license, registration and insurance card,” he said.

“Can you tell me why you stopped us?” Jesse asked as delicately as he could.

“I can tell you again to give me the information I asked for,” he said, as he looked over Venita and Don. He then fixated on the cooler.

“What's in there?” he said.

“Drinks,” Don said from the back.

“I wasn't talking to you,” the trooper said with attitude. “You—what's in there?”

“Drinks,” Jesse answered.

“Oh, so you're a smart guy, huh?” the trooper said. His pale complexion turned pink. He was angry.

“Everyone out of the car,” he said.

“Officer, hold on,” Jesse said, handing over the information he requested. “I wasn't getting smart with you. I was just answering you.”

“Wait right here,” he said and retreated to his car to check Jesse's credentials.

“This is some bullshit,” Don said.

“I know,” Venita added. “I was checking your speed. He had no reason to stop us.”

“Don,” Jesse said, looking in the rearview mirror, “make sure those beers and liquor tops are on secure.”

“I buried the vodka at the bottom of the ice and the empty beer bottles. We're good.”

“This Robocop has nothing better to do than mess with us?” Venita said. “This is why no one likes cops these days.”

“He ain't a cop; he's a trooper,” Don said.

“Same difference,” Jesse interjected. “He has a badge and a gun and thinks he can fuck with us anytime he pleases. I mean, why was he trying to get us out of the car? This shit is dumb.”

After a few minutes of back-and-forth, the trooper came back to the car.

“Mr. Hill, your license is suspended in Virginia,” he said.

“What?” Jesse said. “Sir, that's not true. As you can see by my license, I live in Philadelphia.”

“Have you ever lived at 1564 Gabriel Drive in Norfolk?”

“No, I haven't. I went to college in Norfolk, but I lived on campus and then on Monticello.”

“That's not what's in the system and that's what I have to go by,” the trooper said. “I'm going to have to ticket you. And you must step out of the car; in fact, everyone out.”

Jesse was angry and confused. “If you're giving me a ticket, why do we need to get out of the car?” he asked.

“Just do what I say or this will be even worse for you,” he snapped back.