Homecoming Weekend (8 page)

“This heffa found me,” Mary said. “She just shows up at Home-coming after disappearing for years. I thought you were one of those chicks who went to Aruba and never came back.”

They jumped into Mary's rental car and drove off. “I heard you're in Charlotte, doing your thing,” Tranise said to Charlene. “You look good.”

“Okay, don't even start,” she said. “I don't look good. Not right now. But I'm working on it. I'm back down to the size I was when I was in school. Tell her how I looked last year, Mary. I was a house.”

“Well, you're a small house now,” Tranise cracked.

“Then I was a mansion last year,” Charlene said, and the women laughed. It was all so familiar. Although they had not been together in five years, in five minutes, they renewed their connection. It felt like old times that fast.

On their way to Pizzeria Uno at Virginia Beach Boulevard and Military Highway, Tranise gave Charlene details about her living and career situations since college and then got to the matter that hung over her like a mistletoe: Brandon Barksdale.

“How can someone so smart be married to someone like Felicia?” Tranise asked.

“Maybe he wasn't as smart as we thought,” Charlene said.

“That's what I said,” Mary chimed in. “Whatever the case, I think you have more hatred for Felicia than you have interest in Brandon.”

“You know what? I can't even say which is stronger,” Tranise said. “I don't hate Felicia. But I don't like her, that's for sure. As for Brandon—”

“You don't even know Brandon,” Charlene said. “You never had a conversation with him. He could be silly and immature and totally not what you like. But at this point, what does it matter? He's married.”

“I don't care,” Tranise said.

“You look great. You seemed to be the same person. But to hear you say that . . . no, that's not the Tranise I know,” Charlene said. “Mary, you hear this? The Tranise I know has never done anything amoral in her life.”

“Well, maybe it's a new Tranise,” Tranise said. “I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't be able to do it—if I got the chance. But I feel like I owe Felicia something.”

“You're a grown-ass woman,” Mary said. “Let it go.”

“Okay, okay,” Tranise said. “Y'all know me too well . . . But I would still like to see him.”

“Well, I'd like to see that tall glass of sweet tea myself,” Charlene said.

“I already saw him—and the man has held it together,” Mary said.

The three of them looked off at no place in particular for a few seconds.

“Look at us,” Tranise said. “We all are sitting here daydreaming about a married man.”

They parked the car, took a few photos of each other outside the restaurant and went in. Just as they got seated, a guy wearing an Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity jacket came over. He was excited about seeing the ladies. They hugged and smiled and shared small talk for a few minutes.

“Over at The Broadway—the club that used to be The Big Apple back in the day—is a day party that's free and should be good,” he said. “My frat brothers and I are going over there after we leave here. You all should come over.”

“Isn't there a day party in Portsmouth at The Mansion?” Mary asked.

“It is, and it's pretty nice, too, according to one of my boys who called me from over there,” the guy said. “But since The Broadway is across the street, we're going there to see what's up. I hope you come by.”

With that, he left.

He was tall and handsome and a gentleman and had the ladies' attention. One problem.

“Who the hell was that?” Tranise asked.

“I have no idea,” Mary said.

“He knew our names; we obviously went to school with him,” Charlene said. “How come we don't remember him?”

“We sat here and had a conversation with him like we were old friends,” Tranise said. “He must have changed since we were in school. I don't have any inkling who he is.

“I figured that might happen with people not remembering me because I look a little different. But in a few minutes they would recognize me. But I was looking at this guy and I had no connection, like I never saw him before.”

“Well, trust me, girl, it won't be the last time you don't know who you're talking to,” Mary said. “That's just how it is. Some people change a lot in five years. I've been to every Homecoming and I see the change in some people from year-to-year. It's kind of remarkable.”

“I think that's part of it that's kind of fascinating,” Charlene said. “Who's going to be the same as college? Who's going to look different—better or otherwise. See, you look better, I think, Tranise, because you've kind of grown into your body and it looks good.

“Me? I've grown out of my body.”

She and her friends laughed. “I'm actually about the size I was at school,” Charlene continued. “But I had already grown out of my body. You ever heard of a poor college student gaining weight? Well, that's what I did.”

“Charlene, you look much better this year than last year,” Mary said. “I can see you're doing something differently.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the food. Charlene had a salad and mixed vegetables, a serious departure from the piles of food she would ingest three or four times a day.

“This is what I'm doing differently—I'm eating differently, smarter,” she said. “And I wish I could say it was a lifestyle change that came because I wanted to do better.”

“Well, what was it then?” Tranise asked.

A sad look came over Charlene. “This girl I grew up with, Toya Simpson, died right after I got back from Homecoming last year,” she explained. “She had a stroke that really was about high blood pressure and high cholesterol. Bad eating habits. She was around my age, twenty-six or twenty-seven, and we looked a lot alike. People used to ask if we were sisters. Twins. We looked that much alike—in the face and in size.

“You might think I'm crazy, but when I went to her funeral, I stood over her lying there and I saw myself in that casket. I know my mind was playing tricks on me, but that was the moment for me. It was like that was the message I needed to get myself together. Then Heavy D died a few weeks later. I was like, their deaths will not be in vain, at least in how I live my life.”

“I'm proud of you,” Mary said.

“Me, too,” Tranise added. “It really is a lifestyle choice. So, keep it going. We want you around for when we have our ten-year reunion.”

“I want to be there more than you want me there,” Charlene said, laughing.

Just then, the server came over with three glasses of champagne.

“We didn't order that,” Mary said.

“I know. The gentleman in the black and gold jacket did. He said, ‘Happy Homecoming,'” the server explained.

The women all looked over at the Alpha with grateful smiles. He smiled, nodded his head and lifted his drink. They raised their glasses and had a long distance toast.

“Miss,” Tranise said to the server, “did he say what his name is?”

“He didn't,” she said.

“Now we really have to find out who this guy is,” Tranise said.

“I'd like to know who he is for sure,” Charlene said. “He's handsome.”

“He is,” Mary said. “And a gentleman.”

“And he isn't pushy,” Tranise added. “I like his style. I just wish we knew who the hell he is.”

They all laughed. But his chivalrous act sparked conversation about the most popular subject of all: men.

“So, Tranise, you talking about Brandon Barksdale, who is married—what about what you have going in Atlanta?” Charlene said. “I heard about the men in Atlanta. Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Tranise asked. “That there are a lot of gay men in Atlanta? Well, yes. I can't lie. I've seen a lot of it, to the point where sometimes I'm almost depressed about it.

“But the reality is that they have to live their lives as they see fit. I don't begrudge them that. Where I have a problem is when they're on the down low, trying to talk to me and at the same time they have a butt buddy.”

The women laughed.

“I know,” Mary said. “What's going on? I don't even recall any obviously gay guys when we were in school. But apparently they waited to graduate, move to Atlanta and bust out.”

“We're laughing, but it's really not funny,” Tranise said. “I meet guys in Atlanta now and I examine them like I never did before. I look at all their mannerisms. If I see any broke wrists, I'm gone. I pay attention to their language; I hear words like ‘fierce,' I'm gone. The crazy part is that you never know. And, again, that's what disturbs me. Don't get married, have kids, meet heterosexual women . . . knowing you like men. That's just wrong.”

“So you aren't seeing anybody down there?” Mary asked.

“No, not really,” Tranise answered.

“No wonder you talking about getting with married-ass Brandon,” Charlene cracked.

“Can't even lie—it's been too long,” Tranise said. “If he acts right, I just might break my streak.”

“And how long is this streak?” Mary asked.

“Well, let me see . . . ”

“Damn, it's been that long that you have to think that hard?” Charlene said.

“Actually, you won't believe this, but my last was Michael Jennings,” Tranise revealed.

“No way,” Mary said. “You were with Michael in college.”

“Shit, you got cobwebs down there, girl,” Charlene said.

Tranise laughed hard and loud. “No, let me explain,” she said. “About a year ago, I called him. He lives in Northern Virginia. We kept in touch a little bit and he came to Atlanta for work earlier this year. Let's just say we had a good night.”

“So you let go the fact that he was running around with Felicia and you at the same time back in the day?” Charlene said.

“I didn't think I did—until I saw him,” she said. “I was going to bring it up, but after a while I didn't see the point.”

“Good for you—that's growth,” Mary said.

“
Excuse me,”
Tranise said, feigning being insulted.

“Come on, you know how you were in school?” Mary explained. “You would analyze everything up and down, round and round, in and out. You got hold of something and you wouldn't let go, like the dog that grabs hold to your pants leg.”

“Whatever,” Tranise said. “Excuse me for growing.”

They laughed and talked and reminisced for another half-hour before Charlene suggested they go across Virginia Beach Boulevard to The Broadway for the day party. They spent several minutes dividing the bill before finally leaving for the party.

They headed out looking for the Alpha who had sent them
champagne to thank him and finally find out who he was, but he had gone. “Well, he told us about the party, so he's probably over there,” Charlene said.

And sure enough, when they made the three-minute trek to The Broadway, there he was, standing among brothers of Omega Psi Phi, who hosted the event. They were clearly enjoying each other, laughing and recalling their college days.

“Now how is it that I know those Ques he's talking to, but not him,” Charlene said. “That's Bootsy, Darryl Ferguson, and Conrad—they are old heads we met last year when Bootsy said something crazy to us. Remember that, Mary? But how do they know him, but we don't? This is crazy.”

The ladies made their way through the packed building, stopping to engage old friends along the way.

“I can't believe I have not been back before now,” Tranise said. “I forgot about most of these people. But it's great to see these old faces. Folks are looking good—for the most part.”

“Yeah, for the most part,” Mary stressed. “Look over there, the girl in the jean jacket. That's Diane Luckett.”

“No way,” Charlene said.

“Look at her; look hard,” Mary said.

Charlene and Tranise tried not to stare. But then it hit them at once: It was Diane Luckett, all right. Once petite with a body to envy, she had added so much weight that she was practically unrecognizable.

“OMG,” they both said in unison, making all of them laugh.

“What happened to her?” Tranise said. “I'm not judging, but
damn
.”

“She probably had a kid or two and it just got out of control,” Charlene surmised.

“She ain't had no kids,” Mary said. “She married that guy she
dated that went to Hampton. Remember him? He used to always be on our campus.”

“I do remember him; so they got married? Good. If I remember correctly, he was a buffed guy, a workout freak,” Tranise said. “He can't be happy about his wife looking like
that
.”

As if she could hear them speaking about her over the loud music, Diane walked in their direction.

“Diane, how are you?” Tranise said, as they embraced.

“Tranise, you look so good,” Diane said.

Tranise wanted to say the same to her, but she could not bring herself to do so. Lying was something she was taught never to do as a kid, and it stuck with her.

“I'm glad to see you,” she said instead. “I heard you got married. Where's your husband?”

“Well, you know, he went to Hampton, so he wasn't really trying to come to ours, which is good because I didn't go to his. It's better this way.”

When Diane walked away, the ladies stared at her in shock. Her size four frame had spread into double figures. It looked awkward, especially because she still wore form-fitting clothes that were so hot when she was forty or fifty pounds lighter.

“I never would have guessed she would blow up like that,” Mary said.

“You never know what's going on in people's lives,” Tranise said. “She's all smiles now, but it could be health reasons or stress or something else. We can't judge.”