Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Dessi hums along and then sings a few verses, her version slower and more poignant, her voice catching a few times as tears slip over her cheeks.
You made me love you
I didn’t wanna do it
I didn’t wanna do it
You made me want you
And all the time you knew it
I guess you always knew it
You made me happy sometimes
You made me glad
But there were times
You made me feel so bad
You made me cry for
I didn’t wanna tell you
I didn’t wanna tell you
I want some love that’s true
Yes, I do, ’deed I do
You know I do
Cal stands at the bedroom door, leaning against the doorjamb, watching her.
CAL
Love hearing you sing that song.
DESSI (STARTLED AND HASTILY WIPING AWAY TEARS, FORCING A LAUGH)
Boy, you gon’ give me a heart attack one day, sneaking ’round.
Cal walks fully into the room. He angles his head to study some of the memorabilia spread on the floor. He squats and gingerly sits beside her, picking up the photos of Tilda and Dessi.
CAL
She was something else.
DESSI (CHUCKLING AND GATHERING ITEMS TO PUT THEM BACK IN THE BOX)
She was indeed.
CAL
Was she… (LOOKS DOWN AT THE PHOTO AND CLEARS HIS THROAT) was Tilda the love of your life?
Dessi goes completely still and looks at her husband. She reaches over to cup Cal’s face and forces him to look into her eyes, presses their foreheads together.
DESSI
Weren’t you the one telling me tonight how I lived this big ol’ extraordinary life?
Cal smiles faintly and nods.
DESSI
Well, if my life was that big and important, surely there’s room for two.
He smiles and she leans in to kiss him. Camera closes on the ballerina.
CODA
“Love is like the fire; its glow is devotion, its flame is wisdom.”
—Hazrat Inayat Khan (from The Bowl of Saki)
EPILOGUE 1
Monk
Two Years Later
“Girl, if you don’t get down!”
My sister’s screech startles her daughter so badly, she almost topples from my back and to the floor. Lucky for her, I’m in the gym on the regular and do yoga with Verity just about every morning, so my catlike reflexes save the day.
I catch my niece Kelsey before she falls, but her little body is trembling, and in her fright, she lets out one extended wail.
“Hey, hey.” I hold her close to my chest and scoot until my back rests against the sofa. “It’s okay. Nothing to be scared of. I got you, lil’ bit.”
Her bottom lip quivers. Tears tremble on her long lashes. She’s pretty much breaking my heart.
“Now see, this your fault.” I glare at Shrieva and pat Kelsey’s back, bouncing her a bit. “She was fine before you terrified her using your Big Mama voice.”
“Shut up!” my sister shouts, even as she laughs.
“Mama!” I yell. “Shrieva told me to shut up.”
Mama comes around the corner from the kitchen, a dishcloth tossed over her shoulder. “Then why don’t you? You always did love running that mouth.”
“Ooooooh!” Shrieva pokes her tongue out. “She told you.”
“Wow,” I reply dryly. “So mature. And to think you’re a mother of… how many? Five? Six? I’ve lost count. The saying goes it takes a village, not you gotta birth one. Y’all still using the pull-out method, and we see how effective that is.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Shrieva rolls her eyes. “Verity, come get your man. He’s bullying me again.”
Verity charges in, with dukes up, bouncing from foot to foot, lips poked out like she’s about to do something.
“Where he at?” She can barely keep a straight face, though, as she collapses beside me on the floor and takes Kelsey, whose tears have begun to subside, from my arms. “Did he make you cry, sweetie? He’s a mean ol’ uncle. I know.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I laugh.
Verity cuddles Kelsey, who has forgotten about her near-death experience and is swiping her fist wildly at Verity’s glasses.
“You know I’m a girl’s girl.” She winks at the double entendre, but shoots my mother a cautious look. She isn’t always sure how my family feels about her “lifestyle choices,” as my parents call them. Verity’s sexuality probably would never have come up, but she’s open in interviews about the intersectionality of being a bisexual, bipolar Black woman. She never tries to erase any part of her identity, and I don’t need her to, even though I know it raises questions for my very conventional parents about how this “works” if Verity “likes girls, too.”
Is she a lesbian? Bi? Queer or whatever they call it? The LMNOP army?
God, my parents.
Whatever Verity is, I want it. Whatever she is, she’s mine and I identify as hers.
To their credit, my parents never make us feel unwelcome, unloved, or awkward. When I brought Verity home last Christmas as my girlfriend, they greeted her with open arms and have never shown her anything but respect and affection.
We don’t come to Virginia much, a few times a year, but we flew in for my mother’s birthday party. We wanted to make it special, since it’s been a rough season for her. My stepfather, Ray, suffered a massive heart attack and died late last year. It was sudden, completely without warning. Verity only met him the one time at Christmas, but she attended the funeral with me. And when Shrieva and Charlie suggested making Mama’s birthday special, we were both eager to come.