You Make Me Wanna

by Nikki Rashan

  “I’m really not that hungry, Ma.”

  The forced smile vanished in a split second.

  Damn! Wrong answer. Did she really want to cook dinner for me, or was she asking as a courtesy gesture as one would ask a houseguest? Had I become a foreigner to the home I grew up in?

  “Well, um, I’m sure I’ll be hungry later,” I said. “How about some fried chicken?”

  “Perfect.” She rose out of her chair. “I’ll get started.”

  “Thanks,” I said to her back.

  “How’s my David doing?” Aunt Shari asked after my mother left for the kitchen.

  David. How much I needed him now. No, you don’t, Kyla. You can do this. Use him as inspiration. “He’s great, Aunt Shari. We both settled into the Atlanta way of life so easily.”

  “I’m going to miss him this Christmas,” she said. “But I’m sure he’s having a good time with Marlon in Disney,” she added pleasantly.

  See, now why couldn’t my mother share in the joy of the love I’ve found, rather than treat me like my mere presence was a reminder of her imagined failure as a parent?

  “Give her some time, Kyla,” Aunt Shari whispered, reading my thoughts.

  “It’s been almost three years since I left Jeff.”

  “Yes, but you secluded yourself and then ran your tail out of here so fast that no one really had any time to adjust. You hid from all of us, and next thing we knew, you were gone, hardly having said good-bye.”

  “What about me, Aunt Shari? Doesn’t she know how hard it was for me? She acts like it happened to her.”

  “It did, sweetheart. Whether you want to admit it or not, your decision affected a lot of lives, not just your own. Look beyond yourself for a moment,” she said tenderly.

  So the traditional four-person household wasn’t only a fantasy I had to let go of, but also a dream my family had to abandon as well? I suppose my hiding out in the South did nothing to help the situation.

  “What is it going to take?”

  “Time and understanding,” she replied. “Acceptance will follow.”

  “So time is what has allowed you to approve of David’s lifestyle so well?”

  “Honey, now you know David had no qualms about his sexuality. He didn’t change the course of his life the way you did. He’s always been just the way he is.”

  “I hope this time home helps us to start getting along better, you know, give us a chance to get to know one another again. I want her to see that I’m still me.”

  “She will, baby. You’re putting a lot on her plate with this first visit back, you know. I hear we’re having an extra guest at Christmas,” Aunt Shari said.

  “Yes, Asia is coming.” I gushed then wondered if I should have seen my mother alone, instead of forcing her acceptance on my first visit home.

  “David says Asia is wonderful.”

  “Oh, did he? What else has he said?”

  “Not much,” she replied with a smirk. “Just that he’s happy you’re finally settling down.”

  What else had he told her?

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. He doesn’t tell your business.”

  Now when did she go developing the talent of reading my mind? “Good. I can’t have you passing that info on to Ma.”

  “Honey, no, I wouldn’t do that.” She shook her head. “I’m only here to offer assistance when she has questions on how to handle this.”

  I didn’t respond.

  Byron and Yvonne descended from the staircase after lying baby Gladyce down for a nap.

  It was cute the way the both of them hovered over the baby and did everything together. When Gladyce burped up a bit of milk, Byron unzipped the diaper bag, Yvonne reached and retrieved a baby wipe, handed it to Bryon for clean up, who then returned it to Yvonne for disposal in a plastic baggie, while Byron zipped up the pink-flowered bag again. It was like watching a well-rehearsed two-person assembly line. No wonder they didn’t trust me with the baby.

  “So what’s goin’ on in the A-T-L?” Byron asked, trying to mesh his proper articulation with “a hint of street.”

  Yvonne looked at him lovingly for his effort.

  “Everything,” I said enthusiastically. “You all should visit sometime. The city is nothing like home. One, it’s almost always warmer. Also, there’s always something to do. We can try some restaurants, shop, visit historic sites, whatever you want to do.”

  “We can do dat,” he said.

  I almost laughed. Just because I lived in Atlanta didn’t mean I lost grasp of the English language. There was no need for him to try to sound hip. “Right.”

  “Why did you do that, Kyla?” Yvonne asked, not specifying what.

  “What?”

  “At the airport. Why do you get so defensive when anything gay-related comes up? It wouldn’t have killed you to tell Mom who E. Lynn Harris is.”

  “I’ll go help your mom,” Aunt Shari said.

  Behind Yvonne and Byron, Aunt Shari placed her fingers under her chin and lifted her head confidently. “Keep your head up,” she meant to tell me.

  “I didn’t feel like talking about it,” I said.

  “I know that, Ky, but as long as you don’t want to talk about it, she’s not going to let up. You have to walk around here like you don’t give a damn what anybody has to say because you’re proud of who you are. The more quiet you are, it seems like you’re ashamed, and you don’t have a thing to be ashamed of, girl. You might have to keep talking about it and talking about it until she finally accepts that this is your life and you’ve chosen to do what you wanted with it. Quit tiptoeing around your lifestyle like it doesn’t exist, ’cause we all know it does.”

  “Damn! Did you and Aunt Shari rehearse your speeches?” I asked.

  “That too,” she said. “You always make a joke of it. If it’s real to you, Kyla, make it real to her too. She’ll get it.”

  “When did you become the big sister?”

  Yvonne shook her head at my second dodge of the subject. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “That took some serious courage to do what you did. A lot of people would have taken the other route, despite how they really felt.”

  “And look at me now,” I said cheerfully.

  “Yes, look at you. You look stunning. And happy. It’s wonderful to see you doing so well.”

  “We have Asia to thank for that.”

  “Yeah, she may have something to do with it, Ky, but don’t be afraid to take some credit yourself. You got to where you are on your own. You did this.”

  My baby sister’s encouragement was doing wonders for my injured spirit. “Thank you, Yvonne,” I said, getting up to give her a hug. I noticed the extra bulge in her middle. “I’m sorry for staying away so long and missing out on being here for you.”

  “I understand why you did it, but no more excuses, okay.”

  “Okay,” I said, and bravely walked into the kitchen. “Need some help?”

  My mother turned around, and before she could respond, Aunt Shari handed her apron to me and bolted out of the kitchen.

  “Warm up the grease in the skillet,” she instructed. “You can finish flouring this chicken too.”

  Without speaking, we prepared dinner, reaching over one another’s shoulder into the cabinet, or standing aside while the other retrieved an item from the refrigerator. Crispy chicken wings and breasts sizzled on a plate, along with buttered rice, French-cut green beans, and rolls before we spoke.

  “Thank you, baby.”

  I responded with a warm smile. “I’m glad I could help.”

  Although it wasn’t much, I felt as if one hurdle in our path to recovery had been moved. Her reach for my hand and brief stroke of my palm assured me that we were, indeed, on the road to a healthy relationship once again.

  Darkness fell suddenly as I strolled toward my mom’s from an afternoon walk in the park nearby. I looked at my watch—only 3:45—yet looming black clouds raced through the sky. A shiver ran down my spine, and I quickened my
pace. As I neared the stoplight, an endless line of cars passed through the street, separating me from a shadowed stranger on the next block. Will this light ever turn green? Three fifty.

  A second stream of cars formed at my side, engines purring simultaneously as they waited for the green signal. Unexpectedly the light changed. The two lanes of cars criss-crossed fearlessly through the intersection in perfect unison, pinning me inside the 90-degree formation. The sound of heels tapping against concrete prompted me to spin around as I tried to focus on a second frame coming behind me. Before the long wavy hair became visible, before the freckled skin appeared, were the eyes. Those hazel eyes that once upon a time caused a rousing within the depths of my soul by just a glance.

  A fog gradually lowered, blurring the silhouette of a third figure to my left, who was halted across the street by the increasing traffic. At that moment, the silhouette and the shadow ahead stepped into the street, in my direction, walking between the cars effortlessly. Broad shoulders, dark eyebrows, and unforgettable long curly eyelashes appeared through the fog ahead of me.

  Then a familiar feminine shadow neared me to my left. Her scent of soft femininity traveled through my air passages like a sweet summer breeze.

  “Kyla,” they each said together.

  Steph’s raspiness, Jeff ‘s baritone, and Asia’s airy voice combined into one melodic trio. “I miss you,” they sang in chorus.

  Steph’s touch of my back sent electrifying chills up my spine.

  Jeff ‘s caress against my cheeks with the tips of his masculine fingers caused a rush of heat to my face.

  Asia’s stroke down my arm and reach for my hand generated an intense yearning in my heart. For her, only.

  Guided by the gentle tug of her hand, I stepped between Steph and Jeff and followed Asia to the street, where the cars instantly stopped, allowing us to pass through unharmed. Through the darkness, Asia’s angelic glow appeared and wrapped around us.

  “What about us?” they called from behind, their voices becoming mere whispers in the dark.

  As Asia and I reached the curb, she paused and nodded her approval in my direction. Slowly, but confidently, I turned to face the treasured gifts of my past. “Good-bye, my love,” I whispered once. “What’s done is done. You both have found happiness. Now it’s my turn.”

  Understanding my need to let them go, Jeff and Steph parted ways and headed down the sidewalk in the same paths they had come.

  I waved to the fading figures as they walked out of the corners of my subconscious mind, until they disappeared in the misty air.

  Stormy clouds gave way to an emerging light in the sky. Relieved and empowered, I turned back to the waiting love of my life, and she welcomed me. Welcomed me to her love. Into her heart. Forever.

  A light rap on the bedroom door forced my eyes open to the purple pillowcase that covered my head while I slept. After removing the pillow off my face and focusing on the Prince poster on the door, I caught sight of the wall clock. It was 12:15. Shit!

  I hopped out of bed and opened the purple-trimmed white door. “Hey, Daddy,” I said, forcing my voice into an alert tone.

  “Still like to be fashionably late, I see.” He chuckled.

  “Sorry. I was lost in a dream.” No, I had been found in a dream.

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  “Okay.”

  I rummaged through my suitcase and retrieved black slacks and a gray wool sweater with an oversized turtleneck. It was cold in this city. Quickly, I showered, dressed, applied makeup, and pulled my hair into a single, loose French braid in the back.

  With lightly tinted J. Lo sunglasses perched on my nose, I jumped into my father’s truck twenty minutes later. Again, I found it odd that he chose to wait outside in his running vehicle rather than sit and chat with my mom in the living room. What had changed?

  “Where to?”

  “You’ll see.”

  My dad filled our ride time with colorful stories of Yvonne and me as babies, memories that resurfaced with the birth of baby Gladyce. He shared with me the joys of marriage to my mom, and how proud the both of them were of the two of us.

  “She loves you so much, Kyla. Her main concern was that you were making life harder for yourself. No parent wants to see their child struggle and hurt.”

  “I know, Daddy, and I understand now. It’s going to get better.”

  He segued into a conversation on the circle of life and change, and how one must always follow their heart. Momentarily terrified that my dad was going to come out to me, I sat frozen in my seat, bracing myself for his confession that he had passed the gay gene down to me.

  “Come with me,” he said after parking in front of a jewelry store, whose diamonds on display in the window twinkled underneath the glistening sun.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Thomas,” a suited-up salesman said from behind the counter. “Big day for you.”

  “Yes, yes, it is,” my dad replied. “This is my daughter, Kyla.”

  The salesman smiled at me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Sweetheart, I know you’ve got a lot to handle this week, but I wanted to share this with you.”

  My dad signaled the clerk, who reached into a locked cabinet, all-smiles, and pulled out a small box and handed it to me.

  “Open it,” my dad said.

  I opened the red velvet box and saw an incredible platinum band covered with emerald cut diamonds. “Her name is Evelyn. I’m in love with her, Kyla,” he explained to the confused expression on my face.

  Stunned, I was at a loss for words.

  “Seems like someone is always getting married around you, huh?” my dad joked.

  “How come you never told me about her?”

  “I don’t know about everyone you date, now do I? Just the important ones, no?” He nudged me in my side.

  I looked at the salesman, who only continued to smile, obviously envisioning his fat-ass commission check. “But you’re ready to marry her? How long has this been going on?”

  “Long enough to know I’m making the right decision. But remember, Kyla, there’s no time frame on love. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m happy for you.” I threw my arms around his neck.

  He held on tight. “Thank you, darling. Thank you.”

  “When do I get to meet her?”

  “Well, I was hoping you and Asia could come by Friday night for a while. She’s got to meet my oldest baby,” he said proudly.

  Uncontrollable tears welled in my eyes. “Oh, Daddy.” I accepted a Kleenex from Mr. Salesman and wiped my face. “We’ll be there.”

  Mr. Salesman and my dad finished up their exchange, while I stood aside and ogled some of the shimmering engagement rings inside the display case. I imagined which ring I would slide on Asia’s finger when we were ready to take our relationship to the next level. It was a shining platinum band with brilliant, emerald cut three-stone diamonds. It was perfect for her. I took a mental snapshot of the ring for future reference.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  We left with my dad delicately holding the beautifully wrapped box in his hand.

  “Does Mom know?”

  “Of course. I told her a while back. She’s all right with it.”

  “Just all right?”

  “Yes, just all right. If you never noticed, Ky, your mom and I didn’t always act like a divorced couple. We saw each other pretty often, and well, now that’s come to an end.”

  As I had so many times in the past, I silently wondered what exactly happened to my parents. Neither had been forthcoming in sharing the reason for their divorce, except that they had fallen out of love. I suppose that was reason enough.

  “I take it you won’t be over for Christmas,” I said, after closing the door and putting on my seat belt.

  “No, I won’t be. I want to be, for you, but Evelyn and I are spending time with her family.”

  “She has children?”

  �
��Yes. Three adult boys.”

  “So you’ll be with them?”

  “Don’t go getting green on me, Kyla. You of all people should understand the need to do things differently.”

  I pouted like a kid. “I know, Daddy. It’s just so many things at once.”

  “Hopefully some Christmas in the future you can spend it with us. Right now, be with your mom. You both need this time together.”

  “It’ll be all right.”

  “Just all right?” He smiled.

  “No, better than all right,” I said, self-assured and more determined than ever to show my mother that love existed in many forms, like the way it once did with her and my father, with Yvonne and Byron, and now with me and Asia.

  “I’ll be thinking about you,” he said with a kiss to my hand.

  “I’ll be thinking about you too. You better call me.”

  He shook the top of my head like I was a little girl. “Come on, Kyla, you know better.”

  “This is where I attended grade school, middle school and high school.” I slowed my mom’s Taurus for Asia to view the three buildings that took up a square mile of the small suburban community where I grew up.

  We had spent the afternoon driving around my hometown after I’d picked her up from the morning flight we’d booked a few weeks back. We stopped on Lake Drive, taking a moment to park and watch the ice-tipped waves attempt to travel to shore. We lunched at a well-known gay restaurant, following a tour of the downtown area, admiring the many renovations and developments of condominiums that were new to me also.

  We hugged. We kissed. We reconnected after the brief time we’d spent apart.

  “Right around this corner,” I said, pointing forward, “is home.”

  I carefully pulled into the drive and pressed the button attached to the visor to open the garage.

  “Lovely house,” Asia commented.

  Three and a half months into our relationship, after evenings sharing take-out in Asia’s apartment, hovering in conversation with David and Marlon over coffee, and countless nights of lovemaking, I was about to formally introduce Asia as the woman in my life, a monumental step in my adulthood.