Homecoming Weekend

by Curtis Bunn

  CHIT CHATS

  Jesse, Don and Venita

  Don and Jesse entered the party feeling better than most—they had smoked two joints before leaving the room and had two beers en route to the party in Jesse’s scraped-up BMW. Venita got high, too, but she stayed behind to connect with her cousin, Diamond, and her pregnant room-mate, Janea.

  “I need to have a buzz,” Venita said. “I’m about to advise this child and I’m not sure what my advice should be.”

  “Just tell her what makes sense to you,” Jesse said. “In the end, she’s going to do what she wants to do. That’s how people are. You can only give her something to consider.”

  Don actually considered bypassing the party and staying at the hotel. But the call from his accountant came and it was encouraging: Don’s finances were not as bad as originally thought and he had a commitment from an investor, a builder in Richmond who had notions of supporting small black businesses.

  “This guy will put you on another plateau,” Don’s accountant said. “We have to work out the terms. But we have an agreement in principle. He will be a silent partner and you will go on functioning as you have. Without bogging you down with the details right now, you will be in a position not only to succeed, but to expand.”

  That half of his life saved, Don was pumped about hanging out with his old friends at the party. He, in fact, became the most jovial person.

  “You sure have a burst of energy,” Jesse said.

  “Well, that’s what happens when your life gets saved,” Don said. “You feel like you have a new reason to live, like you have a second chance. I was suffocating. You know, if a man can’t earn a living, he can’t do much anything else without feeling some kind of way about himself. My accountant identified a potential investor and dude is committed to putting a half-million dollars into my business. It’s an investment for him and I’m told he will get special tax benefits because I’m a small, minority-owned business. I don’t care what the benefits are for him. For me, it moves me to another level and frees me up to do the strategic marketing I need to do to help the business to thrive, not just survive.”

  “Man, I’m happy for you,” Jesse said. They were standing outside the ballroom, sipping cognac and watching women. “I know that’s got to be a relief. And not that we really need a reason—as last night showed—but we should drink to that.”

  “A can’t even believe you have the slightest interest in drinking after all you had last night,” Don said. “You have some crazy tolerance or something. The last time I was as drunk as you were, throwing up and shit, I didn’t drink for two weeks.”

  “I don’t know what it is, but after the game, I started to feel better, like myself,” Jesse said. “At first my head was pounding and I felt sluggish. That nap really helped. Now I feel almost like new. Not quite one hundred percent, but much better. Good enough to party tonight.”

  Rochelle, the woman Jesse hardly recalled meeting on Friday night, came over. She was drop-dead, wearing a metallic dress that fit the contours of her body, drop earrings with rhinestones and metallic heels that accentuated her shapely legs.

  Jesse’s bald head was shining and his thick eye brows and mustache caught Rochelle’s attention. “You look good,” they said in unison.

  He called her after the game as she requested and they talked law and life and laughed and created an interest in each other. They found a table in the ballroom and sat close together.

  “So why would you be talking to me after you saw the condition I was in last night?” Jesse asked. “I’m glad you’re here; don’t get me wrong. But I know I was out of it. Wasn’t being that drunk a turnoff?”

  “Well, it wasn’t a turn-on,” she said. “But there was something you said—and you obviously don’t remember—when we talked last night that stuck with me, made me think that you were interesting enough to get to know.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Jesse said. “What did I say?”

  “I asked you why you came back to homecoming,” she began, “and you gave an answer I never heard before. You said: ‘Because I like to be around courage.’ I found that so interesting. I asked you what that meant and do you remember your answer?”

  Jesse remembered. “I said, ‘It is not easy, in the face of drugs and crime and economic struggle and peer pressure and family dynamics to push on, to strive for a higher education. That’s what I see when I see young students. I don’t see the sagging pants—well, I do see them and it bothers me, but I can see beyond that. I see that they want something better for themselves. It takes courage to ignore the trappings—and there are more trappings for them than there were for us—and press on. So I like to be around courage in a place where I was lifted up to become a good citizen, to become a lawyer.”

  “That’s a great closing argument,” Rochelle said. “And that’s why I’m here with you now—because I like to be around a man who has more than surface thoughts.”

  “Who knew?” Jesse said. “Sometimes you get drunk and you’re a babbling idiot. And sometimes, the truth comes out coherently. Anyway, I appreciate you being here and what you said.”

  Rochelle also liked that she and Jesse had similar tracks out of NSU. Jesse went to law school at New York University after graduation and Rochelle, three years later, enrolled in law school at Columbia University to become a corporate lawyer.

  “So, I’m sure you hear this a lot, but what is it like to be a defense attorney?” she asked. “Do you feel like you’re getting guilty people off?”

  “I feel like I’m doing my job,” he said. “That’s how I keep my sanity and commitment to it. My client is not guilty. Period. I have to think of it that way. If I don’t, well, as a human, it would be hard for me to do my job effectively. I have had cases—murder cases—where our client was not the most upstanding citizen. But before accepting the case, we had the firm’s private detective to snoop around and we went in believing he did not kill his wife. I was lead on one particular case–and he was found not guilty. I was happy with the jury’s verdict. But I felt better two days later when the real murderer was found—a co-worker she had an affair with. I didn’t think he was guilty but I under-stood why he was arrested, so I had some inkling that he might have done it. Finding out he didn’t do it meant a lot to me.”

  “Well, corporate law is not as exciting, which is fine for me,” she said. “The emotion of both sides of the family in a murder case would be a lot for me to stomach. So I do my boring job, which I actually like, and go home and not have images about broken families because of a heinous crime.”

  Jesse studied her. “You know, north Jersey where you live is not that far from Philly,” he said. “I’ve got this big event coming up two weeks from today. I need a date. It’s the 100 Black Men of Philadelphia. I’d like you to come with me.”

  “I’m assuming then that you do not have a wife, mistress, girl-friend or stalker,” she said, smiling.

  “No to all that,” he said.

  “Well, have your people contact my people and we’ll see what we can do,” she said.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes,” he said.

  “As you know, counselor, I reserve the right to change my mind,” Rochelle said.

  “Under what statute?” Jesse said.

  “U.S. Code I’m-a-woman-and-I-can-change-my-mind-if-I-want-to,” she cracked.

  Jesse smiled and nodded his head slowly. He was feeling her wit and charm. “I like you,” he said. “And I’m going to enjoy getting to know you.”

  Across the ballroom, Don found old college friend Renee. They’d had a serious attraction to each other but somehow never crossed that line. He respected her so much that he actually was afraid to broach romance with her. It was truly a case of not wanting to ruin a friendship that was pure and real.

  She got married years before Don, and he made sure he was at the wedding to support his friend. A part of him, though, wished he were standing across from her when the vows were read. He got over that fee
ling and eventually married Nona, a registered nurse with a love of sports and cigars. He called her “a man’s dream.”

  “So, Don, you’ve been having fun this weekend?” Renee asked.

  “I have,” he said. “And I needed it. I needed to come back to the campus, see my old friends, like you, and just get away from it all. I was telling Jesse, I don’t know anywhere else other than homecoming I could go and feel the love I feel this weekend—not all directly aimed toward me, but the love of everyone around me for their old classmates and our school. There’s an unbelievable spirit, a spirit of family and community.”

  “I know,” Renee said. “I teach at Norfolk State, so I’m over there every day. And it feels like a college. But when homecoming comes around, it transforms itself. It becomes a big home and all the family comes back to visit. Like any family, some of them you’d rather not see. You know what I’m saying? But you deal with them.”

  “Who don’t you want to see, Renee?”

  “Well, let’s start with that Henry Molden,” she said. “Did you see him at the game? This man, who never said two words to me in college, comes approaching me all friendly about joining some multilevel marketing scheme.”

  “What?” Don said. “Selling what?”

  “I don’t know; you think I was listening to him?” she said. “I was just waiting for him to take a small pause from talking so I could excuse myself. I wasn’t going to be totally rude, but don’t come to me with that mess any time, but especially at homecoming. I’m trying to enjoy the band and he’s talking about selling whatever.”

  Don laughed a good laugh. “He’s here; I saw him from a distance,” he said. “I’ll be sure to keep him at a distance.”

  “And the other person I don’t want to see is that damn Jessica Dennis,” Renee said.

  “What did Jessica do to you? She’s sweet,” Don said.

  “She is sweet,” Renee said. “But you know what else she is? A pain in the ass. She will talk about herself and her children all night if you let her. And I’m talking about the most minute, inane, silliest detail about something they said or did. I’ve met her kids; they ain’t that spectacular. But if you let her tell it, one is about to be an astronaut and the other one built the spaceship.”

  “Girl, you are a trip,” he said. “I’m glad I’m on your good side.”

  Renee joked: “I’m just saying. What do the little kids say? ‘I’m keeping it one hundred.’”

  As funny and brash as she could be, Renee also was smart and sensitive. She expressed joy when he told her of his new business prospects. And she could see in Don’s expression when she asked about his wife that he was hurting.

  “Well, Don, can your marriage be saved?” she asked.

  “Here’s the amazing thing about getting your life saved—you’re able to look at things clearer,” Don said. “With all that shit swirling around me, everything was blurry. Now I can see that the problem wasn’t my wife. It was me. I was borderline depressed. The last few months have been so stressful, trying to make the business go, not knowing if I would have to close my business, hoping and praying I wouldn’t have to go back to a nine-to-five.

  “I wasn’t a good husband. I was moody and petty and hard to be around. But you know what I really was? I was scared.”

  “Of failing?” she asked.

  “Of not being able to provide for my family,” he said. “For a man, that’s it: being able to take care of your family. I’m blessed that I have been able to do that all these years. But when it looked bad, when it looked like it was over, I was lost. I felt my manhood slipping away. It was hanging on by a string when I got here. I got stronger the longer I was here. Now, I’m ready to get home and explain to my wife why I have been so crazy lately.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Renee said. “And don’t forget to apologize while you’re at it.”

  Don smiled. Then he felt a vibration in his suit jacket. It was a text message from Venita. I’m on my way. How is it?

  He leaned over and hugged Renee. “This is my girl Venita. I’ve got to give her a call.”

  Don excused himself and stepped into the reception area outside the ballroom. He dialed Venita’s number. She did not answer. She was preparing to speak to Janea, even though she was unsure of what to say. Diamond and Janea came over to her hotel around nine-thirty, smiling and laughing. But Venita was serious. So she got to it right away.

  “I’m glad you came to talk to me,” she said. “I understand how you can be wary of talking to your parents. But the first thing I will suggest you do is to talk to them. They love you more than anyone. And they might not be happy at first. They might be mad. But that won’t last. And it’s the right thing to do.

  “But let me ask you: Where are you right now in your thought process?”

  “Well, everything is scary, really,” Janea said. “I’m scared to have a baby and I’m scared to have an abortion.”

  “And you should be,” Venita said. “It’s a serious thing—both options. I’m going to tell you a story. Only three people know this story—a man named Gary and my friends you met today, Don and Jesse. But I’m going to tell you in the hope that it helps you. You have to decide what to do. I can’t do that for you, Diamond can’t, your parents can’t and the young man who got you pregnant cannot.

  “Anyway, there was this young lady about twelve, thirteen years ago who was in college like you, who had dreams of becoming a human resources manager and consultant. She identified her career early and did the things necessary to make her dreams a reality. She had a 3.8 GPA and had done internships between her sophomore and junior, and junior and senior years. She had done all she could to put herself in prime position. Bank of America called and offered her a job after graduation.

  “She knew better, but she began to have sex with her boyfriend without a condom or any protection. You—Janea and Diamond—have to be adamant about safe sex. Please . . . So, it’s two weeks before finals and a month before graduation and her cycle does not come. She’s pregnant. She’s scared. Her whole life is out there waiting for her and now there’s this very real situation.”

  The sadness on Venita’s face scared Diamond.

  “She does not talk to her parents, does not talk to the boyfriend. She tells her two best friends—two men—and they try to get her to listen to reason and to talk to her parents. Well, she didn’t. She had her two friends go with her and she had an abortion. It was the saddest day of her life.

  “She went on to achieve what she wanted, but she has been unfulfilled all her life.”

  With tears streaming down her face, Venita looked at her niece. “To this day, every day, I wish I had made a different decision.”

  Diamond came from the other side of the bed and hugged her aunt, and they cried together.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  INTRODUCING . . .

  Earl and Catherine

  Catherine, Starr and Earl arrived at the Best of Friends party at the height of the night. There was congestion at the table, people pulling out money to pay their admission and others displaying tickets. They continued walking into the party.

  Earl had carte blanche. He was among a group of guys who founded the Norfolk State Best of Friends group, along with Kent, Kevin and Hank Davis, David A. Brown, Kevin Jones, Kerry Muldrow, Keith “Blind” Gibson, Sam Henry, Troy Lemon, Kris Charity, Ron Payne, Joe Cosby and Gerald Berry. Most of them lived in the River Oaks apartment complex down Princess Anne Road, near Military Highway.

  For twenty-five years they put together an upscale event that grew into the must-attend occasion of homecoming. On this night, it was rocked by the appearance of Earl and Catherine together, hand-in-hand.

  By the time they settled into a table on the left side of the ballroom, Earl’s frat brother Myron had been approached by a half-dozen women asking about Earl and Catherine. It was a couple that made sense, really: two good people deserved to be together. But it still was shocking to see because hardl
y anyone was clued in that they were so close, much less in love.

  Catherine could not sense the interest in their arriving together. Earl could. Even his friends who knew but had not seen them together stared. Catherine looked as beautiful as advertised, and she and Earl, who wore a chocolate brown suit, looked ideal together.

  When he went to the bar to get drinks, he was virtually attacked by friends who wanted to know the deal.

  “You’re with Catherine?” “How did this happen?” “When did this happen?”

  Earl smiled and carried on without saying a word.

  “Boy, you and Catherine have this place buzzing,” Myron said. “Honeys are tripping me out. I’m telling them, ‘It’s obvious they’re together. Why you asking me?’ Listen, forget that. I know her from school but I want a formal introduction.”

  “All right,” he said. “We have a table in the back left. Just come on back there.”

  When he got back to the table, Catherine introduced him to some of her friends he did not know and some he did. “Earl and I are together,” he heard her say to some old friends Mike and Brigitte Booker-Rogers, who also knew each other in college and reconnected many years later.

  “You threw me off when you asked me if I was going to ride with you to the party,” Earl told Catherine at the table. “It made me think you didn’t want me to.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how you wanted us to be seen to our classmates. So, that’s why I asked.”

  Earl said: “Well, I finally said, ‘If she doesn’t want me to go with her, she’s just going to have to tell me.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did, baby,” Catherine said, holding his hand. “That’s what I wanted. I want the whole world to know that we’re together and that I love you.”

  Then she leaned in and they kissed, and it seemed the entire ballroom was looking. They posed for photos and danced and enjoyed each other as they always had. They were having their own little private party within the party.

  One by one, their friends made it over to their table, interested in saying hello and confirming with their own eyes that they were together. Earl was reserved and subdued in how he dealt with their friends. Catherine was direct: “This is my man, Earl,” was how she introduced him.