Love Is a Revolution Page 8

  We step into the store. “I guess not everyone’s having a happy Fourth of July,” I say.

  Imani laughs, but then says, “He’s reading Frederick Douglass’s speech, ‘What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July?’ He gave it on July 5, 1852.”

  How does she know this?

  We take the ice bags from the freezer, pay for them, and walk out. Imani continues, “Could be a speech given today, don’t you think?”

  I say yes. Asher does too.

  Imani smiles at the man with the bullhorn, and he nods toward us, a nod that says, We’re in this together, even though we don’t know each other, even though I’m not sure what this is.

  His voice trails behind us the rest of our walk. “Allow me to say . . . ​I do not despair of this country . . . ​I, therefore, leave off where I began, with hope . . . ​a change has now come over the affairs of mankind . . .”

  We get back to Aunt Liz’s and step onto the elevator. “That was intense,” I say.

  Imani presses the button that has the letter R on it. We head back up to the rooftop. “I’m glad someone’s out there speaking the truth,” she says.

  “Right?” Asher says. “I mean, I’m down for some good food, but he’s right, what are we really celebrating?”

  I think about it—what are we celebrating? Then I say, “I think the fact that you can ask that question out loud with no fear . . . ​that’s one thing we’re celebrating.” I really don’t want to get political, especially not with Imani and Asher, so then I add, “To me, it’s just an excuse to hang out with family and eat the best barbeque ever. Most holidays are about family time to me.”

  The elevator dings.

  We get off, walk over to the cooler, and suffocate the drinks with ice, making sure the bottles and cans are covered.

  Aunt Liz announces, “Everyone, come fix your plates and eat.” She makes sure we all have our plates before she gets any food. If hosting parties and family gatherings is a talent, she has it. “Randy, you want to pray over the food?” she asks.

  I put my fork down because I was definitely about to dig in, not even thinking about blessing the food.

  Uncle Randy calls out to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s say grace.” Then, “Dear God, we thank you for our freedom, we thank you for this family, we thank you for this food. Bless it and us. Amen.”

  Even after I’m pretty sure every one of us has gone back for a second plate, there is still food left. Asher is sticking close to Imani like Velcro. I sit with them and talk a while before we get up for dessert.

  “Did you eat enough, sweetheart?” Grandma asks me.

  “Yes, Grandma. I’m fine.”

  “And you’re good, Asher? You drinking enough water? It’s hot out here.”

  “Got my water right here,” Asher answers. He holds up his own reusable water bottle and clinks it against Imani’s bottle as if he’s giving a cheers.

  Aunt Liz says, “Imani, before you get to fussing at me, please know I’ve had a big case of water that I want to get rid of. After this, I won’t be buying any more plastic-bottled water.”

  “I wasn’t even going to say anything this time,” Imani says. “I wasn’t going to mention that most plastic water bottles end up in landfills, and as they decompose, they give off harmful toxins into the environment. Nope, wasn’t going to say anything about that.” Imani smiles and takes a long drink from her metal water bottle.

  Aunt Liz says, “I know, I know. This is my last case. I promise.”

  The sky is black and ready. Colors fill the air, and we are all pointing, saying wow! and look! I take a few photos with my phone, but they don’t capture how stunning everything is. Having my phone in my hand makes me want to call Tye. I wonder what he is doing, if he is looking up at the sky seeing the same constellation. I hesitate, then send a text: thinking of you. I have been dishonest about a lot of things with him, but this is true. He is on my mind, and I am thinking and thinking if we even have a chance. I am thinking how if he were here tonight, if he had walked to the store with me, he probably would have known that man was reading a speech by Frederick Douglass, he would be critiquing the fact that we celebrate this holiday, asking if any of us are really free.

  As we watch the sky sparkle Aunt Liz says to me and Imani, “I’ll be traveling a lot this summer, so I want to spend as much quality time with you as possible.” She takes a bite of rum cake. “I’m hosting a brunch on Saturday. You two are welcome to come.”

  I tell Aunt Liz I can make it, but Imani says, “I might be able to stop by.” Like she is some important executive who has a ton of business meetings or something.

  “Stop by?” Aunt Liz puts her hands on her hip. “What, you and Asher got a date or something?”

  “Inspire Harlem stuff,” Asher says. Like he wants to make it clear that he’d never pull her away from the family.

  Imani adds, “Inspire Harlem has programming on Saturdays, so that’s why I can’t make it.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a good excuse,” Aunt Liz says.

  Aunt Ebony joins in. “But it won’t be the same without you. If your event ends early you’ve got to come by.”

  Imani nods. “Okay,” she says, but I know her and I know that tone. I know when she means something and when she doesn’t.

  The night ends with Imani in Asher’s arms, standing in a corner by themselves watching the sky glow. I am standing with my mom, splitting the last seltzer with her. “You know, when you were a little girl, you were afraid of fireworks,” she tells me. We gaze out at the sky, the explosions of color coming nonstop. “You’d cry and cry at the sound of fireworks. You would have been terrified at something like this. Hated everything about the Fourth of July.” Mom laughs at the memory. “Funny how people change.”

  Mom is talking about me; I’m thinking about Imani.

  4 THINGS I’VE NEVER TOLD MY MOM

  1.That the week before I moved out, I heard Mom crying in the middle of the night. A sobbing cry, a flood of despair. A cry that lasted and lasted until her tears rocked her to sleep.

  2.That the night before I moved out, I heard Mom crying on the phone telling someone (Grandma? Aunt Ebony? Aunt Liz? one of her boyfriends?) that money was tight, that a two-bedroom apartment cost too much, that things would be easier if she didn’t have to take care of me.

  3.That the day I moved out, I started that argument on purpose because I knew she’d never kick me out but that I needed to go.

  4.That every day since that day, I have missed her. That it’s not that I don’t love her, I just need more than she can give.

  10

  Today, Aunt Liz is having her brunch. She’s invited a few of her close friends, and two of her clients are here too. Both of them are up-and-coming singers. We’ve all gathered on the rooftop. Well, not all of us. Imani is not here. And neither is my mom. Even Grandma is here, and I know she is not pleased that her daughter and granddaughter are not coming.

  Aunt Liz has catered the brunch. The spread looks just as fancy as the one on the Fourth of July, but there’s not as much food. Just ackee and saltfish, fried bammy, and callaloo.

  “I could have made breakfast, Liz.” Aunt Ebony says.

  They have this conversation every single time we gather here.

  Aunt Liz says, “This is supposed to be a chill day. I didn’t want anyone to have to do anything.” She fills her glass with cranberry juice and takes a sip. “So, Imani is really not coming, huh?”

  Aunt Ebony sighs and sits down at a table. “Not this time.”

  I wonder if there will ever be a time when Imani puts her family first and tells Ms. Lori she can’t make the meeting, or the event, or the special whatever because she is spending time with her family.

  “Aw, I really wanted to spend some quality time with her,” Aunt Liz says.

  “Me too.” Aunt Ebony shakes her head and repeats herself, “Me too.”

  Aunt Liz asks, “Nala, is your mom coming?”

  “I don’
t know.”

  She looks at her watch, says, “Well, okay, then, let’s go ahead and eat.”

  Aunt Ebony stands and walks over to the food table to make Grandma’s plate so that Grandma doesn’t have to get up.

  Before I fix my plate I stand at the balcony and look down. Being up this high makes everything below look like a miniature land of make-believe people walking their dogs, riding their bicycles.

  “Come eat, Nala,” Aunt Ebony says. “What are you over there thinking about?”

  Grandma chuckles. “Her new friend, probably.”

  Here we go.

  Aunt Liz says, “Do tell, do tell.”

  Aunt Ebony’s eyebrows are perched high, and she is leaning forward, her whole body asking, “What?”

  I just walk over to the table and fix my plate, not saying a word.

  Aunt Liz clears her throat. “Come on, now, at least tell us his name.”

  I give in and smile. “His name is Tye.”

  “Good to know. I’ll leave it at that . . . ​for now,” Aunt Liz says. She can tell that I don’t want to talk about it, and she never makes me talk when I don’t want to. I don’t know why I haven’t talked with them about Tye. I think maybe it’s because if I start bringing him around, he’ll start getting to know the real me.

  Grandma looks at Aunt Liz and says, “And what about you? Any new names we need to know about?”

  “Mother, please.”

  Whenever Aunt Liz calls Grandma “Mother,” it is not good.

  “Please, what? I’m just asking a question. Would be nice to see you get married before I pass on.”

  “Really, Momma? Really?” Aunt Ebony steps in. She gives an apologetic look to Aunt Liz’s company. They all seem right at home and are enjoying the conversation.

  Aunt Liz clears her throat. “Okay, here’s the situation—when there’s someone to tell you about, I will. Until then, you can assume that there are no good prospects.”

  “But aren’t you at least going out on dates?” Grandma asks.

  I’m glad she can be nosy and all up in Aunt Liz’s business because I want to know too.

  Aunt Liz says, “I recently met a guy online, and when we got together in person he was absolutely nothing like he presented himself to be in his profile. I mean, what, did he think I wouldn’t notice? I don’t understand why people lie to get someone’s attention. Don’t they know the truth will come out?” Aunt Liz starts laughing when she tells us how his pictures had to be at least five years younger and lots of pounds lighter and that he put “self-employed” when he should have put “unemployed.” “Big difference,” she says.

  We all laugh, but inside, I feel a twinge of guilt wrapping around my heart. Grandma sips her orange juice and says, “Well, I guess I need to keep on praying, then. It would be nice have some new grandbabies around here.”

  Aunt Liz just shakes her head.

  We eat, and then people group off in twos and threes and talk and mingle. Once the first person announces they are leaving and says goodbye, all of Aunt Liz’s friends start making their way to the elevator but not before hugging us all and thanking Aunt Liz for hosting.

  Now it is just family. Grandma, Aunt Ebony, Aunt Liz, and I go inside because now the afternoon sun is blazing. We stay at Aunt Liz’s, talking all afternoon. Then, Aunt Ebony turns on the television and we watch a marathon of Living Single. Every time we say “Okay, last episode,” we can’t help ourselves and we watch the next one. Grandma has dozed off only twice. I’m impressed. Usually, the TV is watching her instead of the other way around. So many times when I’m at her apartment and we’re watching television together, Grandma closes her eyes. I usually wait till I know for sure she is asleep and then I change the channel. No matter how quiet I am, Grandma jumps up out of her sleep and says, “I was watching that.”

  The sun has settled into the sky, and Aunt Liz orders pizza, and we feast because what we ate for brunch has worn off. I keep checking my phone to see if my mom or Imani has sent a text. Nothing.

  Just as the theme song comes on for the next episode, my phone rings. I thought I had it on silent, but it’s loud, and now everyone has turned to me like we’re in a movie theater and I’m being a nuisance. It’s Tye. I stand up and answer the phone, walking into Aunt Liz’s bedroom.

  I close the door. “Hello?”

  “Hey. Want to join us for dessert?” Tye says. I love that we are familiar enough with each other that when he calls, he just jumps into the conversation.

  “Like, right now?”

  “Yeah. We just finished up with Inspire Harlem, and we’re going to Sugar Hill Creamery. You should come.”

  I really want to say yes, but I can’t just leave. “Thanks for inviting me, but it’s kind of a family night,” I tell him. Then, realizing who the we is that he’s talking about, I ask, “Is Imani going with you?”

  “Yeah. It was her idea.”

  “Oh.” And I don’t even need to ask who else is going. I know Asher is with her, and Sadie and Lynn are there and Toya with her beautiful hair.

  “Next time,” Tye says. “And it’ll just be me and you.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s a date,” he says.

  I smile. “See you soon.”

  I stand in Aunt Liz’s room for a moment. I need to swallow the tears that are trying to rise. I don’t know why I am so emotional. Maybe it’s because there used to be a time when Imani would have rushed home after an event to be with us, when she would have sent me a text to ask me to save her something to eat because she knows Aunt Liz goes all out for our gatherings. And while it feels good that I am on Tye’s mind, that he wants to spend time with me, I wonder why Imani didn’t invite me. She always invited me out when it was just her, Sadie, and Lynn. But now that Toya is around, I feel like I’m losing my cousin-sister-friend.

  When I get back into the living room, I sit back down in my spot, at the right end of the sofa. I grab a throw pillow, hug it to my body.

  Aunt Ebony turns to me and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “Everything’s fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I tell her. Even though I’m not sure about anything.

  11

  I heard Imani come in late last night. Like, later than Aunt Ebony allows, and I know there’s no ice cream shop that stays open that late, so I wonder where she was. Probably with Asher. His mom doesn’t have strict rules about curfew or friends coming over. He can come and go as he pleases with whoever he pleases. Imani is still sleeping. Her TV is on because she can’t sleep without noise. I don’t know how she does that. I need quiet when I sleep. I get up and get dressed, text Tye to see what he’s up to today, and go downstairs. By the time I get to the kitchen, he has responded: seeing you I hope.

  My smile overwhelms my face.

  Uncle Randy comes in to refill his coffee. “Well, someone’s happy this morning.”

  I put my phone in my pocket. “Good morning, Uncle Randy.”

  “You, ah, you got a minute?” he whispers.

  I lower my voice too, even though I don’t know why we’re talking like this. “Yes.”

  “Okay, so your aunt went on a walk with Liz, so that’s why I wanted to talk to you now while she’s gone. Is Imani up yet?”

  “She’s still asleep.”

  “Okay, so one of us will have to fill her in,” Uncle Randy says. He is still whispering and looking around the kitchen like at any minute he will get caught. “So, ah, your aunt’s birthday is coming up—well, it’s at the end of August, so we have a little bit of time—”

  “It’s just the first week of July. We have plenty of time,” I tell him. He doesn’t look too convinced, and then I remember that Uncle Randy is a pre-preplanner. He is the most organized person I know. I am surprised he doesn’t already have it all worked out. I cut up an apple, eat a slice, and savor it. Aunt Ebony always buys Pink Lady apples, our favorite because of the sweetness.

&
nbsp; Uncle Randy says, “I want to do something really special for her, but, well, after being with her for so long I think I’ve kind of run out of things to do.” He rubs his head. “Now, you know she hates surprises, so that’s out, and she’s not too flashy, so nothing over the top.”

  “Right,” I say. I take out my phone, open my Notes app, and make a list as we come up with ideas. We start with gifts.

  “What about a weekend away? You two could go to the Poconos. She’d like that,” I say.

  “Yeah, I was thinking Cape Cod, actually. Or maybe a spa day,” Uncle Randy says. “But she always gets her nails done anyway, so is that special enough?”

  “Well, it’s special if she doesn’t have to pay for it.” I laugh. “And you could add some treatments to it—a massage or a pedicure. That might be nice.”

  Uncle Randy seems to like but not love this idea.

  I type it into my notes anyway, and we think up a few more: brunch at Central Park’s Boathouse restaurant, good seats to a Broadway play. “What about a candlelit dinner on Aunt Liz’s rooftop? Just family and close friends?” I ask.

  “Perfect. Yes, I’ll ask Liz.”

  Imani yawns her way into the kitchen. “’Morning,” she says.

  “It’s twelve thirty,” Uncle Randy says. “Good afternoon.” He kisses her on her forehead.

  Imani squints at the clock. “I was out late last night with Inspire Harlem.”

  Eating ice cream, I think.

  Not inviting me, I think.

  “What are you two doing?” she asks.

  Uncle Randy starts whispering again. I laugh a little and remind him that Aunt Ebony is not here, so he doesn’t have to talk low. “We’re planning something nice for your mom’s birthday,” Uncle Randy says.

  I hold my phone up and show her the list.

  “You two are planning Mom’s birthday?”