Furious, actually
I lift my hands in surrender. “I swear I tried to give her a way out.”
That she refused.
Finally, Mom relents and drops the bag of flour onto the counter. “Fine, but you’re on cleaning duty,” she says, assessing the damage. Flour fights were a common occurrence in our house growing up. A puff of flour thrown in my face when I got home late. Swiping flour on her cheeks while she stressed over a recipe.
The heart of my childhood home is right here in the kitchen.
“Come on out, Vi!” I call. “I surrendered.”
Plastic hair beads clack as she sprints around the corner and launches herself into my arms. Sticky hands grip my cheeks, forcing me to meet eyes that are identical to mine. “Mallory says when men do dumb things, they should be shamed publicly.”
I mentally curse my best friend. “You’re eight going on eighteen.”
Placing her on the counter, I head to the pantry for the broom. The oven dings, and the smell of perfectly baked peaches makes my mouthwater. Assisting Mom with catering orders at home is my favorite, but the dessert in the oven is specially made by me with a heap of regret and sprinkled apologies.
“How are you feeling? Nervous?” Mom asks, grabbing a towel to wipe down the counters. Even when she wins, she helps me clean.
The nerves are eating me alive, but I smile anyway. “Great.”
Mom looks mildly suspicious. She knows about my history with Shay, and in an hour, I’ll be at Lake Anita for her surprise graduation party.
It was stupid to think seeing Shay at Permian wouldn’t hurt. Her favorite color clung to her fluid figure in a way I wish I still could. Seeing her in that dusky pink reminded me of late nights watching the sun go down with our legs tangled. Of her laugh muffled against my skin. Of all my favorite memories.
She held herself high, knowing exactly how much space she takes up and daring anyone to ask her to shrink. Braids fell in loose curls around full hips, with delicate strands free near her temples, so stubborn like her. Standing in front of me, she was dreamlike yet completely real.
But the moment her eyes met mine, I knew everything was different. She didn’t smile. Didn’t soften. Her gaze was cold and untrusting, as if trying to protect herself.
From me.
“It’ll be wonderful,” Mom declares, ever the optimist. “You were out there chasing your dreams. There’s nothing wrong with that. Leaving to do what you love is not a crime.”
She’s right, but I lost the woman I love in the process.
“Don’t worry about that, Ma. Worry about how I’m going to explain why I have flour in my hair and look like a Black, loc’d Santa Claus.”
Taking the broom, she smiles. “Go shower. I’ll take care of the mess. Love you.”
I kiss her temple. “Love you.”
“Hey, Cade,” Jo calls from the kitchen. “Can you come here?”
Ignoring the pulsing ache in my hip, I drag my attention from the rippling water outside to the tattered couch I jumped on as a kid. Lake Anita was my second home growing up, owned by Kenneth’s grandmother. Nan taught me how to swim in the lake when I was six. She and Kenneth chased baseballs I hit into the water, letting me practice for hours without complaint. I haven’t been here since returning to North Carolina, but it still feels the same.
A pink bomb exploded inside the small house. Hot pink streamers hang from the ceiling. Pretzels are dipped in white icing with fuchsia sprinkles. Cupcakes and donuts are stacked on the dining table.
Ducking to avoid hitting my head on the doorframe, I step into the kitchen. “What’s up?”
Jo looks up, mixing something in a bowl. “Kenneth was supposed to help me finish the cookies, but he’s too busy making googly eyes at Mallory.”
A laugh comes from the hallway bathroom. “I’m just a man!”
“A weak man,” Jo mutters, grabbing what looks like a massive condom and cutting the tip off. “Can you help me?”
I dive into action, taking what she explains is a piping bag, and funnel pink icing into it. Jo’s stress baking kept The Quartet alive in college, constantly rotating between delicious goodies to battle her pre-med stress.
“Where’s Adrienne?” I ask. “Doesn’t she have first dibs on licking the bowls and spoons?”
