You deserve different.
“Where’s your suitcase?” Aunt Faye asks.
“I didn’t bring it. I’ve got clothes here.”
“Yeah, clothes you ain’t worn in two years.”
“And I’m sure they still fit just fine.”
“But you’re smaller. Are you losing weight for the wedding?—”
“How’s AJ?” Uncle Kenny interrupts, setting his mug down.
He has that look again, like he knows it hurts when I breathe, or that hearing somebody say AJ’s name makes my mouth dry.
“He’s okay,” I reply sharply. “Why?”
“You came by yourself. It’s the first time you visited since y’all left and he didn’t come? I wanted to see him. I wanted to talk to him about Family Fun Day. He said he’d come when I texted him about it last month. And I wanna ask him about that AC unit he said he’d donate to the gym through his charity.”
“I told you Rich can get one and install it,” Aunt Faye hisses under her breath.
“And I told you I ain’t want him to.”
I don’t know who Rich is, but based on their tense faces and strained voices, I can surmise that he’s the “project.” Those projects always brought out the worst in them.
My eyes volley between them while I clear my throat. “Well, I missed y’all. I don’t think AJ needs to escort me every time I want to visit.”
Aunt Faye stops dragging the dishrag across a plate, and Uncle Kenny takes a long slurp of his tea. The silence lies between us like a thick, wet rug.
Uncle Kenny scratches the back of his bald head like he used to do when Aunt Faye needed to ask me something delicate, because I scare them. I always have.
Aunt Faye says it’s because I’ve always had “some sense,” but what I think she means is that there are some things I can’t forget. My old therapist called them “traumatic memories.” She said they might fade with age, but eighteen years later, I still remember the tart scent lingering on Mama’s breath while she used to coo at me to “hush” and sometimes I still hear the last few words my daddy, Tony, uttered to her before they left.
“Is AJ okay with you staying a while?” Aunt Faye asks.
I pull my bottom lip into my mouth. “Yeah. He’s…he’s okay with it.”
“Good. Tell him not to worry. We were home for you before he ever was. I’m glad he’s letting us get some time with you before the wedding.”
Uncle Kenny’s lips lift into a satisfied smile. “Yeah, too bad he couldn’t have tagged along for at least a night, though. He could’ve caught a red-eye from Pittsburgh and left here early in the morning to make it back in time for practice.”
I catch the side-eye Aunt Faye gives him before she turns around.
She’s still tiptoeing around me and this relationship I convinced her was solid, but I’ve done stranger things like major in fashion design at a state school, forgo an MFA at FIT for AJ, and I’ve left home so many times without telling them that I’ve lost count. But I know she won’t keep poking because she alwayssays she’s trying to let me do the one thing Mama didn’t get to do.
“I wish you would’ve told us you were coming. We could’ve at least taken some days off work,” she chirps from over her shoulder.
I wave my hand. “It’s fine.”
“Maybe you can go by Terrica’s tomorrow? I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. Y’all can go to one of those wedding boutiques and try on some dresses. I know you’re still looking for a reception dress. Vera told me about a place her daughter found her gown at in Montrose?—”
“I was actually hoping I could come to work with you tomorrow.”
She turns back around, tossing a tight smile my way while sitting the plate she’d been drying in the dish rack. “I know you ain’t come home to clean houses.”
Actually, there’s nothing I want more than mind-numbing cleaning. I want to steam linen, scrub toilets, and shake out duvets. Ineedto clean. I need to douse my brain with so much bleach that all of my memories from the past five years disappear—even the good ones.
“I didn’t, but I don’t mind it. I used to do it all the time with you. Besides, sitting in the house while you and Uncle Kenny go to work would be kind of lonely, don’t you think?”
