“Mm. I thought you were trying to save.”
“I am saving.”
“Mm. So tell me how you've been,” she said.
“I’ve been okay. Busy job hunting. Waiting on the North Carolina bar results. Getting Micah set up.”
“How long have you been here, two months?”
“About.”
“And you haven't found something yet?”
“It's a tough market. And I had to wait for my license to comethrough, so the places I’ve interviewed with so far would have to wait for me to actually be able to start.”
“Mm. Are you holding up?”
“I’m happy here so far. I’m good. It's just been a lot of change. Overwhelming at times.”
“Listen. I raised five children by myself.Five. I worked two and three jobs. Didn’t have anybody to help me. I rolled my sleeves up. I sucked it up. I pushed through. That's what you do. That's what we have always done. You have one child. You have an education a lot of women don't get. You have Raschad and Simone not far from here to help with Micah. You are not by yourself, Alyssa. You are not even close to by yourself. So whatever isoverwhelming, you gotta suck it up and handle it. The way I handled it. The way your grandmother handled it. The way every Carter woman has persevered and handled it.”
“I understand.”
“I'm telling you this because I love you.”
“I know.”
“Roll your sleeves up.”
“My sleeves are rolled up.”
“Good.” She nodded and drank her water.
The door buzzed. Julian was bringing Micah back from practice. I'd hoped that the timing wouldn't overlap with my mother’s visit. Practice usually ran later. Julian had probably ended it early because the thunderstorms were rolling in.
“You expecting somebody?” she asked.
“That's Micah with Julian.”
“Julian? Simone’s brother?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.”
I answered the door and Micah came barreling through first. Cleats in one hand, duffle bag in the other. “Mom, Coach Julian said I — Grandma!”
He dropped his things and ran straight to her. She was already standing, opening her arms, smiling the smile that took up her whole face. The smile that Raschad still got, but that my sisters and I stopped getting somewhere around when we’d hit sixth grade.
“My baby. Look at you all sweaty. Come here.”
“I had football practice.”
“I see that.” She hugged him, and he tucked his face into her shoulder for a second.
Julian stayed in the foyer, holding Micah's water bottle, looking at my mother, who was looking at him over the top of Micah's head.
“Mrs. Carter.” Julian nodded.
