“You also look nervous,” she says to me. She can always read me. I’m laid bare in front of her no matter how much I like to think I’m my own person with my own private thoughts and smoke screen of serenity.
“I guess I am. A little. Is it that obvious?”
“Oh, please. I know you. You were me, before you were you. Don’t forget that.”
I don’t know exactly what she means, but I get it. For all the ways I want to be different from my mother, there are many more we’re alike. It’s an idea I could learn to embrace.
“I wish we’d gotten to know him better, Corey. Why’d you fall so hard for him? Your nose was wide open!”
“I don’t know, Mom, he made me feel seen. It’s hard to explain. Like I could just be my real self. I didn’t overthink with him, I just was. When he looked at me, I felt like both the person I am and wanted to be. He made me feel, I don’t know… special, confident… as dumb as that sounds.”
“Riley Wilson, you’re the most confident, exceptional human being I know. I raised you to know that. To know your worth.”
“Well, it’s not that easy sometimes.” I don’t add that she raised me to constantly be a better version of myself and that that was exhausting and that Corey loved the version of me that already existed, flawed as she may be. But we’re having such a nice moment, I’m determined not to ruin it by mining my childhood for grievances.
“But I know, Momma, I know. I appreciate you.”
“Get the blouse. You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard. Treat yo’self. Ain’t that what the kids say?”
She reaches over and digs into her pocketbook and hands me a $20. “Here, let me put something toward it. I want you to have it.”
“No, no, I got it.” I’m still getting used to the idea, and the guilt, of making more money than anyone in my family.
“Well, keep that money and use it to pay your way tonight. Girls let men pay for them and these men expect something, you know.”
There’s only one thing Corey expects from me: an explanation.
I start to take off the blouse and then remember I’m going to wear it tonight. I hand my drab sweater to my mom. It won’t fit in my tiny clutch. “Could you take this home with you?”
“Home? I’m going to take it right over there to the Salvation Army!”
We walk to the register and my mother leans in and lowers her voice like she’s prepared to divulge another secret. Is this the day I learn about her secret love child?
“So, you think Kevin’s going to take the deal?” she asks in a stage whisper that people from a mile around could hear.
Over lunch, I told my mom in confidence how Sabrina had called me to tell me about the offer. It was now clear that using Kevin as leverage had been Sabrina’s strategy all along. It was Cameron whose head she wanted on a platter—his was the more solid legal case to make. Cameron shot first and he shot someone who didn’t match the description of the suspect they were chasing. Sabrina was confident that she could get a guilty verdict and a long prison sentence. “Ten years, at least,” she told me. “That’s some justice.” So Kevin now had a lifeline, and it would be crazy for him not to take it. Except we’re already three days in and he hasn’t decided.
“I don’t know, Mom. He’d be crazy not to, though.”
“Yeah, but those cops rather go to jail than rat on each other. Even the Black ones get all caught up in that. But I guess we’ll see. You’re seeing Jenny next week, right? That’s good, that’s good.”
I’d told Momma at lunch about my talk with Jenny, how hard and infuriating it was. But how it was also a relief, to finally get out everything I’ve been thinking, even if it changes everything between us.
“But at least you’re talking,” she’d said. “Just keep going on. You can’t expect everyone to get everything. Sometimes you’ve gotta meet people where they are and bring them along. It’s not always worth it, but you love Jen through and through and vice versa and y’all will get through this.”
“We’re meeting up the week after, actually.”
The only thing I’d heard from Jenny was a cryptic text the day after Kevin’s arraignment saying she was going out of town but could we see each other when she’s back. It’s funny that I have the same feeling thinking about meeting up with Jenny after our last conversation as I do about Corey, an excited dread, like I’m preparing for something, but what?
I hand the tag to the sales clerk. “Could you ring me up with this? I’m just going to wear the blouse now.”
“It looks great on you,” she says.
“I appreciate y’all didn’t hover over us and follow us around like we were going to steal something,” Mom says to the sales clerk, nodding her head in vigorous agreement with her own thoughts.
The young blond woman has no idea what to do with this strange “compliment.”
We walk out into the dusk, the sun casting a labyrinth of shadows on the sidewalk. I strangely have the urge to keep our mother-daughter date going—drinks at Parc or pedis, but Corey awaits. And besides, we may not want to push our luck.
“I’ll see you and your brother at five p.m. sharp on Saturday, right?”
Both Shaun and I are dreading this, but we agreed to go look at apartments in Bensalem with our parents this weekend. Momma puts on a chipper facade whenever she talks about downsizing and claims to be looking forward to having so many fewer rooms to clean. She’s working hard to hide her despair. I learned from the best.
“At least we’ll get a discount on moving, with your brother’s gig.” Her laughter feels genuine enough for me to allow myself the hope that this move and losing the house won’t break her—maybe it’s a fresh start.
“Well, wish me luck,” I say.
“You don’t need luck, you have God. And you don’t need any man.”
“I don’t need a man… but maybe I want one.” I hug her as we laugh and say goodbye.
It’s only a ten-minute walk to the diner but I already know Corey is going to be there when I arrive, because he always said it was better to be an hour early than a minute late. No CP time for Corey.
Sure enough, when I go through the doors and the quaint bell jingles above my head, I spot him right away, even in the crowded restaurant.
It’s like I’m at the peak of a roller coaster, right at that split second before it goes into free fall. Corey sees me and breaks into a wide grin. The coaster plummets. As I walk over, I take him in greedily. He looks exactly the same, which is to say, as attractive as ever—same tall, lean frame, olive skin, that dimple in his left cheek.
When I reach the table, he gets up to greet me, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. I count the seconds his warm lips graze the space near my mouth. It’s not long enough.
“Breakfast for dinner. You remembered.”
I knew Corey would dig this West Philly diner because he loves a place that serves breakfast for dinner, which is why I chose it, and also as a stupid nod to our first date, pancakes in Chicago. The downside is they don’t serve alcohol, and my need is bordering on desperate, but he looks so touched, the sacrifice is almost worth it.