“Don’t worry, Granddaddy,” I say, “we have a perfect plan to get Momma here. And once she’s here, the first thing you gotta do is apologize.” I give Granddaddy a look that I hope says, I know what you did. “I know you can make her forgive you, I just know it.”
“How do you know that, huh?” Granddaddy asks, voice strained. “I really hurt her. I don’t know if she’s ever gon’ be able to forgive me. I don’t even know if she should.”
This time, it’s Nia who reaches cross the table and lifts Granddaddy’s dipped chin. “She’ll forgive you,” Nia says. “Daddies make mistakes, but it don’t change that special thing between a daddy and his daughter. Ain’t nothing that can change that.”
I rest my hand on Nia’s thigh and squeeze, just a little, to let her know I’m proud. Maybe she ain’t get her chance to forgive Daddy, but now she got a chance to keep Momma from making the same choice. Nia’s right—daddies make mistakes. And the hurt they cause, that can’t be undone. But how they try to make up for those mistakes is important, too. Like Granddaddy, being here for Momma when she needs him. As I think bout all that Granddaddy’s done for us this summer, I realize, it looks a whole lot like working hard for her forgiveness.
Granddaddy eats the rest of his food without talking, so me and Nia eat our food without talking. Finally, after Granddaddy finishes his whole plate of food—and me and Nia finish half of our own, then box up the rest to take home—Granddaddy speaks again.
“I’ll talk to your momma,” he says. Me and Nia squeal excitedly. “I ain’t makin’ no promises, nah! But I’ll talk to her.” Granddaddy tries to look serious, but mostly, he just looks happy.
While we wait for the waiter to deliver the bill, I close my eyes and think of all the things I’m grateful for. But then I open them again when I discover it’s too many to count. Instead, I enjoy what it feels like to be in this moment—squished in the booth beside Nia, smiling at Granddaddy, tummy full with chips and cheese and tacos, laughing so hard til my face hurts.
* * *
Momma is back. The air is cooler now and lifts my hair as I run to her, grinning hard. She pulls in the driveway so slow I am already at her car before she can park. She climbs out and hugs me so tight that I cough and cough til it turns to laughs.
Momma came back, just like I knew she would. I ain’t sure what Granddaddy said or did to get her here, but he did it. Momma is here and looking better than ever. She pulls back from our hug, gives me first one wink, then blows two kisses. I catch the first and kiss it, catch the second and blow it back into the wind. Our special thing, just me and Momma.
Soon, Nia is there, too, and Momma wraps us both in a hug that feels complete, like ain’t nothin’ missing. Then she stoops low to look us both in the eyes and asks, “Guess what?”
Me and Nia wait without speaking.
“We have a house!” Momma’s voice squeaks that last part, from either excitement or emotion, I can’t tell. She waits for me and Nia to be happy, but we both stand there, quiet. I turn and look at Granddaddy, standing silent beside the porch. Nia and Momma turn to look at him, too, so Granddaddy comes over and stands between me and Nia, then clears his throat.
“It’s okay, girls. Me and your momma done talked. And we both decided that it’s gon’ be best for yawl to go on back to Detroit, get your life back on track there.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means,” Granddaddy replies, “that we tryna work things out. And we still got a ways to go to get back what we lost”—Granddaddy looks at Momma—“but I’m gon’ do everything I can to get there. Starting with getting yawl back together.” Now Granddaddy looks at me and Nia again. “I helped yawl Momma out with a down payment on your very own house.”
“But what about our plan?” Nia stammers, taking the words out of my mouth.
“Plans change,” Granddaddy says with a smile. “Yawl are ready to go home now. All of yawl.” He looks at Momma when he says this last part and winks.
I watch Momma and Granddaddy, then watch Nia. She takes a big breath, then lets it out as she rushes into Momma’s arms. So I rush into Momma’s arms, too. Momma wraps both of us into a tight squeeze and we jump up and down together like kids. We stay there like that long as we can, til we hear Granddaddy start to walk back toward the porch.
“You girls gon’ in and pack up your stuff. And don’t worry,” Momma says, “we’ll be back.” She smiles and it’s her best ice cream cone smile yet, cause this one ain’t sad in none of her secret places. Nia walks quick, but I walk slow so I can grab Momma by the arm. When she turns to look at me, I pull her in for what seems like a hug, but then I whisper in her ear, “You should tell Nia bout what happened between you and Granddaddy. She needs to hear it.” Then, before Momma can respond, I follow Nia to the house.
As we climb the porch steps, Momma approaches Granddaddy. She don’t try to hug him this time, just walks up to him, still smiling. But he takes her hands in his, and as I walk past them into the house, I hear him whisper, “How’s my star?” And this time it’s Granddaddy that goes for the hug, and after a couple seconds, Momma hugs right back.
I smile my biggest smile, then run inside before my looking makes the hug go away. A daddy hug is something special that you don’t even know you need. I swallow the lump in my throat quick, cause even though my daddy’s hug is gone for good, Momma got hers back. I think bout all me and Nia had to go through this summer, to find our way back together, so I know this hug is just the beginning. But still, it’s a start.
Momma and Granddaddy wait on the porch while we pack our small bags. Nia is quiet, so I am quiet, too. Plus, I ain’t got much to say. I am happy to see Momma, but I am sad, too, bout all that I gotta leave behind here. My tree. Granddaddy. I think back to the beginning of the summer, the things that mattered along the way. Ain’t gon’ be nobody to catch all them magical fireflies once I’m gone.
I stuff my rainbow jacket into the bag and then struggle to get it zipped. Nia finishes first and leaves the room without a second look. But not me. I sit down on the edge of the bed and put my eyes on everything that matters. The mirror that Nia always looked in. The dresser that held my books and the bed that held my dreams. The crack in the ceiling that reminds me of my life now. A little bit of bad that can still be good, if you look at it just right.
I walk out to the porch. Granddaddy sits on the steps with both hands in his lap. Momma and Nia already in the car, so I know it’s time for my good-bye. I sit next to Granddaddy, and for minutes, neither of us speaks.
“I’m gon’ miss you,” I finally say, looking down at my hands in my lap.
“I’m gon’ miss you, too, Kenyatta. My favorite Wheel of Fortune partner.” Granddaddy nudges me with his shoulder and I can’t help but look up at him and smile. “You promise to visit your lonely old granddaddy sometimes?”
I nod. “Every summer,” I say with a big smile, hoping it’s gon’ be true. Granddaddy smiles back before his face turns thoughtful.