“You’re out of your mind to leave your purse here. You wouldn’t do that in Malibu, why the hell are you doing it here?” Roan admonishes like I’ve lost my mind.
“I don’t know what kind of mother we’re going to meet, and I most certainly do not want to come across as extra bougie out of the gate. Trust me, this is how Black women size each other up. It’s all about being relatable.”
“Then why am I here? I’m wearing emerald-green suede loafers like some sort of Keebler elf.”
“I need a witness should things go sideways with Carmel. Besides, drama makes you giddy. Consider this field trip a wedding present.”
“Nope. Doesn’t count.” Roan’s injured finger rings the bell. “Let’s do this.”
The door swings open just enough for me to see a woman who’s wearing my hairdo better than I am looking back at me with a hint of suspicion. “Can I help you?”
I do my best to give enough of a smile to convey warmth, but not too over-the-top by showing all my teeth. “Carmel Burns?”
“That’s me. Who’s asking?” This is when I know it’s good I’ve come empty handed, not burdened by a designer handbag and a load of bullshit.
“My name’s Nina Clarke. I’m the head of school at Royal-Hawkins in Pasadena where you’ve applied your sons, Dontrelle and Marcus. This is my colleague Roan Dawson. How are you doing today?” I don’t put my hand out to shake because Carmel still has the security screen shut tight.
“Oh, okay!” Carmel’s tone turns from guarded to flustered. “I’m doing well, thank you. They told me Royal-Hawkins had a Black principal, but I don’t remember them also saying a woman. Come in. Come in.”
Who’s the they Carmel’s talking about? Looking at Roan’s head tilt, I suspect he’s wondering the same thing.
Entering the living room, I spy an ebony cherub waddling across the carpet, double fisting LEGO bricks, diaper drawers dragging.
“This is my youngest son, Anton. A surprise blessing when the twins were twelve and I thought I was on the backside of parenting. Looks like you might be having yourself one of those blessings too.” Carmel looks from my belly back to my face, surely guessing that at my age there was nothing planned about my pregnancy.
“Nina already kicked her other kid across the country to New York when this happened,” Roan fills in, hitching a thumb in my direction, excited to dish at my expense. “When this one pops, the other one will be getting her driver’s license!”
“A life sentence, that’s for sure,” Carmel cackles, and Roan joins her, enjoying this all too much. I let them have their moment and bend down to pick up a dropped royal-blue LEGO brick that may be pivotal to Anton’s toddler creation.
“Please, have a seat, thank you for coming all this way. Between you two and the other men that stopped by a few weeks ago, you sure are making me, Dontrelle, and Marcus feel special.”
If we were on my couch watching reality TV my jaw would have dropped to the floor, but this is real life, so instead I clench down hard and smile.
“You know things have been so busy at school since the New Year, and, well, you know how pregnancy brain is. That baby fog can get in the way of clear thinking.” I’m met with a nod of understanding from Carmel and a raised eyebrow from Roan. “I’m sure somewhere in the back of my head I can remember who I sent over here to visit with you, but right this second, I can’t recall. Can you help me out?”
“Oooo, Nina, you don’t have to tell me! I could barely remember my own name by the time Anton came around. And you’re running a school too?! Believe me; I know how it is.” At this moment Carmel is my favorite person in the whole world. She gets the precarious balance of my overflowing plate, and it makes me want to hug her, and then have her repeat exactly what she said to Leo.
“Let me see, there was a White guy, Winn something, probably late fifties. My twins are so competitive they loved his name.” Carmel lowers her voice to a husky whisper. “A little more uptight than I’m used to, but he sure was good looking. And there was a fine young brother with him. I remember his name was Jared Jones. My boys were all up in his business. I thought those two men were a strange match, but I recognized them from a few of the boys’ basketball games. When they showed up and wanted to talk to me about my sons’ talent on the court, I felt okay about it. They both work for you, right?”
Roan turns to me, eager to hear my answer.
“Yes, they do,” I respond, with maybe a little too much attitude.
Carmel picks up Anton and places him on her lap. He drops a LEGO and fights to get down to retrieve it, but she keeps a firm hold on him. I can’t take my eyes off what is going to be my future in a few short months. While I’m finally comfortable talking about having a baby, this is the first tiny person I’ve been around in years.
“Sorry, can you repeat that, Carmel? Did you say it was Jared Jones and Winn Hawkins who came by your house?” Roan jumps in to keep putting the pieces of our mission together without causing our hostess alarm.
“Ohhh does that man own the school?!” I want to tell Carmel that Winn Hawkins doesn’t own shit, but I don’t want to squash Carmel’s semicelebrity excitement. “Can’t believe I didn’t put that together until now.” Roan and Carmel share a laugh while I come to grips with the fact that Winn, Jared, and Courtney are plotting to strong-arm the future of Royal-Hawkins by going around me.
“Well, it’s a compliment that Winn and Jared have been at some of your sons’ games; they must be very talented. Did they share any particular reasons, other than their general interest in youth league basketball?” I’m working double time to keep the disbelief out of my voice. I know in order for Carmel to trust me with the details of her interaction with Winn and Jared, she has to believe there’s no issue at play and that she’s not ratting anyone out.
“I have to admit, at first I thought it was suspect that they were hanging around the gyms doing who knows what. You never know with people these days.” Roan and I nod our heads in agreement. “But when they stopped by and said that they have been scouting the county to find the best middle school players to recruit for Royal-Hawkins’s high school basketball team, it all made sense. Turns out they know more about Dontrelle and Marcus’s stats than I do. When the boys found out their coach would be Jared, they were ready to sign on right there. Did that brotha really go to Harvard?”
“He really did,” I assure Carmel.
“Wow, that’s what’s up. My boys have never been ones for studying, right now they only dream of going pro. Maybe at your school they could have a chance at going to college.” Finally, someone recognizes Royal-Hawkins is my school.
“When Winn and Jared were here visiting, they encouraged you to apply to Royal-Hawkins. Is that where you all left the meeting?” Roan pipes back in.
“Oh no, they made it much easier than that, which I appreciate ’cause I don’t know how this whole fancy private school thing works. Uh sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
I smile. “No, you’re right. The place is pretty fancy.” I want Carmel to feel like she has some knowledge about what’s happening to her family, that she’s not just being led into the unknown by a couple of overgrown knuckleheads.