Chapter 10
Aunt Addison’s health had gone downhill around the same time as my marriage, and that seemed to bring us even closer.
She began feeling sick, and I started listening to my gut about the man I shouldn’t have married, but we persevered.
When shit hit the fan in both our lives—she had a cardiac event, and I found out Tyson was cheating—it was in the exact same month.
Nothing had been the same from that moment on.
“The only way to keep a man is to get a man who wants to be kept,” Aunt Addy said from the recliner in the living room on Wednesday afternoon.
With a laugh, I snapped my fingers and nodded in agreement. “Facts.”
After her doctor had ordered a battery of tests to be done before she could leave, Aunt Addy was released from the rehab facility on Sunday afternoon. She’d been home for three days, and she was in much better spirits. She was back to her old self—personality wise.
Physically, she was different.
She got around in a wheelchair for the most part because her left side was weak.
But she was still relatively mobile, and with assistance, she could slowly walk short distances—from her bed to the recliner, from the bathroom to the hallway, from the couch to her chair.
She kept her arm propped on a pillow or the armrest. Despite those physical changes, her spirit, her joy, and her attitude were quintessentially Addison Payne.
“People who hate themselves will always make you pay for loving them,” Aunt Addy warned.
“Preach,” I cosigned, amused by the steady stream of life advice that poured out of her.
“Write that down.”
I nodded, fully intending to. “You should take all your advice and put it in a book.”
She gave me a look. “You should be writing your book.”
I laughed. “I knew as soon as I opened my mouth that you were going to say that. I started already. I don’t have much, but I did start.”
She gave me a singular nod. “Good. Now, what’s the update with that man? You’ve been avoiding that subject, too.”
I shrugged. “Nothing to avoid. Nothing going on.”
She gave me a skeptical look. “I saw that smile on your face last week. That didn’t look like nothing.”
Amused, I shook my head. “I don’t know what you want me to say. It was a date.” I pointed at her. “Per the list, I did everything I was supposed to do.”
“Per the list, you’re supposed to go on dates. Plural. Let’s not forget the reason we’re doing this.”
“Let’s focus on your list. Is tomorrow going to be too much?” I wondered. “I wouldn’t have scheduled the spa day on the same day as your hair appointment.”
“But the salon had a cancellation and could get us in early. And the spa would’ve made us pay for a cancellation. And once my hair is done and my nails are done, we can schedule my photoshoot.” My aunt nodded. “It’ll work out.”
I looked at Monica. “But is it too much?”
“I don’t think we’re changing Addison’s mind, so we’ll see tomorrow,” she answered with a dry laugh.
Aunt Addy and I spent the rest of the evening talking about the photoshoot. I took notes, making sure not to miss a detail. After we ate dinner, Monica helped her with her nighttime routine. And I went to bed thinking about what she’d said about Lamar.
I hadn’t heard from him in over a week. It had been days since I’d sent that text. He was supposed to be back on Thursday, and I truly hoped he’d had a great time. But the fact that he hadn’t reached out got under my skin.
Even still, waking up to the sound of my aunt cackling put a smile on my face.
“Good morning!” I yelled out.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up,” she said over the subtle squeak of her wheelchair moving down the hall. “But now that you’re up, what do you want for breakfast?”
Sitting up in bed, I tossed the comforter off me. “Bacon, please.”
“You always want bacon.”
“And do.”
I wasn’t going to think about Lamar and his return from Dubai. The focus of the day was making Aunt Addison feel special and beautiful. It was our first time knocking something off her list.
“I’ve heard nothing but good things about Hot Comb,” Aunt Addy said as we pulled into the parking lot of the salon. “I’ve never gone because you know I’m loyal to Liz. But Liz doesn’t do color.”
“The reviews are outstanding,” Monica commented as she parked.
We got Aunt Addy in her wheelchair, and then we entered the reasonably busy salon. I grabbed the door, and Monica wheeled her in.
“Welcome to Hot Comb,” a woman greeted us. “Name please?”
“Addison Payne.”
“You’re here for a coloring appointment.” She smiled. “You two can follow me.” She turned to me and pointed. “Our waiting area is over here.”
Aunt Addy gasped. “Oh! That means I can do a grand reveal.”
I laughed as Monica took her back to her stylist. Just when I got comfortable in the waiting area, a woman walked in with the cutest little girl. She looked to be about two years old and had bows all over her short hair. With a huge smile, the little girl toddled right up to me as if she knew me.
“Well, hello,” I greeted the little one.
“I’m sorry!” The woman who I presumed was her mother strolled up to us.
“It’s fine. She’s so cute,” I remarked as the little girl touched my knee.
“My daughter thinks every Black woman with locs is my sister,” she said with a little laugh.
When I opened my palm, the little girl started patting it. I looked up at her mother, and her smile faltered.
Confusion and shock puckered her face. “Jazmyn Payne?”
My brows creased. I had no idea who she was. “We know each other?”
She sat in the seat next to me. “No, not really. I mean, my name is Decca.” She gestured down her plump body. “I, um … look different than I did back then, but we, um … we went to high school together.”
“Oh.” With pursed lips, I just stared back at her.
“I never knew what happened to you,” she said softly. “I wondered for years. I even searched for you on social media.”
I was intentionally hard to find online because I didn’t want anyone from Chance or any of my students to find me on the internet. But I was surprised and curious as to why someone I’d had no interactions with would be looking for me.
“Why?” I asked aloud.
Her daughter climbed into her lap and started humming.
Decca glanced at her and then back at me.
“I used to see you around school and the library. I thought how they treated you and what they used to say about you was really messed up. Whenever I’d see you in the library, I always thought about inviting you to my book club or just … saying hi.”
Sitting back in the chair, I maintained eye contact. “So why didn’t you?”
She was quiet, and a flicker of shame crossed her face.
“Because I didn’t want to go through what you went through.
I didn’t want to lose the little social capital I had.
I was lanky and awkward and kind of shy.
I didn’t have many friends, and I didn’t want to lose the ones I had. So it was easier to just not…”
My brows furrowed. “It was easier to just not say anything?”
She nodded. “It was easier to do nothing than to stand up for you or offer you friendship. Especially after that flyer thing. I always wanted to apologize for never doing what I knew was right. Because I am sorry. And you didn’t deserve that.”
“Decca, your stylist is ready,” the woman from the front announced before I could respond.
With a small smile, Decca gave me a nod as she scooped up her daughter.
She walked away, and for the next few minutes, I thought about what she’d said.
Being a social pariah because of something I did would’ve been one thing.
But it being based on a lie, jealousy, and a group of mean girls with a vendetta was maddening.
To finally hear someone admit that they had seen what was happening, known it was wrong, and distanced themselves from me anyway was truly disheartening.
I hate it here.
Ninety minutes later, Monica came out to get me. “Addison and the stylist hit it off. They didn’t stop talking this whole time.”
I grinned. “That’s good! She makes a friend wherever she goes.”
“Come see her hair.”
Standing, I said, “Lead the way.”
I followed her down the hall and around a wall. It opened to a large styling room with six stations. My eyes zeroed in on the wheelchair sitting next to the station on the far right. I couldn’t see my aunt. I could see only the back of the stylist.
“I can’t believe we haven’t met before. But I’m glad you have my number now,” the stylist was saying as we walked toward them.
“And we’ll have to get together soon. Because I will be at that jazz festival in a few weeks.”
“I know that’s right!”
My aunt sounded like her old self, and that put the biggest smile on my face.
She’s going to be okay, I told myself.
“We’re here and we’re ready,” Monica called out as we approached.
“Presenting to you, the new and improved Addison Payne,” the stylist announced as she spun the chair around.
My aunt’s long locs were such a vibrant blue. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. She was always so creative and stylish, but dyeing her hair such a bright color was one of the coolest things she’d done.
“I love it!” I couldn’t stop staring as I got closer. “You look so good!”
“Jazmyn?!” the stylist exclaimed.
When I looked over, I saw a familiar face and a fantastic bob. “Mrs. Brooks?!”
“You know my niece?” Aunt Addison asked with a huge grin.
“I met her a couple of weeks ago when she stopped by my house with my son.”
My aunt’s head whipped around. “Your son is Lamar!”
The two of them squealed and started talking at the same time as my stomach dropped. My face flushed with embarrassment at their excitement.
Aunt Addy knew that he was out of town, but she didn’t know he’d ignored me for almost his entire ten-day vacation.
“He’s in Dubai, right?” she asked, even though she already knew.
I stared daggers at her. Girl, what is you doing?