Chapter 11 #2
“I busted my ass,” Monica blurted out.
“You sure did! Now, Monica, if you need to take a minute and let your knees rest, let’s do that,” Aunt Addy joked.
I was weak.
We laughed the entire way home.
“I’ve always wanted to have a picnic,” Aunt Addy told us with a contented sigh.
“I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned,” I said sympathetically.
She turned to look at me. “It was better than planned. It was picture-perfect, and then the rain came, and I haven’t laughed this hard in ages. Made it memorable in a different way.” She relaxed against the headrest. “I don’t think it could’ve gone better.”
Two days after that, we were still laughing about Monica’s fall. We were telling Rose about it while in the lobby of the spa.
“Welcome to your first yoni steam,” a woman greeted us, after reading our paperwork.
“A yoni steam is a cleanse for your vagina and uterus. The benefits include”—she looked at me—“balancing hormones, detoxification of the uterus”—she looked at Rose—“fewer headaches, stress and depression relief”—she looked at Aunt Addy—“increased energy, and overall pain relief. The vagina is a self-cleaning organ, so this yoni steam isn’t about cleaning. It’s about cleansing.”
I looked at Aunt Addy. What the hell do you have us doing?
When it was my turn to squat over a bowl of plant-based herbs in a room covered in beautiful drapery and crystals, I had that same thought running through my head again.
This is some wild-ass shit.
When our sessions concluded, we waited for Monica to pick us up.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had that much action,” Rose joked, causing us all to laugh.
When we climbed into the van, Monica kept looking at us and shaking her head. “You know there are no medical benefits to getting a yoni steam, and in fact, you could hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”
I smiled, listening to Monica lecture Aunt Addy and Rose while the two of them made jokes like teenagers in the car with their parents.
“I’ve hurt myself squatting over more dangerous things,” Aunt Addy quipped. “I’ll be fine.”
“My first husband didn’t have medical benefits, but I let him blow off steam between my legs,” Rose added with a giggle.
“The two of you are exhausting,” Monica complained good-naturedly. “I hope it’s not going to be like this at the drive-in this weekend.”
“It’ll be worse,” the two women said in unison.
And they weren’t lying.
The horror movie they were showing at the dilapidated drive-in theater wasn’t anything Aunt Addy particularly wanted to see. But it was the only film they were showing, so Aunt Addy called a bunch of her friends and created a drinking game.
“Anytime someone falls down, we drink,” she instructed.
And we did.
The entire group had this youthful energy about them, but their ages ranged from forty-five to seventy-five.
My aunt’s friend winked at me. “When you really live, age ain’t nothing but a number.”
“I know that’s right!” Aunt Addy chimed in, and the two cackled.
I looked around at everyone hugging Aunt Addy before leaving. Having a network of people was important, but having close friends who showed up for you when you needed them was everything.
She’s blessed.
I loved watching my aunt interact with her friends.
But I had to admit that it made me miss my best friends.
I’d been so consumed with my time with Aunt Addy that I hadn’t talked to Nina and Aaliyah.
Watching my aunt’s friend open the door for his wife reminded me that I hadn’t really talked to Lamar either.
But I’d been working on his business plan.
Twice a week he’d update our shared document with notes, and in turn, in the middle of the night, I’d read the updates, respond, and make comments of my own.
In his business plan, I didn’t feel any guilt for communicating with him.
I was helping a friend while my aunt was resting. There was no harm in that.
We didn’t have phone conversations.
We had his business plan.
We exchanged letter-like commentary on how to make his passion project the best it could be.
Sometimes our remarks were funny, but most of the time it was serious, and I was deeply impressed by how smart, how dedicated, and how inspiring he was.
But it was the summary that I’d anticipate the most. The way he shared himself and his reason for the update compelled me to share mine.
Even without conversing, I felt like I knew him better.
Jazz, let me know what you think about the addendum to the financial literacy piece. My mom and stepdad were the ones who taught me, but I realized in college that everyone didn’t get the same lessons. This one time …
Lamar, splitting the classes up so credit, investments, and taxes are not quick financial footnotes, but actual separate courses is smart. I learned the hard way about taxes when I had my first job at the library and that little check wasn’t what I thought it was going to be …
Jazz, I think you’re right. The addition of a professional development course is necessary.
The better you are as an athlete, the more you’re given and the less work you have to do.
Everything becomes about the sport and that’s it.
My mom wasn’t playing that, so I had to make a plan for life after football. Back in high school …
Lamar, when I was in high school, I spent so much time lost in a book or in boxing classes, one of the librarians worried I didn’t know how to talk to people. She came out to the gazebo and suggested a communications class …
Jazz, another by-product of being a star athlete is that sometimes they get away with talking to people any kind of way. My homeboy got sucker punched one night …
I felt closer to him than ever, but I hadn’t heard his voice in weeks.
“What’s going on with you and that boy?” Aunt Addy asked as we headed back to her house. “I can’t think of his name.”
“Lamar,” Monica answered.
With wide eyes, I looked between the backs of their heads. Was it that obvious I was thinking about him?
“Nothing’s going on,” I replied with a shrug. “We’re friends.”
“The way he was on my voicemail begging for you to call him and the way you ran to your room to make the call sounds like more than friendship to me,” Aunt Addy teased before giggling.
I stared out the window. “It’s not like that. We’re still friends though.”
They let the subject go.
But once we were in the house and Monica had gone home for the night, Aunt Addy called me into her room.
“What’s really going on with you and Lamar?” she asked me from underneath her covers.
The question was unexpected.
“Nothing,” I replied, lifting my shoulders. “He’s busy. I’m busy. But we’re friends. I’m helping him with his business plan.”
“But you want to be more.”
I shifted from one foot to the other. “Actually, I want to go to sleep.”
She let out a light laugh. “Good night.”
“Good night, Aunt Addy.”
I thought about that conversation as I pulled out my laptop and looked over the shared document and the changes Lamar had made. I laughed to myself as I read the note he’d added to one of my suggestions.
He’s so funny, I thought with a grin.
I wasn’t sure if it was because of my aunt’s comments or the jokes he’d made in the document, but when I saw Lamar’s mom at the jazz festival the following weekend, I got nervous.
I hadn’t been nervous when I met her.
I hadn’t been nervous when I saw her at Hot Comb.
But when Gwen and her husband, Bill, approached our section at the festival, all I could think about was her asking me about her son. There were twenty of us in the section, and I didn’t want to be put on the spot in front of Aunt Addy’s friends and their dates.
Gwen immediately came over and gave me a hug. When she stepped back, she gestured to her husband. “Bill, this is Jazmyn,” Gwen introduced. “She’s the one Lamar brought home last month.”
“Oh yeah! Hey, nice to meet you,” Bill said, shaking my hand. “I’ve heard nothing but good things.”
And that was the last mention of Lamar.
The artist lineup was stacked, so we spent most of the time singing and dancing to the music. I walked around the festival, taking everything in, and then, when I saw a group of similarly aged people staring my way, I immediately turned around.
I didn’t know who they were, but as soon as the hair on the back of my neck had stood up and my stomach had lurched, I’d known I wasn’t safe.
For the sake of my aunt, I’d spent more time in and around Chance than I had my entire senior year.
With my jaw clenched and my blood boiling, I took the long way back to my aunt and her friends so I could shake off the negative energy.
Fuck those people. Fuck this town. I’m here for Aunt Addy. Nothing else matters, I reminded myself as I headed back to the group.
As I approached, I noticed my aunt grimacing when no one was looking. When she caught sight of me, she flashed me a bright smile.
“Are you okay?” I wondered.
“I’m good, I’m good. But I’m ready to go,” Aunt Addy told me. “But feel free to stay. I don’t want to rush you.”
“These are songs from your youth, not mine!” I assured her. “I’m good.”
My aunt’s head fell back as she laughed. “Jazmyn!”
Aunt Addy, Monica, and I said our goodbyes to everyone.
“I like you more and more each time I see you,” Gwen stated, giving me a big hug.
“I feel the same way,” I returned.
It was easy for me to see where Lamar got his kindness. It was hard for me to remember why I had been nervous and why I’d thought it would be awkward. Lamar had barely been mentioned.
Until we climbed in the van.
“You get along well with your in-laws,” Aunt Addy joked.
“Haha,” I replied dryly. “Lamar and I are friends.”
When Monica got out of the car at the gas station to fill up the tank, Aunt Addy turned around and looked at me. “You’re friends?” she asked skeptically.
“We’re friends.”
“Does he know that?”
My eyebrows flew up. “Ye-yeah,” I stammered. “What? Why?”
Did his mom say something?
“Just thinking about the way he sounded on my voicemail begging for you to call him.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard. “He was just…” I couldn’t think of anything to explain it away. “We’re friends.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Is that what you want?”
“I enjoy having him in my life.”
“Jazmyn…” She paused, eyeing me carefully. “That sounds like a cop-out.”
“It would be too complicated.”
“That sounds like an excuse, not an answer.”
“I don’t—I’m not—I—” I sputtered, unsure of how to even respond to that. “It’s not an excuse.”
“I saw you after your dates. I heard you after that phone call. Seems to me like you wanted more.” She gave me a look. “Seems like it was more.”
I looked down at my hands. “Well, everything is not necessarily what it seems.” I raised my head and continued. “And I’m still figuring things out.”
She stared at me silently for a moment; a sympathetic expression crossed her face. “Are you figuring out what you want, or do you know what you want and are afraid to stand in it?”