Chapter 12
Aunt Addy stared at her African violet tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “I love it.”
I held out my arm next to hers to showcase my temporary tattoo that matched her real one. “It’s so cute,” I agreed.
“I still can’t believe you did that yesterday,” Monica complained, shaking her head.
“I can’t believe you haven’t finished the book! The meeting is in a couple hours, and I know you haven’t made it to the end yet.”
“I’m almost done,” Monica replied. “If I weren’t up worrying about you and this risky behavior—”
“Risky behavior?!” My aunt balked. “I got a tattoo. If you think I’ve never noticed that lower-back tattoo you have, you’d be mistaken.” She looked at me. “Monica has a little … what do they call it? A slag tag? A tramp stamp?”
I laughed out loud. “Yeah, a long time ago, they called those tramp stamps. I’ve never even heard of a slag tag.”
“It was something I heard when I was living abroad,” my aunt quickly explained.
Monica turned around and lifted her scrubs to show off a butterfly with expansive wings. “Leave my tramp stamp alone! I was twenty-one when I got this, and it still looks pretty good.”
“It looks great!” Aunt Addy exclaimed. “But you can’t talk about my little flower when you got your whole lower back covered.”
She turned back around and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not my whole back. And you have some nerve calling me a tramp when your book club pick started with sex on the first page! I mean, really! What kind of mess is that?”
Aunt Addy pursed her lips. “And I see you kept reading.”
“I sure did!”
They cackled, and all I could do was shake my head.
When we arrived at the library a little later, it was evident that if Monica hadn’t finished the book, she wouldn’t have been alone.
“Wow,” I breathed, looking at the turnout.
More than fifty people who either knew my aunt or knew about the book club had shown up.
Only about thirty-five of them had read the whole book, but everyone participated in an amazing discussion.
The bakery that provided refreshments was a hit.
The photographer donated a thirty-minute headshot session, and Lamar’s mom donated a gift card to Hot Comb as door prizes.
After three hours, the library told us we had to shut it down and everyone begrudgingly left.
“Excuse me, Ms. Payne,” the petite librarian with the tiny afro called out. “This was such a big hit. Would you consider doing this again every other month? We would love to make this a regular thing.”
My aunt’s smile grew even though she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I would love to have this be a regular thing. Is there someone who could take lead in case I’m unable to do it?”
The librarian shifted her eyes to me. “You’re Jazmyn Payne, right? You’re the one I worked with to set this up?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Would you be willing to do it?” She put her hands together in prayer form. “Please. We could meet next month to get things started.”
“No, I don’t live here, and I’m leaving before the month is out,” I answered.
“What about you?” Aunt Addy questioned the librarian. “Would you be able to do it?”
Her face lit up. “I’d love to! Just let me know what you need.”
They exchanged information, and then the librarian turned to me.
“Jazmyn, I just need you to sign some paperwork. But can I show you something first? It’ll take five minutes.”
“Yeah,” I told her. Turning to Aunt Addy and Monica, I could see she was uncomfortable in her chair. “I’ll meet you two in the van,” I told them.
I followed the librarian to the back of the library. As we took the same route that I’d taken all those years ago, a sad smile pulled at my lips at the memory.
It’s too bad they—
“When you called to schedule this book club meeting, I knew your name sounded familiar,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
“And then, when you said you were leaving soon, I knew I needed to show you this before you left town.” She pushed open the back door.
“You’re the first of the public to see it. ”
My hands flew to my face, and I gasped. “The gazebo!”
Bigger and better, the structure was at least twice the size of the one before it.
“After they finish painting it, we’re going to announce the grand opening in time for this upcoming school year,” she said excitedly.
“This is beautiful.”
She nodded. “It’s much nicer than the one we originally were going to go with, but with the money we received, we were able to really make it special. We were told that this was your favorite spot in Chance.”
“It was.” I looked around in awe. “It’s beautiful.”
“Now, hopefully, this will be enough to get you back for the next book club meeting!”
We laughed.
Heading back inside, we stopped by the information desk so I could sign the paperwork to confirm that we’d left the space the way we found it. I thanked the librarians and other workers for their help in making the event a success, and then I left.
“And when Barbara said…” Aunt Addy was midstory when I climbed inside the van.
I listened to her excitement as she relayed the whole conversation to Monica. Hearing the happiness in her voice struck a chord in me, and my eyes watered. Blinking back tears, I wanted to commit the sound of her glee, the sound of her laugh, the sound of her joy to memory.
We made it back to her house, and we were sitting down for dinner an hour later. She still had that well-earned, self-satisfied smile on her face.
“I’m proud of you,” I told her. “That was a really good turnout.”
“Yes, it was,” she said, her smile growing. “And the library keeping it going is…” She nodded. “That’s a blessing.”
“It is. All my life I’ve seen you do things like that. You decide you want to do something, and you just do it. And every single time, it ends up being epic.”
“Your legacy is in your impact.” She tapped the table as she said it. “And I want to make sure I leave mine in everything and everywhere I can.”
I stretched across the table to put my hand on her hand. “You’ve done that and so much more.”
“Everything I’ve ever done with my life has left a mark, has left my mark.” She paused, taking a deep breath. Her eyes were watery but bright, like happy tears were forming. “I lived my life. I left my mark. And I’m very happy with that.”
“I’m happy that you’re happy.”
She gave me a soft smile. “Jazmyn, I want the same for you. I want you to be happy. I want you to leave your mark. And I want you to live your life.”
“I am. I will,” I whispered, choking up. “I will.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Trying not to cry, I changed the subject. “When are you going to let me in on your party plans? It’s the last thing on your list.”
“You’ll get the invitation with everyone else when it’s time,” she answered coyly. “I want your parents to be here for it.”
“I thought you wanted to knock everything out by now.”
“Everything but the party. That’s coming.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’ve made sure that I got through my list. Now it’s time to get through yours.”
“I know. I am.” I lifted my wrist. “I’ve mapped out my tattoo.”
“Do you remember why I asked you to do this?”
As I studied the seriousness in her face, I put my arm down and my eyes started stinging. “Yeah.”
“Honoring who you were and acknowledging who you are … it informs who you’re going to be. On the other side of this list is your fire.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“You go back home in three weeks,” she reminded me gently. “You go back to work a few days after that. I want us to focus on your list. I want to focus on you for the rest of your time here.”
“And I want to focus on you…”—I swallowed around the lump in my throat—“for the rest of your time here.”
The next day we picked up her prints from the photographer. She’d insisted that we couldn’t check out the digital copies until we saw the prints first.
“Lawd have mercy,” my aunt cried when she saw them.
I literally gasped.
She’d looked good on the day of. She’d looked beautiful and regal. But in the photos, he captured all of that and then took it to the next level.
“You look incredible,” I gushed.
“I do,” she agreed without taking her eyes off the images. “I should’ve done this a long time ago. I could’ve put these on the internet and had these photos all over my house.”
I laughed. “You still can.”
“And I will.”
We joked the entire way back to her house.
“I think I’m going to lie down for a bit. I’m tired,” Aunt Addy said.
“Okay.” I pushed her wheelchair down the hallway. “Feeling okay?”
“Just tired.”
“Do you need me to call Monica? She should be here in an hour.”
“No, no. I just need to rest. It’s been a busy week.” I watched her move to the bed. “But I’d like for you to head down to the rec center and sign up for swim lessons.”
“Aunt Addy…”
“You said you wanted to do whatever I wanted to do. And I told you that I want to make sure you’re tackling your list.” She pointed at me. “Swim lessons.”
“But I don’t want to—”
“Would you really deny me?”
“Fine,” I sighed loudly. “I’ll go sign up.”
She smirked. “Good.”
My phone vibrated and I checked it. Seeing an email alert from Lamar curled my lips upward. When I glanced back up, my aunt gave me a knowing look.
“What?” I laughed awkwardly.
“I didn’t say a word,” she said in a singsong tone. “We’ll talk when I wake up.”
I left the room so she would stop analyzing me. My phone vibrated again just as I sat on the couch. It was a text. And as soon as I saw who it was from, my heart skipped a beat.
Lamar Anderson: I uploaded the final draft of the business plan into a new shared document and emailed you the link.
It has all the changes we talked about. I’m meeting with my lawyer and my accountant next week to finalize it.
Thank you for all your help. I couldn’t have done this without you.
I know you were busy this month and I appreciate everything you did to make my idea better.
I appreciate you. And if you ever need anything from me, and I mean anything, you got it.