Chapter 44 Hendrix
CHAPTER 44
HENDRIX
L et’s hear it for the girls!” Soledad sings in the tune of the classic Deniece Williams hit, brandishing her fist-mic in Mama’s driveway.
From the front porch, watching Soledad, Lupe, Yasmen, and Deja unload Yasmen’s SUV, I could cry. I’m so glad they’re here, even if it’s only for a few hours. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed them until my eyes started prickling with tears as soon as they pulled up.
“Isn’t it supposed to be ‘let’s hear it for the boy’?” I laugh, discreetly wiping under my eye.
“Ewwww, boys,” Lupe says. “We’re off boys for now, Aunt Hen.”
“Speak for yourself,” Yasmen says, locking the car and walking up the driveway. “I’m very much still on your daddy, Deja.”
“You see the level of cringe we’ve been dealing with this whole trip?” Deja scrunches her face into teenage disgust. “They’ve been like this ever since they picked us up from campus.”
I pull Deja into my arms and squeeze. This is my girl . Even when she and her mom were on the outs—teenage girls will test their mama’s nerves—Deja and I had a special connection. Always have. I see so much of myself in her when I was that age.
“You doing all right?” I ask, pulling back and stroking the karat gold braids that are new since I saw her last.
“Yeah, I’m good. Your braids are on point, Aunt Hen.” Deja looks up at me, narrowing her eyes, our resident hair influencer. “You go to that lady off Clairmont I told you about?”
“Of course I did.” We high-five and she walks into the house.
“Hey, Aunt Hen.” Lupe falls into my arms like she just crossed the Sahara. “You got anything to eat? I’m thirsty, too.”
I chuckle and brush the long red hair back from her face. “I think we can rustle something up.”
She passes inside and I’m left with the two women who have become my aces over the last few years. I pull them both into a hug and relish the scent and feel of unconditional love. I’ve heard people talk about platonic soulmates. These are mine. God said Hendrix will need somebody , and saved the fiercest, sweetest, most badass women on the lot for me. I found them later in life, but I found them and I’m never letting go.
“How you doing, sis?” Yas pulls back and smiles up at me.
“I’m good.” I sniff and swipe my cheeks. “I promise I’m happy to see you. It’s just been… a lot. So much, and I needed that hug more than I realized. Come on inside.”
“I wish we could have been here when your mom was in the hospital,” Soledad says once we enter the living room.
“It’s fine.” I lead them through to the kitchen. “She’s feeling much better now that she’s taking her meds again.”
I point to the garden through the window over the sink.
“Look at her,” I say. “She and Maverick started replanting her garden, and she’s been out there every day since.”
“Maverick, huh?” Soledad elbows me and offers a sly grin. “Sorry we missed him.”
“Yeah, he had a conference in Tokyo.” I blow out a breath because I missed that man before he was out of the driveway. “You’ll meet him soon.”
“We better,” Yasmen says.
“Next time.” I shoo them all to the table. “Now sit down. Mama’s leftovers are even better the second day.”
When we watch her, of course.
The four of them sit at the kitchen table and I go to the door to call Mama in. Sometimes too many people at once disconcerts her, but it’s actually better when she meets new people. There is no expectation she would already know them, not the same pressure as with people who expect her to remember.
“Mama!” I shout.
She looks up from the flowers she’s been planting on and off since Maverick helped her a few days ago.
“Come meet my friends,” I say, waving her in. “They’re hungry.”
We had Mama at hungry . Like Soledad, food is her love language, and over the next hour she loves on my friends. Her vocabulary is mac and cheese, string beans, Salisbury steak, and the sweet potato pecan pie she always had to make two of.
“Oh, this is fantastic,” Soledad says, cutting a second slice of the pie and loading it onto her plate. “I need this recipe.”
“It’s all up here,” Mama says, tapping her temple. Her smile dims. “Guess I better start writing things down before it’s too late.”
“Well, it tastes good,” Deja says, catching the last few crumbs on her plate with a fork. “That’s all I know.”
“Thank you.” Mama looks through the kitchen window to the garden. “It was good meeting you all. I think I’ll go out back again.”
“Sure, Mama.” I walk over and kiss her cheek. “It’s hot today. Don’t stay out there too long, and keep that hat on.”
I take them back to Aunt Geneva’s room to meet her, too. She’s a few weeks past her surgery and is moving around a bit more now, but she overdid it the last few days so is laying low just to be safe. She laughs, we all do, as Deja and Lupe regale us with stories from their summer program at A&T. Aunt Geneva attended North Carolina Central back in the day, so she reiterates they can’t go wrong with an HBCU.
“Tried to tell Hendrix,” Aunt Geneva tsks. “But she went on down to Georgia.”
“Where she had a full scholarship,” I say wryly. “And did not acquire student debt she would spend her twenties and thirties paying off.”
“Well, I guess some good came out of it,” Aunt Geneva concedes. “You met these beautiful people down there, but trust me, girls. There’s no experience like our experience.”
“Agreed,” Yasmen says. “Aggie pride!”
“Spelman’s great, too,” Soledad interjects. “And so close to home.”
Deja and Lupe exchange a here we go glance.
“Howard is impressive,” Lupe says, mischief in her eyes. “DC isn’t that far.”
Soledad looks like she might have a breakdown right at Aunt G’s sickbed.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Sol,” I say with a laugh. “We’ll let you get some rest and back to your stories, Aunt G.”
Aunt Geneva’s had her recording of General Hospital paused since we walked in, and as much as I’m sure she’s enjoying our company, her attention keeps drifting back to the television. Her body may be with us, but her heart is in Port Charles.
“Y’all go on in the front room and rot on your phones for a few minutes,” Yasmen tells Lupe and Deja. “We need to talk to your aunt Hen.”
“Mom!” Deja pouts. “We want to hear about her billionaire boyfriend, too.”
I crack up laughing and loop my elbow around her neck.
“I’ll tell you all about my fine, rich, and amazing boyfriend later,” I promise. “I also may have ordered a few things from Sephora that arrived today. Check behind the sofa.”
Deja’s face lights up like a neon sign.
“You know I’m trash for Fenty.” She grabs Lupe’s hand. “Girl, let’s go.”
As soon as my bedroom door closes, Yasmen and Soledad pounce, pelting me with so many questions I fall back onto the bed and drape my arm over my forehead.
“Y’all don’t need to know every detail,” I tell them, cracking one eye open.
“But things have been good between you two?” Soledad asks, grinning like she already knows.
The smile blossoms on my face. I feel it. I know it, but I can’t stop it.
“Look at you!” Sol pops up on her knees on my bed. “That look you say I get when I talk about Judah? Hate to tell ya, but it’s allllll over your face right now, baby girl.”
“You do kinda have the look,” Yasmen says, scrunching her nose and smiling. “Is the dick that good?”
“Most definitely, yes.” I nod my head. “No notes.”
We collapse our forty-year-old selves into girlish giggles and flop onto our backs to contemplate my bedroom’s stipple ceiling that hasn’t changed since I was a kid.
“It’s more than that, though,” I continue, resting my palm on my stomach, wishing it was the weight, the strength of Maverick’s arm around me. “We just have a ball together. Whether we’re on a yacht dancing in the moonlight…”
“ Très romantique , by the way,” Soledad inserts.
“Or we’re just laying around watching YouTube videos or Top Boy on Netflix. It just all feels… right with him. You know?”
“Oh, we know from personal experience. Sounds like love.” Yasmen turns her head and smiles at my profile. “You think you’re in love?”
“Love?” I draw in a sharp breath and close my eyes. “That translated to me as Do you think you should jump off this cliff with a tinfoil parachute? ”
“It can be scary,” Soledad says, reaching for my hand. “Remember how twisted up I was about Judah? You helped me sort my feelings for him by asking what I wanted for myself. And he was it. Judah checked all my boxes.”
“Does Maverick check any boxes?” Yasmen grins knowingly.
“Chile, Mav checks all the boxes and writes in some new ones. He’s like what about this? You’re gonna need this other thing, too, right? Did I mention I also color in the circles? I got ya covered.”
Our laughter floats up to the ceiling and settles over us, the joy of being together again even if for only a few hours.
“Zere did finally call,” I tell them, my smile dissolving. “She says I’m out. She wants to do the show with Chapel, but doesn’t trust me after I ‘stole’ her boyfriend. Doesn’t feel comfortable working with me anymore. I’m not looking forward to telling Chap, but I gotta put my big-girl thong on.”
“Um, you did a lot to get the show where it even is so far,” Yasmen says. “I remember you working on the pitch and reaching out to your contacts. Can she completely cut you out like that?”
“You know what?” I shake my head. “She tried to intimidate me talking about consulting her lawyers and they assured her I didn’t have a case should I try to buck. I think I actually could have a case, but I don’t want that. I just want… peace.”
And Mav.
“Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve led with your head,” Yasmen says. “Maybe this once, with this one , you can afford to lead with your heart.”
“What makes this time any different?” I scoff, but it’s half-hearted because I know what’s different.
Maverick is different.
“So I had a thought,” Soledad says, sitting up on the bed once they’ve drained me of all Maverick-related information.
“Uh-oh.” I turn onto my stomach and look up at her.
“I was researching things you can do to make the home more manageable for people who have Alzheimer’s and wrote up some notes for you.”
“Oh.” I sit up and nod. “Okay.”
“I know you feel helpless,” Soledad says, reaching for my hand. “But this is something we can do. Some you won’t need yet, but we can maybe do some now and the rest as you think necessary.”
“That’s a great idea, Sol,” I say.
My girls. What would I do without them?
I talk to Mama about doing some things to make the house a little safer and easier to navigate. At first she doesn’t even want to discuss it, but once I show her Soledad’s list, she sees the merit of taking a few measures.
For the next hour, Soledad does what she does best—removing clutter and clearing out things that aren’t necessary. She is so patient with Mama, who pushes back on some things and relents on others. We consolidate most kitchen stuff into two cabinets so Mama won’t spend a lot of unnecessary time looking for things, and leave the other cabinets empty.
“You know I love a label maker,” Soledad says, and sets about labeling drawers in the bathroom, kitchen, and even the ones in Mama’s bedroom when she admits sometimes she forgets where things are stored there, too.
“Okay, Mama,” Yasmen says to my mom, gently guiding her to the closet. “Let’s choose some outfits.”
While Soledad, the girls, and I run to the store to buy a few things, including a clock with large letters that clearly displays time and date, Mama and Yasmen arrange her clothing into sets that match to help avoid confusion and possible embarrassment.
Most things on this journey with my mother feel completely out of my control, but this is something I can do to make things slightly easier to manage not only for Mama, but also for Aunt Geneva.
“I forwarded the full list to you,” Soledad says when they are preparing to leave. “That way, you’ll have it for reference as you need to do other things like installing a raised shower seat or whatever.”
“Aunt G says she wants to go ahead and do that and install a grab bar in the shower, too,” I say. “These aren’t things Mama needs right now, but when we reach that point, they will be in place. We may start taking down the mirrors because they say it can be disorienting for them to see themselves older if they forget that they’ve aged.”
“We love you, Hen,” Yasmen says, pulling me in for a hug. “Let us know if there is anything we can do.”
“I want in on this.” Soledad wiggles into our embrace. “I miss us all being together.”
“I’ll be home soon,” I tell them as we loosen our holds on each other. “But I’ll probably start coming here even more often. I need to be here and I need to be there. I’ll be back and forth a lot more.”
“Makes me so grateful my mama is in such good health.” Yasmen sighs. “I gotta call that woman.”
“And it makes me miss my mother even more.” Soledad shakes her head. “Cancer took her before we reached the stage of the child becoming the caregiver. You’re doing an amazing job, Hen. I know you don’t always feel like it, but you’re a great daughter.”
“Thanks, guys,” I whisper, my voice wobbling. “Love you.”
“The three of you do know we’ll be taking care of you guys someday,” Deja yells from the back seat of the car where she and Lupe are already seated and glued to their phones.
“Yeah,” Lupe adds. “So y’all better be nice to us!”
Man, I miss them already. Part of me wants to go back to Atlanta, back to Skyland right now, and part of me recognizes here with Mama and Aunt Geneva is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Once they’re in the car, loaded down with Tupperware’d leftovers and a sampling of chowchow for Soledad to replicate, I go back in the house. It’s quiet, the kind of solitude that could slip into loneliness if you let it. But if I close my eyes, I can still hear the way my friends’ laughter and loud voices filled the house. I can still see Mama out in the garden planting new ranunculus. It was a good day.
The quiet is welcome when I sit down at Daddy’s desk to catch up on work I neglected while they visited. I’m looking through a contract for Imani when my phone rings.
“Nelly,” I answer, her name on my screen making me smile. “How you do?”
“I’m fine,” she replies. “Listen, I—”
“Did you see those projections Hannah sent over for Hue’s next quarter? Amazing, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s not why I called,” Nelly says, the tension in her voice strung tight.
“Okay.” I sit up straight, my body braced for whatever has struck a note of fear into the voice of the most unflappable woman I know. “Nel, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ve been shut down.”
“Shut down?” I laugh disbelievingly. “What do you mean shut down?”
“Aspire. We’re being sued for racial discrimination.”