11. ties that bind #2
“Oh my God,” Rae said. “Girl, don’t drop that name like you just didn’t name drop the biggest R&B star since Usher. Why you saying this so casually?”
“I don’t know… I mean, we went to high school together,” Spring replied. “All of us did. To me, he’s just Big Bird.”
There was a pause. Then: “Hold on.” Spring could practically hear the gears turning.
“Same school. Same circle. Same energy,” Rae said slowly.
“And now y’all reconnecting at a funeral?
And… respectfully sis, you don’t sound nearly as broken up as I thought you would be. What are you not telling me?”
“That’s not?—”
“Holy shit, this is that ex… this is He Who Shall Not Be Named, isn’t it?”
Spring closed her eyes. “Rae.”
“Don’t ‘Rae’ me,” she shot back. “You been vague for years . Bringing up this guy saying stuff like ‘We were close,’ ‘We had a moment,’ ‘Timing was off’. But you never said a name. Now, I want you to look me in this phone and tell me that I’m wrong.”
Spring sighed. “We were kids.”
Rae started pumping her fist in the air. “Bitch, I’m so proud to know you. My girl was smashing Preston motherfucking Cole.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she insisted.
“Spring…”
“Okay, it was like that, but we were young.”
“Back up sis, you mean to tell me your roster count includes Julian, a successful architect from a wealthy family, and Preston motherfucking Cole? I need better coochie management.”
A laugh choked itself out of Spring’s mouth. “Rae.”
“No, I’m serious. I can’t get a doctor? Lawyer? Anything.”
“Rae.”
“My bad, this is about you now. So you reconnected. But why did you break up?”
“Like I said, we were young.”
“And?”
“And life happened,” she said. “He got famous. I moved on. We both did.”
“Mmm,” Rae hummed. “Yet somehow, he’s the first thing you want to talk about right now. Oh my god, has he ever sung to you? I bet he sang you some Stevie Wonder at some point. How does he sound live?”
Spring stilled. “How did you?—”
“You forget I know you,” Rae said. “If he sang anything, he was gonna sing some Stevie. Hell, you probably had him sing to you today.”
Silence said more than words even could, to which Rae said, “Nairobi Spring Ellison-Green, did that man sing to you at your cousin’s funeral today?”
“He hummed.”
A dramatic sigh came through the speakers. “Oh shit. Alexa, play Teenage Love by Slick Rick.”
Spring chuckled as she stared out the window at the quiet street. “It wasn’t like that.”
Rae laughed. “Baby, it was exactly like that.”
Spring shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I’m not doing this today.”
“You already are,” Rae replied. “Question is, are you gonna run from it like usual, or let it be whatever it’s trying to be?”
Spring took a sip of coffee, finally. “I don’t even know what I want right now.”
“That’s fine,” Rae said gently. “Just don’t lie to yourself about what you feel.”
Spring exhaled. “I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah,” Rae said. “You do that, I’m gonna Google tour dates.”
“Rae…”
Rae threw her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, grief plus unresolved history equals mess. And you love a complicated narrative.”
Spring laughed. “You’re the worst.”
“And you love me,” Rae said. “Go eat something. Call me later.”
The line clicked dead.
Spring sat there a moment longer, phone still unlocked in her hand. History had a way of resurfacing when you weren’t looking, and apparently Rae was determined not to let her pretend otherwise.
An Instagram notification flashed across the screen.
Preston Cole sent you a message.
Her thumb froze.
She stared at it for a full second longer than necessary, like the name might change if she waited long enough. Then she opened it.
The image loaded slowly. Junior year. All four of them squeezed into the frame – Cameron front and center, grinning like he knew exactly how important he’d be one day.
Brian throwing up some ridiculous hand sign.
And Preston just behind her shoulder, half-smile, eyes on the camera but attention elsewhere.
She felt it in her chest before she realized she was smiling. She typed back without overthinking it. I didn’t know you knew how to use Instagram.
The bubble appeared almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then reappeared.
I’m versatile. Don’t let the albums fool you.
She laughed under her breath. Is that what the kids are calling it now?
Preston: Research. I like to stay informed.
Spring: Makes sense, considering you saw After the Hashtag twice.
Preston: I like documentaries. But you know I’ve always loved your eye for detail.
She paused. Read it again. Typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Spring: You always did say that. Still noticing the quiet stuff…
The bubble appeared, sitting there for longer this time.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, but not with a message.
“Spring?” her father’s voice came from the doorway. “You got a minute?”
She glanced up. “Yeah.”
She looked back down at the screen. The bubble was still there. Then it vanished.
No message. Not yet.
She locked the phone and set it face down on the counter just as her father stepped in, already mid-sentence about arrangements, family, what still needed doing.
She listened, responded, nodded where appropriate, but part of her stayed with that unanswered message. With the thought he hadn’t finished yet.
Some conversations didn’t end, they waited.
And she had a feeling this one wasn’t done with either of them.