Nine
NINE
Holland
A fter leaving Noble’s house, I looked around my aunt’s brownstone. With a few steps, I’d walked from one time period into another. Noble’s place was airy and contemporary with a bright white kitchen and a huge center island. Varying blues in the stools, sofas, and decor made it chic but masculine. Walls full of art made it look more like a gallery than a private home, but it somehow felt cozy.
My aunt’s house was cluttered, with heavy drapes, bulky, worn furniture, and years of stuff accumulated in every corner, but felt like a big ol’ hug. The more I did, the more I had to do. The clean-up process was never-ending. I wish I knew what things held sentimental value. I didn’t want to toss anything that had meaning to my aunt, but there was no way for me to tell.
I plugged in my speaker and selected a playlist on my phone. Wine was always a perfect companion to cleaning days. I didn’t have any, so I’d have to clean dry today. After wrapping a headscarf around my twists and snapping on some rubber gloves, I dug in. Grabbing the boxes and extra-large trash bags I’d had delivered before my arrival, I labeled everything, writing down the destinations I intended to send the filled containers: storage, Goodwill, and Charleston.
Despite all the work I’d done on my first visit, it took four hours to get through half of the first floor. I filled up eight of the large trash bags. Exhausted, but still motivated, I kept cleaning and rummaging. Going through my aunt’s things was like playing dress up in a time warp. I learned about my aunt—her style, taste, and that she loved elegant things like fur coats, jewelry, crystal, lush fabrics, and travel. Trinkets and picture frames from all over the world topped the furniture, filled the deep bays of the window sills, and lined the walls. Most of all, she loved her family, who she displayed alongside some of her famous friends. She had class pictures of my mother for every year of school.
As exciting as it was, it saddened me that I didn’t get to know her myself. So many of the smiling pictures included me—playing in the backyard, in dresses and bonnets on Easter Sunday, and sitting on Santa’s lap at Christmastime. I wanted to remember so badly, but my mind hadn’t stored those memories anywhere.
Her picture collection was massive, existing everywhere—in albums, boxes, on the walls. I flipped through a few in a box and stopped when I saw a picture of my mother lifting me in the air. My smile was big, my eyes wide and full of joy. My mother’s smile was as big as mine. We wore matching pink dresses. A rush of emotions swelled in me, lying heavily on my heart and stealing my breath. Why didn’t I remember her?
I couldn’t stop the tears. I sat cross-legged on the floor while my heart yearned for the mother I couldn’t remember—for these women who shared my blood. I banged the base of my palm on my head, trying to jog my memory. I wanted to see her in my mind. To remember her touch, her voice. Nothing . I sobbed, grieving her loss like it had just happened, weeping for the lost moments I wish I could have had.
The air inside became too thin. I shot to my feet, bolted through the house, and out the front door, gasping for air. I reached the front gate before crashing to my knees. I rolled over, sat with my head in my hands, and cried. It didn’t matter that the block was teeming with people, like any other hot summer Saturday.
“Holland.” His soft voice, ripe with concern, broke through the sound of my sniffles.
I looked up through watery eyes. Noble entered the gate. There wasn’t anything for me to say. I buried my head back in my hands. I felt Noble’s body settle next to mine. He sat right beside me. Right there on the ground. Just sat there. No words. I wasn’t ready to move, so I didn’t.
He stayed.
I sat until my chest stopped heaving. Until my eyes dried and my legs felt strong enough to hold me. I attempted to get up. Noble’s strong arms guided me to my feet. He waited for me to move, and when I finally felt like I could, he followed me toward the stoop, where I plopped down. Wiping away the remnants of my tears, I looked up at him again.
“Grief is like that. It hits you out of nowhere. One minute, you’re okay. The next…you’re not.”
Noble’s words plucked a chord in my heart. I closed my eyes, releasing fresh tears. I nodded. He was right. Why was it so visceral? It had to be the house. I needed to hurry up and get it ready for sale so I could return to Charleston. I had to get away from it. And yet, I didn’t want to. I felt my mother there.
“I…” My voice croaked. I cleared my throat and repeated myself. “I was cleaning up.” My voice was fuller now. “Then… I saw this picture. I looked at the picture and couldn’t help myself.” I sighed. “I’m usually not the emotional type. That’s my sister. She’s the dramatic one.” I chuckled awkwardly. I missed Patience. I wanted to lay my head in Ma’s lap, like I had when my first boyfriend broke my heart.
“No explanation needed,” Noble said.
I smiled. I didn’t know Noble well, but I was glad he was there.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he said.
I watched his full lips when he spoke. Looked into his beautiful eyes and remembered. My hands flew to the scarf covering my head. I was covered in dust. “I look a mess,” I said apologetically. I shouldn’t be worried about how I looked to this man, but I did every single time.
“Is this what a mess looks like on you? I can only imagine what you think beautiful looks like.”
I smiled but gave him a hard side-eye.
Noble held his hands up in surrender. “Not flirting this time. Just telling the truth.”
I smiled harder. Couldn’t help it. This gorgeous man showered me with compliments and I ate it up. Was that New York swag at work? Was he playing me to draw me in? I didn’t know, but I liked it.
“Hey, sugar.”
I looked up to see Ms. Elsie letting herself in the gate.
I stood to hug her, thought again, and halted. “I’m dirty from cleaning.” I brushed at the dust on the front of my shirt.
“Girl, come on over here and hug me. I ain’t scared of no dirt,” Ms. Elsie said, releasing her hearty laugh into the humid summer air. The sound of it infected my tired spirit, giving it a jolt, and I laughed with her, feeling better than I had moments before.
Ms. Elsie’s hug covered me like a warm blanket. She let me go, looked into my eyes, and squinted. “You okay, baby girl?”
I nodded.
Noble bent his tall frame over and swallowed Ms. Elsie in his arms.
“Y’all ate? I’m about to fry some fish,” Ms. Elsie said, not waiting for an answer. “Want some?”
“Ms. Elsie! What kind of question is that? Have I ever turned down your fish?” Noble teased.
“Boy, you never turn down anything! Y’all give me about an hour. I’m moving a little slow today. Back been bothering me,” Ms. Elsie said and then looked back at me. “You eat fried fish, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. But I’d hate to impose. You said your back hurts.”
Ms. Elsie waved off my concern. “I’m fine. You don’t get to this big ol’ age without tolerating a few aches here and there. It’s no imposition at all.” She turned to leave. “Oh, sugar.” She turned back to face me. “You been up to your room yet?” she said with a huge smile.
“My room?”
“Yeah!” She reared back as if she were surprised by my question. “It’s the same as you left it,” Ms. Elsie said, with her head at a soft tilt, her lips spread into a warm smile.
My heart pounded in my chest. I felt my pulse thumping in every part of my body. “Wha—” I had walked through the house when I was there before, but never went to the third floor, thinking it was the attic. I planned to tackle that space last. Was my room there?
“Let me get home and start this fish.” Ms. Elsie turned to leave. “Your aunt knew you’d be back one day. She said it. Sure did,” Ms. Elsie continued as she approached the fence. “She tried so many times.” It seemed Ms. Elsie was talking to herself more than she was to me. “See y’all in an hour.” She waved and moved through the gate, pushing it closed behind her.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t push words past the lump in my throat. I couldn’t string together an intelligible sentence with all the thoughts swimming in my head. “She…tried…” What exactly did Aunt Goldie try?
Ms. Elsie was still talking, walking away from my gate, through hers, and up her steps. “There was a cute little chest in there. I wonder if it’s still there?” Her words reached me from her stoop.
My head swiveled in her direction. The ground moved under me. Ms. Elsie’s revelations made me dizzy. A chest?
Ms. Elsie continued walking. “I’ll let y’all know when the fish is ready.” She disappeared inside her house, leaving me paralyzed.
When she slammed her door, it jolted me out of my trance. Noble’s hands cradled me. I felt him holding me up. The closeness of his skin against mine felt like electric currents sizzling across my skin. I couldn’t enjoy the effect he had on me after Ms. Elsie dropped this new bomb. A puff of air could have blown me over. I had a room. There was a chest? Aunt Goldie had waited for me to return.
“Noble.” I turned to face him and looked into those gorgeous eyes. “Thank you for today.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I need to get a little more done before Ms. Elsie’s finished frying that fish.”
Noble slowly backed down the steps. “You definitely don’t want to miss that.”
When he reached the bottom step, Noble stood for a moment, eyes connecting with mine. I didn’t look away. Neither did he. It seemed he didn’t want to leave. I didn’t really want him to, but I had a room and a chest to explore. I wanted him to stay, but needed him to leave.
I tore my gaze from his. Focused on the doorknob. “See you in a few,” I said and walked inside.
I looked at the staircase for a moment before racing to my room. Taking steps two at a time, I barreled up both flights of stairs. On the third level, I faced three closed doors, wondering which led to my room. Picking the door nearest to me, I touched the knob, paused, and dragged in a breath.
My heartbeat thumped like a bass drum. I closed my eyes, took another breath and pushed the door open. My hand flew to my mouth. I whispered, “Wow,” while turning and taking in a panoramic view of the space. It was a playroom haven. Baby-pink wallpaper covered the walls. A canopy bed dressed in pinks, whites, and lace-covered decorative pillows with the letter h stitched in the center. One small white dresser with clear drawer pulls stood on the opposite side. A rainbow area rug sprawled across the center of the floor.
I walked to the bed and rubbed my hand across the comforter and the matching curtains. Pushing them aside, I looked out the window down at the front gate and the people walking past the house. I closed my eyes and imagined the little version of me counting the stars at night.
When I finally moved from the window, a white picture frame caught my eye. I lifted it off the dresser and peered at the image of the little girl in a yellow dress and white bonnet holding an Easter basket with a huge smile. Thick ponytails bent at the sides of her head. I touched my hair. I hadn’t outgrown those thick black tresses. The corners of my lips turned up. I couldn’t help the smile spreading at how happy she— I —looked.
I cradled the picture frame in my arms, closed my eyes again, and imagined myself playing in the room. I opened my eyes, moistened by emotion and noticed it immediately. The chest. I walked over and traced the horse carved in the top, running my hand in the grooves. My chest heaved. I reined that emotion in and opened the chest.
Teddy bears, dolls, coloring books, and a diary with a little lock and key were inside. I turned the key in the lock and opened it, but there were no entries. I reached in and put the diary back and found a book with a tattered leather cover. I took it out, opened it, and the writing on the first page took my breath away.
October 30, 1997
Today was Clara’s funeral. Mama, Yona, and now Clara have all gone on to be with the Lord. It’s just me and Holly left. I know Clara’s in a better place. No more pain for her. But I miss her, my sister. I’m all alone now. Ain’t got nobody left but me. How am I supposed to go on without them? Who’s gonna love me like they did? This hurts so bad. I hope she knew how much I really loved her. How hard I tried to show her in the best way that I could. I put her away really nicely. Lord, please help me get through this. I have to be strong for Holly. I need you more than ever.
The entry for that day ended there. The words blurred and wet splotches stained the pages as I sat cross-legged on the bed. Closing the journal, I had to pause myself from reading more. My heart broke for Aunt Goldie. Her pain lived in her words. I couldn’t imagine experiencing those losses one after the other the way Aunt Goldie had.
I don’t know how long I sat holding that journal. When my mouth grew dry, I ran downstairs, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, drank half, and paced the old kitchen. Despite the parts that were hard to read, I was drawn to every word my aunt had written. Her notes gave me more information than I’d imagined possible, filling in the blanks like puzzle pieces. The more I read, the more I learned about the women I came from. I was getting to know me.
Finishing the water, I went back to the journal. I needed more. After the funeral, Aunt Goldie went on tour. Her account painted vivid pictures of the cities and trials she encountered on the road with some of the country’s biggest stars. It read like a memoir—joy and drama mixed in with a little scandal of who was loving who back then. She also mentioned the dolls and toys she’d purchased and planned to give to me when she returned home.
Closing my eyes, I pictured a younger, glamorous Aunt Goldie, showing up with dazzling clothes, shades like saucers, and a British accent, showering me with kisses and exotic gifts from her travels. Giggling at my imagination, I couldn’t explain why I associated everything fancy with a British accent.
Minutes ticked away as I read and read and read until my mouth fell open and the journal slipped from my hand.
I covered my gaping mouth with trembling hands. Heaviness crashed in my belly, launching a tornado that left me gasping for air. It took several moments to recover. What had I just read? I picked up the journal and read the words again—to confirm that I wasn’t hallucinating.
Working all those long hours with grief heavy on my heart took a toll on me. I was exhausted and I couldn’t wait to get home and hug my little Holly. I hated having to leave her so soon after the funeral. I needed the money, knowing it would cost more to care for her now. In the summers, I could bring her with me and pay someone to watch her when we did gigs at night. It was a good thing I had Patricia to care for her while I was gone. I hope she loves the beautiful scarves I brought as a token of my appreciation…
Aunt Goldie left me with Ma?
It couldn’t have been the same person. Ma would have told me she knew Aunt Goldie.
The doorbell rang, and I could hear Ms. Elsie calling my name through the window. I quickly gathered my scattered emotions and went to the door.