Chapter Five
“That you, Avila?” Ms. Mable stepped onto her front porch in a flowered muumuu and house slippers, and she shaded her eyes.
Though she was in her seventies, Ms. Mable’s brown skin was just as smooth and plump as that day Avila had left town.
The friendly sound of her voice brought a smile to Avila’s face. “Yes, ma’am. It’s me.”
“Well, don’t be shy now. Come on over here and give me a hug.” She motioned for Avila to come over.
Avila did as she was told, walking across the lawn to greet the lady. Once on her front stoop, they embraced. Ms. Mable’s
familiar shea butter scent brought back memories of a childhood spent playing hopscotch in front of her house and hide-and-seek
with the kids in the neighborhood.
“My, my, my, Ms. Avila, you’ve been through a lot. How you’ve been since yesterday’s funeral?”
“Getting there. I’m getting there.”
“I know, baby. Just take it one day at a time because that’s all the time we have.”
Avila smiled. Ms. Mable always knew the perfect thing to say.
“I didn’t get to spend too much time with you at the funeral because of everything that was going on. You have become quite the beautiful young woman.” Ms. Mable squinted at her and her bifocals scrunched up. “You look just the same as when you left.”
Avila knew that Ms. Mable was simply paying her a compliment. She definitely didn’t look the same. In fact, time and stress
had caused her hair to gray at the temples, but Avila smiled at the compliment, nonetheless. “You’re too kind.”
“It’s true.”
Right before Avila left for her flight to college, Ms. Mable had given her a lunch bag filled with food, a Bible, and five
hundred dollars in cash. She told Avila to contact her if she needed anything and said that there was more money if she needed
it. Avila always remembered Ms. Mable’s generosity.
“Where’s Ebony?”
Avila nodded. “I’ll call the landline and tell her to come on over.”
She did, and a minute later, Ebony was making her way across the lawn too.
“When I saw your daughter at the funeral yesterday, I couldn’t help but think that she’s the spitting image of you.” Ms. Mable
shaded her eyes. “Come on over here, young lady. Let me get a good look at you.”
Ebony made her way up the front porch, and Ms. Mable gave her a big hug too.
“Hello,” Ebony said, her voice froggy. “Sorry. I just woke up from a nap.”
“Ain’t nothing for you to be sorry about, my dear. Come on in. I have dinner in the oven. You’re welcome to join me.”
They stepped inside the place. Avila’s first impression upon entering Ms. Mable’s home? Comforting. A welcoming mix of home-cooked meals, country living, and peace.
Peace. That feeling had eluded her over the years, but it filled every inch of Ms. Mable’s living area.
A glance to her right revealed a wall filled with photos of Ms. Mable’s nieces and nephews, and among them Avila’s picture
was placed. Even though Avila wasn’t a blood relative, Ms. Mable always treated her like family.
Avila studied the photo of herself at twelve years old—arms crossed, smile wide, feet spread as if she would take over the
earth.
Reassurance took hold—a warm, tender, loving reassurance. It soothed her down to the soul. Ms. Mable had done a fine job of
always making sure Avila felt loved.
They caught up over a yummy dinner of baked chicken, collard greens, and cornbread. Ms. Mable made her signature homemade
peach tea too. Everything was divine. Ms. Mable shared some of the details of how Avila’s mother passed, something that Avila
tried to digest. She didn’t want to know all of those details, but at the same time she needed to hear them.
“You all right, dear?”
“Fine. Just fine.” Avila finished up her second helping of collard greens. “It’s a lot to hear about my mother. That’s all.”
A sympathetic look crossed Ms. Mable’s face, and she changed the subject. “I know, baby. I’m going to miss her dearly. She
was a good neighbor and a better friend.”
“Nice that you got to know her as a friend. The more I think about it, the more I regret not being there for her when I should’ve
been.”
“Darling, you can’t change the past. I’m quite sure your mother wouldn’t want you sitting here in regret.”
She nodded, but Ms. Mable’s words didn’t land. “I know. Just something I have to work through, I guess.”
“And you will work through.” Ms. Mable reached over and gently grasped Avila’s hand. “I am confident that you will.”
Ms. Mable had this way of making anyone feel as if they could conquer anything. She liked that about her.
“It was so nice to see you and Terence together at the funeral.” Her voice sounded nonchalant, but she was anything but nonchalant.
“Good to see you talking again.”
Avila had to change the subject or else this conversation could end up going in a direction that she didn’t want it to go.
“He’s just being the friend that he always was. That’s all.”
Ms. Mable didn’t blink. “That’s all?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice more adamant. “That’s all.”
“If you say so.” Ms. Mable had this you-can’t-fool-me look on her face. “Anyway, I won’t push the issue... at least not yet. Ebony, I’ll have to get a photo of you on my wall.
Right there next to my nieces and nephews.”
“I’ll be sure to get one printed before I leave,” Avila said, thankful that she was changing the subject for now.
“How do you feel to be back home?”
“Mixed feelings.” She shrugged. “It was hard stepping back into my mother’s house, knowing that I hadn’t seen her in the longest
time.”
“It’s your house too, you know.” Ms. Mable didn’t take her eyes off Avila. “Your mother left it to you for a reason. She always
wanted you to return home one day.”
“I know,” Avila said softly. “I just never felt right doing so.”
“Why not, Mom?” Ebony asked.
Did Avila say that aloud? Oh no, she shouldn’t have said that aloud. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Your mother was always concerned about you, even when you were gone. She worked hard to give you the best out of a bad situation.”
And that was the very reason why I didn’t return. “ She did. I just... I don’t know.”
“Maybe one day you’ll forgive yourself. You’ll need to do that if you want to move on with your life.”
Ms. Mable could read her mind before Avila said a word.
“Forgive yourself for what, Mom?” Ebony asked.
This was too much. “Nothing, honey.” Avila gave Ms. Mable a pleading look, as if to say: End of discussion.
Ms. Mable nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “Well, I don’t want to be rude, but I am getting quite tired. An old
lady like me has an early bedtime.”
Avila glanced at her watch. It was almost seven o’clock. Guess that was Ms. Mable’s way of changing the subject again. “No
problem. We’ll get going. Thank you for having us, Ms. Mable.”
“You are always welcome. I’ll see you soon since you’re so close by.”
They said their goodbyes and headed home.
Avila focused her attention on Ebony and not on the conversation they just had. “What do you think of Ms. Mable?”
“She seems nice. Old-fashioned.”
Avila gave a half-smile. Ms. Mable was old-fashioned, but when she had found out that Avila was pregnant, she hadn’t shunned her at all. In fact, she had been kind and loving and nonjudgmental. She even encouraged Avila to tell her mother about the pregnancy, and so she did.
“I still want to know what she was talking about,” Ebony continued. “Why do you need to forgive yourself?”
“That’s grown-folks’ talk. You don’t need to know.”
Once they arrived at the house, Avila tidied up the living room area and then sat and made a list of what needed to be fixed
outside, along with the estimated cost of the repairs. They were going to cost a lot of money, in her estimate. She also needed
to make sure that she paid the balance for her mother’s headstone. Her mother had prepaid her funeral expenses, but Avila
wanted to get her a nicer headstone. She’d have to budget for that extra cost.
After Ebony went to sleep, Avila went to the den. She found the old word processor that her mother had bought for Avila’s
fifteenth birthday. She was surprised that her mother had kept it all these years. Avila walked over to the small desk and
sat on the chair. She placed her elbows on the mahogany desktop and rested her chin in her hands. Avila used to spend hours
here, poring over the perfect word for the next line of a play. If she didn’t make it as an actress, she was going to be a
playwright or work in theater production. At least that had been her plan B.
She glanced to the right. The tortoiseshell glasses she used to wear were still there too. Interesting. Terence had purchased
them at the corner store when Avila had once mentioned that she thought her vision was getting worse. He’d known that Avila’s
parents didn’t have any health or vision insurance, so that was a kind gesture to her, his good deed. He’d done that a lot
over the years.
She reached over and placed the glasses on the bridge of her nose. They were super blurry now. She made a mental note to get her eyes checked.
Staring at the screen brought back a sense of nostalgia. She used to love sitting at this old desk. She tapped her left foot
on the shag carpet, and her front teeth tugged her lower lip. Did the word processor even work? Might as well try.
She plugged the cord into a socket in the wall, and the machine came to life. Its familiar hum soothed and beckoned her to
create another play.
“I haven’t done this in forever,” she said to no one in particular.
The machine was just there, humming and waiting. The sound of the doorbell made her jump.
She checked her watch. It was only eight o’clock, but still. Who was at her door at this time of night? She peeked through
the curtains of the front window. Samantha Jones? What was she doing here?
She opened the front door. “Hi... Samantha.”
“Oh my goodness. Avila! You really are back. OMG. So nice to see you.” Although her tone was exuberant, there was something
there that made Avila reticent.
“Sorry to stop by so late at night, but when I heard that you were here. I just had to see... I mean, I just had to say
hello.”
“Okay.” Avila’s dispirited voice didn’t hide itself.
Seemed like Samantha was taking the hint. “I heard that your mother had passed away. I’m so sorry.”
Avila nodded, now used to receiving condolences.
“I heard that her funeral was yesterday. I was out of town for business, and I just got in today. Otherwise, I would’ve attended.”
“It’s all right. Not a problem,” Avila said.
“Well, I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to say hi. We should get together, you and I, when you have the time.”
Avila smiled. “I’ll be so busy here, tending to my mother’s affairs and all.”
Samantha’s gaze filled with empathy. “I’m so sorry about her passing. I truly am.”
Avila nodded.
There was a long pause between them. “You’re selling this home?”
How blunt. “Yes.”
Samantha nodded. More awkward silence. “How has life been for you since you left?”
How could she be diplomatic about this? “Oh, you know. It’s been going. Ups and downs. But I’m getting along.”
Back in high school, Samantha had her life together. She graduated in the top 10 percent of their class. She was class president
during their senior year of high school, and everyone liked her. Avila wasn’t even a blip on the screen of Samantha’s life,
and so it was odd that she had even stopped by this evening.
Samantha went on to tell Avila that she had married a guy she met in college, but they ended up divorcing. When she said the
word “divorce,” Samantha gave Avila a pointed look, as if to say that she too had her share of failures. She then went on
to say that she stopped by because she was a real estate agent and she’d love to be Avila’s agent, if she desired.
Was that why Samantha was here? She heard that Avila was looking to sell her mother’s house, and so she wanted to get first dibs on becoming the agent for the deal? “I haven’t looked into finding a real estate agent for this place, but I’ll definitely need one.”
“Here’s my card. I’d love to help you sell this place. It’s a seller’s market now, and so I’m sure we can get the best price
for you.”
Avila took her card. “Thank you. I’ll give you a call if I’m interested.”
“That would be great.” She paused. “I really did mean it when I said that I wanted us to catch up, if you’re ever free.”
She sounded sincere, but Avila didn’t want to place her bets on her perceptions. “I’ll be pretty busy with the house and all.”
Samantha’s expression shuttered. “I understand. I’d still be interested in helping you sell the house, if needed.”
“I’ll let you know.”
When Samantha left, Avila had already made up her mind that she would not hire her as the real estate agent—but who would
she hire instead? Avila didn’t have time to do any comparison shopping, and Samantha seemed eager to work with her. Could
they put aside the past and just focus on business? She didn’t know.
Avila stepped inside the house and locked the door behind her. If Samantha got a good price on this place, then perhaps Avila
would have enough money to stop working extra shifts. She could pursue her aspirations for once. It was probably too late
to become an actor, but Avila could do something related to it in New Jersey. Selling this home quickly would do a world of
good in ensuring that Avila could move on with her life and get this town and its memories behind her, once and for all. She’d
contact Samantha in the morning.
The next morning Terence awakened and started a pot of coffee. He had a terrible sleep the night before, as he was unable to stop thinking about Avila.
After pressing the Start button on the coffee maker, Terence paced the kitchen. She was back in town, a few houses down, a
few hundred feet away. Even with several days passing since her arrival, along with the time they spent together at the funeral,
he still hadn’t recovered from the shock. Maybe it was the way they had left things the day before she left for Princeton
that summer. He had basically poured his heart out to her, and she didn’t want to have any of that. She didn’t want to have
him. Terence spent his entire first semester in college processing her response.
Okay, maybe he was exaggerating. He hadn’t spent the entire first semester thinking about their last conversation, but Avila
was definitely on his mind a whole lot. He couldn’t wait to see her again for Thanksgiving break, but then she didn’t return,
and when he tried to contact her, she didn’t respond.
Then she didn’t return for winter break, and that was when he got antsy. Terence had inquired with Avila’s mother, and she
said that Avila wanted to spend her time auditioning during her breaks, and he understood that. She had big ambitions.
Still, a part of him thought she was upset with him and wanted to keep her distance. So he decided to give her space.
His phone rang, and the phone number of Bryan, his good friend and colleague at the university, flashed onto the screen of
his cell phone. “What’s up?” Terence asked.
Bryan told him all about a jazz concert he had attended on Kiawah Island, and how enjoyable the evening was.
While Terence listened to all that he said, he poured him self a cup of coffee, sat at the kitchen table, and nodded. Yet his mind was still on Avila. Was she still home? It was Monday. Maybe she had gone out to do some errands for the house.
“I purchased CDs of some of the artists for you since I know you still have that antique CD player of yours.”
“Sure,” Terence said nonchalantly.
“You okay?” Bryan said. “You seem out of it.”
Should he tell Bryan about Avila? They sometimes spoke about their personal lives, but discussing Avila was something totally
different. He’d talk about her in general terms. That was safe.
“An old friend of mine is back in town.” Something rustled on the other end of the line.
“That’s good.”
Terence took another sip of his coffee. “Yes and no. Her mother passed away, and so she arrived to attend the funeral and
to close out her mother’s affairs. My hunch is that she’s going to try to sell the house.”
“And you don’t want her to sell, I take it?”
Terence chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yes. You are.”
Terence got up and opened the door to the screened patio to let in some fresh air. The fresh air, coupled with the scent of
fresh coffee, provided a nice mix to start the morning. “She lives in New Jersey now.”
A pause. “New Jersey?”
“Yep.”
“What’s her name?”
“Avila.”
A longer pause. “Sounds like you have a history with her.”
Terence then explained their long-standing friendship and how they went their separate ways before college. Terence reached for the ceramic container that held sugar and put three small dollops of sugar—make it four dollops of sugar—into his black coffee. How else would he calm his nerves?
“Is she returning to New Jersey?”
“Yes, unfortunately. She has a daughter though, so I’m assuming there’s a significant other in her life,” he said without
thinking.
“Ah. You want to be more than friends with her?”
Did he just say that? “Me? No. Not at all. I just... I don’t know. A lot of life has happened between us. She’s a mother
now, and so she has a whole different set of responsibilities. It would be silly to speculate on youthful...”
Youthful what? Youthful love?
“Not silly at all. If you think there’s something there, you should go for it.”
Bryan made it sound so easy. After going through one divorce and several failed relationships, Terence knew that things weren’t
always too easy.
“I’ve got to go. I have a doctor’s appointment in half an hour.”
Bryan hung up quickly, without even a goodbye. Terence should’ve never said anything about Avila to him. Now Terence’s business
and his feelings were up for scrutiny. Don’t discuss Avila.
Terence then made scrambled eggs. After that, he stepped out onto the patio, casting glances at Avila’s home, just a few doors
down. He couldn’t tell if anyone was there. The blinds were closed, though the back-porch light was still on.
Should he stop by her house? What if Avila was married or in a relationship? How would he feel about that news? The thought saddened him. She never had mentioned a spouse or a boyfriend, though. Avila never mentioned a daughter either
until Ebony came from the house.
He went back inside and finished up his breakfast. “What do you think?” he said to no one in particular.
Did Avila want him around? He had overanalyzed her response to their encounter. Maybe she was so distracted with everything
else going on that she couldn’t really focus on him. Yeah, he’d wait until tomorrow. They hadn’t seen one another in years.
One more day wouldn’t hurt.