Chapter Twenty-Seven #4
“Because the time will fly,” President Weatherspoon said and stood, picking up her empty plate from the table. “I think it’s time for me to get on out of here. I want to lay down and watch my recording of Beyond the Gates .”
“And I’m gonna check on my husband and my son,” Dr. James said and stood to accompany President Weatherspoon. Before leaving, she pointed to Brent and me, smiled, and said, “Remember what I said.”
As we watched them slowly descend the stairs from the picnic tables heading down toward the lower part of the backyard party, Brent said, “You heard the lady, Renny. Remember what she said.”
“I will keep that in mind,” I said, as we both began to dig into the mounds of food sitting before us.
Soon, seven thirty neared, the time when Taylor and Dustin wanted guests to make their departure.
I overheard nearby partygoers making plans for their next Juneteenth or Pride stop.
Some spoke of heading to a gay bar in downtown Oakland called Town for happy hour drinks.
Others planned to make their way over to the Lake Merritt area, where Juneteenth festivities had been taking place all day, either to join in the festivities or to walk off the calories with an evening sunset stroll around the water.
For those heading across the Bay to San Francisco, like Brent and I planned to do, people extended invitations for us to stop at some of the Castro District bars hosting Juneteenth parties—QBar, Dee’s Keys before the US party at Beaux, or heavy drinks at the Mix—names and places that were new to me but that I was curious to check out.
Brent turned to me. “What’s your mood? Wanna stay out? Go back home? I mean, back to my place? I’m down for whatever.”
I thought for a few seconds. It was warm and the sun was still out.
Meeting new people and seeing new places in Oakland or San Francisco would be nice.
We had a long weekend ahead before I started my job.
Going out for a little bit wouldn’t hurt.
Then the forty-something in me kicked in, and I let out a yawn.
“If you don’t mind going home and staying in, can we? I’m still on East Coast time, and my body thinks it’s getting close to eleven at night.”
“That’s all right with me, Renny,” Brent said. “Whatever your heart desires.”
“I mean, you can go out later if you want.”
“And leave you to snoop through my things? Yeah, right.”
We laughed and made our way to the entrance and exit gate of the backyard, where Taylor and Dustin, now in matching short sets and sandals, stood to say goodbye to guests on their way out.
The music, volume way down compared to earlier in the afternoon, had transitioned from party classics to the smooth R&B sounds of Sade, Kem, and Olivia Dean.
But before leaving, each of us received a parting gift bag and a to-go container of leftovers.
Both felt substantial, and each guest was asked not to look inside until making it to a place where they could sit and fully appreciate while opening.
“You two outdid yourselves,” I said to Taylor and Dustin. “I enjoyed this day thoroughly. And I’m glad to know I’ll have more than Brent’s bird food to eat on for the next day or so.”
Brent put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed me.
“Play your cards right, Renny, and I’ll feed you a whole lot more than bird food.”
Taylor interrupted, looking a little embarrassed at Brent’s attempt to be flirtatious and naughty at the same time.
“And I’m so glad you two aren’t working in the same department or reporting to each other on campus.
I will see you both after the long weekend.
And Renny, hopefully your place should be ready in a few more days. Again, apologies for the delay.”
“No apology needed. I’m appreciative for being here and for the new opportunity, which I’m sure Dustin here had no influence in making happen.”
“I plead the Fifth.”
The four of us laughed and exchanged pleasantries as Taylor and Dustin handed us our tote bags.
“Hey,” Dustin said, before we exited. “Taylor and I are going over to Lake Tahoe for the Fourth of July weekend, not that we’re celebrating that day.
We’re checking out a couple properties, maybe to buy one for weekend getaways and to rent out when we’re not visiting Tahoe.
We’d love your eyes and opinions if you don’t have plans. ”
“I’d be down,” I said, excited about the possibility of parts of California I’d heard about and wanted to see. “Brent and I will talk it over and let you know.”
Brent looked at me quizzically but didn’t respond. I, too, was a little surprised at how quickly I’d spoken for the both of us. It was still just my first week on the West Coast, and Brent and I had made no assumptions or decisions about our status as coworkers, friends, acquaintances, or more.
On the ride home, I was nodding off and on, but the scenery reminded me why California was known as such a beautiful place.
Heading west on the Bay Bridge back into San Francisco from Oakland, the sunset reflected slivers of orange, red, and purple sky onto the glass high rises sitting on the water’s edge.
To our right, in the distance, I could see the Golden Gate Bridge glistening above the bay and the Pacific.
I marveled at the natural and human-made beauty around us, and my thoughts wandered back to how grateful I was for this new start.
Brent tapped my shoulder when the car arrived at his place, and I jerked my head up.
“I’m sorry for falling asleep on you on the ride home,” I said as we got our gift bags, tote bags, and food containers out of the trunk. “Did I miss anything good?”
“Just texting with Bracee and L.B. That’s all. Bracee’s thinking about flying up to spend time with her mom this weekend.”
“Everything good?”
“All’s good on the home front,” Brent unlocked the front door and turned on a light once we were inside. We sat our bags and food on a small table nearby. “And now you can get some sleep, Mr. Sleepyhead.”
“I hope I didn’t snore on the ride home.”
“You did. A little. It was cute.”
“Embarrassing. I hope my body adjusts soon to this time zone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Brent said. “How about you take the upstairs bathroom for your shower? I’ll take the downstairs one and put the food away.”
“If I promise to stay awake long enough, let’s see what’s in our gift bags from Taylor and Dustin,” I said, eager to stretch out the evening with Brent. Though I was sleepy, I was cool with having more conversation before bed. He was good company. “That’s if you want to see what’s inside.”
“That mouth of yours. Are you deliberately teasing me, Renny? You know I want to see what’s inside.”
I wasn’t intending to tease or lead him on. I just had a way with words.
We stared at each other a bit. Without any additional words, we went our separate ways to our respective showers. I looked forward to opening the gift bags.
A half hour later, as I was tossing the day’s dirty clothes into a hamper in my room, Brent appeared in my doorway, shirtless and in short shorts, showing off his muscled, long, and lanky hairless legs.
I was awed by how lean and in shape he remained to this day.
I mean, who was able to rock a hard chest and a sculpted V at their waistline well into their forties?
Suddenly, in my black tank top and black sweat shorts, I felt a little out of sorts, especially with the huge amounts of food we ate at Taylor’s and Dustin’s earlier.
“I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding up the gift bags in each hand. “May I come in?”
“It’s your house.”
“It’s your room.”
“Yes, come in,” I said, motioning for him to enter. In preparation for sleeping soon, I’d turned off the overhead light but kept the dim bedside lamp on. “What’s up with the duh dun da duns? Looking like one of The Village People.” I pointed up and down at his shorts.
“Don’t worry about what I’m sleeping in tonight,” he said, sitting at the foot of the bed. He placed the bags next to him. “We’ll have our quick Christmas-in-June moment, and then I know you need to sleep. I know it’s almost midnight your time, old man.”
“I’m awake now,” I said as I got up and sat by him on the bed. “Them high yellow legs brighten up the room like Christmas. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for days the way you’re blinding me with science.”
Brent bumped his shoulder into mine, much in the way he used to do in college before he first told me about himself and how he felt about me. Still a kid and gentle giant at heart.
“Pick a bag. I’ll take the other one.”
I reached for the black bag with red trim, leaving Brent with the green bag with black trim. I appreciated how Taylor and Dustin kept the Juneteenth Pride party continuity going, down to the gift bag colors.
I untwisted the ribbon holding my bag’s handles together.
Inside was an unsealed envelope with gift certificates to Marcus Books and Minnie Bell’s Soul Movement restaurant, which Brent explained were staples among the Bay Area’s Black community and that he looked forward to going with me soon.
Farther down, underneath black, red, and green tissue paper, was a copy of the novel Sweet Honesty by Joan Vassar and the nonfiction book The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson, both with a twenty-dollar lottery scratcher sticking out the top like a bookmark.
“This is so cool,” I said, turning the books over and looking at the front and back covers. “Maybe now since I’m without a book contract and maybe without an agent, I can do more reading for fun.”
“Would you like to do something about that?”
“About what?”
“Writing books. Again.”
“I think that part of my life is over. I haven’t talked to Rashid, my supposed agent, since last year when he told me I got dropped by my publisher and that he couldn’t sell my last book.”