Homecoming Weekend Read online

  “So you all made it?” he said as he approached Tranise. “If the floor wasn’t so packed, I would ask you to dance.”

  “Really? Well, it has to clear up at some point,” she said.

  He smiled, and Tranise was a sucker for a glistening smile.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “I already know the question,” he said.

  “You do? What is it then?” she asked.

  “My name is Kwame,” he said, his smile even brighter.

  “So you knew we didn’t know your name?” Tranise asked.

  “I did,” he answered. “It didn’t bother me at all. It’s been a long time. Plus, if you remembered me, it would have been a miracle.”

  “Really?” Tranise said. “But how is it that you remember us?”

  “I remember because I was enamored with you when I met you,” he answered. “I was in high school and I came over to your apartment.”

  “You did? When?” Tranise said. “And who were you with?”

  “It was about five, six years ago,” Kwame said. “I was so impressed that I was in the apartment of some college women. I was actually smitten with you—you looked good and you were so nice.”

  “But how did you get there?” she asked.

  “I was with my cousin,” he said.

  “Who is your cousin?” Tranise wanted to know.

  “Michael,” he said.

  “Jennings?” she finished.

  “Yes,” Kwame went on. “It actually was around this time of year, homecoming. Michael brought me over on our way to the game. He said he wanted me to see what a college homecoming was like. You called him when he was at my house and asked him to bring you something.

  “So, we stopped over there on our way to campus and ended up staying for a while because you and Charlene cooked some food and other people came over and it was just a party before the party.

  “You don’t remember that?”

  “I do remember that,” she said. “You were a little skinny kid, about as tall as me then. You’ve grown up. So how old are you now?”

  “I’m twenty-two, graduated from Norfolk State in May,” he said. “This is my first homecoming as an alum. When I saw you I knew it was you. You are the first college woman I ever met. And I gotta tell you, you look great.”

  The way he said that last sentence was flirtatious, and Tranise quickly picked up on it.

  “Well, I’m not a cougar,” she said, smiling.

  “You’re not old enough to be a cougar and the age difference between us isn’t that big to make you a cougar, either,” he said.

  “Well, maybe not, but what about the fact that I dated your cousin?” she said.

  “Mike was my man,” Kwame said. “But I haven’t talked to or seen in a few years. He didn’t even come to my graduation. On top of that, we were related through marriage. My cousin married his cousin, or something like that. So, we wouldn’t be crossing any bloodlines.”

  “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” Tranise said.

  “Maybe a little bit,” Kwame answered. “Then again, you never can tell.”

  He smiled. And then he walked away, leaving Tranise standing there a bit ruffled.

  She turned to her friends.

  “So?” Charlene said.

  “Who is he?” Mary added.

  Tranise shook her head. “You remember homecoming back when we were juniors, I believe, and Michael Jennings brought his little cousin over to our apartment? Well, that’s his little cousin, although he’s not little anymore.”

  “I remember him; he was a cute, little, shy kid,” Mary said. “He just sat there quiet, like he was intimidated. That’s him?”

  “That’s him,” Tranise said. “I should have asked him how he could remember our names after so many years. We only met him that one time.”

  “That’s pretty incredible,” Charlene said. “I couldn’t hear him, but it looked like he was shooting game at you.”

  “He was,” Tranise said. “I told him I’m not a cougar.”

  “He’s got to be twenty-one by now, right?” Mary said.

  “He’s actually twenty-two,” Tranise informed them.

  “Well, that’s only a three-year age difference,” Mary said. “That’s nothing.”

  “Girl, please,” Tranise said. “Guys my age aren’t mature enough for me. So how you think that would work with him? And it’s a four-year gap.”

  “I don’t know, but he seems pretty mature to me—I’m just saying,” Charlene said. “I mean, your ass talking about hooking up with Brandon, who is married, but you can’t give a nice young man who remembered you from years ago a chance? Come on, now.”

  Her girls made her think. “But what about the fact that he’s Michael’s cousin?” Tranise asked. Then she added: “But they were related through marriage, not blood. Still, they’re cousins.” She did not think that held much weight, but she felt compelled to sling it out there.

  “Didn’t you just say they were cousins by marriage? Didn’t you say they haven’t been in contact in years?” Mary reasoned. “So what’s the dilemma?”

  “OMG,” Tranise said. “That’s the dilemma.”

  She stared off, between the shoulders of her friends who had her blocked in. They turned around to see where she was looking and spotted Brandon Barksdale off in the distance. He was just as they remembered: tall, distinguished, attractive in a classic way—square jaw bone, dimples, thick eyebrows, teeth as white as a golf ball.

  Neither of them said anything: They watched as he maneuvered through the crowd, greeting his admirers with grace. He seemed as happy to see his old classmates as they were to see him. That humility always distinguished him as someone considered “real” and not full of himself.

  It took about ten minutes for Brandon to negotiate through the mass of folks to get near the bar area, where Mary, Tranise and Charlene had posted up. When he got close enough, he made eye contact with Mary and smiled. She smiled back.

  “I see you’re out to get your party on,” he said.

  “You, too, huh?” she responded.

  “No doubt,” Brandon said. “It’s homecoming. If you can’t party now, then when can you?”

  Before Mary could respond, he extended his hand to Charlene. “How are you? You were at Norfolk State when I was there, weren’t you?” he said.

  “We actually met a few times,” she said, shaking his hand and blushing at the same time.

  “I remember,” he said. “You were friends with Max Johnson, the basketball team’s trainer, right?”

  “How could you remember that?” Charlene said.

  “Well, I’m only twenty-six; dementia has not set in yet,” he said, and everyone laughed.

  “I’m really impressed,” Charlene said. She turned to Tranise, who looked at Brandon as if he were a rib eye. “Do you remember her?”

  Brandon reached to shake Tranise’s hand. She was so glued into his face that she did not see his hand.

  “Oh, so you gonna leave me hanging?” he said, flashing that smile that was mesmerizing.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Tranise said. “Hi. I’m Tranise. I know you don’t remember me.”

  Brandon studied her. She looked familiar.

  “I met you, too,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I met you in Brown Hall. You dropped your books and I picked them up.”

  “How in the world could you possibly remember that?” Tranise asked. “We didn’t even speak.”

  “Well, one, I have a good memory,” he said. “And, two, I remember seeing an article about you in The Spartan Echo a few days later. I said, ‘That’s the girl from Brown Hall.’ You look almost exactly the same, but different. Better.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing you remember that,” she said. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me after that?”

  “I guess our paths didn’t really cross like that again, although I recall seeing you at the games and at step shows,” he said. �
�Where are you now?”

  Tranise felt perspiration build up under her arms and on her forehead—a first. Brandon Barksdale was engaging her in conversation. Married or not, it was something she had wanted for nearly eight years. To get it was so satisfying.

  She gave him an abbreviated version of her post-college life, calling her move to Atlanta and transition to teaching “one of those blessings you just don’t expect to be a blessing.”

  “I understand what you mean,” Brandon said. “I have been a head basketball coach at Franklin High School for the last three years. There were some overtures about pro ball overseas, but I didn’t want to play that badly to go that far away. So when I got an offer to coach, I took it.

  “And . . . wait, I’m going to order a glass of wine. Can I get you one?”

  “Sure,” Tranise said.

  Brandon looked behind him to ask Mary and Charlene if they wanted a glass as well, but they had given Tranise her space and moved to the other side of the room.

  He ordered the drinks and turned back to Tranise. “I had no idea it would be so gratifying to coach young men,” he continued. “I have their attention and it amazed me at first that they listened to what I said. I saw pretty quickly that many of them are looking for guidance and leadership in their lives. Forget about basketball. I want to win as much as the next guy. But I talk to them all the time about having a victorious life. And to see the growth in maturity and responsibility in many of them from month-to-month gives you some purpose in life—or gives you more purpose. It’s pretty amazing to me.”

  Tranise was amazed. Brandon was style and substance. He also was married. Married to her arch-nemesis, but married nonetheless.

  Before a lull in the conversation could settle in, Tranise put it out there. “I heard you are married now.”

  “I am,” he said without hesitation. “We met at Norfolk State, late in my senior year. Got married last year. And I have a kid on the way. So, it’s an exciting time. And I’m a little nervous, too.”

  “Nervous? Why?” Tranise wanted to know.

  “Well, you know, a new kid in the house. We’ve only been married a year,” he said. “Changes.”

  “Change can be good, especially this kind of change,” Tranise said. She wanted say, “You need to change wives.”

  He nodded his head and stared into her eyes so long that Tranise turned away. Was he trying to seduce her? Was her mind telling her that? If it was, it was working.

  “So, uh, Brandon, where’s your wife?” she asked.

  “You know, I get to Atlanta every so often. I have family down there,” he said, ignoring her question. “We should connect on my next visit.”

  That let her know for sure that he was flirting. She wasn’t sure how to proceed. The drinks were kicking in and the flattery warmed her.

  “With a new baby you’re going to be needed around the house,” Tranise said.

  “That’s true, to a degree,” Brandon countered. “My mother-in-law will be staying with us, so I’ll have some relief.”

  He had an answer for everything. And the answers came out so effortlessly, so smoothly, that Tranise was not offended that a married man was hitting on her. Any other time, she would eventually get insulted and let the guy know. The combination of it being Brandon and his wife being her enemy—and the alcohol—kept her from firing off on him.

  “Well, I guess we have to figure that out when the time comes,” she said.

  Brandon nodded his head. “Fair enough,” he said. Then he extended his hand. She put hers in his and he led her to the packed dance floor. The partygoers made room and while he had his back turned, Tranise turned to Mary and Charlene and flashed a broad smile.

  “I know she’s not going to go through with sleeping with that man,” Mary said.

  “Maybe she’s just enjoying the attention,” Charlene said. “But then, that’s how it all starts.”

  They danced a few songs and made their way over to Charlene and Mary, who were smiling like children.

  “I’m glad I got to see you all,” he said. “If I don’t see you later, I’ll see you at the tailgate.”

  Brandon smiled and walked off.

  “Where is his wife?” Charlene asked.

  “I have no idea. When I asked him, he asked me something, as if he didn’t hear me or didn’t want to even talk about her,” Tranise said. “And to be honest, it didn’t matter where she was. She wasn’t here.”

  “Now listen, heffa, I know you’re not thinking about doing something with him,” Mary said.

  “No, I’m not thinking about doing something with him,” she said. “I’m thinking about fucking him.”

  “OMG,” Mary responded. “You got to Atlanta and turned into a little slut, huh?”

  Tranise laughed, knowing her girl was joking.

  “But even if I would, why would I be a slut?” she said. “And what would you call him? He’s the married one. I’m single and can do whatever the hell I want to do.”

  “That’s not a license to demean yourself,” Charlene said.

  “You heffas are no fun,” Tranise said. “It’s homecoming. Loosen up. I’ve been the straight-and-narrow one all my life. If I want to get wild for one day, I should be able to do it and not feel like I’m some whore.”

  “You’re grown and you’ve always done what you wanted to do,” Mary said. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing . . . and keep your bloomers on.”

  The ladies laughed again, with Tranise falling into Charlene.

  “Okay, no more drinks for this one,” Charlene said.

  “Really? I was just about to order a round for everyone,” said Kwame, who seemingly popped up from nowhere.

  “Oh, uh, Kwame, right?” Tranise said. “My girls are trying to slow me down. Can you believe that?”

  “I guess they’re just looking out for you,” he said. “That’s what your girls are for, right?””

  Tranise immediately sobered up. Not that she was drunk, but her buzz evaporated with Kwame’s words. They seemed sincere. The men of her past were far less thoughtful and far more opportunistic. She liked his come-from.

  “How about water for everyone?” he said.

  “Well, you can get that heffa some water,” Mary said. “Me? I’d like a Ciroc and cranberry juice.”

  “Make that two, if you don’t mind, Kwame,” Charlene said.

  “Tranise, want to go with me to help me carry the drinks?”

  “I’ll meet you over at the bar,” she said. When Kwame turned away, Tranise turned to her friends. “I’m on a roll. What do you think of Kwame?”

  “It’s not about what we think; it’s what you think,” Charlene said. “And if you don’t think he’s fine enough for you to get to know, then I’m gonna believe that you are drunk . . . But that’s just me.”

  “No, it’s not just you,” Mary said. “It’s me, too. I don’t care how old he is—wait, that didn’t sound right. I meant to say that I don’t care if you’re a few years older than him. He’s legal, apparently available and definitely interested in you.”

  “Okay, okay, y’all blowing my little buzz,” Tranise said. “Let me see what’s on this man’s mind. I’ll be back. Then we can leave and go to the other day party.”

  “Not so fast,” Mary said. “Look over there. That’s Rodney Mercer, my old boyfriend. And he looks good.”

  “Rodney Mercer?” Tranise said. “Oh, that was the guy from our junior year. He left and transferred somewhere.”

  “To North Carolina A&T,” Mary recalled. “His father died and he went back home to be close to his family . . . Damn, I haven’t seen him in six or seven years.”

  “Well,” Charlene said, “looks like it’s time to get reacquainted. I can see from here he’s not wearing a wedding band.”

  “Ole Hawk Eye Charlene at work,” Mary said. “Some things never change.”

  “Hey, don’t hate on it,” Charlene said. “If I recall correctly, I saw Rodney coming toward us at a ste
p show one night when you were with that other guy, uh, Brett. I gave you the heads-up and you got rid of Brett, which, as they say, averted a disaster. So, don’t act like my vision isn’t used for good.”

  “Girl, you’re crazy,” Tranise said. “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll be back.”

  “Charlene, I hate to leave you, but I’ve got to go see Rodney,” Mary said.

  “I’m coming with you,” Charlene said. “You ain’t on no date. We’re at a club.”

  Mary smiled and grabbed Charlene’s hand, leading her toward Rodney. On the way, however, they ran into Marissa Shaw, the best friend of Felicia, Brandon Barksdale’s wife. Because Tranise and Felicia had beef, their best friends did, too. So it was not a cordial greeting when Mary and Charlene encountered Marissa.

  But because they virtually bumped into each other, they could not help but speak.

  “Marissa,” Mary said. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Marissa responded. But the “greetings” were flat and unemotional.

  Charlene did not utter a word. She just gave her a toothless smile and gave Mary a gentle push for her to continue walking.

  “She’s still the same,” Mary said to Charlene. “A deadbeat.”

  Before Charlene could contribute to the conversation, Rodney noticed Mary and came rushing over, bumping into classmates Troy Brown and Dee Graves on the way. That was Rodney, aggressive to the point of being obnoxious at times. Charlene used to question whether he was on steroids because his behavior was occasionally erratic.

  His and Mary’s eyes met and they smiled the brightest smiles. She opened her arms to hug him and he was classic Rodney: He lifted her off the ground.

  “Rodney, put me down,” Mary said, slapping him on his shoulders.

  He finally obliged and put her down—but then hugged her tightly. “Girl, I was in love with your ass,” he said so loudly that those near them could hear what he yelled, even over the bumping music.

  “Yeah, I know you were in love with my ass,” Mary said. “But you weren’t in love with me.”

  Charlene laughed, and Rodney turned to her.

  “Don’t encourage her, Charlene,” he said, then he stepped over and hugged her. “She thinks she has an audience and she’s liable to say anything for a laugh.”