Last I heard from Mama, Terry and Brandon were packed and ready to go to Virginia. Looks like we’ll avoid each other again. I’m looking forward to some time with Mama, just us two. It’s good that Terry and Brandon went to Virginia to see the other side of his family. After the strain of starring in my first movie, and one as huge as Dessi Blue, I need a break, not more stress.
This room hasn’t changed much either. The couch is still here—the one Terry and Brandon sat on, side by side, building their little wall of solidarity with the mortar of deceit. Masons of betrayal.
An artificial Christmas tree stands in the corner. That’s different. Growing up, we always had a live tree. Daddy insisted, and Mama continued the tradition when he was gone.
I haven’t been here many Christmases. The holiday season is one of the busiest in theater, and it’s hard to get off even for a few days. I often used that as an excuse to stay away, especially when I knew Terry and Brandon would be here. Touring or understudying, waiting in the wings, longing for home, I always pictured a live tree and imagined I could smell the pine.
Not this year.
This too-green thing sprinkled with cheap tinsel is odorless and stiff, with gaps and plug-by-the-number branches.
The alarm dings, signaling an open door. In New York, we keep a bat for protection when doors open unannounced, but the neighborhood watch is a formality here. Crime is not a thing.
I walk to the kitchen, eager to see Mama for the first time in nearly a year. “How was Mrs.—”
My words wither and die. Terry stands in the kitchen at the car porch entrance, toting grocery bags full of food. I can’t remember the last time we were alone, but I know it was as awkward then as it is now.
“Oh.” I lick my lips and grit my teeth. “I thought Mama was coming home.”
“She took Mrs. Dobbs to—”
“I know. She told me. I didn’t think you would . . .”
Be here.
We stare at each other with identical eyes, dark brown with gold-splashed centers. She was always the pretty one, but that wasn’t enough for her. There was one boy in our whole school who preferred me, and she had to take him, too.
Brandon’s betrayal doesn’t even hurt anymore. He and I would have been driftwood and our marriage a shipwreck. But her? My sister and how she decided to hurt me—that I’m not sure when I’ll get over. Not today.
“Brandon’s Aunt Sharon has pneumonia.” Terry lays a bushel of collard greens on the counter and pulls sweet potatoes from the grocery bag. “So they’re not really doing much of a Christmas up there. We’ll visit her soon, but decided last minute to stay here for the holidays.”
“Oh.”
That’s the best I can do. It’s been so many years, and I hope we can put this behind us, but I hadn’t planned on confronting this particular demon for Christmas.
“Brandon’s working at the garage,” she adds, pulling out two-dozen eggs. “And I ran by Food Lion to pick up some stuff for Mama.”
The least I can do is help. I pull out pepper and season salt from the grocery bag, instinctively opening the cabinet to the right of the stove only to find stacks of plates.
“Spices over there now.” Terry nods to the cabinet on the left.
It’s a small thing, but not knowing where my mama keeps her spices feels like another thing Terry robbed me of. She betrayed me. She stole from me, but I’ve been the one in exile.
“Mama says you’re starring in some big movie,” she says, lifting her brows like she’ll believe it when she sees it.
“I’m in a movie, yeah,” I say, putting a pack of neck bones in the refrigerator.
“She’s cooking those tonight,” Terry says. “Leave the neck bones out.”
I don’t mean to slam the meat on the countertop, but it happens. I’m tired of her knowing all the things I want to know, too. She confiscated the man and the life I don’t even want, but it was mine. And she didn’t leave me any choice.
“Surprised you even came home.” Terry twists her lips.
We’ve never discussed it, but of course she would know I’ve avoided coming because of her and Brandon.
“Assumed you thought you were too bougie for us now.” Terry rolls her eyes and pulls out two bags of shredded cheese for Mama’s famous macaroni.
“Wait.” I lean against the counter and rewind what she just said. “What?”
“Yeah, all these years you been staying up in New York, and now you in Hollywood. Uppity and too big for your britches and—”
“You think I don’t come home because I’m uppity? Bougie?”
“I mean, you were always bougie, thinking you were better than the rest of us. That you were gonna be a star. Go off and forget about your family. Hope you’re happy now.”