When Alberta’s eyes land on me while I’m waiting with my own plate, her smile freezes. I smile as naturally as I can, cut a slice of red velvet cake, and head for the kitchen. It’s as crowded as the dining room, so I spread a wide smile around to everyone and keep walking to the back porch. Thank God no one is out here. I settle into one of the rocking chairs that have been here as long as I can remember. Mama and Daddy used to sit out here and watch Terry and me play in the backyard. They’d hold hands and talk while we played kick ball or climbed one of the big oak trees that separated our yard from our neighbor’s.
Tears gather in my eyes and emotion scorches my throat. Looking at the old tree, sitting in Daddy’s chair, I miss him. It floods my heart with that ache that never fully leaves no matter how long someone has been gone. And I miss those days when we were a family and this house was full of our love and laughter. I’ve spackled the cracks in my heart with friends, but today, sitting on our back porch, I miss my family.
The screen door opens and I swipe at my eyes and, not even looking up to see who it is, take a bite of cake.
“I was wondering where you got to,” Mama says, settling into the other rocking chair.
I smile and scrape at the white icing on my plate. “Just taking a minute for some quiet.”
“I hear ya. It’s a lot of folks in there.” She spoons up some corn pudding. “Everybody’s glad you came home.”
I snort, not sure that’s true, but smile and tap my fork against my mouth.
“We sure are proud of you on Broadway and getting this big movie.” She pauses, licks her lips, and continues. “I hate I didn’t make it up to New York to see you that week you got to be in the show. I had—”
“Knee surgery. I remember, Mama. It’s fine. I know you would have come if you could have.” I say it, but I’m not sure I believe it. It was hard for me to come back here after Terry and Brandon married and had Quianna. And Mama never seemed too pressed about coming to see me.
“You know I don’t fly,” Mama says, like she’s reading my mind. “So it’s hard to get up—”
“I know. It’s fine.”
An apology would feel so much better than an excuse. I’ve always thought that about Terry and Brandon, and I think it now as I hear Mama’s reasons for not supporting me the way she could have. She’s not the only one to blame for the space between us. I’ve used work and other things as an excuse not to come home. We’ve danced around this for more than a decade and things won’t get better until we stop.
“Where did Terry and Brandon go?” I ask.
Mama’s surprised eyes meet mine in the glow of the back porch light. “Um, one of his co-workers invited them over for dinner.”
“Oh.” I push the moist cake around my plate. “I’m surprised they went and didn’t want to be with you and family on Christmas.”
“I think they . . .” She blows out a tired sigh. “I guess they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“So it’s my fault they aren’t here.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Isn’t that what everyone thinks?”
“This was never easy for any of us, Neevah.”
“Oh, yeah. It was so hard for Brandon to sleep with Terry and get her pregnant when he was engaged to me. And poor Terry, having to cheat with my fiancé.”
“It was hard for you, Neevah, I know that, but they were young. Terry was pregnant. They didn’t have no money and—”
“They had you, Mama. What did I have? Who did I have?”
“Neevah, you were always self-sufficient. I knew you—”
“I was eighteen years old and had rarely left Clearview, much less moved by myself to another state. Living on my own for the first time.”
“You could have come home. I tried to be there for both of you, but sometimes it felt like you didn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”
“You think I wanted to see her pregnant and them married and with a baby? To be reminded how they cheated and lied to me? I was angry. I was hurt, and yeah. I didn’t want to be around them for years, but I wanted to be around you. It felt like you chose her over me.”
“The body sends help to the part that needs it most. She had a rough pregnancy. She couldn’t work for a while. They had no money. She was living here. I guess I thought you were happy chasing your dreams and Terry needed me more.”
“I needed you, too.” I sniff at the tears, now uncorked, slipping freely down my cheeks. “I still need you, Mama.”
Mama reaches across to take my hand, bridging not only the space between these old chairs, but the space that has separated me from her for years.