Yasmen
“Why are you cast down, O my soul…Hope.”
—Psalm 42:5
New Year’s Eve is always one of my favorite nights of the year, though one of the busiest. I made the midnight toast, as I usually do, ringing in a new year at the Grits celebratory bash. Bottles popping. Champagne flowing. The place, pulsing with possibility and jubilation an hour ago, is starting to clear out. By one o’clock, everyone should be gone. The DJ was great, a new guy I found by chance. He played “Feels Good,” and Hendrix did lose her mind the way she does every time that song comes on. She’s still slightly sweaty and breathless when she and Soledad find me on the roof wishing the diners Happy New Year and thanking them for coming.
“Great party,” Hendrix says, coiling her waist-skimming braids up into a messy bun. “Once again.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“How are things going in Charlotte?” Soledad asks. “With their first New Year’s Eve bash?”
“Great,” I reply with a smile. “Our new manager there, Charles, sent us some pics. Everyone looked like they were having a ball. The place looks fantastic. Thanks again for your help decorating it, Sol.”
“It was nothing,” she says.
“I’ll have to check it out next time I’m visiting Mama in Charlotte,” Hendrix says.
“Yeah, you can kind of keep an eye on it for me.” I smile, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne from a nearby table. “One last drink to toast another year? I wasn’t with you tricks when the New Year rang in, so shall we?”
“Oh, we shall.” Soledad takes a seat at the table.
“Lemme get us some glasses,” I say as Hendrix sits too.
I walk over to the bartender on this level, who’s shutting down for the night, and snag three shot glasses from the bar since there’s probably not one clean flute in the building.
“Pour it up!” I hold the glasses triumphantly, returning to the table to take my seat. “These are the best I could do.”
“That’s about as much as I can take anyway.” Hendrix laughs. “I’mlushed. You hear me?”
“You really went for it tonight,” Soledad agrees with a smile. “If you weren’t drinking, you were dancing.”
“Lots to celebrate.” Hendrix winks. “It’s been a very good year, and this one will be even better.”
“Oh, that’s right. You signed that new client,” I say. “Lucrative, huh?”
“Yeah.” Hendrix pours champagne into the three shot glasses. “If she keeps pulling in seven-figure deals, me and that commission will get along just fine.”
“Edwards’s firm has had one of the best years too,” Soledad says, her smile a little stiff. “This new partner has been shaking things up, but Edward says he’s not sure about some of the changes.”
Hendrix and I share a quick glance, treading lightly by tacit agreement where Edward is concerned. As far as we know, he hasn’t been sleep talking about other women lately, but we don’t trust him as far as we could toss him.
“Oh, wow,” Hendrix murmurs. “How nice for Edward.”
“He’s home with the girls tonight?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “Well, not Lupe. She’s at that same sleepover Deja’s at.”
I pull my phone from the pocket of my skirt, smiling down at the screen. “Deja sent me like five text messages. I told her it’s not cool to text your mom from a slumber party, but she wanted me to see these braids she did for one of the girls.”
“We did the right thing letting them leave Harrington, right?” Soledad sighs. “I mean, we jumped through hoops, robbed Peter to pay Paul so we could get them in, and they walk away from it.”
“It’s their second year in public, and they’re both doing great. Deja’s definitely happier.” I shrug. “Each of our kids needs different things. Kassim is still thriving at Harrington.”
“And skipped a grade,” Hendrix interjects, fist-bumping me.
“Showing out too,” I say, proud Mama preening. “All As. Both of them are actually doing really well.”