Honey Girl(73)

“And I’ll be the one with the trendy suits and the immaculate braids?” She plays with her Bantu knots. It’s one of the easiest styles for this humidity.

Heather laughs. “I know a lot of girls like the twist-outs and wash-and-gos, but I don’t have time,” she says. She fishes a card out of her bag and hands it over. “That’s the African braid shop I go to. Give them my name, and they probably won’t overcharge you. Protective styles save my life.”

Grace remembers the feel of Dhorian’s gentle hands twisting her hair. “Yeah,” she agrees. “We’re in agreement there.”

Kelly picks her up today. Mom gave her a key so she can drive herself around, but Grace doesn’t trust herself not to take the car and never come back. She’s okay letting them pick her up. It’s another routine. It’s something she can’t run from.

“Hey, Porter,” he says. He’s got some Norah Jones playing today, just loud enough that Grace can guess he was singing along before she got in. Kelly’s a weird guy, but he’s got a good heart. “Doing okay?”

She shrugs. “Been worse,” she decides, and he fist-bumps her.

“So, listen,” he says, once they’re idling in the driveway and drinking milkshakes from McDonald’s. “I got something to ask you.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to think of what he’s going to say before he says it.

“Your mama makes that same face,” he tells her. “That ‘how can I outsmart you right now?’ face. Y’all look like you’re planning three ways to manipulate a conversation.”

“Military tactic,” Grace says, slurping through her straw. “I have four, currently. Colonel says you should always have five, so give me a minute.”

Kelly laughs. “Well, this ain’t no coup, Grace Porter. I just wanna ask you something.”

She studies him for a moment. Crow’s feet at his eyes, his brown-and-gray hair tucked up into a little bun. Another plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows and a Dolly Parton T-shirt underneath.

She inclines her head.

He takes a deep breath, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I know you and Mel are still working out your issues, and that ain’t none of my business. But you know we’re planning on getting married here on the grove soon. And I know it would mean a lot to her if you officiated the wedding.” He gives Grace a quick look. “Only if you’re comfortable. I won’t breathe a word of it to her if you say no.”

Grace’s eyes go big as her head. “You want me to do what?”

“You can do it all online,” he says. “I’ll pay for it. I already googled everything. You just have to, you know, get ordained. And then the county clerk’s office will ask for some stuff, but it’s just paperwork.” He turns in his seat and stares at Grace curiously. There’s a huge rip in the knee of his jeans. She focuses on that. “What do you think?”

“You want me to do it?” she asks. Her head is spinning. Heather would tell her to calm down, to focus, to breathe. She would tell Grace to find the source of her anxiety, like a peach pit in the middle of her stomach, and grab it tight. So, Grace grabs it tight. Her hands tremble around it. “Mom would want me to do it?”

Kelly shakes his head. “It’s not really about me, but yeah,” he says. “And, of course, Mel would want you to do it. Do you know how much she talks about you? How proud she is?”

Grace blinks fast and turns her head away. No, I don’t know, she wants to say. She swallows because she does not want to be overcome by the salt and the sea today. She can’t talk, because it is there in her throat: the ocean coming to claim her.

“Would you want to?” he asks gently. “You can say no, I swear.”

She clasps her fingers tight in her lap so they don’t shake. The last wedding she remembers is her own. The stumbling steps up to a church. A priest, dressed as bright as the overhead lights as they recited some vodka-sodden vows. A hand in hers. I do. I do. A kiss to seal the ceremony. Desert flowers. A fence. A lock.

A beautiful girl she misses desperately.

She reaches around her neck for the chain and key. On her ring finger, a small gold band she refuses to take off.

Kelly is asking her to be a part of their love story. Grace was in her own love story once. She couldn’t find a way to make the love story fit in her plan. She couldn’t find a way to make Yuki fit. And now she is being asked to bear witness, to officiate, Mom’s wedding.

She is glad, really, that Mom has found something easy with Kelly. Something that does not require a sacrifice or breaking your own heart. She wants to be a part of something good like that. It would not feel like being left behind by Mom, if she were a part of the something good and easy.

Grace turns to Kelly and nods.

“You’ll do it?” he asks, mouth twitching into a smile.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yes. Of course, I’ll do it.”

In the house, Mom cries when they tell her. She hugs Grace so tight it hurts. She smells like oranges and smoke. She says, “Thank you so much, Porter. I know I haven’t been around like I should. I might not even deserve it, but it means so much that you said yes. I’m so happy to share this with you.”

Grace presses her face into her mother’s hair. It is the same way she used to press close when she was a child and hiding from monsters.