Seven Days in June(97)

Very late that night…

Eva had written all day, and now her eyes were crossing. She curled up in Aunt Da’s guest bed to take a break. She scrolled through her contacts until she reached Shane. After a beat, she called.

“Is this…you?”

“Hi,” she said softly. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I wrote three chapters today, in Grandma Clo’s house. In my mom’s childhood bedroom.”

“What was it like?”

“Surreal,” she said. “I never had one bedroom, you know? There were so many, it’s a blur.” She grabbed the pillow under her head and held it to her chest, curling herself around it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Nothing, just wanted to say it.”

“I’m serious,” said Eva. “Do you think this thing between us will ever wear off? Because I’m starting to feel like it won’t. And fighting it seems…”

“Pointless.”

Then there was silence, and Eva heard rustling on the other end of the line.

“The truth? I see you everywhere in your house. Everything smells like you. I hate walking out the door. Just wanna stay here, be surrounded by you.” Shane paused for a bit. When he spoke again, his voice was low. Slow. Like he was delivering a truth he was hesitant to admit.

“I’ve been roaming around forever, and I’ve never been anywhere I wasn’t itching to leave.”

When Eva hung up, she stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever. If given another opportunity, could she trust Shane not to leave?





Three days later…

9:10 a.m.

“Hi,” said Eva. They spoke first thing in the morning every day now. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just on my way to coach basketball at the Brownsville YMCA.”

“Brownsville? Since when do you play basketball?”

“I don’t; I’m trash. But I came to a realization. I need to mentor kids. I was doing it wrong before, getting way too close. Trying to save them because I couldn’t save my foster family. Or you. It was unhealthy. With this, I just shout motivational shit from the sidelines, build some self-esteem, and go home. I mean…your home.”

“Sounds perfect for you,” she said. “Hey. Quick question. Would you come here if I asked?”

“You asking?”

Eva paused. This wasn’t healthy. No, they weren’t supposed to see each other. Wasn’t the whole point of breaking up to focus on themselves? Work through past trauma? Separately? But Eva couldn’t ignore the dissenting voice in her head wondering if maybe there was a chance they’d be stronger together.

Whatever curse had befallen her foremothers, Eva had broken it. She was in love with a man who embraced everything about her. She just didn’t know if she had enough faith to accept it.

“Well, if you needed me,” said Shane, “I’d come.”





That afternoon…

Audre was at a bonfire on Venice Beach, with her Summer Friends and The Boy. So fun, but the bonfire thing made no sense. It was almost ninety degrees. She had on a crop top, high-waisted cutoffs, and flip-flops. It was high summer. Why were they creating more heat? She loved California, but she’d never understand the way the natives thought.

Also, she missed her mom. They’d just chatted on the phone, and she’d sounded so serious. And distracted, as if she were speaking to Audre from galaxies away. Audre knew her mother, so she knew what was wrong. What was missing. And there was only one person who could help.

Audre scrolled through her phone and called the sneakiest person she knew.





Later that afternoon…





Today, 4:17 PM


CECE: Can you do me a favor?

SHANE: No.

CECE: I know it’s last minute, but I need a panelist for the Peachtree Book Festival in Atlanta.

SHANE: No.

CECE: Please? One of my authors got sick and I have no one to replace her. The organizers called me, specifically, and asked for a recommendation. It’d be SUCH a feather in my cap.

SHANE: But I’m not even an author anymore. I’ve given it up. I’m a full-time teacher and part-time basketball coach who can’t shoot free throws. Also, I’m house-sitting for Eva.

CECE: Come on. They’re paying for everything! It’s just a weekend. I won’t mention that you owe me your life.





That Friday night…

Eva was a fan of Atlanta. At least, the Atlanta she’d seen. She’d visited only for book conferences and signings—and the trips were quick, so she’d never had any non-touristy, off-the-beaten-path experiences. But it seemed to be a vibrant city with delectable food and fine men who spoke like André 3000. Also, it was the city that had produced Cece, so it had to be colorful.

When Cece invited her to Ken’s “top-secret super-surprise” fiftieth birthday party in their hometown, Eva didn’t need convincing. Especially since Cece was flying all her guests there.

Belle Fleur had become Eva’s home away from home. So much so that she’d almost declined the invite in favor of the cochon de lait happening the same weekend. It was a Creole tradition, an outdoor feast featuring the roasting of whole pigs, zydeco dancing, games, and gossip. Apparently, Eva’s great uncle T’Jaques won the pig-roasting contest every year, and this year the competition was fierce, because her seventh cousin Baby Bubba (who was eighty-three), had been seasoning his pig for three whole months. Plus, Eva’s fourth cousin Babette-Adele was manning the craft tables, and she’d been spotted at Saint Frances Church’s pancake breakfast, feeding maple-syrup-dipped bacon to a strapping young foreman who was not her fiancé, and Eva was dying to get the details.