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Nova

I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the new haircut, or the money Mama gave me at dinner, or Leah’s visit.

No matter the reason, I was grateful for it because I woke up with a new sense of determination.

Dr. Yvonne told me to create a goal, and I was ready to achieve that goal and much more.

I was going to do this. I was going to open the front door, walk out, and keep walking until I got to the end of the lane.

Mama left early this morning to go down the street to check on her friend, Ms. Cora.

She hadn’t been feeling well, and Mama had been worried about her.

I wanted to have some good news to tell her when she came back—something to help lift her spirits and take her mind off her sick friend and everything that was going on between Leah and me.

Leah’s visit last night really bothered Mama.

She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was down about it, which made me even angrier with Leah.

Mama and I were fine before she showed up, ruining both of our moods.

Anyway, that was neither here nor there.

Today was all about being positive and reaching my goal.

My hand gripped the doorknob, but I was frozen.

I couldn’t turn it. I closed my eyes and visualized myself doing it like Dr. Yvonne told me to do this morning during our session.

I saw myself walking through the door and down the steps and taking one step after the other until I did it.

Only, that was much easier in my head than it was in real life.

I was still standing by the door when someone knocked and nearly gave me a heart attack. I lifted to my tiptoes and looked through the glass at the top of the door.

“Hey,” I said when I swung the door open and let Lance inside.

“Whoa!” Lance stepped back. “You look amazing.”

I lowered my head and hoped he didn’t see the heat that I was sure had colored my face. “Thank you.”

“Are you blushing?” he teased.

“No,” I said firmly, but the smile on his face said he didn’t buy it. I turned and made my way to the sofa, hoping by the time we sat that my face would return to its normal color.

Lance sat next to me. “What are you doing today?” he asked, smiling like he had something up his sleeve.

How in the world was he still single? It didn’t make sense to me.

Back when we were best friends, I didn’t see what all the other girls saw in Lance.

I mean, yes, he was always good looking, but to me, he was just Lance.

Now, though, after being away from him for so long, I can see why they were all fighting to be on his arm.

“Let’s see. You know my calendar stays booked these days,” I teased.

“You wanna do something?” he asked.

“I wanna do everything. The problem is my mind won’t let me.

This wasn’t something I thought I’d have to deal with when I left that house.

I thought my problem would be trying to do everything at once and wearing myself out.

Not stuck in the house, afraid to go outside.

The one place I prayed to be for fifteen years. ”

“I get that.”

“You do?” I asked, waiting to hear how he could possibly know what I was talking about.

“Not exactly, but ...” He moved closer. “When I played football, there were a lot of times when we’d be in the fourth quarter, down by a touchdown, and the whole stadium was watching. Some cheered for us to do well, and others made noise to distract us, so we didn’t.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. What does anything I said have to do with football?”

He laughed. “I’m getting to that.”

How did I forget that Lance always took forever to get to the point of a story? He traveled all around the world and back again before he finally said what he wanted to say. Most of the time, he’d forget the point before he reached it.

“What I’m saying is this. The people in the stands who were making all the noise to distract us, that’s what’s going on in your mind.

We had to learn how to block out the noise and focus on the play.

And that’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to block out all the things that your mind is trying to tell you to stop you from making your touchdown. ”

“What?” I laughed even harder. “I’m not playing football, fool.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” I stood. “And before you came, that’s what I was about to do. I was determined to open that door and walk outside.”

“Then let’s do it.” He opened the door, reached for my hand, and walked me out to the front porch.

We stood there, holding hands while I stared ahead and tried to block out the people in the stadium ... or in my case, the thoughts in my head.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Lance glanced down at me.

“What do you mean?”

He tilted his head forward. “If you walked down those steps and into the yard. What’s the worst that could happen?”

My mind raced with all the thoughts that replayed in my head when I imagined walking out the door and away from the safety of this house. “Someone could come and take me away again.” I voiced my biggest fear, my voice shaking as much as my body.

“And if we walked down there together”—he squeezed my hand—“who’s going to take you away from me?

” He released my hand and flexed the muscles in his arms, which bulged through his long-sleeved cotton shirt.

“I’m six two, two hundred twenty pounds of steel.

” He hit his chest. “I’ll be like Black Panther out there fighting off any and everybody. Young and old. It doesn’t matter.”

Tears rolled down my face, but they were from laughing so hard at him. I was still wiping my face when he took my hand again, and we, in unison, took the three steps down to the ground.

Lance looked at me, smiling like a proud father who’d watched his child take their first step.

“I did it.”

“You did it.” He held my hand a little tighter. A reminder that he was still there and as long as I had Lance, my best friend, I was safe. I believed that.

“Who’s Black Panther?” I asked as we strolled away from the house and down the dirt road.

“You don’t remember Black Panther? Part of the Fantastic Four in the comics.”

“No idea what you’re talking about?”

“Ah, come on.” He threw his hand up and his head back. “You know what? You’re in luck because the Black Panther movie came out in February. I’m going to find a way to show you that movie. You have to see it.”

Before I knew it, we’d made it to the end of the road, and a funny thing happened.

Each step I took was electrifying, like there were jumping cables inside me, jump-starting something that had died long ago.

I wanted to keep walking and talking with Lance.

So, that was what we did. We strolled down Main Street and kept going until we made it into town.

My grip around his hand tightened. I didn’t know if I was hurting him, but if I was, he didn’t show it.

“Today was a good day to do this,” Lance said. “Tuesday morning means people are getting ready for work, so you won’t have to worry about anyone bothering you.”

That part made me feel good. All I wanted to do was walk and talk with Lance. And see what changes had taken place in Bayou since I’d been gone.

“Oh my goodness,” I said, stopping on the sidewalk and putting my hands over my mouth.

All the stores had handwritten posters with my name on them.

Some I recognized from people holding them and cheering when we drove into Bayou.

I couldn’t look too long then, but now all I wanted to do was read each sign expressing how happy they were that I was home and safe.

In front of Mr. Jim’s store, his scarecrow held a wooden sign with Welcome Home, Nova painted in white.

“Your mom didn’t tell you they’d done this?” Lance asked.

“No, she didn’t. I guess she was hoping I’d get to see it for myself,” I said, taking short steps and reading every sign. It didn’t matter that most of them said the same thing. I read it anyway.

Farther down the street, I stopped in front of Southern Sweets.

There were a few iron tables and chairs outside of the bakery that weren’t there before, but other than that, everything else looked the same as I remembered.

I couldn’t begin to count the number of times Leah and I begged Mama to buy us some donuts or let us split a cinnamon roll because they were so big.

Mama rarely gave in, but Daddy always did.

The more I walked, the more memories came, and the bigger the why-can’t-I-be-happy wave washed over me. All my happiest memories were escorted by a feeling of despair. Every corner of this town held a story that included Leah and Daddy and, in most cases, both of them together.

“Not much has changed, as you can see,” Lance said.

“And yet, everything has changed,” I said as we stood at the edge of Main Street and in front of the park.

The park, I remembered, had a swing set, a slide, and a sandbox.

Now, there was all of that, plus more things for kids to play on, along with a pond in the center of the park, a walking trail around the pond, and covered areas with picnic tables underneath.

We were about to walk away from the park when a bronze plaque caught my attention. “What’s that?” I pointed.

“It’s nothing. Just a plaque. You ready to go back?” he asked, sounding more rushed than before.

“In a second.” I left his side and moved toward the plaque.

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing,” he said, walking behind me.

I stood over the plaque and started reading. “Oh my goodness,” I said, swinging around to him. “What are you talking about it’s nothing?”

“Because it’s nothing.”

“This park stands revitalized through the generosity and vision of Lance Dupre,” I started reading.

“Please don’t.” Lance held his head.

“A son of Bayou whose dedication to our community and commitment to nurturing the joy and health of our children are embodied in this renewed space. May this park serve as a lasting tribute to his legacy of giving back and fostering spirits as strong and resilient as his own. Dedicated in 2015 by the people of Bayou.” I put my hand over my chest. “Awww ... Lance.” I walked over and hugged him. “That was so sweet.”

“Don’t do that.” He blushed.

“And that’s not nothing. It’s something. A big something, and I don’t know why you wouldn’t be proud of that.”

“Because it was before ... It was a different time then. Like Quinton said, a lot has changed.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like too much to get into now, but one day I will, but please don’t press me about it, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, more worried than nosy.

Whatever it was, based on his response, couldn’t have been good. The mood shifted, and I regretted going over to the plaque. It was obvious it bothered him for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping it would make him feel better, but I knew it wouldn’t. Words didn’t heal hurt—not for me anyway.

“No, don’t be sorry. You’re good. I promise. Today’s a big day for you, and I want to focus on that and nothing else.”

“I can do that,” I said, reaching for his hand again and soaking in the feeling of being with my friend.

When Lance and I were kids, we used to walk or ride our bikes all over Bayou. Our parents and grandparents never worried about anything bad happening to us. When we left home, they knew we’d come back. I used to believe that too. Maybe one day I would again.