Page 18

ONE

Holland Davenport

Y ou’re ready for this.

Those words were part of my daily pep talk, reminding me that leaving Florence, South Carolina, needed to happen. It would be the scariest and bravest thing I’d ever done. I wanted nothing more than to do fearless and bold things.

A life bigger than what Florence could offer was finally on the horizon. Florence was familiar and familiar felt safe to me. I was completely over seeing the same people, doing the same things, and going to the same places all the time. Days, weeks, months, and years clumped together into a mountain of sameness.

Thank God my cancer scare wasn’t the death sentence I had feared, but I couldn’t help thinking, How could I die without ever really living?

Two short toots of a car’s horn let me know my cousin Amy had pulled up. This was our last weekend together before my move to Charleston. My announcement last month shocked everyone, especially my adoptive mother. You would have thought I told her I was jumping off a cliff. Ma been an emotional mess ever since.

Grabbing my bag, I braved the balmy heat, knowing Amy would have the air conditioner on ice-cold once I entered the car. Inside, her teary eyes stared back at me.

“Don’t start,” I said, rolling my eyes and holding my hand up at her.

She pouted. I stared at her beautiful face, marveling how her signature bright red lipstick perfectly contrasted with her espresso-colored skin.

Glistening hazel eyes bore into me as the corners of her mouth turned down and quivered.

“Ugh!” She sniffed. “I don’t want to ugly-cry,” she groaned. “Who would have thought you would leave this place before me?”

I tasted the salt of my own tears.

“Girl! We have to stop all this crying,” I said, wiping my face and flipping down the visor. “We’re going to look like raccoons.” I laughed through sniffles.

“I know!” She fanned her eyes with her hand, blinking rapidly. “These lashes won’t last through the night.”

Amy wasn’t just my cousin, she had been my best friend, therapist, and bodyguard since I was five. When she walked into a room, she hijacked all the attention. Loved hard and never bit her tongue.

Since childhood, I’d admired her boldness. Now it was my inspiration. Living hours away from Amy and Ma wasn’t going to be easy.

Amy squeezed my hand gently and then let go before she slowly pulled into traffic.

“Charleston isn’t that far away. What is it? A two-hour drive? I’ll be back all the time.” I turned to Amy with wide eyes. “Why don’t you move to Charleston with me? You’ve wanted out of Florence for years. Take my second bedroom.”

“If Mama’s health was better, I’d leave in a minute.” Amy’s lips turned down again, and the weight of being Aunt Shirleen’s sole caretaker since an autoimmune disease rendered her fragile dimmed the light in her eyes. “Anyway,” Amy sighed. “That gumbo at Jazz on Dargan is calling my name.”

Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” came up on Amy’s playlist, lifting the mood. “Oh, girl! That’s my song.” Amy cranked up the volume. We danced in our seats like life wasn’t beating down on us.

“What grade were we in when this came out? Eleventh? Twelfth?” I wondered, snapping my fingers.

We sang along with Amy’s playlist until we pulled up to the restaurant. The weight of my secret bore down on me. I’d told my family about the move, but never shared the real reason I felt so strongly about doing it now. Amy had always been my confidant; keeping her in the dark about this didn’t feel right.

Once she parked, I placed my hand on her arm before she could turn to get out of the car.

Raising one brow, she side-eyed me. “What?” She always knew when something was up.

“I need to tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”

Alarm widened Amy’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Hollz?”

I took a deep breath. “My doctor found a lump in my breast.”

Gasping, Amy clutched her chest. “No!”

“I’m fine,” I said immediately and watched Amy release the breath she held. “It was small,” I reassured her. “They did a biopsy, and I had a quick procedure to remove it. A small cyst. No cancer. I’m all good now.”

Amy went to open her mouth, probably to rip into me but I held my hand up, stopping her.

“I kept it to myself because my doctor assured me there was nothing to fear and that it could easily be taken care of. Ma and Aunt Shirleen don’t need unnecessary bad news at their age.”

Both women were old enough to be our grandmothers.

Amy shook her head and squinted at me.

“Just hear me out.” I rummaged through my brain in search of the right words. “I know it seems incredibly selfish, but I promise you I was thinking of all of you more than me. If it was bad news, I would have said something. And this scare made me think about how much more I wanted out of life. I’m moving to Charleston and pressing the restart button. This is something I need to do for me.”

“Normally, I would have a mouthful of spicy words for you, but I get it.” Amy shrugged. “I understand.”

Amy reached over and hugged me, then pulled back with tears shining in her eyes. “I’m not happy about how you handled that by yourself, but you deserve this move. And! I want daily play-by-plays so I can live vicariously through you. Fly, little butterfly. Fly!” Amy flailed her arms and smiled and we laughed through our tears.

“Let’s get inside,” Amy said. “Patience is waiting for us and you know how she gets.”

Relieved, I exited the car feeling lighter than when I’d entered. Like Amy said, my sister Patience was right inside the restaurant waiting on us. Her striking gray eyes were glued to her cell phone. Some days, an olive-green hue rimmed her irises. Mostly, it depended on her mood, her eyes shifting like a temperature gauge, getting greener when she was sullen and lightening when she was excited.

Long acrylic tips tap, tap, tapped against the phone screen at lightning speed. Blond braids cascaded down the back of her hourglass figure, meeting the ragged hem of her cutoffs.

“Hello!” I sang, breaking through her self-absorbed bubble.

Twisting her lips, she rolled her eyes. “It’s about time,” she teased before throwing her arms around my neck. Patience hugged like every embrace could be her last, tight and lingering. This time I matched her intensity. It was going to be hard leaving her behind.

The energy in the restaurant was electrifying. Waiters and customers hustled and scurried in a well-orchestrated ensemble. Summer Walker’s latest hit floated through the speakers.

Amy, Patience, and I pressed through the crowd, waving at friends. We knew almost everyone in there.

“What’s good in the neighborhood?” Tony, one of the longtime waiters, said once we sat down. “Your regulars?” he yelled referring to our drinks. We nodded. “Be right back,” he said, his voice muffled by the loud music.

Our city wasn’t one-traffic-light small, but small enough to know people based on who their family members were. Smaller towns came to us for action.

Patience’s attention was back on her phone as we sat. I leaned close enough for her to feel my breath in her ear. “No texting all night. Hear me?” This needed to be said. Patience could live her entire life through her cell phone while the outside world passed her by.

She laid her phone face down on the table and blinked at me. “Why do you have to leave?” she asked for the umpteenth time.

Amy and I snickered when Patience folded her arms across her chest and pouted.

“You are so mature,” Amy teased.

“And pouting won’t help,” I laughed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Patience whined. “Who will fix my life when you’re hours away?”

“Just pick up your phone and call me. Phones still function that way, you know. It’s always in your hand anyway,” I said, rubbing my chest to loosen the lump of guilt that formed there.

“It won’t be the same without you here,” Patience groaned, her abandonment issues on full display.

Ma had adopted me in time to put me in kindergarten. Patience joined our family a few years later, but her struggle with abandonment never waned. Once she’d learned that I could be trusted, she clung to me. It felt good to go from having no siblings to being the big sister.

“How sweet,” Amy teased, pushing her lips into an exaggerated pout. “She’s going to miss her big sister.”

“Whatever.” Dismissing Amy, Patience turned to me. “Why the rush, Holly?” she asked, using my nickname.

I took a breath, preparing to explain my position once again. Patience wouldn’t understand that I needed to separate myself from her, Ma, and everything I’d ever known to figure out who I really was, or that after my cancer scare, every question about my medical history was a glaring example of how much I didn’t know about myself.

There were so many ways to answer Patience’s question. “I have to get settled before starting my new job in September.” I kept it simple.

“Are you coming home for your birthday?” Patience asked.

“No,” I said, forcing what I hoped was a warm smile.

“No!” Patience jerked her head back. Appalled, she asked, “We can’t even celebrate your thirtieth birthday with you? Dang, Holland!” Even in the low light of the restaurant, I could see the light in her eyes dim.

“Of course you can.” I reached for Patience’s hand. “Come to Charleston anytime you want,” I said matter-of-factly, in contrast to Patience’s dramatic response. “It will be fun.”

Turning the big three-oh was a big deal. My next decade needed to look drastically different from my last.

On my last birthday, I vowed I wouldn’t turn thirty in the same town. I didn’t take myself seriously until the health scare. Then I made plans to leave Florence, landing a job and an apartment in Charleston within months.

I didn’t hate Florence. Fond memories bonded the city to my heart. But none of the things on my life’s checklist had happened for me. Upward mobility? No. A husband? No. Possibly a kid or two? No again. There wasn’t anything holding me back.

Tony the waiter arrived with our cocktails and set them down in front of us before taking our orders.

Amy raised her glass. “Welp! Here’s to a new start.”

“To living the life you want… I guess,” Patience muttered then grinned sheepishly. “At least you got a job first.” Everyone laughed. Patience would have left without one.

I raised my glass to meet theirs. “And to doing it all, scared as hell,” I added.

The glasses clinking was the best accompaniment to our laughter.

“What about Sean?” Patience asked, setting her glass back down on the table. “How did he take the news of you moving?”

I took a long sip, then carefully set my cocktail on the table. Suddenly, it wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t want to discuss Sean.

“It’s over.”

“Good!” Amy said, before sipping her chocolate martini. “Find a man that will make you a priority.”

“ Wow .” That stung a little.

“Did I lie?” Amy asked matter-of-factly.

She didn’t. Admittedly, I allowed Sean’s behavior, and it didn’t feel good at all to realize that. Sean was the most unfulfilling situationship ever. Following a fun start, whatever we had between us withered after a few months but didn’t completely die. It lingered with late-night visits and conversations that vehemently avoided substance.

I had hoped for more. What girl didn’t? The freedom of not being pressured worked for Sean and avoiding the direct sting of rejection worked for me, so instead of pinning him down, I acted as if I didn’t care when he called less frequently and eventually not at all. Whoever I dated next would have to make me a priority.

Reaching in my bag, I panicked when I didn’t feel my phone.

“Amy! Do you see my cell?” I asked, still rifling through my purse.

Both Amy and Patience looked around for it before shaking their heads.

“Ugh! I think I left it at home.” I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Waiter.” I raised my hand before he could pass us by. “Can I get one of those?” I pointed to Amy’s chocolate martini and then gulped the last of my drink, looking forward to the sweet, strong cocktail to ward off the anxiety that fluttered in my chest because I didn’t have my phone.

“Sure.” He nodded politely.

“So. Are you going to find a new man in Charleston?” Patience asked.

“Nope! I’m going to focus on me,” I declared.

Patience cocked her head to the side and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “But what if he has a cute brother for me?”

Laughter bubbled up from each of us, refusing to subside.

“Don’t be selfish, Holly. I’m gonna need a husband someday. Who would I marry here?” Patience asked.

“Cousin Willie,” Amy said, guffawing. I covered my mouth to keep the drink from spilling out.

“Exactly!” Patience pointed a finger at Amy, her shoulders bouncing as she cackled.

Through the rest of dinner, we imagined ourselves living bigger lives in metropolitan cities across the South.

“Charleston could just be my first stop,” I said, prompting a new list of cities to explore.

It was after midnight when Amy dropped me back home. Martinis swam in my stomach, making me queasy. I dropped two tabs of Alka-Seltzer into a small glass of water and watched them fizz, then downed the contents in one long gulp. Instantly, a belch rumbled through my chest, erupting before I could get my hand to my mouth. “Excuse me,” I said into the emptiness of my apartment.

My cell phone sat on the table near the door. I grabbed it on the way to my bedroom to undress.

Ma had left a message about a package I received from New York. I didn’t know anyone from up North and wondered why it had gone to her house. Knowing she would be asleep, I waited until after my fitful night of alcohol-induced sleep to call her.

* * *

“Hello,” Ma croaked early the next morning. She cleared the sleep from her throat and repeated her greeting.

“Hey, Ma. Sorry to wake you. Your message sounded important.”

At the sound of rustling sheets, I imagined her propping herself up on her elbow.

“It’s all right. A package came. It looks important. Come on over and get it.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

When I reached Ma’s house, she was sitting at the small, round table in her neat little dining room, sipping on her favorite tea. Steam swirled above the mug. The aroma wafted through the small room.

“Hey!” I greeted her, kissing her cheek and reaching for the priority envelope on the table.

Ma watched me over the rim of her cup. The curiosity behind her eyes made me rip the package open faster, revealing official-looking documents. The contents proclaimed that I was the next of kin and sole heir to the estate of a woman I’d never met.

My heart didn’t know whether to beat faster or stop completely. Mindlessly, I circled Ma’s oak coffee table, reading slowly, zeroing in on the words that requested my presence at a law office in New York in less than two weeks. I’d wanted to embark on a journey of self-discovery and was getting what I’d asked for. It came in the form of legal documents and an unexpected trip to New York.

“Deep breaths,” I reminded myself in a whisper. I closed my eyes. Counting, I willed my breathing to regulate itself. Ma watched me, her expression unreadable. I expected questions but she didn’t ask any. Had she somehow known what was in the envelope?

Goldie Mae Williamson . I breathed the name listed in the documents, trying it on my tongue. The papers said she was my maternal great-aunt—my grandmother’s sister. Tracing the letters of her name with my fingers was the only way to feel her. I had a biological family member. A living one—until two weeks ago.

I guess I was going to New York.