Homecoming Weekend (34 page)

“Two wallets,” Jesse revealed. “I opened them up and one was mine; the other had this driver's license photo that looked like Sammy Davis Jr.”

“Ah, man, gimme my damned wallet,” Don said, snatching it out of Jesse's hand. “How you get this?'

“You asking me?” Jesse responded. “It's
your
wallet.”

“It was in
your
pocket,” Don shot back.

“I can't take you two anywhere,” Venita said. “Just be glad you got the damn wallet back.”

“You know the anxiety I felt this morning thinking I lost my wallet?” Don asked.

“You
did
lose it,” Jesse said.

“No, you must have taken it,” Don said. “Yeah, you must have taken it when we went to the bar that last time. That's the last time I remember seeing it. Your drunk ass grabbed it off the bar and put it in your pocket.”

“And your drunk ass didn't realize you didn't put it back in your pocket,” was Jesse's retort.

Then he said, “Listen, you crashed my car, I took your wallet. Both were accidents, so we're even.”

“If you call your car being damaged the same as taking and returning his wallet ‘even,' then you're still drunk,” Venita said.

“Venita, whatever,” Jesse said. He pulled out two more Excedrin
Migraines and threw them back. “What did you do last night after hanging with the pole dancer?”

“That's the last time you're going to call my niece that,” she said. “She's beautiful and smart. And you'll see for yourself because she's on her way over here. She was at breakfast with her room-mate's parents. And her roommate is pregnant. That's just a bad mistake when you're young and doing well in college.”

“Well, that's true but it can be overcome,” Don said. “Look at Jamayah. Remember her?”

Venita said, “That was the girl who was doing everyone's hair in the Twin Towers. I wondered how she had time to have sex—she had those girls lined up. She was good, too. She did my hair a couple of times.”

“If she made your hair look good then she was better than good,” Jesse said. “She was
real
good!!!”

“You know what?” Venita said, ignoring Jesse's joke. “She had that baby at the end of her junior year. She delivered in Petersburg, I think, and came back three weeks later and took her final exams. She didn't bring the baby, but she brought pictures.

“She never did come back to school, though. Never got her degree, as far as I know.”

“But she did open a hair salon, I heard, that is doing very well,” Don said.

“Where did you hear that?” Jesse asked.

“I heard it from her,” Don said. “She was at the party last night. You don't remember that? We talked to her right after they played the third or fourth line dance song in a row.”

“What's up with that, anyway?” Jesse said. “I vaguely remember us talking to somebody, but I do remember the whole dance floor packed for about thirty minutes as everyone did these ‘Electric Slide'-type dances. Who comes up with this stuff? And who has time to learn four different line dances?”

“I can't even believe you,” Don said.

“What?” Jesse responded.

“You were out there with Collette learning how to do them last night.”

“What? Well,” Jesse said, “it's official: I was drunk as hell. I ain't even trying to do that crap. At least not when I'm sober.”

“Are you going to drink tonight?” Venita said. “I'm just asking because I'm not letting you all get wasted like that again. You're at homecoming but you don't even remember you're at home-coming.”

“Right now,” Jesse said, “I don't want to see a beer bottle, much less have a drink. Are you kidding me? I feel like I've been in the spin cycle of a washing machine.”

“Venita, you still haven't told us what you did last night,” Don said.

“Oh,” she started, “well, I had a great time with my niece. Then she went on to the gym to the homecoming concert and some other parties. So she dropped me at the hotel. Charles called me again, sweating me about seeing me because he's traveling today and won't be here. So, he came over Waterside. I met him at Hooters and we talked for a while.”

“And?” Don said.

“And that's it,” she said. “Look, I know there's a whole lot of sex going on this weekend, most of it by married people who just want to do their thing for the weekend and go back to their lives on Sunday. But I'm not participating in that. Did I want to? Not really. He looked good and we had a good time. But some things from college days need to stay right where they were. And he is one of them.”

She looked to the right of Don and could see Diamond approaching. “And here comes my niece. Don't even think about it, either,” she said.

Diamond came over with Janea and Teri. They were all attractive with beautiful bodies. And they looked like babies.

“So, you're Diamond?” Jesse asked. “Good to meet you. Your aunt has spoken very highly of you.”

“She has? That's my auntie,” Diamond said.

“So what's homecoming like for you as a student?” Don asked.

“It's fun because, first of all, no classes on Friday,” Diamond said.

“And my parents came to town so I get to eat really good food for two days,” Janea said. “The rest of the year, it's not cute. But we're not starving or anything. We have an apartment, so we put together and get groceries and we cook. We even have people over.”

“Yeah,” Teri added, “but only when we cook something like spaghetti, where there is so much that we can share. We've got to be smart about it.”

“Homecoming also is great because we get to see people like you,” Janea said, “old people who have been here and come back every year because they have so much pride in the school. I graduate in May, but I know I'm going to be a part of this every year. Look at this. It's amazing.”

“Did she say ‘old' people?” Jesse asked.

“Yes, she did,” Venita said. “Diamond gave me a compliment last night but messed it up by saying I was old. You girls are so young that you don't know. Old does not come for a very long time, and I'm nowhere near it.”

“Do you call your parents ‘old,' Janea?” Venita wanted to know.

“My parents
are
old–they are both fifty,” Janea answered. “They're so old, but both of them are on Facebook. They are so funny. I go to their pages and they post stuff about politics or fundraisers. I'm like, ‘
boring
.' I tell them it's a social media thing
and they tell me they are socializing. But because they are old, they don't get it.”

“That's why you think your parents are old? Fifty is not old, young lady,” Don said. “Does your father golf? Does your mother dance? If they can still participate in that kind of physical activity, they are not old.”

“Do they have all their teeth is what you should ask,” Jesse chimed in.

The girls laughed. “You all are funny,” Diamond said.

“What entertainment did you all have at the concert last night?” Jesse asked.

“Okay” Diamond said. “If I tell you and you can't name one of the songs of the artists, that means you're old. Okay?”

“Bet,” Jesse said.

“Wiz Khalifa,” Diamond offered. “You heard of him? Gimme a song by him.”

“First of all, that's a stupid name; I'm just saying,” Don said. “His real name is probably Albert Jenkins. How you get Wiz Latifa out of that?”

The girls laughed again. “It's not Latifah. It's Khalifa,” Janea said. “And his real name is Cameron Jibril Thomaz.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, “I know who that bama is. He's from Pennsylvania. They love him up there. He's from Pittsburgh, I think. Lil boney bastard got tattoos all over his body. Look like a wall somebody bombed with graffiti.”

“Oh, wow, I'm impressed,” Teri said. “But what about a song? If you don't know a song you owe us twenty dollars each.”

“Okay, here comes the hustle,” Jesse said. “I ain't mad at you. Struggling college students trying to get some money in your pocket. It makes sense. But if I get it right, what do we get?”

“
Jesse
,” Venita shrieked.

“They're gonna have to do something—get me a plate of food, wash my car . . . something.”

“Okay, we'll get you a plate of food if you know a Wiz Khalifa song,” Teri said.

Don, Venita and Jesse huddled as if they were on the
Family Feud
. The girls found it humorous.

“Okay, we have our final answer,” Venita said. “‘Black and Yellow.'”

“Oh, my God. Who knew that?” Diamond said.'

“I did because there was some special on him the other night,” Jesse said. “His name is Arabic and Khalifa means ‘successor' and ‘wisdom.' So he shortened ‘wisdom' to ‘Wiz.'”

“My mouth is open,” Diamond said.

“Mine is, too—so go get me a plate so I can close it,” Don cracked.

“And bring me a chair,” Jesse yelled as they embarked on getting food.

“And don't forget some napkins and something to drink,” Venita threw in.

Within minutes, the girls came back with plates of food. While they were gone, the adults decided they were going to give the kids twenty dollars anyway.

“Because you all are cute and seemingly smart and were good sports, we decided to let you have the money anyway,” Jesse said. “But don't go around calling young people old anymore. We're not as young as you, but we're not old, either. Not yet.”

Diamond and her friends thanked the “old people” with hugs and ran off to the football game.

By the time Don, Venita and Jesse finished tailgating and watching the game, they felt old. “I tell you what, my body doesn't feel right,” Jesse said. “My head feels better. I might even be able
to drink tonight. But I think I need to get a nap. I might just order room service instead of going out. What do y'all think?”

“You know, I didn't feel that great when I woke up this morning,” Venita said. “My mind felt good because I'm here. But I think I had one too many drinks with Charles. That last one took me down. I was asleep so fast last night, it wasn't funny.”

“Yeah, because I called you after we hit the wall in Jesse's car, but you didn't answer.”

“Didn't even hear it; and I always hear my phone,” she said.

“I can have a burger and a nap and I'll be fine,” he said. “Let's do that. I want to be fresh for the party. It's the last night. Gotta make it happen.”

Jimmy, Carter and Barbara

J
immy spent his first several minutes at the Best of Friends party talking to Tony and Erika Sisco, a delightful couple that met in college and were married for twenty-two years. They were with another married couple, Mo Pryor, who attended Norfolk State, and Bonita Pryor, who did not.

Jimmy was amazed at both couples: the Siscos for their longevity; and the Pryors because Mo and Bonita were enjoy homecoming, even though she did not attend NSU.

It made him feel funny about not inviting his wife and the strife it caused. The last two years of their marriage were turbulent. But they steadied things and, save for an occasional insecurity flash by Monica, they enjoyed being together. Despite loving her as he did, at times he wondered about how long they would last because of her insecurities.

When Jimmy encountered Maurice and Eula on Friday, his concerns about having Monica with him were confirmed. Maurice, an NSU alum, seemed miserable, as did his wife, Eula, who was not a Spartan. She felt left out, wanted to do something else and basically wished she were anywhere but there. That's exactly what Jimmy expected from his spouse.

In the end, though, his dominant feeling surprised him: He wished his wife were there to experience homecoming with him—especially
the Best of Friends party, which was a massive coming together of friends that felt like family. Seeing couples having a fun, romantic time made him miss his wife. He would be home the next day, he rationalized, so he was able to put aside that feeling and bask in the spirited feeling of the evening.

People came in looking great and feeling vibrant, as if the toll of all the drinking, sex, flirting, socializing and partying was minimal. Ladies arrived in their best—sexy dresses that turned heads. Men came dapper—suits that displayed a sense of style they did not have in college. It made for a classy, fun event. Most everyone served as paparazzi, with flashes going off every few seconds. Facebook would be overwhelmed with photos posted on alumni pages and countless individual pages.

Jimmy and Carter arrived relatively early, around nine forty-five, so Carter could greet Barbara when she got there with her friend, Donna. Being among the first at the party had its benefits: They could get glimpses of everyone before the place got packed.

“Oh, my goodness,” Jimmy said. “That's Shorty Kev. He used to push that weed.”

“What's up, boy?” Jimmy said as he and Kevin embraced. “Man, it's been a long time.”

Kevin was short with an ever-present smile in the center of a round, over-sized head and the most unlikely demeanor for the campus' biggest drug dealer. He only dealt with weed, though. He did not sell the infamous and debilitating “Lovely,” a more potent drug laced with embalming fluid that was popularized in D.C. “You know what?” Kevin said, “I was thinking about you not that long ago. My son goes to Virginia State. You remember what happened when we went up there back in the day?”

Jimmy surely did recall. He was a sophomore when he rode with Kevin to VSU. Kevin was visiting his sister, who was enrolled
there, and Jimmy was visiting his girlfriend, Deborah Johnson, who was a freshman. They went up to see the school's football teams play that afternoon and stayed until well after midnight.