15

Nikki

A Ford sedan was parked outside my place and it was bouncing loudly. I immediately recognized the owner of the car by the bumper sticker that said in backwards letters my other car is an ambulance. Deshawn was making out with Auntie Tonya. It was actually kind of hilarious and cartoony. When I parked, I honked the horn and the car immediately stopped bouncing. Two silhouettes of heads rose. Tonya and Deshawn, all right. I gathered my scattered belongings and exited the car at the same time as Tonya. "How much did you see?" she asked.

"Just a lot of bouncing," I replied as I stepped onto the sidewalk. "Nothing scarring."

Deshawn rolled open the passenger window. "Tonya, I'll call you tomorrow."

She smiled flirtatiously at him. "Okay, then."

"How's it going, Nikki?" Deshawn asked.

"Good," I replied. "You?"

He smirked. "Just fine. See you cats on the flip-flop." He drove away.

Tonya sighed dreamily as he left. She then turned to me and said, "Nikki, how old am I again?"

"Like…forty two?" I suggested. I didn't actually know.

She sighed and walked up the stairs to the door, assuming I'd follow. I did. I felt like she needed to talk so I followed her into the kitchen and put my stuff down on the table as she let the dogs out. Once the screen door closed, she turned to me and said, "I love him but…it's so inconvenient."

"What is?" I asked like an idiot.

She didn't mind. She really needed to process this, poor thing. "We care more about our jobs than anything else—well, of course I care about you, babe, we're just job-focused people," she said as she went about to heat up some macaroni and cheese because I nodded when she showed me the box. "So it makes no sense for us to get married and have a family. We won't have time for kids or each other, unless for some reason one of us quits, which neither of us are really too keen on. And we can't even be in a steady relationship because our schedules are so wacked up." She sighed. "But I love him."

I really didn't know what to say to my poor aunt. I really didn't know what love was. "Auntie Tonya, I don't really know what love is so I'm not sure I can help you."

She sighed again. "Love ain't something they teach in school, so I guess not." She poured the macaroni into the boiling water and continued, "You sure you never had a secret boyfriend at Walker?"

I scoffed. "Nope. The closest thing I've ever had to a boyfriend is Ezra."

Her neck swiftly turned to face me. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets and I laughed. "I'm not that much of a weirdo, Tonya!"

"Let them in, won't you?" she sighed. I got up and called Ezra and Doris inside. They immediately came scurrying in. Tonya went to fill their food and water bowls. She said as she did this, "There's a difference between puppy love and human love. Puppies love you on the condition that you feed them…and that's pretty much it. Right, babies?" They didn't look up from their dinner. They just ate and wagged their tails. "Human love…it's different. Whatever your momma and poppa gave you can't be compared to this kind of love, though." She smiled at me. "You'll figure it out sometime."

I shrugged. "My parents loved me as much as they had to. They were both young people who didn't have their priorities straight."

Tonya half-scoffed and half-chortled. "That's a real gentle way of putting it." Before I could say anything expressing confusion, she said, "Weren't you in love with this senior for a while…David…Darryl?"

"Oh, god, Dante," I chortled. Dante was a senior when I came in sixth grade, and also Lavon's second cousin. He was exclusively a music kid and taught me basic drumming, which is how we became very good friends but never lovers. He lived in the nicer part of Harlem, performing at bars and some small-time concerts and whenever we could Lavon and I would see him. "Yeah, for like three seconds. I was eleven, mind you, and he was my age."

"He's a cutie, though," she said.

"Last time I checked he had a hot jazz girlfriend," I scoffed.

The mac and cheese was ready. As she poured it evenly in solid color plastic bowls, she said, "Someday, Nikki, you're gonna…you're gonna meet a tall, dark stranger. And he's gonna try to mug you. And a taller, darker stranger is gonna save you and he'll be the one."

"That's oddly specific," I muttered.

She shrugged and put a bowl with a spoon in it down at my place, then sat with her own. I said, "Really, Auntie Tonya, I don't know what I want to do. 'Cause I fit in with the music, art and theater cliques…but do people survive like that? Doing that stuff forever?"

"Only a lucky few," she replied after swallowing. "Wanna try your luck or saddle yourself with something stupid?"

I shrugged. "I have a lot to ponder."

"So do I," she said.

I scoffed. "Deshawn. That's it."

"I know, I know, just trying to sound empathetic," she responded.

"Sympathy will do," I said.

She took a loud swallow and said, "Where were you again, after rehearsal?"

"I had a meeting with the composer dude," I replied.

"You've, uh, been spending a lotta time with him," she noted.

"Not really," I replied. "Sometimes I'm not sure if he exists, even though I've shaken hands with him." He kissed my hand once. The thought made me swoon, but inside. "He asked to have a role in directing but from a distance and he's not a total pain in the ass, just a little…amazing."

"As long as he don't try anything funny," she replied firmly.

"Auntie Tonya, it sounded a moment ago like you thought I should be with a gentleman seven years older than I am," I hissed jokingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Do whatever you want. You're seventeen. Just don't get herpes."

"Is AIDS okay?"

"No. We shouldn't be joking about this," she sighed. She crossed herself and we ate in peace, without speaking of romance or the future anymore.

I only dreamt of unearthly and mysterious music that night but didn't wake up in the middle of the night because of it or anything. I went to school on time like a good little girl, paid attention and did classwork because that's how I maintained a scholarship after my mom's trustee or something decided I shouldn't go to private school when he never even spoke to me on the phone in ninth grade. I bought a nice chicken Caesar salad and banana for lunch and brought it up to Barry's room for the in-between-rehearsal meetings he wanted to have as many Wednesdays as possible. His door was closed, so I knocked. "Who is it?" he sung.

"French Revolution," I called.

"The hell?" he muttered. "Nikki, come on in."

The second my fingers grasped the doorknob, my phone rang. I went inside and hurriedly put my lunch and temporary backpack on a table and said before answering the blocked number, "Barry, it's Mr. Y. He had some edits about the opening dance."

Barry's eyes widened. "Well, what are you waiting for? Answer it! Put it on speaker! And hold my hand. I'm nervous!"

I took his hand and put it on speaker, "Hey, Mr. Y? You're on speaker with Barry Costello."

He nervously chuckled. "Hi. Big fan."

There was no sound but quiet breathing, but I could tell he didn't want to be on speaker. He had no choice, though. "So, edits for the opening number?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Barry—Barry'd understand them better than I would, so go on," I said.

He released my hand and got out a pencil and paper. Mr. Y, in a steadily businesslike fashion, told him politely but assertively what he thought and Barry accepted all of his constructive criticism and said, "Okay, thank you" every time he paused. Once Mr. Y was finished giving his critique, Barry said, "Mr. Y, you're welcome to come at any time to watch rehearsal. I'm not sure if Nikki made that clear."

I gave him a dirty look because I told him I did.

"She did, but for image reasons I would prefer to remain anonymous," he said. I could sense a tiny bit of irritation in his voice. "You can, however, expect me at all the performances."

"Perfect!" Barry exclaimed, squeezing both my hands and shaking them. "I'll reserve a front row center seat especially for you and whoever else you'd like to come."

"One will do," he replied smoothly.

"Okay, great. Uh, unless there's anything further, Nikki and I have to continue our meeting."

"I won't stop you," he replied. "You'll hear from me, Nicole."

"Good," I said. "Bye." I hung up.

Barry sighed dreamily. "His voice is so sexy, oh my god. I should have gotten the rights myself and kept the experience from you."
"Too bad," I chortled.

"Is he as sexy as his voice? Please say yes," he exclaimed.

"I drew him in art class but I left the Xeroxes at home," I said. "One is up on Jim's wall."

He got up without saying a word and I knew why. He'd be back. So I just sat and finished my salad.