Late Fall 2009

Sara masked her discomfort long enough to schedule a doctor's visit for herself. After the injury was diagnosed as a mild inversion sprain, she struggled to prevent inducing more irritation. Samara's hyperactivity and temper tantrums were also becoming a daily conundrum. She was growing a bit independent and starting to want more personal interactions. It made her mother wish that she'd known more people in the South Side.

Eighteen days later, Sara was on the mend. She decided to get herself and Samara out of the house for the day. They visited Roy at the sober living house. He wasn't mercurial as he was while he was detoxing, but he still made his daughter uneasy. She and her daughter went to a nearby playground afterwards. "Do you want to go on the swing?"

"Yea!"

"Okay." Sara carefully situated her on the bucket swing. Her hand firmly clang to the back as she readied the first push. The single mother watched Samara swinging back-and-forth until she spotted someone in the distance. It was a young woman with golden brown skin and half-braided ebony ringlets walking by. She was wearing tube hoop earrings, a faux leather jacket over a fuchsia V-neck top, high-rise jeans, and knee-high boots. The boy accompanying her was shorter by a foot. He bared a striking resemblance to her, and his hair sported fresh plaits. Sara involuntarily uttered aloud, "Chenille?"

The woman responded to that name. She said something to the boy, who rushed to the farthest end of the playground. Chenille smirked as she approached her old friend. "Hey, I heard you were back."

"Yeah, about that…" The Juilliard alumna mindlessly stopped pushing the swing. "I'm sorry for ghosting you after Derek and I broke up. I didn't wanna make things more complicated."

"You still walkin' around with those brown eyes closed," Chenille joked. "You were with my brother. It was finna be complicated."

"It still wasn't okay."

"For real, Sara. I ain't mad at cha."

"So, how have you been?"

"I'm getting by. I work at Hair Divine on South Halsted Street." She then shifted her attention to the 9-year-old boy at the top of the slide. "Christopher is in the third grade."

Sara was taken aback to see him growing up. "He was only two the last time I saw him."

"Yeah, babies don't stay little forever." Chenille peered down at the toddler with light brown skin impatiently tugging her friend's cardigan jacket. Her eyes widen when the little girl demanded her 'mama' to push her. "Is this…?"

"Samara Johnson," her mother proudly affirmed. The young girl looked between the two women, drawing her own conclusions. "It's okay, honey. She's a friend. Can you say hi?"

"Hi," she repeated.

Needless to say, Chenille was endeared on the spot. She smiled warmly and shook her hand. "How old is she?"

"She turns two next month."

Chenille noticed how Samara's hair was styled into twisted ponytails. "You've been practicing. Not bad."

"Thanks. I got some haircare tips from the internet."

"So, who is he?"

Her friend blinked at her confusingly. "Who's who?"

"You know. Samara's dad?"

"Oh, I'm not—I've been looking after her since she was a baby."

"Just you?"

"Yeah," Sara acknowledged. This didn't seem to sit well with her friend. "What? My mom raised me alone before I came here."

"It's not the same. Your daughter is Black; you're gonna get a lot of flak."

Sara couldn't help feeling defensive. "I'm already enduring it. If it isn't because she's biracial, then it's about me choosing to raise her without a man." She paused for a moment to relax. "I know becoming Samara's mom has risks, but I don't regret my decision."

Chenille could tell there was something different about her. She wasn't the same naïve white girl she knew. "Okay, then."

"How about you? Are you and Kenny still working things out?"

"No," her friend soberly answered. She leaned against the swing set. "We got into it again about him not helping as much. He called me a nag, said he was done, and left. Christopher was four at the time. He don't know his daddy has knocked up some girl he just met a few months ago." Sara was speechless; before she could say something, Chenille stopped her with a shake of her head. "It doesn't matter. My main concern is my family; there's something else I oughta ask you."

"What's up?"

"Did your dad drink when we were in high school?" Sara tensed up almost immediately. "I don't mean to come off like that, but I need the truth after what I heard this spring." Chenille chose her next words carefully. "One of the stylists I work with saw someone so buzzed up at McGee's that he ended up in the hospital. I thought it was your dad because of how he was described."

Sara didn't want to think about her father's alcoholism. However, Chenille was the first person to learn the full extent. "After my dad was discharged, Samara and I started moving back here over the summer. He's staying at a facility on South Ingleside Avenue."

"How's he holding up?"

"He seems better," she hesitantly forwarded.

"Addiction is never easy to beat. My mom proved that much." Chenille was silent for a minute. She called out to her son, "Christopher! Let's roll." He accordingly rushed to his mother's side from the monkey bars. The third grader peeped at the woman she was talking to before his gaze shifted to the toddler on the bucket swing. "Mom, who are they," he asked.

"I'm Sara," her friend introduced, "and this is my daughter, Samara."

"But y'all don't even look alike."

"Christopher," Chenille rebuked. The four of them left the playground and took the train downtown. While Christopher interacted with Samara, their mothers talked some more. "You know, almost everyone we knew from high school has left the South Side. Mike enlisted in '06. Snookie and his girl moved to Detroit. Diggy's on the West Coast. Porsha's in North Carolina, and Tanisha now lives in Atlanta. I still see Shawna from time to time. She works for the city."

"I didn't think so much would change when I left. How long have you worked at Hair Divine?"

"Since early '07. I'm the receptionist. What about you? You a prima ballerina now?"

"I worked as a dance teacher at a studio in LIC. Nowadays, I proofread. I actually haven't danced in months." When Sara spoke this fact aloud, she realized how much she changed.