Nervous

“They don’t pay you enough to bring your work home, Jonquinette. I still don’t know why you wanted to become an accountant. You could’ve been anything you wanted to be.”

“I wanted to be an account

ant, Momma, and I’m very satisfied with my job.”

She sighed, voicing her disapproval that way. “Well, you’re still young, so if you ever want to try another profession, it’s never too late.”

She had a lot of nerve. All she’d ever been was a housewife, and after she kicked Daddy out, she moved in one sugar daddy after another to cover her bills.

“I’m happy, Momma. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Whatever you say.”

There was a pregnant pause while we both gathered our thoughts.

“Jonquinette, how about dinner tomorrow?”

“I have to go to church.”

“Church doesn’t last all day. I’m talking tomorrow evening. Say about six at the Ram’s Head Tavern over in Buckhead.”

I really didn’t want to go to dinner with Momma but knew I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t make her happy.

“Okay, Momma. I’ll be there.”

“Great.” She giggled. “I could tell you were sleeping when I called so I’ll let you go. See you tomorrow, and don’t be late.”

“I won’t be.”

She hung up. Momma had this thing about never saying goodbye. I think it was because her first childhood memory revolved around tragedy. She remembered kissing her grandparents goodbye one morning when they left for the mom-and-pop store they owned on the coast of Miami. They never came back. Two masked gunmen took their lives for a measly thirty-seven dollars. Momma’s parents were janitors, but somehow she turned out to be extremely materialistic, along with her two sisters.

I stared up at the ceiling but I knew sleep wouldn’t come easily for me again. After five minutes or so, I decided to see if the Saturday morning news was still on. I reached for the remote on my nightstand and hit the power button. After I propped my back up on a bank of pillows, I yawned and eyed the screen. I sat there for two hours, staring at it, wondering when, why, and how I’d written the words “You’ll never win” on the television in red lipstick.

After I finally managed to move, I decided to just make the best of it. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen something written by my hands that I never wrote. “You’ll never win” made no sense to me. Who’ll never win what?

I was wiping the words off with paper towels and glass cleaner when a knock came at the door. That irritated me because no one ever came to my door unless they were selling something.

I was stunned when I glanced through the peephole and Mason was standing there.

As soon as I opened the door, he winked at me. “Is this the apartment of a female single? I hear there are a lot of them around here.”

I fought to suppress a laugh. “Um, yeah. I’m a female single.”

“Good. I thought I might have the wrong place for a second and I wouldn’t want to get attacked by a jealous husband or boyfriend.”

“Well, I don’t have one of those either.”

“My lucky day.”

“So how do you like your new place?”

“It’s okay.” He held out his hands and presented me with an apple pie on a glass plate. “Since I waited around for a week for the welcoming committee to grace me with a pie and no one showed up, I figured I might as well break tradition and welcome myself.”

Oh my goodness! Did he really expect me to bring him sweets?

“I apologize,” I said sincerely. “If I’d known that you really anticipated me getting you something, I would have.”

He chuckled. “I’m just kidding with you, Jonquinette. I’ll be honest. I wanted to see you again and I haven’t been able to catch you in the hallway so I decided to come up here groveling for attention instead.”