“A limo,” Cheyenne gushed, pushing past me to get outside.
Her brother trailed behind her.
Two kids from around the corner were outside sitting on their bikes in the middle of the street. I thought to tell them to get out of the road, but then my eyes followed theirs and stopped on a brown hand with long, shiny red nails, holding on to the outstretched arm of the driver. There was a hush as it seemed that everyone, including me, had forgotten that we’d known exactly who was getting out of the back of that car. Our little crowd waited. Another kid stopped short on his bike. One fell.
My throat swelled.
Sasha’s head of blond curls popped out from behind the door and everyone gasped—or was it just me?
“Dawn!” she yelled, breaking the hush over the scene, pushing past the driver and meeting me halfway up the walkway. She took these deliberate long strides in her black heels. She had on a red wrap dress and sparkling diamond earrings I could see into from three feet away. I was happy now that I’d made everyone overdress for the visit. My gray slacks and charcoal blouse seemed just enough standing in front of Sasha.
I’d watched the taped version of her interview with the cute Indian doctor five times before I’d finished drying my hair. I swear this woman walking toward me looked thinner and younger and even more beautiful than what I’d seen. Yeah, she’d grown up from being twenty-one to thirty-three, but the beauty she’d had when we were young had matured into this dramatic parade of perfection. Seeing her floating toward me like Miss America, I whispered what I was sure most people thought when they saw her in person. “She’s somebody.”
Sasha threw herself heavily into my arms, wrapping hers around my neck and squeezing tightly. She smelled so sweet, so unmistakably feminine. So not like me.
We rocked back and forth. I could see Cheyenne and R. J. standing behind her.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she squealed, tightening her grip. “My college roomie!”
“Sasha!” I said, still shaking in her tight embrace.
She let loose and backed up a bit, cupping my face in her hands. She was crying and smiling.
“It’s been too long!” She pulled me back into her arms and rocked some more.
Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed suspiciously on her back.
While I flashed Cheyenne a warning look, I was also a little put off by Sasha’s tearful greeting. It seemed so sincere, and so heartfelt. In her moist eyes, I saw a friend who’d missed me. Though I’d missed her, too, maybe my nerves or surprise that she was visiting stopped me from fully feeling the moment. I told myself to let go. I wiped one of her tears and kissed her on the cheek.
“It has been too long,” I said, looking into Sasha’s eyes.
I felt Reginald’s hand on my shoulder.
“Hello, Sasha,” he said.
“Oh, Reginald,” she said. “You look great.”
She grabbed him and pulled him to her the same way she’d done me.
The kids laughed and pointed at the baffled look on Reginald’s face behind her back.
I sharpened my eyes on Cheyenne again and they stopped quickly.
“And Sasha,” I said, lightly tugging Sasha’s arm off of Reginald’s neck. “These are the twins; I don’t think you’ve seen them since their christening in Atlanta.”
She turned around and crouched down seemingly expecting to greet two little toddlers, but Cheyenne and R. J. towered above her.
“Oh, my goodness,” she hollered, pulling them down to her. “You two are so big! I can’t believe how you’ve grown!” There was more crying and rocking.
Reginald hustled over to the driver to get her bags.
“Come on; get inside,” I said. “I’m sure you’re tired from your conference.”
“Super tired,” she said, looking up at the house. “Oh, what a quaint little cottage.”
I’d hardly planned what we would do during Sasha’s visit beyond showing her my herb garden and offering her an apple from the fruit bowl. But by the time the sun was setting, I realized that none of that was necessary anyway. She had a story. I had a story. I had to know. She had to know. And we kept asking whatever happened to this person and that person. Where is she now? What is he doing? We giggled and gossiped like we were back in our dorm room. And, oh, it was so refreshing. Just having company for me. You know? So much of what we’d done in our house was for Reginald. For the kids. And right then I found myself playing with my hair. I told Sasha I liked her perfume. She pulled the bottle out of her purse and sprayed a dash on my wrist.
“I spray it everywhere,” she said, stashing it back into her purse at the dinner table.