ChapterOne
There were onlytwo things Retta Majors truly hated: (1) low-rise jeans and (2) people who smugly corrected anyone who misidentified Frankenstein as the monster. But today she could add a third thing to her list.
“We’re getting married!”
Retta stared unblinking at her cousin Irene and her now fiancé, Chris, as they stood in the middle of the living room with coordinated outfits and grins. At least, she thought Chris was also smiling, but it was hard to tell with the beard that reached his chest.
“In two months,” Irene added, thrusting her left hand in front of her to showcase the enormous rock on her finger.
An eruption of joyous babble and congratulations followed as family and friends converged on the couple.
Retta had only been at the gathering, pitched to her as a casual birthday party for her Aunt Tina, for thirty minutes before the announcement dropped.
While on the couch, sandwiched between two of the oldest people in her family and with a Pomeranian on her lap, Retta examined the feasibility of army crawling out of the house.
“She’s going to make such a beautiful bride,” one of Retta’s relatives said to no one in particular as she admired Irene in a pretty dress with bracelet-length sleeves.
“Can you believe it? Less than a year and he seals the deal,” another said.
Retta placed the dog onto the carpet and unfolded her tall frame from the plastic-covered sofa, forcing a smile.
Where was Mrs. Whitfield with the wine?
The warmth sweeping through the room was evidence there were too many people packed into her aunt’s modest-sized house. She sidestepped the children in attendance who were taking advantage of the adults’ excitement by performing an overly complicated dance.Retta managed to get to the adjoining kitchen without being stopped, but she found her aunt and uncle with a family friend chatting about the hot topic of the evening.
“What does he do?” the family friend who wore a headwrap and bright purple lipstick asked.
They didn’t notice her entrance, and Retta ignored them in turn for the open wine bottle nestled between abandoned plates and empty serving dishes on the counter. Now for the impossible task of finding a clean glass or cup in the cluttered kitchen.
“You know what? I don’t know,” her aunt replied. “Leroy, do you know?”
Her uncle stood with a glass half-filled with brown liquor, his slightly round stomach pressing against his dress shirt. His eyes remained glued to the living-room television playing the PGA Championship as he shook his head.
After (barely) rejecting a muffin pan as a viable drinking vessel, Retta said, “He’s an engineer with a utility company.”
She regretted her insertion into the conversation when the two women turned to her and oohed in unison.
“I remember when you girls were young and jumping rope in the driveway. Now look,” the family friend said, gesturing toward Irene who’d applied every poise training she received as a pageant girl to hold court.
Retta nodded, retrieving a measuring cup from the drawer she’d opened.
Finally.
After several seconds her aunt said, “You must be so happy for her.”
Retta looked at her over the brim of the cup. After swallowing a mouthful of wine and straightening her glasses, she said, “Mhmm. Very.”
Actually, she felt like she’d woken up in a world where a hookah-smoking caterpillar existed, and she was trying not to freak out.
Her aunt must’ve interpreted the edge in Retta’s voice as longing because she said, “And of course, your time will come, baby.”
The family friend nodded, threatening to undo her precariously knotted headwrap. “You need to try some of those dating apps. I’ve really come around to them since Janet—you know Janet—had success with the Bubbles one.”
“Keep dating and trying because mighty oaks from little acorns grow,” her aunt said.
Retta sighed and took another swig of wine before smiling big and saying, “Excuse me.”
With brisk steps, she made her way to the restroom. And only once she was safely locked inside did she drop her smile. While leaning against the door, Retta pulled out her phone and dialed the most frequently used number.
