Injust a few days, I’d be playing for thousands of people per show. What if theydidn’t like me? What if they booed me off the stage? What if I wasn’t cut outfor a life of glitz and glamour? That wasn’t me, it never had been, and I wasbeginning to wonder what had made me think this was a good idea.
Still,I put on a brave face for the people who loved me. “Yep,” I answered. “Allpacked and ready to leave.”
“I’mgonnamiss you so much.” Mama was instantly emotionaland tugged a tissue from her purse. She dabbed it against the corners of hereyes as she continued, “I can’t believe my baby isleavin’me,again.”
Shewas talking about college. She hadn’t handled that well either. Truthfully,neither of us had. I’d initially found college terrifying to the utmost degree.Yet, that’d worked out in my favor, so there was no reason to think thiswouldn’t, too.
Plus,this time, I’d have Chad.
“It’sgonnebe fine,” I assured her, and myself. “And it’sonly for a few months. Not to mention, we’regonnabeback here for a couple shows in just a few weeks, anyway.”
“That’strue,” Hank replied with a nod and laid a hand against Mama’s shoulder. “See,honey? It’sgonnabe fine.”
“You’regonnaFaceTime me every night,” Mama warned with aloud sniffle. She glanced at Connie emphatically. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Connieshrugged casually, but I couldn’t mistake the rueful glint in her eyes. “It’shis job, and he loves it.”
Hankraised his whiskey on the rocks to his lips, the cubes clinking noisily againstthe glass. He eyed me over the rim and decided to steer the conversation inanother, less somber direction. “I bety’allarelookin’ forward tospendin’ moretime together.” His eyes sparkled with mischief and suggestion, as Markresponded with a chuckle and a nod.
Ifurrowed my brow with question. “Yeah … it’sgonnabenice.”
“Y’allhave beenhangin’ out anawful lot lately,” Mark added, his voice lilting with playful teasing.
“Theycertainly have,” Mama chimed in, corroborating.
“Whatarey’allgetting at?” I laughed uncomfortably,shifting on my chair, and Connie nudged her elbow against my arm.
“We’retalkin’ about you and Chad, baby,” she pointed out.
Isighed impatiently. “Well,obviously.”
Mygaze shifted between the four of them. Their coy smiles and hinting eyes. Itslowly began to dawn on me what exactly they were suggesting, and all at once,my heart thumped with panic and apprehension as I began to perspire. Did theyeven realize who they were talking about? This was Chad and me. Best friendsforever since infanthood. We’d had a brief recess, but who we were to eachother hadn’t changed … right?
Itied my hair back into a sloppy bun as I admitted, “He startedtalkin’ about marriage at lunch tonight.”
BothMama and Connie turned in freakish synchronicity. “What?” they demanded in unison.
“Isheproposin’ to Ali and didn’t tell me?” Connieasked.
“Orwas hetalkin’ about …someone else?” Mamaadded suspiciously.
Ishook my head, rolling my eyes. “No, Mama. I … No. And I don’t think he’sproposing to Ali. At least it didn’t seem like it. He wasaskin’me ifIever wanted to get married, and I’m not entirely sure where itall came from either.”
“Oh,I’ll tell you where it came from,” Connie grumbled with a firm shake of herhead. “That Alison has beenstringin’ him along fornearly a decade, that’s where. Chad’s a family man, and she don’t want afamily. She’s made thatabundantlyclear, with that apartment of hersand all thisindependent womanbullshit she posts on Facebook.”
Mamarolled her eyes and I cocked my head as I asked, “What’s wrong with being anindependent woman?”
“Oh,nothin’, darlin’,” Connie insisted hastily. “Nothin’ at all. But you can be an independent woman andstill want a man to come home to.” She wrapped an arm around Mark’s for effect.
“So…” I narrowed my eyes and hugged my clasped fingers around a knee. “You’resayin’, Ali doesn’twannagetmarried.”
Conniereached out and tapped the tip of my nose with her finger. “I’msayin’, she doesn’twannamarryChad. And I say thank God, because he deserves better.”
So,his mother didn’t like his girlfriend. That was news to me. “I just don’tunderstand. Who wouldn’twannamarry him?”
Mamasnorted before saying, “Well, that’s a very good question, sweetie. Why don’tyou go and ask yourself that?” Hank simply chuckled and sipped at his whiskey.
Thequestion rattled me, and I had to wonder if I’d heard correctly. If I’dunderstoodcorrectly. “Wait, what?”
