Lessons From A Younger Lover. Zuri Day

buxom woman, wearing fuchsia cutoffs and a yellow halter top straining for control, would know that she, God, and everyone within a five-mile radius had heard her.

      “Gwendolyn!” Chantay exclaimed, enunciating each syllable for full effect as she reached up and hugged her childhood friend. “Girl, let me look at you!”

      “You just saw me last year, Tay.”

      “That visit went by in a fog. You know the deal.”

      Gwen did, and wished she didn’t. Her last time home was not a fond memory.

      Chantay stepped back, put her hands on her hips, and began shaking her head so hard her waist-length braids sprayed the waiting passengers surrounding them. “What are we going to do with your rail thin behind? You couldn’t find enough deep-dish pizzas to eat in Chicago? No barbeque or chicken and waffle joints to put some meat on your bones?”

      Gwen took the jab good-naturedly. Her five-foot-seven, size-six body had caused her heftier friend chagrin for years. No matter that Gwen had never mastered how to show off her physique, put on makeup, or fix her hair. The fact that she could eat everything, including the kitchen sink, and still not gain a pound was a stick in Chantay’s craw.

      Chantay enveloped her friend in a big bear hug. “You look good, girl. A day late and a dollar short on style with that curlicue hair straight out of A Different World, but overall…you look good!”

      Gwen’s laugh was genuine for the first time in weeks. “You don’t look half bad yourself. And opinionated as always, I see.”

      “Honey, if you want a feel-good moment, watch Oprah. I’m going to tell you the truth even if it’s ugly. And speaking of the u word, those Leave It To Beaver pedal pushers—”

      “Forget you, Tay! C’mon, that’s my luggage coming around.”

      A half hour later, Gwen settled back in Chantay’s Ford Explorer as they merged into highway traffic for the two-hour drive to Sienna. The air conditioner was a welcome change to the ninety-degree July heat.

      “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

      “Me either.”

      “You know you’ve got to give me the full scoop. First, I never thought you’d ever get married, and if you did, you’d never, ever get divorced!”

      “Obviously life wasn’t following your script,” Gwen muttered sarcastically.

      “Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, sistah, you know what I’m saying. And I’m not the only one. Who did everyone vote the least likely to, uh, get married?”

      “I believe the exact description in the high school yearbook read ‘would die an old maid.’”

      “Well, I was trying to save you the embarrassment of quoting it verbatim but…who was it?”

      They both knew the answer was Gwen. But rather than help make the point, Gwen answered the question with one of her own. “Who did they say would probably have ten kids?”

      “Hmph. That’s because those nuckas didn’t know that fornicate does not equal procreate. After being stuck with raising one accident and another oops by myself, I had my tubes tied. I told the doctor who did the procedure that if a “baby I pulled out” number three showed up in my pee sample, his would be the name in the father line. So believe me, if there’s a sperm bad enough to get past the Boy Scout knot he tied, then that’s a baby who deserves to be born.”

      Gwen looked out the window, thought about Chantay’s two daughters, and watched the world whirl by while Chantay pushed past seventy and flew down the surprisingly light 405 Freeway. While Chantay had often said she didn’t want kids, Gwen had always looked forward to motherhood. She was still looking, but couldn’t see any bassinet or baby bed because a divorce petition was blocking the view.

      Chantay scanned for various stations on the radio before turning it off altogether. “Why are you making me drag the details out of you?” she whined, exasperation evident in her voice. “What happened between you and Joe?”

      The name of Gwen’s soon-to-be former husband elicited a frown. “You mean Joey?”

      “Who the hell is that?”

      “That’s what he calls himself now.”

      “I call him ‘bastard,’ but I digress. What happened?”

      Gwen sighed, sat up, and spoke truth straight out. “He met somebody else.”

      “You have got to be kidding. Corny-ass Joe Smith, the computer nerd who could barely pull the garter off at y’alls’ wedding?”

      “That would be him.”

      “What fool did he find to listen to his tired lines?”

      “You mean besides me?”

      “Girl, I didn’t mean that personally. Joe has some good points. He seems to know his way around a computer better than anybody.”

      “That’s one.”

      “We’ve got ninety minutes of driving left. I’ll think of something else.”

      Gwen laughed, appreciative of the levity Chantay brought to a sad situation.

      “So…who is she?”

      “Her name is Mitzi, she’s twenty-two and works in his office. They both like motorcycles, Miller Lite, and poker. He tattooed her name on his arm and moved into her studio apartment last month. But I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

      “Whoa, chick! You’re sure going to have to talk about him later…and her. That was way too much information to leave me hanging. But I can wait a minute, and in the meantime change the subject to somebody you can talk about…Adam ‘oh, oh, oh, oh’ Johnson!”

      “Chantay, you are too silly! I haven’t thought about that line since we left high school.” Gwen, Chantay, and a couple other misfits used to substitute his first name in Ready for the World’s hit, “Oh Sheila.” Chantay would hum it as he passed in the halls and the other girls would break into hysterical laughter, making them all look like fools.

      “That is the single welcome surprise I’ve had these past few weeks—that Adam is the principal at Sienna. Can you believe it?” Gwen said.

      “No, because I never thought a brothah with that much weight in his lower head would have any brains in his upper one.”

      “Well, there’s that, but even more the fact that he’s back living in our hometown. After being such a standout at Texas A&M and going on to play for the Cowboys? I guess a lot happened to him since he was sidelined with an injury and forced to retire early.”

      “I can’t believe his wife would agree to move back to such a podunk town. She looks too hoity-toity for Smallville, but I only saw her one time on TV,” Chantay said.

      “They’re divorced.”

      “What? Girl, stop!”

      “Yep, he told me that when we talked. He was nice actually, not the cocky, arrogant Adam I remember. He wouldn’t admit it, but I know he’s the reason why my getting this post is, to use his words, ‘in the bag.’”

      “Don’t give him too much credit, Gwen. You’re a first-rate teacher, and it’s not like our town has to beat off qualified educators with sticks.”

      “Maybe, but the way everything happened…I’m just happy to know I have a job secured, or at least I will after my interview next week. Mama has some money saved up but that’s all going into her assisted living expenses. I still need to support myself, and pay half the mortgage on the condo until it’s sold.”

      “How’s Miss Lorraine doing?”

      Gwen shrugged. “Mama’s about the same, I guess.”

      “Isn’t she a