Second House from the Corner by Sadeqa Johnson Page A

kid. Damn. I am your oldest friend. You didn’t even invite me to your wedding.”
    â€œGirl, please, you’ve never even liked kids. Swore on a stack of Bibles when we were thirteen years old that you would never have them.”
    â€œStill.”
    Preston texts me.
    How did the audition go?
    I text back, Well. Heading home soon.
    I check the clock before stashing my phone in my purse. The burgers come and Shayla chews.
    â€œDid you give Martin my phone number?” I say abruptly.
    â€œWhat? Martin?”
    I watch her face for the lie and keep my eyes even.
    â€œWho the hell is Mar—oh, wait, Martin from—”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œGirl, no. Is that what this is about? Why you finally had time to see me?” She shakes her long hair. “I haven’t seen that fool since, damn, like back before things happened. Probably wouldn’t even recognize him on the street.”
    I believe her. “I don’t know how he found me.”
    The waiter approaches and drops off two waters.
    â€œYou’re a frazzled mess.” Shayla touches my arm. “What happened?”
    I tell Shayla about him calling the house and catching me off guard. “You should have seen how my middle daughter was clinging to me. Like I was having an affair or something.”
    â€œIt’s probably because you were all flushed like you are now. Look at you. Breasts all full. Face, cheery and shit. You still got feelings for the old dude?”
    â€œNooo.”
    â€œFaye, you ain’t got to fake it with me. It’s obvious. You gonna fuck him?”
    â€œShayla!” I touch my fingers to my throat and look around to see if anyone has overheard our conversation. “That’s not what I want. I’m married. Happily married.”
    â€œMmm hmm.” She stares me down. “Does your husband know about—”
    I cut into her quick. “No. And he doesn’t need to.”
    â€œOkay, Faye.” She holds her hands up in surrender. “You did make me solemnly swear to take it to my grave.”
    I was about to remind her that nothing had changed, but her phone rings. She checks the caller ID but doesn’t answer.
    â€œSo what does the man want?”
    â€œHe’s about to be released from prison. Asked me to come see him in Philly when he gets home.”
    â€œYou going?”
    â€œI don’t even go to Philly to see Gran.”
    â€œMy mother used to say, best to let sleeping dogs lie.” She sips her beer. “But it looks like that dog is wide awake. I’ll cover for you.”
    â€œYou’ll cover for me? What are we, sixteen?” I laugh.
    â€œYou know it’s something about that first man who pops your cherry. You just don’t ever get that dude out of your system. It’s like they live inside of you. Forever. Time doesn’t change that.”
    Her words unnerve me. My appetite is gone.
    â€œI need to go.” I pull two twenties from my wallet.
    Shayla pushes the money back toward me. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you pay, Faye.” The waiter passes the table and she thrusts her credit card at him. “That’s insurance, so that I’ll see you again.”
    I gather my things. Purposely stand without the usual promise to touch bases with available meet-up dates. A quick hug and then I am walking out the front door.

 
    SEVEN
    The Man, Mr. Martin Dupree
    As I maneuver my car back through the Lincoln Tunnel, my mind swerves. I thought downloading with Shayla would help me move on, but it has untied my system. Memories gush to the surface. It’s as if someone has wrenched me open like a fire hydrant on a hot day.
    It’s hard to remember Martin without thinking about the Daddy Gracious Church. Gran was a fool of a fanatic back then. She worshipped Daddy Gracious like he was the Second Coming of Christ, going to church services five or six times a week. It was all one big charade to