Free Homecoming Weekend by Curtis Bunn

Felicia something.”
    â€œYou’re a grown-ass woman,” Mary said. “Let it go.”
    â€œOkay, okay,” Tranise said. “Y’all know me too well . . . But I would still like to see him.”
    â€œWell, I’d like to see that tall glass of sweet tea myself,” Charlene said.
    â€œI already saw him—and the man has held it together,” Mary said.
    The three of them looked off at no place in particular for a few seconds.
    â€œLook at us,” Tranise said. “We all are sitting here daydreaming about a married man.”
    They parked the car, took a few photos of each other outside the restaurant and went in. Just as they got seated, a guy wearing an Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity jacket came over. He was excited about seeing the ladies. They hugged and smiled and shared small talk for a few minutes.
    â€œOver at The Broadway—the club that used to be The Big Apple back in the day—is a day party that’s free and should be good,” he said. “My frat brothers and I are going over there after we leave here. You all should come over.”
    â€œIsn’t there a day party in Portsmouth at The Mansion?” Mary asked.
    â€œIt is, and it’s pretty nice, too, according to one of my boys who called me from over there,” the guy said. “But since The Broadway is across the street, we’re going there to see what’s up. I hope you come by.”
    With that, he left.
    He was tall and handsome and a gentleman and had the ladies’ attention. One problem.
    â€œWho the hell was that?” Tranise asked.
    â€œI have no idea,” Mary said.
    â€œHe knew our names; we obviously went to school with him,” Charlene said. “How come we don’t remember him?”
    â€œWe sat here and had a conversation with him like we were old friends,” Tranise said. “He must have changed since we were in school. I don’t have any inkling who he is.
    â€œI figured that might happen with people not remembering me because I look a little different. But in a few minutes they would recognize me. But I was looking at this guy and I had no connection, like I never saw him before.”
    â€œWell, trust me, girl, it won’t be the last time you don’t know who you’re talking to,” Mary said. “That’s just how it is. Some people change a lot in five years. I’ve been to every Homecoming and I see the change in some people from year-to-year. It’s kind of remarkable.”
    â€œI think that’s part of it that’s kind of fascinating,” Charlene said. “Who’s going to be the same as college? Who’s going to look different—better or otherwise. See, you look better, I think, Tranise, because you’ve kind of grown into your body and it looks good.
    â€œMe? I’ve grown out of my body.”
    She and her friends laughed. “I’m actually about the size I was at school,” Charlene continued. “But I had already grown out of my body. You ever heard of a poor college student gaining weight? Well, that’s what I did.”
    â€œCharlene, you look much better this year than last year,” Mary said. “I can see you’re doing something differently.”
    Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the food. Charlene had a salad and mixed vegetables, a serious departure from the piles of food she would ingest three or four times a day.
    â€œThis is what I’m doing differently—I’m eating differently, smarter,” she said. “And I wish I could say it was a lifestyle change that came because I wanted to do better.”
    â€œWell, what was it then?” Tranise asked.
    A sad look came over Charlene. “This girl I grew up with, Toya Simpson, died right after I got back from Homecoming last year,” she explained. “She had a stroke that really was about high blood pressure and high cholesterol.