Free Dream Girl Awakened by Stacy Campbell Page B

for? Where are my babies?” Jamilah looked outside toward the backyard for Tawatha’s children.
    â€œMomma and Mr. J.B. took them to White River Park. This is all for you two. Kind of a thank-you for being there for me since the accident. Heck, for always being there.”
    â€œWait, that’s one thank-you, a heck, no cussing, and a conservative outfit. Oh yeah, Jamilah, she’s sticknotized.”
    â€œSit down in the living room and shut up. I’ll bring you guys some drinks.”
    Lasheera and Jamilah settled on a chocolate leather sofa. Floored they didn’t have to swim through piles of clothes, a maze of newspapers and clutter, or the rancid odor of rotting Chinese take-out seeping through a trash bag, they took in the everything-in-its-place order of Tawatha’s place. So many questions ran through their minds. How could she afford this house? Who was the new man—because Lasheera and Jamilah knew metamorphoses in Tawatha’s life were always tied to a man—and what did he do for a living to give her this kind of hookup? Jamilah fell in love with the open floor plan of the home. The photos in the dining room warmed her heart because Tawatha symmetrically had arranged eight photos of family and friends in black frames above a stylish banquet table. The best photo was of Lasheera, Tawatha, and Jamilah on the playground during fifth-grade recess. Jamilah had forgotten about that photo and the wonderful times they shared in school.
    â€œWhere did you find that old photo of us?” Jamilah asked.
    â€œGirl, Momma dug it out of the attic. Nice, huh?” Tawatha milled around the kitchen, pulling juices and liquors down on the counter for drinks. “I wonder whatever happened to Mrs. Hopkins?”
    â€œWatha, why’d you have to bring up that old coot?” Lasheera sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at Tawatha.
    â€œCome on, Sheer. If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Hopkins, we wouldn’t be friends.”
    â€œYeah, Watha’s right. You just won’t let it go. Thought you were learning to forgive and forget in church.”
    â€œNo, I won’t let it go. That woman segregated us because of our names. Had the nerve on the first day of that school year to ask Principal Thornton, ‘Whatever became of the Paulas, Anthonys, Tiffanys, and Gregorys of the world?’ ” Lasheera mimicked Mrs. Hopkins’s proper, clipped tone. “ ‘If one more Raheem, Laniqua, or Quedawntay shows up, I’ll die and rip up my teaching license!’ Then she had the audacity to make the three of us sit in the back of the room so she didn’t have to call on us.”
    â€œWeren’t we the smartest girls in the room, though?” Jamilah reasoned.
    â€œYou got that right,” Tawatha chimed in.
    While Tawatha mixed drinks, Jamilah and Lasheera recalled the good old days, brought up old classmates, shook their heads at the crazy turns their lives had taken.
    â€œMilah, here’s a peach martini for you, and, Sheer, here’s a strawberry daiquiri for you,” said Tawatha, removing the drinks from a gorgeous crystal tray and placing them on matching coasters on the coffee table.
    â€œAnd where’s your drink?” asked Jamilah.
    â€œThe pineapple juice is mine. I’ve got to watch my girlish figure.”
    â€œI can’t take it anymore. What’s going on and who is he?” Lasheera demanded as she swiped the cherry from her drink.
    â€œFirst things first,” Tawatha said, joining her friends in the living room. “I’m in this place on a lease-to-own basis. Mr. J.B., my momma’s boyfriend, owns properties all over Indy. For once, Aunjanue’s big mouth came to our rescue. When she let it slipthat a cockroach crawled across S’n’c’r’ty’s mouth while they were playing on the floor, Momma almost passed out. She asked J.B. if I could live in one of his places for a