Filtering by Category: short stories

last lil som'n of the year.

well, here we are at day 365/365. and i couldn’t be happier. whew shit. bitch i made it. i’d told my friend earlier this month that i wanted to write a new years novella. then i got SICK SICK and that went on hold. then an idea came outta nowhere and i let it blossom into this lil shorty orty that i hope y’all enjoy. let me know in the comments.

it has no title. hell the character barely have names. and most of the errors been cleaned up. :)

happy new year. see y’all in 2023. :)


“Get your ass down here and save what you want, otherwise it’ll all be going to the dumpster,” was how I’d been greeted just a few days before Christmas. The plan had always been for me to make my way home and spend about ten days with my family and hometown friends and then return to my life back in the city where I currently lived. Initially I had planned on flying, but I was glad that my citizenship in Procrasti Nation stayed on the up and up since now I could just make the drive just in case there were things from my childhood home that I would want to bring back to my place. Of course I’d been home countless times over the years and snagged things here and there, but for the most part, the majority of my personal effects had been packed up by my mother long ago when she’d turned my childhood bedroom into a guest room in the house nearly a decade ago. 

 I’d been expecting a call about collecting my things to come in the new year since Ma had been hinting at her and Dad wanting to move out of the house in which they’d raised me and my brother for the past year. I also knew that she was famous for moving on her own timetable, so to have it sprung on me with no notice shouldn’t have been that much of a shock. Marianne Charles marched to the beat of her own drum and the rest of us were forced to either learn the cadence or stay off beat.

Apparently, she and Dad had already found, bid on, then closed on a townhome that was half the size of our family homestead on the other side of town closer to my brother Cade and his clan. Over the past few weeks, Ma and Dad had been slowly moving into the new place and getting the one where we’d made memories to last more than four lifetimes ready to be placed on the market for some new, young family to make even more memories. She had decided that she wanted the new year to be their new start, so the old house needed to be completely empty and ready for the cosmetic upgrades that they were making before putting it on the market.

I’d arrived on Christmas Eve Eve to a house that was half-empty, half-ransacked and given the mission of not only helping Ma get things ready at the new place for Cade, Jeanine, and the kids to come over for the holiday, but to also help her sort through the shit left in the old house to aid in the downsizing. So the majority of my time home had been spent doing manual labor. Of course, it wasn’t until I was damn near scheduled to leave that she actually let me get into the things she’d summoned me down here to really sort through. So here I was on New Year’s Eve, in my childhood bedroom bright and early, shuffling through an assemblage of storage bins that served as a retrospective of my formative years.

Happy holidays, indeed.

The plan had been to spend the most of the day sorting through this stuff, seeing if there was actually anything worth keeping, and then skedaddling my ass over to my friend Ava’s for NYE evening shenanigans. She’d gotten us some VIP tickets for some bougie ass party that one of her friends had put together at one of the new downtown boutique hotels. The name of the party was kinda corny, Bling in the New Year, but I had a fly ass dress that made me look like a “chocolate disco ball babe” in the words of Ava. I couldn’t wait to get champagne wasted, dance my ass off, and bring in the new year with my bestie. But first, I had to slog through this work. My childhood bedroom and one of the other spare guest rooms were the last that we had to get through, so I was in here while Ma took care of the other.

“This lady is insane,” I grumbled as I drug yet another bin from the closet in my childhood bedroom. 

I thought I was a packrat, but my mother had me beat by far. However, she was an organized as hell packrat, having sorted all of the items left in this house that were associated with me in any fashion into Rubbermaid bins, labeled by decade. I’d gone through the bins from my undergraduate and post-grad years already, not seeing anything in there that was actually worth keeping beyond a few pieces of jewelry that I’d completely forgotten had existed. Now I was about to start going through the bins that contained my junior high and high school days. I howled with laughter as soon as I opened the bin because on top was a picture from the post-prom trip that me and my high school crew had taken at Six Flags. Terrible hairstyles and airbrushed t-shirts were a-plenty. I snapped a quick pic of the picture and sent it out in a group text, joning on everybody in the pic, including myself. I was so glad to be loosed of the baby hair demon that had its clutches deeply embedded in me back in those days. The baby hair queen herself Candace Parker wished she was as cold with the baby hairs as I was back then. 

Tossing my phone onto the floor next to me, I took a journey back in time as I sifted through that bin. Getting lost in the memories of a time when life was as simple as trying to decide if I was gonna wear my KSwiss with a tennis skirt and polo on some preppy, Ashley Banks type shit or if I was gonna give the folks an Aaliyah vibe with the baggy Tommy Hilfiger jeans and oversized graphic tees. There were a shit ton of photo albums, littered with prints from disposable 35mm cameras which were my jam back then. I was a paparazzi ass bitch before the term had become commonplace. I spent way too much time flipping and sending photos of those pics to friends and family members, reminiscing on the good times in my past, some I’d completely forgotten, that they brought to mind. 

Naturally all of those memories were shuffled into the keep pile. I also came across the goo gobs of letters that my friends and I had written each other, pressing them into each other’s hands furtively during passing periods because God forbid we didn’t know each other’s most pressing thoughts in the class periods that we didn’t happen to share. I lost so much time reading and laughing at the campy ass drama we’d managed to create in our adolescence. Those WB teen dramas didn’t have shit on us, okay?

Once I was done sorting everything in those bins into keep and trash piles, then hauling the items to their respective places—the big ass dumpster my parents had rented for the move or the trunk space of my SUV—I hustled back up the stairs to go through the final bin, which contained things from my elementary school years. As I stepped back into the room, my phone buzzed and I picked it up to see a message from Ava. It was a link to a TikTok—I shouldn’t have been surprised honestly—that was like a sizzle reel for the party that we were going to tonight. Apparently the promoters did this annually in different cities around the country and our hometown was their latest place of expansion. I was already excited for the evening, but seeing the decor and the extraordinary number of fine ass Black people in attendance had me even more hype. I texted some version of that sentiment back to Ava before doubling back to TikTok and watching the video again. Naturally that led to me completely abandoning the task at hand as I mindlessly scrolled the app, laughing at the ridiculous things that popped up and scrolling past the cringey ass staged or curated content that always gave me secondhand embarrassment. I was about to put my phone down when the next video that shuffled on immediately caught my attention as the man in it was fine as hell. I quickly calculated his features, each one more entrancing than the next. Deep cacao colored skin. Low cut caesar with the deep waves. Bushy brows, with a scar bisecting one of them. Hooded brown-black eyes that pierced me through the small screen. A slightly crooked, prominent Nubian nose. Full lips that were a hairsbreadth lighter than his skin and surrounded by the faint scruff of a five o’clock shadow.

“Sheesh,” I muttered to myself, not paying much attention to the words coming out of his mouth until my eyes focused on a phrase in one of the captions displayed on the screen.

Future wife.

That was enough to intrigue me into futzing around with the app until his video was back at the beginning and I listened with keen attention this go around.

“Welp, here we are coming to the end of yet another year and here I am yet again wondering when my future wife is gonna appear. I’ve been searching hard as hell for you. And it’s rough out in these streets tryna find your ass, girl. But I ain’t giving up just yet. I know I’ll know you when I see you, future wife. On the off chance that you see this, I’ll be at Bling in the New Year on New Year’s Eve, looking forward to your arrival. Love, your future husband.” 

He ended his little impassioned speech with a panty-wetting grin that had me running that shit back one more time. Something about him felt familiar, but I knew that I didn’t know this man from a can of paint so I was buggin’. That didn’t stop me from having a little what if moment with myself before rolling my eyes and closing the app so I could get back to work. But not before I’d shared the TikTok with Ava. When my phone rang a mere three minutes later, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“So naturally you’re going to find this man tonight, yes?” were Ava’s first words when the FaceTime call connected.

“What happened to… hello? How are you? My name is? What happened to that?” was my response and the both of us immediately busted out laughing at me meeting her greeting with a popular TikTok sound. We clearly spent way too much time on the app.

“Hey, baby. How much more do you have to go before you’re on your way here?” Ava asked.

“One last bin, then I’m gonna run my car over to Cade’s so I can park it in their garage. There’s nothing of value in my car for real, but I don’t want anyone to get any ideas if they peek in the backseat and see all of the boxes and what not, you know?”

“Mmmhmm. So you want me to pick you up from Cade’s?”

I shook my head. “Jeanine is gonna drop me at your loft, so we’re all good on that front. I’ll need a ride back over there though whenever I recover from tonight,” I finished, sticking my tongue between my teeth as I grinned.

“Right, back to the lecture at hand. Baby boy is fine fine, Ri. You can’t tell me that you aren’t tempted to keep your eyes peeled when we’re at Bling in tonight.”

I held up a hand and ticked off my fingers as I spoke. “One—didn’t you tell me this was a franchise? Who’s to say he’s gonna be at our Bling in party. Two—tonight is supposed to be a bestie turnup. And three—girl you really think I’m gonna be yet another thirst bucket in a Flavor of Love style gauntlet challenge to win this man over? Wow, it be ya own bestie…”

“Wow, whatever happened to your sense of adventure? Your sense of competition?” Ava replied, giggling.

“Now you know damn well I don’t chase, I lie in wait,” I shot back, joining in her laughter.

“And on that note, I’m out. Please make sure you get here quickly because I actually wanna be on time for this party so I can attack the seafood towers before gen pop gets their grubby hands on them.”

“I thought we were in VIP?” I asked.

“We are, but that doesn’t mean some rapscallions won’t find a way to get their asses beyond the velvet ropes.”

Rapscallions? I was always taken so off guard when Ava brought a word out of her vocabulary that gave the impression that she was a modern negro Brontë sister.

“Okay, sis. Let me finish up here and I’ll see you soon.”

“Later, baby!”

I started going through the final bin and once again found myself distracted when I came across some more photo albums. With full and earned arrogance I could say that I really was a cute ass kid. When I came across a photoset that looked like I was a flower girl in somebody’s wedding, I was hella confused because I couldn’t recall ever doing so. Flipping further through the book, I came across some more photos of me and who I assumed to be the ring bearer holding hands. We were adorable as hell, two cute lil chocolate drops outfitted in all white. I squinted, trying to make out the face of the ring bearer to see if that would give me any clue as to whose wedding this was. After a couple moments, I gave up the ghost, instead choosing to go find my mother and see if she could provide some insight.

“Ma, whose wedding was I in?” I asked, walking into the room where she was packing up the last of a few scattered items into a box marked donations.

“Huh?” she asked, face scrunched up as she turned in my direction.

“These pictures,” I said, holding the photo album toward her.

She grabbed it from me, flipped a couple pages, then began chuckling.

“Oh, baby you weren’t in a wedding. It was your wedding.” 

“Ma, say what now?”

“Oh I’d forgotten all about this,” she said as she kept paging through, squealing with delighted laughter. “Chile you know you always had a flair for the dramatic. You remember the Williamsons who used to live next door to us?”

I frowned as I wracked my brain to remember, but ended up just shaking my head.

“They didn’t live over there long, but you and their little boy Armon were thick as thieves from the moment you first met. And when you found out that they were moving you insisted on staging this wedding because if he was your husband then he would have to stay. We put together a little ceremony to appease you, but whew, baby you cried the block into a flood when you realized that it was all for show because they ended up leaving regardless.”

“Why do I have no recollection of any of this?” I replied amusedly.

“Oh baby doll, I have no idea. Though it was a bit traumatic for you. Perhaps you just suppressed the memory,” Ma cajoled.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Okay, girl. You almost done in here?” She and I had ridden over together. Once we were all done,  I was dropping her off, retrieving my things to get ready at Ava’s, then dropping my car at Cade’s.

“Yes, ma’am. We can leave this box here since your daddy is gonna come by and load everything up to take down to the secondhand shop in a few days. Thank you so much for helping me get this all together, baby doll. You know I appreciate you more than words can express.”

“You say that like I had a choice,” I joked, then quickly corrected once I saw Ma’s face starting to frown up. “You know I’m always down to help you, ol’ lady.”

“Aht aht, watch who you callin’ old, lil girl? I’m the one who makes sure your daddy can still keep it up,” she replied.

“Ma,” I dragged out with a groan.

“Hey, you brought that answer on yourself,” she replied with a shrug and a grin.

With that I went to collect the last of my things from my former childhood bedroom, then we headed out.

Once I got to Ava’s, I was feeling overcome by the festive mood that the end of the year always sparked in me. I loved thinking about the experiences of the past three sixty-five and what they’d taught me before we moved into a fresh set of days, ripe with lessons, blessings, and all sorts of unknown adventure. The sounds of the disco horse blared through Ava’s in-house system as she and I stood shoulder to shoulder putting the finishing touches on our hair and makeup for the evening. As we finished, Ava took a step back giving me a once over then turning back to blow herself a kiss in the mirror before saying, “I now pronounce us two bad bitches! Let’s get it!”

Her infectious energy always turned me up, so I followed her out of her vanity room and out into the living room, hyping her up along the way as we danced—popping and twirling and swirling to every rhythmic measure of the music before silencing it on our way out of the door. She’d hired a black car service to drive us to the party in style and it was stocked with a freshly uncorked bottle of Beau Joie. The drive to the venue where the party was being held wasn’t long, but Ava commandeered the aux of the car so we could continue our disco horse soiree as we sipped fine bubbly. It felt like a waste that we’d each only had a flute’s worth of the pricey champagne before we needed to get out of the car and Ava agreed, snagging the bottle and carrying it as an accessory as we took photos on the red carpet leading into the party.

That alone should have let me know I was in for a memorable night. The VIP section of the party was lit as hell. Getting there early to attack the aforementioned seafood towers was a good call on Ava’s part. We gorged ourselves on king crab, shrimp, and oysters as we sipped nothing but champagne for the majority of the night. I even tried caviar for the first time—not really for me—and felt decadent as hell. Just like in that sizzle reel TikTok I’d seen earlier in the day there was no shortage of fine ass people in attendance at this party. That felt damn near like a requirement as the night carried on and I kept seeing fine ass after fine ass. 

Ava and I were mainstays on the dancefloor, dancing either with one another or whatever handsome faced stranger found the invitation that our constantly winding hips offered too alluring to resist. The music was all over the place, but in the best ways possible. I heard songs I’d completely forgotten about from my youth deftly weaved into contemporary hits with ease. The only time I was off the dance floor was if me or Ava needed to refresh our drinks or to catch a breath of fresh air since it was getting pretty thick up in here the nearer we drew to the midnight hour.

Intermittently that man from the TikTok looking for his future wife popped into my mind as I looked at the crowd around me. I bet he hadn’t realized just how many damned people would be trying to Bling in the New Year alongside him when he’d put out that little video. Or hell, maybe that had been its purpose after all, drumming up some last minute excitement as marketing to entice more people to be in the place to be. Despite the bevy of fine I’d seen thus far, that particular brand of fine had yet to come in my purview. Not that I was looking for him in specific or anything.

When we were moments away from the countdown, I looked around to try and find Ava. I’d lost track of her when I was deep in my moment of telling folks to move out the way because me and my girls needed space. Once that song wound down and I still hadn’t laid eyes on her, I was getting a bit worried. I did a lap around the party, starting with the bar area to see if she was getting a refresh. No such luck so I headed toward the bathrooms. I could hear the DJ on the mic saying we were in the last minute of the year as begin his countdown from sixty. Around forty-five seconds, I’d found Ava, tucked deep into a corner with one of the broad-shouldered fines that had been circling us earlier in the evening.

Happy New Year to you, sis!

Not wanting to disturb that groove, I did a swift about face, trying to head into the opposite direction to join the now screaming throng of people counting down from twenty. Instead I was met with a face full of solid flesh. I pulled back instantly, apologies spilling from my lips as I rolled my eyes up to take in the face of the person who I’d run into.

“Ten, nine, eight…” the crowd roared as I stared into what was now a familiar face.

“It’s you,” I breathed as our eyes locked.

“Four, three, two…”

As the numbers descended, so did the stranger’s face, drawing closer to mine and capturing the gasp of surprise right off of my mouth as his pillowy soft lips collided with mine. I felt no urge to push him away as I got swept up into the passion that he imbued via little nibbles and nips at my lower lip until I opened up and invited his tongue inside to tangle with mine. He pulled back and I opened my eyes, feeling more drunk from this kiss than any of the champagne that I’d imbibed all evening. 

With an impish lift of one, scar-bisected brow, his lips curved into a smirk before he said, “Happy New Year, future wife.”