The Storm

8

Anecdoche. 

Anecdoche is defined as a conversation in which everyone is talking, but no one is listening. Why does this seem like such a common problem in the world? Everyone has something to say, and they swear that it's the most important thing that the world will ever hear. Yet, the same people are so unwilling to hear what is being said to them.

Riley escorted Cameron to the patio with the others as Titus instructed Mama through the process of operating a grill. I, on the other hand, seated myself in the living room. I was already dreading this dinner and the idea of forced socialising, but now all I wanted to do was sit here in the dim living room in my lonesome until everyone left. I looked at the collection of pictures displayed on the coffee table in front of me. There was one of us at the church picnic. Little Nova, maybe three or four years old, had her hair in braids and was missing her two front teeth as she grinned into a bubble wand.

In another photo, little Riley was in a baseball uniform with a focused expression on her ​face as she prepared to swing her baseball bat. In another, Mama laid in a hospital bed with a little brown baby in her arms and a pale infant in the arms of the grandfather that I never got to meet.

"Nova!" Riley shouted from the doorframe, startling a yelp out of me. "What are you doing? Everyone is outside waiting for you."

"Why did you have to invite Cameron?" I asked quietly. I looked over my shoulder at my big sister.

"Because she's your friend," she said slowly, as if it was a stupid question with an obvious answer. "What's up with you, Nova? You're acting weird. Why don't you want her here?"

"Forget it," I said. I stood up and smoothed down my skirt before walking towards the patio. When I stepped outside, everyone was laughing as Mama and Titus — who, apparently, was a cook at the restaurant Mama worked at — served burgers.

"There she is!" Mama said happily. "I was wondering when you'd join us. Your plate is already on the table, honeybee."

"Honeybee?" Ricky snickered. "That's cute."

"Nova's always been my little Honeybee," Mama beamed. "Just buzzing around and bringing beauty into the world."

"Geez, and I thought​ my mom was embarrassing," he muttered.

Amy and Riley both elbowed him in the side. "I see where she gets her poetic nature," Cameron smiled. Instead of smiling back, I sat down in my seat across from her and churned the lemonade with my straw to watch the ice cubes and remnants of peaches swirl around.

"Oh, I take no credit for that," Mama replied with a soft chuckle. She set the final plate on the table before thanking Titus for his help, giving him a plate to take home. Turning her attention back to us and sitting between me and Amy, she said, "Nova spent a lot of time with the elder women in our church. They'd read to her as Riley was off getting into trouble with the boys while I was working."

"You know, you remind me a lot of my auntie," Cameron replied. "She's been taking care of me and my brothers for as long as I can remember."

"That's very admirable," Mama noted.

Cameron nodded. "I look up to her," she smiled. "I aspire to be just like her: running my own business, own property — things like that. Not many black women have that sort of status. Much less, black people in general. Auntie Renée does it all."

"Well, ain't that just wonderful." Mama couldn't stop smiling now. "You should come over more often, Miss Cameron. And bring your auntie, as well, sometime. She sounds like a fine woman, and I'd love to meet her." Mama looked at me and her smile fell, though it was quickly regained. "Nova, sweetie, you haven't even touched your food."

I scooted my chair back and stood from the table without a word. I didn't look at anyone, even when asked if everything was alright. I turned and reentered the house through the sliding glass door.

I hated this dinner. Why wouldn't Mama listen? Why didn't Riley listen? I didn't want anyone over. I didn't want Cameron over.

I went into my bedroom and slammed the door. As my vision blurred with forming tears, I sat on my bed and kicked off my shoes. "Stupid dinner," I spat angrily. "Stupid dinner, stupid school."

"Nova?" My sister's voice said from the other side of my door. She knocked. "Nova, open the door."

"No!" I stood up and pressed my body against the door. "Go away! I don't want to talk to you."

"My, God, Nova," Riley groaned. "You're behaving like a child! Just open the door! You're making this dinner more awkward than it already is." She turned the doorknob and tried to push, but I pushed back with all of my bodyweight.

"Good," I said. "Then, maybe, everyone will go home and this night can be over."

With a good shove, Riley was able to push the door open, knocking me back. "What the hell is going on with you, Nova? You've been acting crazy all day!"

"I don't want Cameron here!" I shot. "I told you that! I made it clear from the start — I know that you noticed that! — and you still didn't listen. I don't want Cameron here!"

"But I don't get it, Nov," she pleaded. "You keep saying that, but you aren't giving any reason as to why!"

Finally, my tears fell. "Because I don't want to share her!" This made Riley freeze. Her annoyance was washed away and replaced with confusion.

"What?"

"I don't want to share her," I repeated. "You always have such an easy time making friends! Everyone wants to get to know Riley Campbell! You've never had to worry about not fitting in because everyone had something in common with you since you're white and you're pretty and you play sports. Nobody ever wants to get to know me!"

"That isn't true," Riley argued.

"It is and you know it," I ranted on. I realised that I was yelling, and my voice returned to its normal quietness. "Cameron is the first person I've actually been able to meet that understands me. She gets what I go through. I didn't... I didn't want to share her because I thought she would like you more and forget about me..."

Riley's tone softened. She stepped closer and wiped my tears away for the second time that night. "Nova, I'm not going to 'steal' anyone from you," she told me. "I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like that." She embraced me tightly and let out a breath. "I'm gonna head back downstairs. Come join us when you're ready." She turned, adjusting her dress as she left.

I closed my door again, and I sat on my carpeted floor. I knew she still didn't understand. I didn't expect her to, honestly. Riley never would, but I suppose that's okay.

Not everyone is going to empathize.