Imani, in Dayton, did not know a chair had been named for her. She knew a money order and a father who called on her birthday and not on Thanksgiving. Lorraine knew the money order and had stopped asking for the day. Asking had been a younger woman’s job. She had a shift at the hospital and a plate she would make later. The plate would not include Derrick. That had been the deal. The deal had not included a sister with a ledger. Deals do not survive sisters forever. This one had survived until the pie.
June arrived with sense and a coat she did not take off. She read Patrice’s face and did not ask for the sermon. “You want him gone tonight or gone from the lie.” Patrice said, “Gone from the lie. Tonight he can sleep at Vanessa’s.” June said she would tell him. She told him on the walk. He said all right. All right was thin. He took it to Vanessa’s couch. Vanessa gave him a blanket and no victory speech. Victory was not the point. The point had been the chair.
Patrice called the number on the carbon, because the carbon was in Vanessa’s bag and Vanessa had left it on the counter on purpose. Lorraine answered on the second ring, wary.
“This is Patrice Hale. Derrick’s wife. I did not know about Imani until today.”