here was always love and laughter in the Smith residence. Often the smell of warm baked goods, southern soul food, and the sounds of jazz music filled the air. Every inch of the two-story colonial home was so familiar to Amaya that she could identify every room blindfolded. She was Atlanta born and raised, a proud Georgia peach.
Her grandparents Nana Mae and Papa, as she called them, had practically raised her since her often-absent dad was either deployed in the military and now, a hardened police detective. Her dad loved her in his own way, so he usually quantified his affection with material things as she lacked nothing. Her mama, what little she knew of her, had died in childbirth. Nana Mae certainly made up for any lack in that department.
As near-to-perfect as her life seemed, everything was about to drastically change. Today was significant because it would mark her last in the city of Atlanta. A year ago, Richard "Ricky" Smith broke the news to his parents and only daughter that he had accepted a job position as a detective in Rebel Town, Texas. No amount of protesting, fussing, or complaining from anyone would sway him. What was truly baffling was why he felt the need for Amaya to go. That was Nana Mae's complaint and Amaya completely agreed. Two tours in Iraq and being stationed all over the U.S. didn't seem to stop him from leaving her behind. Ricky was already a silent, rigid kind of man and this occasion proved no different. It was hard for her 17-year-old mind to accept that she had to leave behind all of her friends, her grandparents, her dreams in Georgia for some rustic town in Texas.
Her dad had officially moved to the lone star state, settled in, and was already employed. Amaya had been given time to complete the junior school year and have her teary goodbyes. What was even more frustrating was that all summer plans were ruined. He was adamant that she relocated to Rebel Town at the end of the school year to become adjusted to her new life.
A modest but quaint two-bedroom home was rented. She had a few pictures he'd sent to her. At this point, most of their furniture and boxes were already shipped to the new house. There was no going back at this point, despite devious and creative plans she had played out in her mind.
The state of Texas didn't even compare to where she grew up. She was accustomed to her grandparents' picturesque four-bedroom home. The neighborhood was an established, predominantly middle-class African American community. Her best friend since the first grade, Teanna also lived in the same neighborhood. Two streets away to be exact. She recalled all the sleepovers, the times they went shopping at the underground mall, and the sports they played over the years. The girls had many weekends of ripping and running in the streets up until Teanna was gifted with her first car at 16. The Hyundai Elantra was a bit of an eyesore but a vehicle in high school immediately elevated one to the next social level.
Amaya thought of her childhood crush, Rashad, who lived a few houses down. No more catching glimpses of him coming and going. Oh, beautiful Rashad. He was a sophomore at Moorehouse now and from what she could guess, he came home as infrequently as possible. She sighed; things were going to change indeed.
While deep in thoughts her phone began to alert. She glanced down to view the text.
"I still can't believe you are leaving me. Can't your dad allow you to stay for the summer at least?"
She had told Teanna countless times that her dad would not budge.
"You know full well my dad won't change his mind. Totally tired of fighting with him. Ttyl boo."
"Amaya, dinner is ready! Come on in here girl," Nana Mae called. Usually, dinner in the Smith household was informal except on Sundays. The best dishes and cutlery were brought out on that one special day of the week. Aunt Phyllis, her Uncle Todd, and the twins came. Also, Papa's sister, feisty Aunt Vera would attend Sunday dinners still wearing her church outfit. Those days were fun-filled and slightly chaotic because of the twins, now six. Tonight, was just her grandparents and dad.
Amaya stepped into the dining room. Today was Friday and Nana Mae had decided to fry catfish, steamed collard greens, homemade mashed potatoes, buttery corn on the cob, and her famous peach cobbler. God! She would miss this.
Her grandparents weren't fancy people by any means. They had been hard working people and lived a comfortable life. Papa was a retired high school principal and Nana Mae was a retired attorney.
Amaya took in the dining room area. Nana Mae sure knew how to set a table. The walls were a deep burnt orange. The scones were lit and cast a warm glow throughout the room. Pale cream panels had been pulled back and tied with golden tassels. Papa was sitting at the head of the table as usual. Looking laughably out of place in front of the princess gold Byzantine dinnerware. His glasses were sitting precariously at the end of his nose as he looked through an old newspaper.
To her annoyance, her dad had recently returned from Texas and was seated as well. This was a rare event since he seemed to normally be riddled with phone calls, emails, and cases that took him away from home. His chocolate head was turned towards the small TV mounted on the wall. Ricky Smith was a muscular six-foot two manly man who didn't waste energy on words unless it was necessary. He wasn't considered handsome, well at least Amaya didn't think so. She never saw her dad date anyone, so she assumed no one wanted him. Plus, he had such a rigidness about him that she couldn't imagine any woman finding that appealing.
Nana Mae came out of the kitchen and began centering the food on the table. The aromatic food looked heavenly. "Everyone had better eat this food, now. I made plenty. Ricky, I expect you to say grace. We don't often have you at the dinner table with us."
"Mama, I don't think that's a good idea. Let Pops say the prayer as usual," he replied. He looked even more uncomfortable than usual and seemed as if he was prepared to spring from the table.
Before Nana Mae could start her protesting, Papa launched into a prayer that would set even Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane to shame. Amaya softly giggled behind the palm of her hand.
Dinner was quiet for a while, only the TV could be heard, as everyone began eating and seemed to be deep in their thoughts. Nana Mae broke the silence as she stared across the table at her only son, a speculative gleam in her eyes.
"Ricky, you know we have made it clear that we don't want Amaya to go all the way to Texas with you. I'm not saying this to argue since I know your mind's made up. Just know that if she does not adjust well or seems to have any difficulty she can always come back home."
"We have talked about this already. I'm moving to Texas for good. I'm not leaving my daughter this time. The circumstances are different. It's for the best." He began shoving collard greens in his mouth and that was the end of that line of conversation.
Amaya, the observant child felt the tension and saw the tremble in Papa's hands that wasn't there before. When he raised his eyes to hers for a second, she thought she saw fear before he quickly smiled. She was almost convinced she had imagined it.