PRESLEY

I stepped into my bedroom, the soft carpet sinking beneath my toes with every step.

“The contractor is on his way now,” I said, stepping into my walk-in. “And I should’ve waited to clear this closet, but here I am, knee-deep in old clothes like I’m on an episode of Hoarders.”

“Where are you sending the clothes?” Cori asked.

I peered down into the black plastic bags holding several seasons of old clothing, all still in excellent condition.

“I’m giving them to charity,” I answered. “Figured everyone should be able to live in style courtesy of Presley Blake. You know?”

My best friend Corrine—who I and everyone else called Cori—giggled on the other end of the phone.

I looked over at my long silver rod of clothing, sighing at how little space I’d actually freed up by clearing out the bulk. “Babe, there’s still not enough room. Why do I buy so much stuff?”

“Because you’re you,” Cori said. “Wish I could take some of those cute pieces off your hands, but I’m committed to minimalism.”

“Hmph.”

“Living minimally has been good to me,” she added. “Less stress over what to wear, more space around my place. It feels airy. You should try it.”

“Nope.” I dropped to my haunches, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Moving forward, I’m thinking big bitch.”

She hollered a laugh.

A joke, but I was dead serious. I was only months away from being an empty nester, and thinking small—or even living small—was the last thing on my mind.

Take me clearing out this closet. I was doing it for two reasons: one, because this shit had to go. And two, the contractor I hired was on his way to give this closet a makeover. This was the test run. If he pulled it off, he’d get the real project.

The whole brownstone.

“I have dreamed of a girly crib,” I said into the phone, scooping clothes off the floor and stuffing them into the trash bag. “I want pink in just about every damn room, including the bathroom. I’m praying the guy coming today tells me he can do pink marble from the walls to the floors.”

“Pink marble?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I blushed. “And that’s just the start. I want a super fresh start, Cori. With Junior heading out soon, I’ll finally get the chance to have that.”

My baby boy was in his last year of high school and headed off to college in Long Island… or Manhattan. There was still time to convince him to attend my alma mater Langston U instead of our rivals, Brookville U, out in Long Island. He’d been offered a full scholarship at Brookville to run track, which his father, Malik, loved reminding my ass about. Langston hadn’t offered a scholarship, but I didn’t care. I was willing to pay out of pocket. I could afford it. Langston meant that much to me.

At any rate, Junior had been under my roof since he could walk and my parents helped me buy the brownstone. It’s always been him and me, even while he spent equal time with his father. I’ve never really lived alone… and now I finally would.

I tell people I’m excited for Junior to leave, and I am. But the quiet truth is, I don’t know who I am without being somebody’s mom… and I’m ready to find out.

So yeah. I wanted my home to reflect my empty nester vibe. Girlified on one thousand. Pink on steroids. Extra for no damn reason aside from being extra. I wanted it to be absurdly clear—in the best way—that a happily single woman lived here, from the ceilings to the walls.

And I couldn’t wait for them walls to talk, honey.

“Speaking of homes, I’m heading upstate to visit my grandmother,” Cori said. “You know she’s always updating her will based on who pisses her off that week.”

I giggled.

“But this time, her will talk isn’t about that. On our last call, she mentioned the family compound out there, the one she and her sisters were living on before they passed, leaving her up there alone?”

“Mmm-hmm, I remember it well.” I nodded, focused on stuffing the last of the clothes into the bag before the carpenter arrived.

“Well, now that it’s just her, she’s been talking about leaving the compound.”

I paused. “She wants to leave the family compound?”

“Yeah,” Cori answered. “It’s just her and the help. She’s lonely. She says it doesn’t feel the same, living on all that land by herself.”

“I love that.”

“What?” Cori said, giggling.

I laughed. “Oh God, no. I don’t love your nana being lonely and up there all alone. My bad. I love that she has a legacy she wants to pass down to you. That’s what I’m trying to do… build a legacy big enough for Junior.”

“Yeah, well, don’t love it too much,” Cori said. “Because I have no idea what the hell I’m walking into up there. She insisted I come with my sisters. Noelle, Camille, and I could barely agree on when their asses could fly or drive out so we could all go up there together. So… we’ll see.”

“Hmph, well keep me posted,” I said, returning to the clothes. “What do you think about gutting my bathroom so the shower feels like… an outdoor shower?”

“Hmm…”

“I’d have the contractor install a skylight or something right over it, so I can feel like I’m showering under the sunlight.”

Cori snickered. “You are so deep into your empty-nester fantasies, I see.”

I stopped stuffing the clothes and let myself fall back onto a pile of them, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Girl,” I sighed. “You have no idea. Everything I’ve done since I was seventeen has been about practicality… never personal.”

“I know.”

“It was the only way I could be valedictorian with an infant in my arms.”

I had something to prove back then, too. I got pregnant by my son’s father, Malik Harlan, when we were seventeen. It was the summer before our senior year… different schools, same city. Shit could’ve gone way left. But I had supportive parents.

Didn’t stop the judgment, though.

Didn’t stop the whispers.

I lost practically all my childhood friends. Their parents must’ve thought pregnancy was contagious and their daughters could catch it.

One of the only people who stuck by me was Cori. I always said she felt more like a sister than a best friend. She was there for me… but even that didn’t drown out the whispers echoing through every weekday at school.

So yeah, maybe I used all that as fuel. Not just to finish school, but to finish on top. I kept that same energy through college. Graduated with honors, built my career as an architect, and stayed on my grind.

But still…

I’d always longed for a life that was mine.

Planning this renovation? That’s been my escape. I’d been sketching ideas since Junior’s freshman year of high school. And now, I was finally here. At the threshold.

So yeah, I was deep in my empty-nester fantasies. Swimming in the softness of what was about to be my reality. Blissfully.

“You know what I really can’t wait for?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to walk around my house with nothing on,” I confessed to the ceiling. “Play in my playroom—”

“Aht, Aht! Nope,” Cori cut in. “I draw the line at this future playroom talk, Presley.”

I rolled onto my stomach, laughing.

“You might enjoy talking about that mess, but spare me the details. Every last one.”

“Oh, hush.” I smirked. “This is good. Me being this excited? It’s good. Quit judging and just be happy your girl knows how to take care of her own needs.”

Cori snorted. “Presley, please.”

“All I’m saying is, when Junior’s gone, I’m gonna walk around my house naked and play in every room I want… except his, of course. That’s what freedom will mean to me—”

“Ma!”

My head whipped toward my son’s voice.

“Ma, ma!” he yelled again, voice laced with panic.

I pushed up to my feet. “Junior, what is it?”

“Ma, come downstairs!”

I sucked my teeth. “Girl, I gotta go. This boy’s screaming like the sky is falling. Bet it’s just him losing something and expecting me to find it. Per usual.”

Cori laughed.

“I’ll call you later,” I said, heading out of the walk-in. “And I’ll let you know if this contractor is the man of my empty-nester dreams or if I’m back to the drawing board.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Later.”

As I moved toward my bedroom door, I noticed it…

The sound of water. Pouring.

It grew louder with every step.

I stepped into the hallway and instantly caught a smell I knew shouldn’t be there.

Damp. Heavy.

I sniffed, turning toward it, and that’s when I saw the walls.

Sweating.

Or looking like it.

Yeah, chile… they were sweating.

“Ma!” Junior shouted again, this time barely audible over the growing rush of water.

I hit the stairs, and it didn’t take long to see it.

The water. Building. Fast.

“What the…?” My jaw dropped. My eyes widened as I ran down, watching water pour from the ceiling like the rainfall shower I’d been dreaming about for my new pink marble bathroom.

Except this rainfall wasn’t in my bathroom.

It was in my damn living room.

I watched the flood soak into the couch, drown the area rug, and pour over my entertainment center.

I had to blink. Hard.

Snap out of the shock.

“Ma!”

I turned toward the kitchen… also flooding.

It looked like a waterfall had been cut and pasted between the foyer and the kitchen.

I ran through it, water sloshing around my bare feet. It came down overhead, soaking my fro, and I couldn’t care less.

I just pray that’s not toilet water in my coils. Ew.

“Junior, what the hell?”

My son came racing toward me, drenched head to toe, water flying up with every step.

“I heard a click, then a pop in the walls,” he said over the roar, “and then—”

“Shit!” I shouted.

I sucked my teeth as my father’s voice echoed in my head…

Presley, baby, get those pipes replaced like I told you last year.

“Yeah, yeah, Dad,” I groaned to the memory, sloshing through ankle-deep water. “You were right.”

Dammit.

I grabbed Junior’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen, guiding him up the stairs. It was the only place that wasn’t wet.

Yet.

I glanced up. Water was already trickling down the top floor walls.

I squeezed my eyes shut. My hands dropped to my sides.

“Well,” I said to myself, “I wanted a fresh start… and it don’t get no fresher than this.”

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