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Kit sat in the aisle seat and Nichelle by the window as the regional jet took off from Hancock Field in Syracuse, heading to Philadelphia. The seatbelt light winked off and he lifted the armrest between the seats. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. “An hour and a half flight and we’ll be there,” he said.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“A little ... not really ... Does it show? I want to make a good impression on your mom.”
“You have already made a very good impression on her,” she replied. “I don’t know how you could screw it up.”
“If there’s a way to screw up, I can find it.”
“You haven’t screwed up once with me, Kit — and that’s the honest truth.”
The flight attendant pushed the beverage cart down the aisle. “Something to drink?” she asked.
“Ginger ale,” he replied.
“Same here,” Nichelle added.
“Maybe we can share the can?” Kit suggested.
The attendant handed them two plastic cups with ice and set the open can on his tray. Kit filled the cups and they tapped rims.
“I’m thinking of all the little things that have meaning to us,” she said. “Like ginger ale.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Isn’t it something how our minds are so alike? It’s almost like we’re ... related.”
“Mom told me she has the DNA results but she refused to disclose anything over the phone.”
“I can’t wait for that big reveal,” he replied. “I hope we won’t be disappointed.”
“Either way, I feel closer to you than anyone, ever, Kit.”
He drained the can into their cups and swigged his down. “Trash collection time,” he said. The attendant held out a trash bag. Nichelle drained her cup and Kit tossed the cups and empty can into the bag.
He adjusted his seat, folded his tray and tugged on his belt. Nichelle stowed her purse under the seat in front. The plane made its final approach, landed and taxied to the gate. After picking up their gate-checked carry-on, Kit held Nichelle’s hand as they proceeded to baggage claim.
Nichelle’s bag was first on the belt and Kit snagged it. He watched more bags descend the chute and then saw his light blue duffel. Leaning over, he snatched it off the belt.
“Mom should be around here somewhere,” Nichelle said and scanned the room. She waved and sprinted toward a figure in a pinstripe skirt suit. Nichelle embraced her mother. Kit piled their carry-on and checked bags onto a cart and wheeled it toward them.
“Mom — This is Kit.”
Kit regarded Nichelle’s mother. She was about the same height as Nichelle but more slender. He could see her resemblance to Nichelle in her face — the eyes, nose and mouth were similar. Nichelle’s face had a heart-shaped appearance; her mother’s was more oval with a stronger jaw and a high forehead. Her color was half a shade lighter than Nichelle’s, and a scattering of small brown freckles lay in a patch that straddled the bridge of her nose.
She extended her hand and Kit grasped it. “Pleased to meet you, Ms Cooper,” he said.
“Call me Felicia, Kit, and I am very pleased to meet you.”
“Mom,” Nichelle said, “is that a new hair styling?”
“Yes, indeed — I had this done last week. Do you like it?”
“It’s lovely,” Nichelle replied.
“I was trying a new salon that one of the young girls at the office uses. Maybe you’d like to try them while you’re here.”
“I just use some curl relaxer. It makes it easy to wear and I can just let it drip dry if I’m out of time.”
“I like your hair,” Kit said. “I like both of your hair.”
Nichelle regarded Kit. She glanced at her mother, who glanced at her. “Kit,” Nichelle said sweetly, “a pro-tip: For a lot of black women, hair is a tender topic. Unless you’re another black woman — it’s safer to keep the subject off-limits.”
“Understood,” he replied.
Felicia smiled at Nichelle. “He don’t make the same mistake twice, do he?” she asked, affecting a mild urban accent.
“No, he don’t,” Nichelle replied.
“Well, it’s dinner time,” Felicia said. “What would you like to do? We can go somewhere or we can go home and see what’s in the freezer. We can call for delivery. It’s up to you.”
“I’m totally open,” Kit replied.
“Nichelle tells me you like hot food.”
“Yes, that’s right. I love hot food — the hotter the better.”
“There is a new Thai place within walking distance from home. Did you ever have Thai, Kit?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“They have four spice levels: mild, medium, hot and native. If you order native, the cooks will come out and watch you eat it.”
“That sounds like my kind of place.”
“All right, then. Bring the bags to the curb and I’ll fetch the car.”
Kit pushed the cart through sliding doors and stood in the early December air. “How do you like my mom?” Nichelle asked him.
“Oh, I like her. She’s about what I expected — a firecracker like you.”
“Here she comes...”
Kit saw a silver late-model Audi A4 approaching the curb. The car stopped and the trunk popped. He loaded their bags into the trunk and then climbed into the back seat. Nichelle slid in beside him. “You’re not going to sit up front?” Felicia asked.
“I’ll sit back here with Kit. Besides — this way it’s like being chauffeured. Home, James.”
Kit and Nichelle held hands as her mother navigated streets. “So, Kit,” Felicia said from the driver’s seat, “What do you like best about my daughter?”
“What’s not to like?” he replied.
“Oh, Nichelle — you must be holding something back.”
“You know,” Kit continued, “Love is complicated, but at the same time, there’s something primal about it. I think it defies analysis. And, I think it’s possible to love someone while at the same time not liking them very much.”
“Hmmm,” Felicia replied. “I do believe I have witnessed that phenomenon.”
“What I like about Nichelle is, not only are we in love, but we’re also best friends.”
“Nichelle — do you agree?”
“I couldn’t have said it better. We were friends first and then we fell in love.”
“And, our friendship survived us falling in love,” Kit added. “so far at least.”
Felicia pulled up to the curb in front of a newer townhouse condominium. She parked and popped the trunk. “I’ll let you unload, Kit, then I’ll pull around. We have covered parking in back.”
“Okay...” Kit removed the bags, closed the trunk and carried them to the stoop. The Audi drove off. Shortly, the front door opened and he carried the bags inside.
Kit surveyed the unit. The lower level was open-concept, and furnished sparsely with modern furniture. He saw a round glass-topped dining table and a low sofa. One wall held bookcases with smoked glass doors. The kitchen sparkled with granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances and a five-burner gas range. “Wow,” he said, “this is a nice place.”
“Kit,” Felicia said, “We have two master bedrooms. Upstairs to the right is the one we use as guest quarters. You’ll have your own private bath. There’s another bath down here, along with two bedrooms — one I use as an office and the other is Nichelle’s ... when she’s home, that is.”
Kit carried Nichelle’s bags into her room and set them on the floor. Then, he carried his upstairs and set them in the guest room. It was appointed with a queen-sized bed, a desk, dresser and closet. He glanced into the bathroom and saw a glass-enclosed standing shower, separate jetted tub and a vanity with dual sinks. Behind another door was the water closet. Man, he thought, a guy could get used to this.
He headed down stairs and joined Nichelle. “Mom — the DNA results.”
“After dinner,” she said. “We’ve waited this long, a little while longer won’t hurt. This Thai place is only a couple blocks away.”
Kit walked with Nichelle and her mother from the restaurant to the condo. “You were a trooper, Kit,” Felicia remarked, “eating that curry spiced native.”
“Yeah — my cheeks were red, my eyes were watering, my nose was running, I was sweating and it felt like my entire face was on fire.”
“But you finished it.”
“Yes ... and THEN the waitress tells me that true native Thais rarely eat food spiced so heavily. The restaurant does it for the westerners who expect it.”
“I hope you don’t suffer consequences down the line, if you get my drift.”
“I have a pretty strong constitution,” he replied. “It takes quite a bit to upset it.”
They reached the front door and Felicia unlocked it. “Now, the DNA results, Mom?” Nichelle asked.
“All right — here they are. Bear in mind this isn’t proof positive of anything.” She handed them each an envelope.
Kit opened his and Nichelle opened hers. “Put them side-by-side. The sequences in red are those you have in common.”
“I’m seeing some red, but not a huge amount,” Kit said.
“There is more than you’d expect for a random black girl and a random white dude. In fact the patterns are consistent with fifth half-cousins.”
“Then, we are related,” Kit said.
“I was going to say, Kit — welcome to the family, but you’re already a member. How do you feel about it?”
“I am delighted, Felicia. I’ve felt that Nichelle and I are part of each other. Now we have proof we are.”
“I feel exactly the same way,” Nichelle added.
“There’s more,” Felicia said. “Turn it over. That’s a chart of from which populations your genetic makeup comes.”
“It says I’m twenty percent white,” Nichelle remarked. “I thought I was only one-eighth white.”
“Well, some of that comes from Malcolm via Mabel,” Felicia said. “There must be other white ancestors I haven’t located yet. I haven’t traced down every branch and leaf of our family tree.”
“And, mine says I’m twelve percent black,” Kit exclaimed.
“That means we have undiscovered black ancestors in your tree. You know what it also means?”
“What?”
“That if you had lived in the days of Jim Crow, and someone found out — you, Kit, would be riding in the back of the bus.”
“It also means,” Kit remarked, “we all really are cousins. This really drives it home. Thanks, Felicia, for doing this for us.”
“It was my pleasure, and I am going to keep researching until I have found every branch and leaf. Now, I’ve had a busy day and I’m going to turn in. We can discuss plans in the morning. I know travel is tiring, so I imagine you’ll want some shut-eye yourselves.”
“Thanks for everything, Felicia,” Kit said.
“Yeah — thanks, Mom.”
“See you in the morning. Good night.”
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” Nichelle said.
“Me, too,” Kit added and he headed up the stairs.
He brushed his teeth and regarded the layout of the en suite bathroom. Kit had helped his dad on enough jobs to have an idea of how houses were put together. Felicia said there are two master bedrooms, he thought. I’ll bet they’re mirror images with the two bathrooms sharing a common wall for plumbing and waste stacks. That meant the bedrooms proper didn’t share a common wall. That would be for the good, he thought.
His conjecture was borne out when he heard water running behind the sink. That must be the other master, he figured.
Kit stripped to his briefs and turned down the covers. He slid between the sheets. The queen-sized bed was the largest he had ever occupied. With the lights on, he laced his fingers behind his head and waited for the sounds in the adjacent bedroom to cease. The sound of water running stopped and all was quiet. Kit regarded his phone for the time. He let ten minutes elapse and then fifteen.
Figuring it was safe, he slipped into a threadbare and worn flannel bathrobe. Carefully opening the door he slipped into the hallway. Kit tread softly down the stairs and approached Nichelle’s bedroom. Softly he rapped on the door. “Nichelle!” he whispered. He rapped again. “Nichelle!” Hearing nothing he slowly turned the knob and peered inside.
The room was empty. “Kit!” he heard her whispering, Turning, he saw her standing in her light green robe in the great room. “What are you doing?”
He approached her. “I was sneaking down into your room. What are you doing?”
“I was sneaking up into yours.”
“See? Great minds do think alike. What’ll be, cousin? Your place or mine?”
“Yours, of course. You have the queen-sized bed. Mine’s a twin.” Kit started to scoop her off her feet. “Uhn-uhn,” she said. “There’s no carpeting on the stairs. You’ll make too much noise.”
Holding hands and treading quietly they ascended the stairs. Kit stepped onto the penultimate tread and it creaked. He and Nichelle headed into the guest bedroom. Kit threw his arms around her and they kissed.
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