LITMIR.BIZ

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Africa. He’s lived back and forth between Mozambique and the States for the past ten years. There. Is that enough details for you? Not that any of this matters.”

      “Wow . . . he sounds intriguing and worldly and smart . . . and rich. You sure you don’t feel anything for him?”

      I rolled my eyes. “Can you stop at the nearest rest stop? I have to pee.”

      “We just passed an exit. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

      “Because you were grilling me about Gabe.”

      “Gabe? So he has a nickname. That’s a good sign.”

      I exhaled loudly. “Monnie, just pull over and let me pee in the bushes.” I opened the glove compartment to her rental car to see if there were any napkins in there. I should have brought my roll of toilet paper like I’d planned.

      “Eeeeww, no way. You’re back home now. Like the Bible says, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. In America, we use toilets.”

      “Fine, Monnnie. I need you to stop somewhere soon, then.” I chuckled. “Do as the Romans do? Where is that in the Bible? I thought you told me you’d been studying the Word more since you started going to your new church.”

      “I have. That’s in the Bible . . . somewhere.”

      We both laughed.

      After about five more minutes, we pulled off the freeway and into a gas station. We both got out and hurried through the little convenience store to the restrooms like we were afraid we wouldn’t make it. Me from all the water I drank, Monica probably from just being pregnant. Monica walked in first. She turned back around quickly and bumped into me. “Oh gross, it stinks in there and it’s dirty.”

      I rolled my eyes and walked around her into the restroom. After I finished and washed my hands, I came back outside to the car where she stood, holding her stomach with one hand and fanning with the other. “That was so disgusting. I don’t see how you could stand the smell.”

      I shook my head. “You have no idea.”

      “Girl, listening to you, I might never go to Africa.”

      “You’d be fine if you went to the city. We just happened to be in a remote area, that’s all.”

      “Yeah, girl. You’ll never find me in the bush.”

      “Don’t call it that, Monnie.”

      “Why not?” She frowned.

      I got in the car. It had to be because I was tired. My absolute best friend in the whole world was getting on my very last nerve being all prissy and entitled. I rolled my eyes. Americans . . .

      “So what are you going to do now that you’re home?” Monica maneuvered her way back onto the freeway.

      I reached out to grab the door handle. My fingers were sore from clutching it. “Well, I have enough money saved to live for about six months while I look for the right job. I want to take my time and make sure it’s something I love.” There was no way I was going to tell her that in my heart of hearts I really wanted to go back to Africa. Although with Moms sick, I didn’t think I’d get to do that anytime soon.

      “You’re not going back to PR? I thought you loved public relations. You’re so good at it.” Monica looked down at my hand gripping the door handle and slowed down some.

      I shook my head. “I don’t want to do PR anymore. It was starting to get on my nerves before I left, and I can’t imagine going back to it now. I want to find something in the non-profit sector. I’d love something working with kids or women in transition or something. If I did anything remotely close to PR, it would be to raise awareness about what’s going on in Africa. There’s been a lot more of that lately with the Red campaign and Bono and Madonna and all those folks. But if people really knew, this country and other developed countries would be doing so much more to help. Maybe I would use my PR experience and fundraising skills for that.”

      Monica looked over at me. “I really admire you, Trina. You’re really like a real Christian is supposed to be. I ain’t gon’ lie. I don’t think I could give up my life and comforts over here and live the way you did for the past two years. You make me feel selfish. All I want out of life is a happy family.” She rubbed her belly. “A good marriage, one or two more children, and a peaceful life in suburbia. I enjoy teaching Sunday School and volunteering with the kids at church from time to time, but that’s about it. I’d never even dream of going to Africa. Makes me feel like I’m not really saved, or that maybe I don’t have enough of the love of God in my heart.” She saw me grab the dashboard when it looked like a huge truck was going to ram into the side of the car, and she slowed down some more.

      “It’s definitely a call, Monica. God put it in me. That doesn’t mean I’m any more of a Christian than you are. We have different callings, and no one is better than another. You’re called to support Kevin’s music ministry and to be an awesome wife and mother. Don’t take that for granted. That’s a beautiful thing.”

      “And you’re called to sleep in huts and pee in holes in the ground in Africa.” She laughed at her own joke. “Girl, God knew better. I can’t live without my bed and down comforter and the mall and my hair products and razors. And toilets. And bottled water. And good food.”

      I laughed with her. “Girl, it’s amazing what becomes not important to you anymore. All the things we think are essential . . . you learn to live without them. It’s a fair trade-off for a much simpler and more meaningful life.” I added, “For me, anyway.” Not wanting to make her feel bad.

      I looked at the clock on the dashboard panel. “Gosh, I didn’t remember Baltimore being this far away. Why is it taking us so long to get there?”

      Monica’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be joking. I’ve had to drive sixty miles an hour to get your hand off the door handle, and then fifty-five to keep you from pushing that imaginary brake you got on the floor down there. You know me. If you want me to get you there, I can. I was just trying to keep you from putting a hole in the floor of the car.”

      I laughed. ”Sorry, girl. You have no idea.” I leaned back against the headrest. “Go ahead and do your usual eighty. I’ll just close my eyes and plead the blood.”

      She laughed, and I felt the car shift into high speed.

      I must have drifted off to sleep because next thing I knew, Monica was jostling me. “Trina, wake up, girl. We’re here.”

      I sat up and blinked, trying to orient myself to where I was. Instead of trees and mud huts and swarms of African children running around, I saw brick buildings and concrete. And the kids running around on this street didn’t make me feel like bending to embrace them. They made me want to lock the car door.

      “You okay?” Monica rubbed my arm.

      “Yeah. I’m good. Just jet-lagged. Let’s go on in.”

      We locked the car and rushed up the walk to my mother’s brick row house. I noticed the mailbox was overflowing and opened it and pulled the mail out. Without meaning to, I noticed several of the letters had pink envelopes. A couple said, “final notice.” My heart sank. One thing my mom never did was get behind in her bills. She had worked two jobs the entire time me and Tiffany were growing up. It was important to her that even though we were dirt poor, we could wear designer clothes like the rest of the kids. I never cared, but Tiffany, the fashion maven, took full advantage.

      Moms also put large sums of money aside from her paychecks for us to go to college. I had gotten a full scholarship and told her to keep it for herself for everything she had done for us growing up. Tiffany had wasted the money going on and off to college for many years. She never finished a degree because of her frequent major changes. Moms was probably still Tiffany’s primary means of financial support. Or at least until now. Looked like she needed some support herself now.

      I rang the doorbell and stepped back. Nothing could have prepared me for what

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