Seasons

           Wynter leaned into the backseat of her Toyota Camry. Vacuuming dirt, lint, and other debris that came from customers’ feet. She’d finished the rear driver’s side when something caught her attention. It was a diary. Leatherbound with the key inside the flap. Now who would leave the key out in the open? Wasn’t the point of a diary for it to be a secret? Furthermore, which of her customers had left their diary in the back of her car?

           Sighing she reached over and grabbed it. Torn gray paneling on the side exposed the diary’s age. A thick rubber band seemed to be holding together the back flap. Hanging on by a thread, one had to be careful, otherwise, it would fall apart. Which of her customers had left their diary in the back of her car? Whipping out her phone, she went to the Driver App. She’d had over twenty fares that day. Who knew which one it was? While she made it a practice to check her backseat after each ride, the diary had been almost underneath the passenger seat.

           Wynter threw the diary on the backseat as she continued vacuuming out her car. After wiping it down to dry it off, she backed out of the car wash and drove to her next destination. Bopping her head to Summertime by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, the music cut off to let her know she had a call coming in. As if manifesting her into existence, she saw it was her sister, Sommer. Ignoring the call, she continued rapping the lyrics to the Grammy-awarded song.

           Wynter and Sommer. Their mother hadn’t been the most creative. Unless one considered the unique spelling of their names. Wynter didn’t have a problem with Sommer per se. They just didn’t have anything in common. Sommer was happily married to William Cartwright III of the well-known Cartwright family. They lived out on Summerville Lane which might as well have been the Park Avenue of Charlotte, NC. Five-bedroom, four-and-a-half-bathroom mansion in a gated community surrounded by the best schools, parks, and landscaping money could buy. The only thing missing was the 2.5 children. So far, they only had her niece, Amelia. Wynter didn’t doubt baby number two would be announced sometime in the near future.

           Growing up under the same roof, it was no secret that they had different fathers. Sommer’s dad and their mom hadn’t stayed together past Sommer’s second birthday. That was all the time it took for Caroline to meet Wynter’s dad. Had the one-night stand been worth it? Obviously not, since Wynter had never met the man.

At first, Wynter had made an effort to find him. Even though she had little to go on with no last name. It’s not like her mom had photos with her and the guy. She was told his name was either Ronnie, Roscoe or something like that. Finally, Wynter stopped her search. If he cared at all, he would have made an effort to find her.

           Even after her mother’s infidelity, Walter had stayed in Sommer’s life. He’d been friendly enough to Wynter, but she always got the feeling he resented her as well, so she stayed away from him. He remarried a lady named Nina, and they were active at their local church. Wynter had tried doing the whole family thing. She’d even gone to their church once. It was at the end of service, that Nina had suggested she might find a “nice man” if she didn’t have so many tattoos and show so much skin. That had been the last time Wynter had gone to “Holier than Thou” Church.

           Sommer had never said a cruel word to Wynter. Other than the arguments about nothing that sisters often had.  Still, birds of a feather flocked together. Wynter figured Sommer felt the same about her as her stepmother, but perhaps was too nice to say it to her face.

           Turning into the apartment parking lot, her phone rang again. Sommer. Hitting the ignore button, Wynter parked and got out of the car.

Walking up the steps to her apartment building, the squeak sounded right on time as she opened and entered. She was met by the dark corridor with dim lighting that the property manager had promised to fix. That had been six months ago when she signed her lease. If she knew then what she knew now. Her steps were muffled by the carpet which often smelled somewhere between human and cat urine. Sliding her key into the door, Wynter pushed it open and went inside.

           While the outside of her apartment was trash, Wynter did make sure to keep her own little space clean. It was only 650 square feet. Still, it was her own space. The least she could do was make sure it was clean.

           Pulling off her crossbody, she plopped down into the burnt orange faux leather soft she’d picked up at a garage sale. She flipped the diary back and forth. Should she read it? How else would she find out whose it was?

           She went back to the app on her phone. Scrolling through the names, she slowed down at a few. Amanda? No, that had been the young girl with two of her friends. Wynter remembered them because they’d turned up their nose at her saying they ordered a Tesla. Wynter had simply shrugged. Uptown was super busy during this time of day. One of her friends had responded for the leader, saying she was ready to go back to the hotel and didn’t want to wait anymore. They had already been waiting almost twenty minutes when Wynter had finally picked them up. Canceled by four or five drivers before her. Wynter highly doubted Ms. Snooty and the Gang owned this beat-up diary.

           She kept scrolling. Paul. He had been pretty quiet with his headphones on. Her favorite kind of customer. She eyed the diary again. Faux leather was masculine. Did men keep diaries? It was possible.

           Opening to the inside flap she saw an inscription. “To: You. From: Me.” Well, that was no help.

           The first page was dated November 27, 1979. No way. How had this diary survived 44 years? She opened it wider and the back fell off. She began reading:

           Lucas and I went to the hill tonight. Campus was pretty empty since most students had gone home for Thanksgiving. The moonlight and the crisp air made for an otherwise romantic autumn night. I thought were we going to lay under the stars on the blanket like we’d done so many times before. He’d surprised me by picking me up in his Chevy truck. We’d gone to the bottom of the hill. I eyed him curiously as he took the blanket out of my arms, jumped out the truck, and opened the truck bed. He’d laid out the blanket and invited me to join him. The only light coming from the moon and the stars. Laying with my head on his chest, I could easily hear the steady beat of his heart. This was love. This was everything. He asked me to marry him. It was so romantic. I just wish I knew if he wanted to marry me because he loves me or because I might be carrying his baby.

           Wynter blinked. This wasn’t a diary. This was a Lifetime movie. She almost felt guilty for enjoying it so far. The next entry was a few weeks later.

           December 18, 1979

           I can’t stop crying. I can’t believe it’s over. I know it’s the right thing. We both do. Even at the tender age of 19. It shouldn’t be this hard. Why do I miss him so much? Why can’t I stop thinking about him? What will my life be like without him? Should I go back? Will he forgive me for the things I said? What about the things he said? It just shouldn’t be this hard.

           Wynter stopped reading and closed the journal. Her mind went to her own last situationship. If one could even call it that. Twenty-one years and she’d never been in a real relationship. The last guy she’d dated, she’d really liked him. Intelligent, reserved, and a wiz in math and science. Guess that aligned with him being a software engineer. His eyes would light up whenever he talked about statistic program analysis, SQL, and Azure. He might as well have been speaking French to her. Still, he was passionate about his work. And she found that quality attractive. Plus being a shy yet attentive gentleman.

           It had all come crashing down on a Tuesday though. That was when he told her he wasn’t completely over his ex and didn’t want to string her along. Wynter had been heartbroken. At least that’s what she guessed the feeling to be. she’d never thought of herself as having been in love. But she’d definitely been devastated. If this was what love was, she didn’t know if she wanted any part of it.

           An unexpected rush of emotions took over. Emotions she thought had been long buried. She and John had stopped talking seven months ago. Not long before she moved into this apartment, matter-of-fact.

           Half an hour later, she climbed into bed with a thought. Maybe, she should take the diary to the lost and found at work. People often left valuables in cars. Everything from wallets to phones, to money. Good luck getting the latter back.

           Turning to her side, the green numbers 12:05 stared back at her. She flipped to the other side. Forty-five minutes later, she was no closer to sleep. Reaching over, she turned on the lamp. Reaching for the diary, she opened it and began to read.

           April 12, 1980

           Tomorrow is my wedding day. Lance Jenkins is the man of my dreams. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Today is the day before my wedding. So why are thoughts of Lucas taking over my mind? My heart finally feels like it’s beginning to heal. Am I making the right decision? Mama says I would be a fool to let a good man like Lance get away. He graduated from Howard University and is going to be an educator here in Charleston. He loves children. I’m sure he’ll be a good father one day.

           Wynter flipped to the back and found a more recent entry.

           March 30, 2023

           He’s been gone for three months. I’m sad, but I’m not devastated. Should I be? I thought entering widowhood would be horrible. Actually, it hasn’t been so bad. Does the thought make me a bad person? Probably. The thrill in our marriage had left long ago. He knew it. I knew it. But I never would have wished death on him. At one time, I loved him. I believe up until the end. That had been the wifely thing to do. Stand by her husband’s side. Even as he’s dying.

           Wynter set the journal down as her mind reflected. She’d lost her own mother last year and had felt the same emotion. Not as devastated as she expected. She and Caroline hadn’t been close. She always seemed more tolerable of Sommer than she had of her. Maybe it was because Sommer was the oldest. Or maybe because Sommer had been more mature and made an effort than Wynter did. How was she supposed to patch up a relationship that had never been healthy, to begin with?

           Wynter picked up the back flap that had fallen and noticed something she hadn’t before. There on the back was the name Nora Blakely written in cursive. Along with an address. Reaching for her phone, Wynter searched the log and sure enough, found Nora Blakely. Thinking back, she had been the older lady. Long gray dreads, ankle-length sienna brown skirt, and a turquoise short-sleeve shirt. The woman had been quiet. Wynter had looked at her in the rearview mirror when she came to a stoplight. She remembered the woman looking out of the window. Probably deep in thought. Wynter hadn’t thought anything about it at the time. Closing the diary, Wynter knew what she had to do.

           It had been late afternoon when Wynter had decided to end her fares for the day. Entering the address into her GPS, she made her way to 278 Hanneke Avenue. It had only taken her ten minutes. Walking up the steps to the brownstone, it reminded her a lot of Bed-Stuy NY. She only knew from the summers she’d spent there with cousins. She searched for the name Blakely and pressed the button.

           “Yes?” A woman answered.

           “Hi. Ms. Blakely. This is your driver from yesterday. You left your diary in my car and I wanted to return it to you.”

           Silence. After a full minute, Wynter spoke again, “Hello?”

           Bzzz. The door buzzed open and Wynter opened it. Making her way up the stairs she went to the third floor. She’d just made it to the top step when she saw a door open and an older brown skin woman poke her head out.

           “Are you the driver?”

           “Yes,” Wynter answered holding the diary out to her. The older woman grabbed it. After inspecting the diary, she eyed Wynter. “Thanks.”

           “You’re welcome.”

           They both stood there for a beat. Wynter turned to leave when Nora stopped her.

           “Would you…like to come in?”

           That was a strange request.

“I baked cookies.”

Ooh, cookies. Still, this woman could be crazy. Wynter chided herself for the thought. She’d read a little about her life. She doubted she was crazy. Heartbroken maybe. But nothing she’d read suggested crazy. Also, Wynter had read this woman’s personal life. She kind of felt like she owed her.

“Um…okay.”

Wynter walked through the threshold and was immediately hit with the smell of eucalyptus. Very aroma-therapeutic. Walking further into the space, Wynter noticed several photos on the wall. Family, Wynter assumed. The one that caught her eye was that of a younger Nora in a white wedding gown smiling with a man in a black suit. They looked very much in love.

“The kitchen is this way.” Nora gestured.

Wynter followed her to the kitchen where was a lone round table with thin table chairs surrounding it. Nora went to her cabinet and grabbed a white plate. Grabbing a paper towel, she placed a chocolate chip cookie on the plate and set it in front of Wynter.

“Oh, I probably should have asked? Do you even like chocolate chip?”

Wynter smiled, “Just so happens I do.”

Nora smiled in return and set across from her, a chocolate chip cookie on her own plate.

“I appreciate you bringing me my diary. Most people would have read it or simply thrown it away.”

Eyes widening, Wynter swallowed.

“Oh, you probably need something to drink.” Nora got up to go to her refrigerator. Do you like iced tea?

Tea and cookies? “Um…sure.”

Nora took a glass out and poured iced tea from a pitcher. Wynter noticed lemons in the pitcher as well. It was sure to be sweet.

Nora brought the glass of iced tea over. “I don’t drink milk. Lactose. I never touch the stuff.”

Wynter accepted it and took a sip. Sweet. Just like she expected.

“Are you married?”

Wynter gulped. “No. We’re not all as lucky as you.”

When Nora raised a brown, Wynter nodded her head toward the wedding photo.

“Luck is overrated.” Was Nora’s reply. Wynter was surprised. “Anyway, I’m not married anymore.”

“Oh?” Wynter feigned ignorance.

“No, he died.” Nora smacked her lips. “Few months back.”

Wynter took another sip of her tea. “Any regrets?”

Nora was silent for a beat. “Plenty.”

She took another bite of her cookie before continuing, “I resented him for many years. I’d always hoped to have kids. He never wanted kids. Guess we should have had that discussion before the wedding.” Nora chuckled.

“Anyway, it wasn’t until his deathbed that I found out why.”

Wynter was on the edge of her seat.

“You have kids?”

Wynter blinked and shook her head no.

“Hmm.”

Nora took a sip of her tea.

“Why um…why didn’t he want kids. If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He had Sickle Cell Disease. Didn’t want to risk passing it on.”

“That was thoughtful of him,” Wynter commented.

“Or incredibly selfish.” Nora retorted.

They sat in silence for a minute.

“Can I ask you something?”

Nora met Wynter’s eyes. “Sure.”

“What’s something you would go back and tell your younger self?”

Nora’s eyes went heavenwards, thinking of a response. Finally, she said, “Don’t live your life afraid of the what if’s. I pushed so many people in my life away. Including my husband. Making decisions based on what I thought other people expected of me. If I could go back, I’d do better. I’d love better and live life the way I wanted to.”

Wynter nodded. She stayed a few more minutes before leaving. As she trotted down the steps, she took out her phone and dialed. The caller answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Sommer. Sorry, I missed your calls. You mind if I come over?”