Page 5 of Coming Home
I resist reminding her that her own father is an acclaimed journalist with a Peabody and a Murrow award to my credit.
“I don’t think they’ve asked her yet. They wanted to make sure I was on board first.”
“You’re doing it, right? Dad, please. Having her here for homecoming would be everything.”
“You sound more excited to have her there than me.” I keep the teasing in my voice so she knows I’m not offended. Or at least not too badly.
“Sorry, Dad. She’s a pioneer for Black women in journalism on TV. I respect her so much. We all do.”
“It’s fine. I get it. She is pretty fantastic. Always has been actually.”
“You know her? Like personally?”
“We were at Finley together.”
“What? You never told me that.”
“She and I didn’t keep in touch. Didn’t talk much at all after I left to spend senior year in Paris.”
“After you met Mom, you mean?” A dozen questions and suggestions hide behind her tone.
“It wasn’t like that.Weweren’t like that. Niomi and I were just friends, Celine.”
It’s true, but incomplete. It doesn’t reveal how much more I wanted with the girl of my dreams. How for three years I worked up the courage to ask for what I had secretly craved, only to blow it in one night.
“You have to do it, Dad. Like you have to. Niomi Spencer at homecoming?”
“You do realize some would see me as a draw, too, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re my father. She’s . . .she’sher.”
“Alright. For you, I’ll do it. I’m so proud of you, Celine. Homecoming queen is a big deal. I’m glad I’ll get to be there for it.”
Silence prevails on the other end for a string of seconds where the conversation cools, going from Celine’s excitement over the interview with Niomi, back to the skepticism, indifference–whatever it is she feels about me showing up this time.
“Yeah. That’ll be cool,” she finally agrees. “I really gotta go. Class.”
“Right. Sure. We’ll talk more later. Love you.”
After an almost imperceptible pause, she says, “Love you, too, Dad.”
As soon as we disconnect and before I can talk myself out of it, I send Janelle the text that will give me much-needed time with my daughter and bring Niomi and me back together really for the first time in two decades.
I’m in.
CHAPTER TWO
niomi
A FaceTime chimeinterrupts my producer’s debriefing of this morning’s show. Janelle’s face and contact on the screen of my phone make me smile.
“Frank, I need to take this. Anything else?”
He closes his mouth on whatever point he was about to make and grins. “You kicking me out of your office?”
“Perceptive. Anything else before you go?”
“No.” He stands from his seat on the other side of my desk. “I’ll email notes about tomorrow’s viral Tik Tok segment. The one with the girl from Nebraska and her dog.”
