The whole thing with The African Prince wasn't even a thing until my then friend, now ex friend, Wadley (who friend dumped me through a third party by making our mutual bestie a middle man, a story for another time) came to visit me at my grandma's apartment and showed her his picture! "Look Ms. Ruth," she said, getting up from the dining room table with a picture in hand, "this is the boy that Holly likes." It really isn't her fault. She didn't know the firecracker that she was lighting.
Let's start at the very beginning. This boy in my graduating class, the one from the dreaded pen pal incident, declared one day that his younger brother was coming to visit the school and would potentially be attending the next year. I didn't think much about it. Then, not long after this announcement, I walked into the university center and saw him with his brother's friends. I didn't know whether to laugh or to scream. WHO ON EARTH HAS A YOUNGER BROTHER THAT GORGEOUS?! It was bewildering! He had to have still been in high school, and he looked like some type of African James Bond! It felt like a joke! For one, if my younger sister were that hot, I probably would have allowed her to slip on a banana peel. To give this moment context, it felt as incredible as if I had announced my kid sister had come to visit and then Nia Long walked in the room! He was tall and chocolatey and had a beautiful smile. If I were him, I would have skipped college and tried my hand at male modeling or something.
The African Prince did end up coming to my college. He was younger than me, but every girl knew who he was. I will say that he is different from the other unrequiteds because I can honestly say we don't know each other. I never even had a chance moment with him, which would have been enough to get the love ball rolling for me. We just know each other, like everyone who goes to an HBCU knows each other. Like I said, he was younger than me. We didn't have classes together. We didn't have the same friends. We never really talked. But I saw him all the time, and when I saw him, I made sure to get in a good, long, really long, super long, look. I thought he was hot then, he is even hotter now, respectfully of course. He is married with kids.
Now fast-forward to the Wadley debacle. I literally watched her in slow motion walk that picture over to my grandma. Poor Wadley. She didn't know the history of my grandma being disappointed and hurt that I went through the entirety of my college career uncoupled. She was mortified that I was gay. When I went to the homecoming events in Memphis during Hurricane Katrina, she was excited to hear that I was getting a dress and even bothering to go, but was devastated when she heard I was going with Big Homie Saans. "Grandma, I may never, ever have a boyfriend," I said to her over the phone. Her disappointment in my not going on the boat ride with a guy had put a pin in my balloon about the whole thing. "Guys don't like me, I don't know what you want me to tell you." This is probably why she took the photo out of Wadley's hand and studied it like a rare jewel, then she waved the picture in my direction, relieved. "See, I knew there was someone," she said, excited.
Yikes.
Not too long after that incident, my grandma was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. If you read this blog often, you know I am mortified of getting it. If you have never dealt with this disease, you have no idea the pain of watching the mind of someone you love crumble. She often could not remember me, my aunt, or my mom's names. She referred to the three of us collectively as her daughters. The doctor told me that her short-term memory was toast, which was crazy to hear. I had known her my whole life, and I was in her short-term memory? Ouch. Anyway, during one visit, she looked over at me and asked, "Where is Holly? I think she is mad at me."
I looked into her eyes and could tell that my grandma was there. You see, with this disease, the person you remember can come back in flashes.
"I am Holly," I said to her from her bedside. "I could never be mad at you."
She smiled. Yep, she was in the room. I wanted to tell her so much, but I didn't want to overload her. You see, these flashes of normality can be fleeting. I just wanted to sit with her in it.
She took a deep breath and took my hand. They were cold, even though she was covered in blankets.
"Holly?" she said again.
"Yes, Grandma? I'm here."
In that moment, she looked so excited. "So, how are things with you and Femi?"
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