It didn't happen right away. As soon as DeAndre pulled off my father inspected me, taking a very long look at my t-shirt—DeAndre's t-shirt. It was big on me and hung to my thighs and it smelled incredible. After my father practically memorized every detail of the plain black tee I was wearing, he led me into the house. If he thought I'd gone and given myself to DeAndre he didn't ask and I didn't give any explanations. Instead, my father headed to the den and remained there.

         I didn't expect for it to be easy, but I knew eventually we had to talk about the elephant and the corroding force that seemed to have left a severing impact on our relationship. We had to talk about my mother.

I gave my father an hour and then I headed downstairs and stood in the doorway of the den.

"I don't want any grandchildren right now, Cree," my father said.

So he had suspected I'd slept with DeAndre of all people.

"Look at me, I know nothing about mothers," I responded.

Visibly he winced and I knew the topic of conversation would be tense. The TV went off and he faced me and studied me. "I'm sorry. I should've told you, especially when you took up dancing too." He looked down at the carpet, shaking his head. "But it's an ugly truth."

"I have a right to know regardless."

He nodded. "I blame her family for what happened to her."

"Was it an eating disorder?"

I watched as my father sighed and ran his hands down his face. This was it, the ugly truth he'd kept from me for so long. I wasn't entirely sure I was emotionally stable to hear it all, but DeAndre believed I was strong and resilient for some reason, so I knew in that moment I had to be.

"Yes," my father answered, "it was bad, Cree. We didn't even think people in her condition could get pregnant, it's rare. And then you happened and I thought you were our miracle, you could be the reason she goes clean."

I crossed over and sat beside him in Loraine's chair. "She got that way because of dance?"

My father nodded. "She used to make a fuss about her weight and being perfect." He scowled, looking disgusted. "Her momma ain't help it either. She said 'black girls don't get eating disorders, that's for white girls.' She was an idiot for that, her daughter was shrinking in front of her eyes and she thought it was just stress."

"How'd you know?" I asked.

"We met in college. Louise was taking dance classes and she and Michelle met there. Louise used to talk about her all the time, and I got so annoyed I just had to see who this Michelle girl was and then I saw her and it was over." His eyes glazed for a second with his unshed tears and I bit my lip to keep from trembling. I'd never heard the story of my parents courting before and I hated to have to hear it under the current circumstances. "I always thought she was skinny from the beginning, but she was just so beautiful and graceful." He looked to me. "You look just like her and you even walk like her, Cree."

I had to look away and wipe my eyes, embarrassed for my crying. I wanted to be strong and to hear the story without going soft, but I couldn't hold it together and I knew it.

"She wanted to make it as a dancer, do shows, and be one of the greats. There was this competitive dance school she wanted to get into in Cleveland and I remember hearing her obsess about how skinny the other girls were and how their forms were tighter and perfect. Perfect, she always used to stress over that word and it killed me."

"Did she get into the school?"

My father shook his head. "Louise and I watched the audition and we both agreed it was flawless but they thought otherwise. They thought her movement wasn't fluid enough and her weight wasn't being distributed with balance. They said she needed to lose a few pounds to work on her pointe and some other things that made her more determined."

I could just imagine my mother's dreams being crushed with people telling her she was too big to get into the dance school. With my full chest and hips and thighs, I knew I was nowhere near as thin as the many dancers I'd seen in fliers or on TV commercials. As much as I loved dancing, I never let it get to me. There were too many women in entertainment I admired who could dance and weren't stick thin either.

"She'd skip meals and spend hours dancing and she wouldn't listen to me. She was obsessed with her body and it was like a disease. She'd even lie about eating and how often she worked out. I couldn't walk away because by that time I'd already fallen in love with her. She came over for dinner once and I heard her in the bathroom throwing up and we argued about it. We'd spend hours arguing about her weight and her body and her obsession with dancing, and she always swore she'd quit.

"When we got married she put on a few pounds. We thought she couldn't get pregnant after what the eating disorder did to her body but somehow you were meant to be," my father sighed and sat back in his chair. "I can honestly say I never saw her put off eating or hear her throwing up while she carried you. She was happy, she wanted you more than anything and I think she saw you as her second chance. I think the pregnancy saved her."

"But how did she die?" I needed to know.

His voice broke as he answered with the hardest thing I could imagine he had to say. "Right after she delivered you her heart stopped. Just when I thought she'd beaten the disease and it was a thing of the past it crept up on us and gave one final blow. All that time starving herself and throwing up weakened her and it took its toll on her heart and after having you her body just gave up."

And there it was. Just when it seemed like my mother was getting her life together and getting better her body quit on her and left my father a widower with a newborn.

My shoulders shook as I began to cry and it didn't feel like I'd ever stop. I leaned over, holding my hands to cover my face as I let out sob after sob.

I went through all five stages of grief all at once and I couldn't fight back my cries, even when my father came and held me to his chest.

"It's okay, Cree, she held on just long enough to give you to me. She stayed as long as she could and you're here because of that."

But it didn't make it any better. If I hadn't of been conceived she would still be alive and my father would have his first love.

I pulled back. "Do you ever regret me?"

My father's brows furrowed as he reached out and wiped my face. "If I had to do it all again I wouldn't change a single detail as long as I got to have you in the end."

"You mean it?"

"Yes." He held me so tight against him it almost hurt. "I'm sorry for keeping it from you, Cree. I just didn't want you to change your opinion on dancing or to think of your mother in a different way. And I don't want you to ever be like her. She put dancing before everything and it killed her. I don't want you to be like that."

In my heart I knew I loved dancing as recreation, but I wasn't sure about going pro like DeAndre talked about. I wasn't sure what my future held for me career wise.

"You have to let me make my own choice on that matter, Dad. You have to let me decide whether or not I've spent too much time dancing or that I haven't eaten enough. And for the record, I love bread, real potatoes, and greasy food, and DeAndre's always on my case about my sweet tooth. I don't have the strength to starve myself if I tried and I could never throw up. You have to let me be a big girl and make my own decisions and form my own opinions."

I could tell he wanted to fight my words by the way he looked at me and shook his head. "You're my baby girl, you're the only thing I have left of her, I don't want to see you go, Cree."

It was my cue to get up and console my father and so I did. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in chest.

I could only imagine every father's fear of their daughters growing up and leaving them behind as they forged on their own paths, but after losing my mother and only having me left, I could understand how the idea could terrify my father.

"I'm here, Daddy, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

As if to make good on my word, my father held me tighter. Even if I knew he'd never officially let me go and he'd always be there to scold me and be my father, I let it go, because wrong or right, he cared and that was all that mattered.

I held him back just as tight.

I decided that it was best that I leave—at least for the summer anyway. My father didn't want me to go down south and visit my mother's family, truly holding contempt against my grandparents, but he wasn't going to deny my request to spend my summer down in Florida learning about my mother's side of the family.

It was Saturday June first and I'd be leaving in a week. School had one more week as well and then it was officially the summer before senior year. Troiann was bummed about my spending my entire summer down in Florida, Tremaine as well, the others, Marcus and Chris who were in the dark on the details of why, were far more supportive of my endeavor. To tell the truth I was afraid of what would become of the adventure. I'd never met my mother's parents and only spoken to them on the phone when I was younger. I hoped they weren't mean and would accept me.

DeAndre took one long look at me and shook his head. We were in his family's rec room, sitting in front of the TV. Well he was sitting and I was lying on my stomach snacking on cinnamon rolls while he finished off a turkey sandwich. We were watching some of our favorite movies. On screen Ving Rhames had Tyrese in a headlock as he showed Tyrese's character who was boss.

I cringed when Ving's character licked Tyrese's head. "Eww, has your dad ever...?"

DeAndre rolled his eyes. "No." His eyes dipped to the plate of pastries in front of me and I could see the disapproval on his face.

"Stop judging me," I snapped as I wiped my hands on a paper towel.

"You ain't even offer one up and you used my oven to make them."

I slit my eyes and glanced at DeAndre. "Do you want some of my sweets, Dre?"

He perked a brow. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Are they hot and sticky still?"

My throat swelled and I looked down at my plate. I poked a roll, finding it just about hot. "Yeah."

DeAndre smirked. "Maybe later."

I looked back to the screen and sighed. "It's movies like this that make me hate the male population sometimes."

"So you plan on being forever alone?" DeAndre asked.

"No, I mean, you think you're messing with a great guy and sometimes they turn out like," I gestured to Tyrese's character, "Jody, an immature momma's boy who plays games and cheats on you."

"You just gotta learn to pick 'em and be firm on shit you won't stand for," said DeAndre. "Most importantly don't change who you are to make someone else happy."

I gave a small smile. "See, that's what I like about you, I never see you talking crazy about girls. You don't care about butt sizes, breasts, light or dark skin or even hair, you're so calm and I respect that."

DeAndre flashed me a smile. "It's all a part of the charm, smoke and mirrors and all that shit."

I knew he was joking and so I shoved him.

"That's all you guys are good for, smoke and mirrors." I shook my head. "I can't tell you how many guys asked me out after the talent show. Guys I know who are straight dogs looking for a cat to pounce on. I can see it now, me falling for some jerk and it reading like one of those teens stories, 'the Bad Boy and the Virgin.'  It would start out as a bet or something, and then we'd fall in love and he'd leave as soon as he conquered his task."

DeAndre nudged me. "Nah, you black, it would be 'the Virgin and the Thug' or some weak shit like that."

The thought cracked me up and DeAndre joined me. Because being black and bad equaled "thug" for some reason.

In the midst of our joking around his phone rang and one look at the screen was all it took for all the humor and emotion to drain from his face.

He stood up and barely glanced at me. "I'll be right back."

My own phone rang before I could question what I'd just witnessed. Instead, I found Troiann calling and so I answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, what's up?" Wherever Troiann was I knew she was outside by the sounds of birds chirping in the background.

"I'm over at DeAndre's. What are you up to?"

"Wondering why we're not spending as much time together as possible before you abandon me for the summer."

I rolled my eyes. "I am not abandoning you, besides, you'll have Marcus." Somewhere between my father telling me about my mother and recent events, they had gone and become official, because the Monday after the talent show Marcus and our group were hanging out at our usual spot outside the cafeteria in the atrium when Marcus pulled Troiann into his arms and kissed her and held her close to him. Before, they would just sit by each other, but that was truly the first time he'd shown public affection for her. When asked if they were a thing Marcus merely said 'hell yeah,' and Troiann rolled her eyes, downplaying it as if it were nothing. I knew she was happy, but she hadn't completely let her guard down, it was Marcus, and there was no telling where things would go.

"But I love you," Troiann whined. "I'm with Marcus right now, he's cool and all but you're my best friend."

"I'll bring you back some cute clothes?" I tried for a stab at recovery.

"Deal!" Troiann squealed. "We gotta hang out tomorrow, promise?"

"Promise."

"Don't be a stranger, Cree, I know where you live."

Before I could challenge her threat she'd hung up already.

I shook my head and returned to the movie. My best friend was a trip.

Twenty minutes had gone by and the movie was still playing but DeAndre hadn't returned. I paused the DVD and stood to my feet and went to see if everything was all right.

He was sitting out on the last step on one side of the dual staircase. His phone sat beside him and he rested his chin on his fists, seeming lost and angry.

I made my way over to him and was cautious not to get too close. "What's wrong?"

DeAndre shook his head. "Nothing, I'm fine."

I looked at him, seeing how upset he was despite his refusal to talk. "You know you can tell me anything, right? That's what friends are for."

DeAndre drew his attention to me. "Yeah, I know."

I took a seat next to him and faced him. "And when things are tough for me you're the first person determined to help, so let me have a turn, and quit playing hard."

DeAndre sighed, running his hands down his face. "I just got off the phone with Darnel. My dad called him and Darnel said he wasn't going to play ball in the winter. My dad said he couldn't come home if he didn't play and 'Nel says he won't then." His voice was eerily calm and hollow at the same time, revealing how hurt he was at the news. He didn't hide the fact as he faced me. "He can't not come home, Cree, that's my brother, that's family."

My heart ached for my best friend as I reached out and hugged him. He had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable and open and for that I thanked him. Leaning over, I kissed his cheek and gave him a little squeeze. Something had to be done.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stood to my feet and held my hand out.

DeAndre looked at my outstretched hand. "What?"

"Come on, let's go talk to him."

"Talk to him?"

"How can he come home if he doesn't know he's wanted?"

DeAndre stared at my hand for a moment more before taking a hold of it and standing to his feet. "I guess we're taking a trip down to Columbus."