I had not seen much of Danita since around the Fourth. She had been busy working double shifts to ensure that when the first day of school arrived on August 16, Devon and Nia would be ready. With less than twelve days to go, she felt all the needed pens, pencils, and hand sanitizers had been purchased. That being the case, she felt secure enough to spring for dinner. I broke the news to Danita as we split a carafe of sangria at a Mexican spot in Knightdale. She responded with a big hug, a broad smile and an offer to be a shoulder for me to cry on whenever I needed it.
“After all honey, I have soaked enough of your shoulders,” she said, digging into her burrito.
“It’s all good. By this point, I am like ‘Lisa Lisa, all cried out.’ Last night was hard, but after talking to Yolanda, making me a hot toddy and getting up this morning and throwing out all those bridal magazines, I started feeling better.”