No One in the World by E. Lynn Harris, RM Johnson Page B

wheel, the spitting image of himself, sat his brother Cobi.
    Eric walked over to the passenger door. When the window finished powering down, he leaned into the cabin of the car.
    â€œYou honking at me?” Eric said, afraid to smile just yet.
    â€œYeah,” Cobi said. He was wearing a suit and tie, like an Eric from an opposite universe. “Sorry I’m late. That Dan Ryan traffic can be a mofo.”

28
    A fter ringing the doorbell, Austen stood on the porch of her mother’s house—the house she had grown up in.
    When the door opened, Austen’s mother, a short woman with skin the color of toasted wheat, opened her arms for a hug. She wore a flower print housecoat over her blouse and slacks.
    Austen gave her mother a hug. “How you been, Mommy?”
    â€œI could’ve been kidnapped and held for ransom, for all you know, since you never come to see me,” Angela said, kissing Austen’s cheek.
    â€œI was here just last week, Mommy.”
    â€œI can never see my baby enough,” Angela said, play pinching Austen’s cheek. “I was making some tea. We can take it out back on the deck. It’s a nice evening.”
    Outside, Austen’s mother sipped from one of her old porcelain teacups, the matching saucer balanced on her lap. She stared up at the sky as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Setting her cup back on the saucer, Angela said, “Not that I don’t love to see my daughter every opportunity I get, but what brings you here? I wasn’t expecting to see you for another few days.”
    â€œOh, I just wanted to tell you that the mortgage has been paid.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to come all the way over here for that. You could’ve called, like you normally do when you pay it.”
    Years ago, Austen’s mother’s house had been paid for. When Austen needed money to rebuild her late father’s business and was unable to get a bank loan, her mother gladly offered to refinance the mortgage on the house.
    Austen vehemently objected.
    Angela said, “With the money, do you think you’ll be able to make your father’s business better than it was?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWill the business provide a good living for you?”
    â€œMost definitely.”
    â€œThen we’re getting you that money.”
    Austen was able to keep only two of the promises. The business was successful, and it did provide well for her, but soon Austen would not be able to pay back the money. That meant that the mortgage on her mother’s home would go unpaid, and her mother, who was retired and only drew Social Security, would lose her home. Austen could not let that happen.
    â€œAusten, are you okay?” Angela said, pulling Austen out of her thoughts.
    â€œYeah, Mommy, I’m good.”
    â€œNo. There’s something wrong. This whole recession and housing thing . . . you okay with money? You don’t need—”
    â€œNo, no. Everything is fine,” Austen lied. “Actually business is much better than you would think. I really came by to give you some news.”
    â€œWhat news, baby?”
    Austen sighed and tried her best to pass her smile off as a sincere one. “I’m getting married, Mommy.”

29
    I took Eric to one of my favorite steakhouses in Chicago and ordered the ten-ounce filet, with sautéed spinach and garlic mashed potatoes.
    When the tall, dreamy-eyed waiter turned to Eric and said, “And you, sir?” Eric seemed uncertain. He stared at the menu as though it was a tough school exam, and then ordered a cheeseburger and fries.
    â€œHold on,” I said to the waiter, turning to Eric. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Why don’t you get a steak, or lobster, or both?”
    Eric gave another puzzled look at the menu, then back up at me. “That would be okay?”
    â€œSure. Order whatever you want. This is your first meal out of