The Johnson Sisters by Tresser Henderson Page A

see her.”
    â€œCan I get a hug before you go?” he asked with outstretched arms and a smirk on his face.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œCome here, baby. You know I love you.”
    â€œBut I’m not wifey material,” I shot back.
    â€œIn my eyes you are my wifey.”
    â€œBut not officially. It’s only in your meek little imagination. Hug that imaginary wifey, because your girlfriend is leaving.”
    With that I left him standing with his arms still outstretched to embrace the fact that one day I might not be there for him to hug at all.

Chapter 12
    Dawn
    Â 
    I could not wait until I got over to my sister Vivian’s house for our weekly dinner. This time it was Vivian who would host the dinner, so I knew we were going to have something scrumptious to eat. Out of all four of my sisters, Vivian was the best cook. I didn’t know if it was because she was the oldest or what, but homegirl could throw down.
    The last time she made spice-rubbed barbecue ribs with homemade coleslaw, broccoli salad, cornbread, and sweet potato casserole. You’re talking about good. Vivian slow-grilled those ribs so long the meat was falling off the bone.
    We made pigs of ourselves as we chowed down with BBQ sauce all over our hands and faces, even though she provided kitchen towels for each of us to wipe our hands with. She had enough food to feed an army, so it wasn’t a problem for any of us to leave there with Styrofoam plates filled with food to eat the next day.
    When I got to Vivian’s, I didn’t bother knocking as I walked into her house.
    â€œKnock knock. It’s me, Viv,” I yelled.
    â€œI’m in the kitchen,” she replied.
    When I walked in, Vivian was standing at the stove, stirring something in a huge pot. “Hey, sis,” she said.
    â€œHey. How it’s going?”
    â€œI can’t complain, or rather, there’s no need to.”
    â€œTrue. You look good,” I complimented her, looking at Vivian wearing a pair of black jeggings with a red off-the-shoulder top and leopard-print wedges.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œWhere did you get those shoes, girl? They are so damn hot,” I said, admiring the wedges.
    â€œI ordered them off the Steve Madden Web site. Feel them,” Viv said, walking over to me.
    I bent over and rubbed the shoe. “Is that fur?”
    â€œIt feels like it. I love these shoes, and they are so comfortable.”
    â€œThey don’t look comfortable,” I said, looking at the five-inch shoe.
    â€œThe platform helps. All I buy is shoes with platforms these days. It takes inches away from the actual heel height, but still makes it look like you are rocking high heels. You can try them on if you like,” she said, stepping out of the shoes.
    I giggled as her height shrank dramatically. I was curious and stepped into the shoes. “Wow. I like these. They are comfortable,” I said, pleasantly surprised as I looked down at the fabulous shoe.
    â€œTold you,” she said.
    â€œI’m going to have to get me a pair. How much were they?”
    â€œPlease don’t ask,” she said as I stepped back out of the shoes and watched as she walked over and put them back on.
    â€œSeriously, how much?” I asked again.
    â€œWith shipping I think I paid close to one hundred and forty dollars.”
    â€œVivian!” I yelled.
    â€œI know, but they were cute and I love shoes, so here I stand,” she rationalized. “But that’s nothing compared to the price of other shoes I’ve purchased,” she said.
    Vivian never lied. She had a nice collection of shoes. My sister had shoes she hadn’t worn yet. I would have expected this type of glam from Phoenix, but Vivian even beat her when it came to how many shoes she possessed. I know many may think $140 for shoes is not bad, but when you came from the humble, or should I say poor, beginning like we did, you would understand why I frowned