The worst was losing contact with Kimba. Her family moved, changed their phone number. This was before Facebook or Instagram. I had no idea how to get in touch with her, and with us in Europe, she had no way to get in touch with me. Mona told me later she didn’t bus in for high school, but stayed in her district, so she didn’t see Kimba anymore either.

“I wonder if she’ll actually show.” I sip my water and peruse the room slowly, searching each table and aisle for her. I’ve seen her on television a few times, but her partner, Lennix Hunter, now the First Lady, usually spoke on behalf of their clients. “It’s almost time to give out the awards.”

“Kayla said something about her flight out of D.C. being delayed.” Mona shrugs. “I think she’s taking a little time off and hanging here in Atlanta for a few weeks. Hopefully we can get together while she’s in town.”

I take another sip of water, disciplining my expression into impassivity. Inside, though, anticipation churns through my body. Kimba and I will be in the same state, maybe around each other, for the first time since we were thirteen years old.

“Whose flight is delayed?” Noah asks, taking a sip of the sweet tea.

“No more.” I point to his glass. “Water for the rest of the night.”

He crosses his eyes, which is his new thing he learned to do last week. “Okay, but whose flight?”

“Our friend Kimba,” Mona says. “We haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“The one we met at her daddy’s funeral?” Noah asks me.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” I reply, surprised he remembers. Though Noah has the memory of an elephant, so I shouldn’t be.

“I hate I was out of town for the funeral,” Mona says. “I would have loved to pay my respects and to see Kimba again. Funny how people you’re so close to when you’re kids, you don’t even see for years and years. Decades even.”

It doesn’t feel funny to me. It feels tragic that the person I thought I’d know all my life is now a veritable stranger. Someone whose sentences I used to be able to finish. The few secrets I had at that age, Kimba kept. Now I don’t know her at all.

“It’s time.” Mona nods toward the stage where Kayla stands behind the podium.

It’s hard to reconcile this mature, almost staid woman and her closely cropped hair with the Kayla who used to show off her gold package Nissan Maxima all around our neighborhood.

“Good evening, everyone,” Kayla says, spreading a warm smile across the crowd. “I’m Kayla Allen-Greggs, executive director of the Allen Foundation. I hope you’ve enjoyed the night so far.”