Grown Folks Business (27 page)

It was a reflex, the way her hand pulled back. The way she used her body to increase the force. The way her palm hit him, leaving her hand stinging. Leaving an imprint of five fingers on his face.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” she said. Her teeth were so tightly clenched it almost hurt to speak. “And don’t you ever say anything like that about your father.”

His wide eyes filled with tears as he held his cheek. “Mom…”

“Don’t say another word. Just listen.” She pointed her finger in his face. “You are not to see Déjà. Not inside this house, not outside, not in Los Angeles, Inglewood, or Pomona. Not on the basketball court or on the golf course. If you see her walking down the street, you are to run the other way. You are not to see her anywhere on this earth, do you understand me?”

He nodded slowly.

“And if I find out that you have defied me—and you know I will find out—you will pay, Christopher. Don’t test me. I’m serious. You…will…pay.”

She stared at him, cementing her message, and then stomped from his room.

It wasn’t until she was in her bedroom that her tears came. She laid her head on her pillow. First she’d lost Quentin. Then she’d had the news of her father’s illness. Now she was sure she was on the verge of losing her son. And if she lost Christopher, there would be no one to blame but herself.

“W
ell,” Beatrice began in her calm, cautious way, “you did the right thing. Maybe Quentin needs to talk to Chris too.”

Although they were speaking on the phone, Sheridan nodded, grateful for her mother. This conversation was so different from the one she’d had with Kamora. When she told her best friend about Déjà and the Blue crew, Kamora had hollered with laughter. Sheridan could imagine Kamora in her office, buckled over.

Kamora could barely speak the way she gasped for air. “Stop it, girl,” she repeated, as if Sheridan’s life were a sketch on Comedy Central.

But her mother didn’t find the situation as humorous, and Beatrice was doing something she didn’t often do: she was offering advice.

“I don’t think it’s serious, Sheridan,” Beatrice continued. “This is the first time you’ve had any real problems with Chris, and we know the reason.”

Sheridan closed her eyes. She wondered if silence was as bad as lying. She knew that her mother was talking about Quentin. But this time Sheridan couldn’t blame her son’s behavior on his father alone.

“Have you thought about counseling?”

Sheridan opened her eyes and tilted her head. “No, not really, but that may be a good idea, Mom.” Maybe she didn’t need to be seeing Pastor Ford alone. Maybe she needed to take Christopher and Tori with her.

Beatrice continued. “You and the children have been through so much. It may help to get guidance from a Christian counselor. Give you all a chance to talk through your feelings. And counseling could help Quentin too.”

A car door slammed, and Sheridan peeked through her curtains. Her eyes widened. She jumped away from the window. “Mom, I have to go,” she said.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Sheridan hung up. Her hands shook as she paced in the entryway. She looked down at her jeans and adjusted the collar of her shirt.

Get it together, Sheridan.

She had to show him. Show him that she was just fine. Show him that their time together had meant as little to her as it had meant to him.

The bell chimed, and she took a deep breath. When she opened the door, her face stretched with surprise, as if she hadn’t just scoped him walking up to her front door. “Brock. Nice to see you.” But her tone belied the flutters that made her feel faint. It had been five days, and he looked as good to her now as he had when he took her hand, kissed her lips, and led her to paradise.

His lips spread into his lopsided smile as he handed her a package. “Delivery for you.”

Her inside flutters turned to churning. He wasn’t even there to see her, just there to make a delivery. Her heart cried, but she kept her emotions inside.

She took her tone from casual to professional. “Thank you very much.” Even her fake smile was gone. “Is there something I need to sign?”

His smile was gone too. “Listen, Sheridan, I’m sorry I haven’t called, but…”

She held up her hand, stopping him. “No explanations necessary. I understand what last week was about.”

He frowned.

She continued, “We were just kickin’ it, right?” It didn’t even sound right to her, the way she said it. But she wasn’t going to stand there and be on the wrong side of joy. He was going to feel some of her pain.

“Is that what it was?”

“Yeah. It didn’t mean anything.” She reached for the package. “Is there something for me to sign?” she repeated.

He handed her the blue box. “Too bad,” he said with narrowed eyes. “Because the time I spent with you…it meant a lot to me.”

Now her insides rumbled.

“I came over to tell you that. And to apologize for not calling. But when I left you Saturday, my cell was blowing up. My grandmother had been hit by a car, and I stayed with her at Cedars the entire time. She just went home yesterday.”

Sheridan gasped.

“I haven’t even been to work, Sheridan.” He paused. “I came here looking for a friend, but I guess I came to the wrong place.”

“Brock. I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t. But I don’t want your sympathy. After all, I was just someone you were kickin’ it with.” He turned and trotted to his car.

Everything inside her dropped to the bottom. She closed the door when he sped away, leaving a trail of smoke from the exhaust pipe.

“It meant a lot to me.”

“It meant a lot to me too, Brock.” She wondered just how high she could lift her legs—to kick herself.

She glanced down at the box he’d given her, turning it every way, searching for the label. She frowned. There was no label. She sat on the couch and when she lifted the cover, she gasped.

She raised the porcelain flower basket from the box. Red, pink, and white roses sat on top of a ceramic basket. Sheridan lifted the roses, and soft music filled the room.

Tears came to her eyes as she let the music box complete the stanza of “Zoom.” She replaced the top and noticed the card.

She lifted the top again and let the chimes from her favorite song play out. And then she read the card again. Then played the music; then read the card. And all the time wondered how she could ever convince Brock Goodman to give her another chance.

Sheridan checked the locks on the door and then turned off the lights. She paused outside her bedroom. The lights were still on in Tori’s and Christopher’s bedrooms.

She was still concerned about Déjà, but she knew there was nothing more she could do. Without prompting, Christopher had promised her yesterday and again today that he wouldn’t see Déjà anymore. She’d have to go with that. For now.

Sheridan stepped into her bedroom and saw the music box lying in the center of her bed. She picked up the porcelain piece and removed the top, as she’d done every hour since Brock gave it to her that afternoon.

And again, she read the card.

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

Maybe he won’t answer,
she thought when his line began to ring. By the fourth ring, she was sorry she’d had that thought; she did want to speak to him. On the fifth ring she imagined him sitting, looking at the caller ID. With the sixth ring, she made a promise to hang up if it rang one more time. On the eighth ring, he answered.

“Brock, this is Sheridan.”

“Yes?”

“How are you?” she asked, knowing that was the dumbest question, since she’d just seen him hours before.

“Fine.”

“Were you busy?”

“No.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Should I?”

“Yes. Because I called to tell you I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“What things?”

“I shouldn’t have said that our time together didn’t mean anything to me.”

He stayed silent.

“Brock, please. I’m sorry.”

She sighed when she heard his chuckle. “That’s what I was waiting to hear.”

She pouted. “You knew I didn’t mean what I said?”

“Not right away. At first I was stunned. But when I drove away, I began to think about what you said. No way were you just kicking it. So I figured I had to decipher your coded message. Figure out what you were really upset about. Because with women, the problem is never what they say it is.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, and after thinking about it for two minutes, I figured you were upset because I hadn’t called you. So, was I close?”

She sank under the covers at his psychoanalysis. “You should think about changing careers,” she said lightly. Then she added, “I’m so sorry about your grandmother. How’s she doing?”

“She’s blessed, and she’s told every doctor and nurse in that place. Only her ankle was broken, so she’s able to get around a bit with a walker. She’s a diabetic with high blood pressure. That’s why they kept her in the hospital so long.”

“I wish you’d called me. I would have been there for you.”

“You were with me. In my mind.”

She fingered the porcelain box resting on the nightstand. “I love the music box. Thank you.”

“I saw a catalogue in the flower shop, and when I found out I could customize the music, I had to get it. It was delivered today, and I couldn’t wait to get it to you…and to see you.”

She paused. “I have…” She stopped.

“Tell me what you were going to say.”

“I have a hard time believing your words.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

She could tell he was amused, but she wasn’t, as thoughts of Quentin passed through her. “No, I just wonder how you could say all of that when we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

“I was thinking the same thing. But one of the best lines I’ve ever heard is, ‘A heart does what it wants to do,’ so I’ve given up trying to figure out why I can’t get you out of my head. I’m not analyzing it, just going to go with it.”

“Is that what you want to do? Just go with this?”

“Yeah. As long as you don’t say any more crazy things.”

She almost smiled, then said, “Brock, what does a man like you want with me?”

“That’s what I was wondering.”

Her eyebrows almost fused together at his words.

He continued, “I wondered what a woman like you wants with a man like me.”

“You say the right things.”

“I’m not just saying that. I’m feeling that.”

“I never thought I’d be seeing someone…after my husband. But then I bumped into you.”

They chuckled together.

“I just want to warn you: I’m new at this and I might make a few mistakes.”

“You think?” he teased.

“Can you be patient with me?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with cheer in his voice, “’cause I’ve made a few mistakes, too.” With more seriousness he said, “Sheridan, this is not rocket science. Let’s just go with this. We’ve already gotten the hard part out of the way.”

She knew they’d get to this. Where she had to tell him and at the same time convince herself this was what she wanted to do. “There is something you should know.” She took a breath. “What happened the other night—it can’t happen again.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Was there a big problem with your son?”

She thought of all the trouble that had found them in the last week. “Yes, but it’s not only that. I know this is may sound ridiculous, but I want to live my life right by God.”

“Are you talking about…being celibate?” He said the word as if it belonged in another language.

“Yes,” she said.

His whistle was low and long. “That’s a big challenge when you’re getting to know someone.”

She thought of all the times Kamora had said that. And how she’d tried to convince Kamora that celibacy was God’s way. Then she thought about how it felt to be with Brock. His hands. His tongue. His body.

“I know it’s a challenge,” she said through her thoughts. “But it’s what I want.” She spoke those words as much for herself as for him. “And I have to be responsible for what Chris and Tori see. But”—she paused for a moment, preparing for her next words—“I understand if that’s not the kind of relationship you want.” She spoke the words quickly.

“There you go again, trying to get rid of me. Did I say that I didn’t want that?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing. Look, Sheridan, I’m not saying I’m excited about this. For me, intimacy is an important part of bonding. But I’m curious enough, and intrigued enough, and impressed enough to want to see where this can go. So I’m willing to play…by your rules.” He paused. “For now.”

Her smile started on the inside. “I think you’re a very nice man.”

“Does this mean I won’t have to beg you to have dinner with me anymore?”

She laughed. “You won’t have to beg me and I may even prepare a dinner or two for you.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

She laughed, and they stayed connected for almost two more hours. It was well after eleven when she finally hung up, agreeing to meet him on Saturday.

Sheridan lay down and tried to understand all that was going on inside her. She felt like a teenager on the brink of her first relationship, discovering a new life—a life that made her smile. But fear accompanied her joy. A fear that she’d never live up to the advice she’d so easily given to Kamora all these years.

This is a hard walk.

She fingered the music box, thought about Brock, and she knew for the first time in her life that her friend’s words were the absolute truth.