Authors: Victoria Christopher Murray
The sincerity in her eyes and her voice made me want to apologize for everything that I'd said. My intent was never to make anyone uncomfortable.
Before Harmony could rise all the way, though, I held up my hand. "No seriously. I just want everyone to have a good time today, so just stay here. I've got it under control." I paused and added, "But thank you," hoping that Harmony would understand that I meant no harm.
When Harmony smiled back, I was relieved. All was well, and the conversation once again resumed at the table.
While everyone chatted, I cleared the table. But even as I worked, the questions wouldn't leave me alone. And now, there was a new question tossed into the mix
—
why did I care?
Inside the kitchen, I took my time stacking the dishes on the counter. I was about to rinse them and then put them in the dishwasher, but instead, I just paced the length of the kitchen. All of these questions rolled around in my head. They wouldn't leave me alone, and I was afraid to go back into the dining room. Because something evil was going on in there. Something had control of my tongue, and I couldn't stop my thoughts from slipping out. If I had my way, I would've just stay in the kitchen. I wouldn't leave until everyone was out of the house.
But if I didn't get back out there soon, Brock would come looking for me and drag me back to the table to finish living our traditions.
So, I took a couple of deep breaths, said a couple of quick prayers, and just hoped that my tongue didn't operate without my brain. I fixed a smile on my face and strutted back into the dining room in time to hear Quentin say, "Son, you got yourself a good woman there."
Evon, who was setting out the dessert plates, smiled at Quentin; Christopher stood up and wrapped his arms around her. "Trust me, Dad, I know how blessed I am, and I can't wait to make her my wife. June can't get here fast enough."
"Oh really, June?" Harmony said. She glanced at Quentin with a grin. "You didn't tell me that, baby." And then to everyone else, she announced. "Quentin and I are thinking about a June wedding, too."
Oh, lawd! I groaned inside. If they wanted me to be quiet, this subject needed to be changed. So, I said, "We have sweet potato pie, a lemon cake made by my mom, and this beautiful coconut cake made by this lovely lady." I looked over at Evon. "So, tell me what you want, and I'll fill your plates."
It worked
…
at least for a few minutes. The focus was on everything sweet until every plate was filled with a slice of cake or a piece of pie.
And then, Harmony opened her mouth. "Evon, we really should coordinate about June." Then, looking at Evon and Christopher, she asked, "Do you have a date yet?"
Christopher held Evon's hand. "The first Saturday in June. But, I would marry her tomorrow if Mom weren
’
t insisting on a big wedding."
Evon laughed. "It's both of our moms. They won't let us get away with eloping."
"You got that right," I said. And then I shut my mouth.
Then, Evon said, "I didn't know you guys were getting married already."
"Oh, yeah," Quentin chuckled, "when you get to be my age, you know what you know. No need to waste time."
Harmony laughed. "And at my age, if I want to have children, we need to get started."
I don't know what happened; my fork crashed to my plate and all eyes turned straight to me. "I'm sorry," I said. "But I just can't take it." I looked at Harmony. "Seriously? You want to have children with him? He's
gay.
" To Quentin, I said, "Tell her!"
Quentin's eyes narrowed, and he kept his glare on me. But he spoke to my husband when he said, "Brock, would you mind if I spoke to your wife
…
alone?"
My eyes shot straight to Brock, and when he nodded and said, "If it's okay with her," I wanted to punch him in his eye. Really? He was just gonna let Quentin run things in our house? The way I was thinking, if Quentin had something to say, he needed to say it to all of us since he owed everyone an explanation. But once again, it was the expressions around the table that made me get up and stomp toward the kitchen. I could feel the heat of Quentin's anger following me.
Inside the kitchen, I crossed my arms and Quentin did the same. We stared each other down as if it were a contest, and finally, I broke the silence.
"What do you want?"
"Well, thank you for inviting me to your home and making me feel so welcomed."
I was about to tell him that I hadn't invited him, that he'd been forced on me. But I kept silent and waited for him to say more.
Finally, he threw up his hands and blew out a long breath. "What is your problem with me, Sheridan?"
"I don't have a problem; I have questions
—
there's a difference."
"Why do you have questions about my life?"
"Because I just want to know."
"Why, Sheridan? Why do you want to know?"
"Because
…
because
…
you were married to me for seventeen years, and then you left me."
He blinked as if he were confused. "I thought we were way past that. Especially once you married Brock."
"And now
you're
getting married."
"So? You've remarried; why do you care about me doing the exact same thing? Why do you care about me at all?"
Maybe it was because everyone had asked me the same question, maybe that was the reason why the answer finally burst right out of me.
"Because you didn't just leave me! You left me
…
for a man. You left your wife of seventeen years to join the other team. You changed your mind. And now, you're with a woman?"
He nodded slightly but said nothing.
I said, "So, what does that mean? That you're no longer gay? That you were only gay when you were with me? That I turned you gay?"
"Turned me gay?" he said, as if he had to repeat those words to get them right. "Why
…
why do you think what happened to me has anything to do with you?"
"Because when we got married, you were straight. Then, you became gay, and now, you're straight again. And the only time in there when you were gay is when you were with me."
"That's not true."
"It's not? So you're saying you're still gay, but you're going to marry Harmony anyway?"
He shook his head, then waited a moment as if he were thinking. Then, "Do you remember there was a time when I wanted us to get back together?"
I didn't acknowledge his words, but I did remember. It was months after I'd met Brock, right when Brock and I started getting serious. Quentin had made all kinds of overtures to me, tugging at my heartstrings, making me believe that I still had love for him.
It had been so confusing at the time. Seriously, I didn't know if I should look back or move forward. I didn't know if Quentin trying to come back was a message from God. Suppose God wanted us to be together? You know, that whole "what God has put together, let no man put asunder."
But finally, after a lot of prayer and a lot of patience from Brock, I cut all ties to Quentin and chose Brock.
He said, "When I'd wanted us to get back together, you asked me if I were gay, and I told you that I didn't need to label who I am or what I do."
"Except, we're all labeled."
"We shouldn't be. We should just be who we are."
"But it's confusing; are you bi, straight, or gay?"
He chuckled just a little. "You wanna know what I am?" He paused for just a moment. "I'm an American. An African American. An African-American man."
I shook my head. Quentin knew that wasn't good enough.
"Sheridan, whatever I call myself, that's my business. I'm the only one who matters."
"You
…
and Harmony."
"Let me worry about Harmony. Let me worry about living my life. That'll give you much more time to concentrate on living yours."
There was nothing that I could do except nod. I let a couple of moments pass by and then asked, "I just have to know
…
did I
…
did I turn you gay?"
His answer: He took a step closer, raised both his arms and after hesitating for just a second, he wrapped me in an embrace.
I just stood there with my arms at my side. But though I didn't hold him, I didn't push him away either. Instead, I was trying to figure it out, trying to feel the words that he wouldn't say.
After a couple of seconds, he stepped back, planted a soft kiss on my forehead, and then moved away and out of the kitchen without saying another word to me.
It wasn't until he released me that I realized I'd been holding my breath. I moved over to the counter, leaned against it, and listened as Quentin returned to the dining room.
"We've got to get going," he announced to everyone, and right away, chairs scraped against the floor. I could imagine them all rising, saying their goodbyes, and total sadness came over me. The Christmas that I thought was going to be bad had turned out exactly that way multiplied by one hundred.
Christopher and Tori
…
and Evon, too, were probably all furious with me. They would probably leave with Quentin.
But even though I wanted to go out there, say goodbye to Harmony, and beg my children to stay, I didn't move from the kitchen; I stayed away from that dining room.
So, I just waited, listening to the goodbyes, imagining the parting embraces. Even though I couldn't hear everything clearly, it didn't sound like anyone was sad. They were still chatting and laughing; there still seemed to be nothing but holiday cheer.
But that all could have been a trick, so I just stayed in place. The chime let me know that the front door had opened, though not even three minutes had passed since Quentin had walked out of the kitchen. Quentin, Harmony, and probably Christopher and Evon were all making a quick escape. Even Tori had probably tagged along with her brother, just to get away from her mother.
Sighing, I turned toward the stacked dishes, thinking that I might as well get the real cleanup started. As I opened the door to the dishwasher, I heard footsteps inching closer to the kitchen. I closed my eyes, not wanting to face my mother. But then, I decided to stand up and take my punishment like a woman.
When I turned around, I was a little surprised to see that it wasn't my mother who'd come for me; it was my husband.
Brock stood there, just watching me in silence for a moment, and I tried to hold his gaze, but I couldn't. I had to look away.
He moved toward me; then, he did what Quentin had done minutes before. He held me. This time, though, I raised my arms, and held him, too.
After a few moments, I asked, "Did everybody leave?"
He shook his head. "Just Quentin and Harmony."
"I wondered if Christopher and Evon had left."
He shook his head. "Nope; they're still here."
"I even worried about Tori."
"Where's she gonna go? She lives here."
"And Mom?"
"You know she's not leaving. She has the best bedroom in this house."
That made me laugh a little. "Thank you for not making me feel like a fool."
He shrugged. "You didn't need any help with that."
"Gee, thanks." I paused. "You know I love you, right?"
"That, I know."
Another moment, and then, "The questions I had
…
what was going on
…
none of it had anything to do with you, with us." I blew out a long breath that made me sound like I was exhausted. And I was. "I just had a few questions. All I wanted to know was
…
"
"If you had anything to do with him turning to a man," Brock finished my sentence for me.
I tilted my head. "Yes! So you knew that's what I was thinking?"
"Not the whole time, but it didn't take me long to figure it out. And really," he sighed, "I think any woman would wonder that after what happened between the two of you."
I nodded. "Truly, that's all it was. I didn't want you to think that
…
"
"You still love Quentin?" Again, he finished my thought for me. He shook his head. "No. I have no doubt about that. I know how much you love me."
I exhaled, so grateful that Brock knew the truth. "I'm glad."
"But you know you have to get over all of this, right?" He stared me down like a parent trying to make a point to a child. "We'll probably be around Quentin and Harmony again, and you'll always have questions, but
…
"
This time, I finished for him, "I need to keep my questions to myself."
He nodded. "This is his life, his choices, his decisions."
"I get it. I wish we'd had this talk before."
"Really, you and Quentin should've had this talk before he showed up to our home, with a fianc
é
e, at Christmas."