Zane's Nervous

  “But she accepts it now?”

  I shook my head. “She doesn’t know about the latest developments, but I plan to tell her the first chance I get.” I stared at Mason, who was sitting there looking into space. “I just want to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For at least listening to me and hopefully, for not judging me.”

  “I have to confess. Last night threw me for a total loop, especially when you, I mean Jude, told me about what happened with Logan at the wedding. But—”

  “But what?” I asked.

  “Even though you were acting raunchy and told me about fucking everything that moved, it was strange because I still wanted to be with you. It went against everything I’ve ever believed in, but I still craved you.”

  I blushed uncontrollably. “Really?”

  He took my hand and kissed it. “Really.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Now that we’ve discussed this, I don’t want you to have to go through this alone.”

  “I’ll have my parents.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll also have me.”

  We sat there in Mason’s car for a good while and I started telling him about all the childhood memories, or lack thereof, that I had. He was mesmerized and so was I. To think that he was still talking to me after what Jude had done was all I needed to know to make a final decision. Mason was the man for me. The only man for me.

  29

  jonquinette

  I woke up early the next morning, miraculously, rejuvenated. Mason had come upstairs with me the night before and stayed with me for several hours. We didn’t really talk, at least not with words. We cuddled on my sofa and watched One Week and Love and a Bullet on cable, starring Treach, who was phenomenal.

  Mason must have let himself out because when I woke up, I was covered up with a fleece blanket and the volume on the television was turned down.

  It was just after seven A.M. and I was excited, since it meant that I could make it to the eight o’clock church service on time. I was determined to get my life on the right track and getting back into the habit of going to church was a good start.

  Even at that time of the morning, church was packed. I managed to squeeze past a heavyset gentleman and take a seat next to an elderly woman on the next to the last pew. The music ministry moved me to the point where I jumped up and started stomping my feet. Normally, I would’ve been too embarrassed to draw attention to myself but something was changing. It was a new dawn.

  When it came time for the first Scripture reading, the woman beside me let me share her Bible because I had forgotten mine at home. After the Scripture had been read, Reverend Townsend stood up in the pulpit and told the members of the congregation to shake hands with all of the people surrounding them.

  Everyone got on their feet, with the exception of those who could not, and greeted each other warmly. When I shook the elderly woman’s hand, I took a good look at her face and couldn’t help but wonder how old she was. She had a ton of wrinkles but there was something youthful about her appearance.

  The rest of the church service was very moving. The minister gave a sermon that I really needed to hear. The topic was “Believe in Yourself.” He reminded us all that every day our beliefs guide our actions and it is up to us to make the impossible become possible. It validated what I had been feeling with Mason the night before. I believed that I could overcome my situation with the right support circle in place and enough faith.

  After church service ended, I did something that I had never done before. I actually stayed and talked to people in the fellowship hall. It was the church’s anniversary so there were many people lingering around, preparing for a big celebration dinner later that evening, which I didn’t plan to attend.

  I had just finished talking to a woman named Jasmin, who wanted me to join the YAMS, the Young Adult Missionaries, when the elderly woman came up to me and took my hand.

  “What troubles you, child?” she asked me.

  I laughed nervously. “What makes you think I’m troubled?”

  “I’ve lived a long time,” she replied. “And when you are blessed to be here as long as I have, you start to see things. You can read faces. I have been reading yours all day.”

  She had me curious. “What does my face say?”

  “That you’re hurting. That you came here today looking for help, searching for answers.”

  “You’re right. They say church is the place to find yourself. I’m here to find myself.”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways, child,” she said, patting me on the arm. “He never gives us more than we can handle. I’ve buried three husbands and two children and every time, I thought that I would never survive the pain. But, guess what? I did. For whatever His reasons, He called them all home before me and one day, I will see them all again.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, child.”

  “I know you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age, but I’m really curious about yours. You have this glow about you, almost childlike, but yet you are so experienced and wise.”

  She grinned at me. “I’m flattered. And please, I passed the point of being offended when someone asked my age decades ago. I’m ninety-three.”

  I was stunned. “Ninety-three?”

  “Yes, I’ve been here a long time. I still have four surviving children, nine grandchildren, and thirty-eight great-grandchildren.”

  “That is amazing.” I suddenly felt ashamed. The woman had so many people who loved her and I had never truly been loved. “I’m not married,” I said in embarrassment. “In fact, I’ve never really had a relationship, but I’m kind of getting close to someone now.”

  “Don’t fret, child. You still have plenty of time left. I can feel it in my bones. You’re going to be here for a long, long time.”

  A tear formed in the corner of my eye. Not if Jude has anything to say about it, I thought.

  “I can tell something is troubling you,” she continued. “But trust me, this too shall pass and life will go on. There were times when I begged the Lord to put me out of my misery, especially when I saw my youngest child kill himself right in front of me.”

  “Oh my gosh! What happened?” I asked and then regretted it immediately. I didn’t want her to have to rehash bad times. “Never mind. That is none of my business.”

  “It helps me to talk about it sometimes. Chad had everything going for him. He owned his own business, had a home, a nice car, and everything to look forward to. Then he hooked up with the wrong woman and she had him so taken with her that when she decided she wanted to move on to something better, he couldn’t handle it. Chad came to my house one night, a Saturday night. I remember because I was on my way to play bridge. He came in, sat down on my sofa, told me how much he loved me and always would, and then he took a pistol out of his jacket and shot himself in the side of the head.”

  Something made me want to throw my arms around the woman and hug her. “I’m so sorry.”

  She embraced me back. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She let go and looked me in the eyes. “Just do me one favor.”

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t let your troubles break you down. Be thankful for every day, every single day, because you never know when it will be your last.” She wiped a tear from my right cheek. “Even at my age, I still embrace life. I come to church every Sunday and praise the Lord, every Saturday I play bridge at the local hall, and every Tuesday I have dinner with my man.”

  Now I was really shocked! “Your man?”

  “Yes, can you believe it?” she asked jokingly. “Even at my age, I can still pull them.”

  “Is he your age?”

  “Honey, finding a man my age would be like searching for an ear of corn in a watermelon patch.”

  We both laughed.

  “No, I have a younger gentleman who comes calling. He’s just a baby: seventy-four.”

  “Wow, I never thought I’d hear a man in
his seventies being called a baby.”

  She giggled and ran her fingers through her silver hair. “Me either, but thank the Lord that I’m here to be able to do it.”

  “So every Tuesday you have dinner together? That’s so romantic. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I’m happy for me, too, and dinner is not all we have,” she said suggestively. “I make the same meal every week: smothered pork chops with gravy, collard greens, creamed corn, and sweet potato pie. He always brings a bottle of sparkling cider and a bouquet of roses. We sit and talk, we eat, and then we make love.”

  I was so amazed at her openness and I realized why she looked and felt so great for her age. The woman was loved by a man and she loved him back. That was something I had never had but something I was determined to get.

  The hall was thinning out so I decided it was time for me to head on home. “Would you like for me to walk you out? Do you need a ride someplace?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. I live a block away and I enjoy the walk. One reason why I’ve lived so long is because I’ve always been active. I watched way too many of my friends wither away and most of them would have lived a lot longer if they hadn’t just given up. Just because you age doesn’t mean you have to act old.”

  “I totally agree with you.”

  She gave me one last hug. “Take care of yourself, child, and maybe we can sit together again sometime.”

  I smiled. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” She started walking away. “Wait! I don’t even know your name.”

  She turned around. “Just call me Nanna. That’s what everyone calls me: my family, my friends, and the people here at this church. I’m like a mother to everyone.”

  “Thanks, Nanna,” I said. “My name’s Jonquinette and it has been a real pleasure. You’ve helped me in ways I could never explain.”

  She chuckled. “We all help each other.”

  30

  jonquinette

  My conversation with the old woman after church truly motivated me. I found myself so hyped up later that night that I couldn’t get to sleep. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, but sleep would not come. I tried drinking a pot of green tea. Still nothing. I tried reading myself to sleep with V. Anthony Rivers’ novel Everybody Got Issues. I ordered the book offline because of the title, not only catchy, but true. Still nothing, though. I couldn’t go to sleep.

  I finally figured out that I needed to talk to someone about my plans to speak with Momma the following day. I thought about going downstairs to Mason’s but I didn’t want to appear too needy. At least, not with him. So, I called the one person who was well aware that I was needy and then some. It was ten after midnight.

  The phone rang twice before a groggy female voice picked up and said, “Hello.”

  “Marcella?” I asked to make sure I had copied the right phone number down from my answering machine.

  “Jonquinette, is that you?”

  I was astonished that she recognized my voice so quickly. “I’m sorry for calling you at home so late on a Sunday but I really need to chat with you.”

  I heard some movement on the other end of the phone and then she said, “I already told you, you can contact me anytime. What’s wrong?”

  “I just feel so bemused and I’m scared about what I plan to do tomorrow.”

  “Which is what?”

  I paced the floor with my cordless phone for a few seconds before answering, “Confronting my mother.”

  “Do you need to talk in person, Jonquinette?”

  “I would be grateful for that,” I responded without a second of hesitation. “Can you meet me at your office?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s ridiculous for me to expect you to come out this time of night.”

  She took me off guard by saying, “I’ll come to you. Give me an hour.”

  • • •

  Always true to her word, Marcella was knocking at my door exactly fifty-six minutes later. I had spent that time straightening up and trying to look more organized than I normally was. This was Marcella’s first time at my place and my mother always taught me that people can tell a lot about a person by the way they live. Being that Marcella was my psychiatrist, I expected her to really inspect and analyze everything about my residence. I rearranged my magazines so that they were in monthly order, my DVDs and CDs so that they were in alphabetical order, and my books as well. It was silly, really, but it helped me pass the time.

  Marcella came in wearing a sweatsuit and a pair of sneakers. She looked youthful in the outfit. I was used to seeing her in business suits and heels. I had on a pair of pajamas and a fluffy pair of slippers.

  I hugged her with appreciation when she came through the door. “Thanks so much for coming.”

  “Don’t mention it, Jonquinette.”

  I led her into the living room where I had prepared a plate of cookies and another pot of tea, since I figured we would be up into the wee hours of the morning.

  After we were seated on the sofa, Marcella asked me, “So what makes you assume that speaking with your mother will be a confrontation?”

  That was an easy question. “Because I know how she is.” I poured us both a cup of tea and put a spoonful of sugar in mine. “I haven’t discussed my mother much but when I said she was self-absorbed, that was an understatement.”

  Marcella took her cup from me and put two teaspoons of sugar in hers. “How so?”

  “My mother thinks the entire world revolves around her. She doesn’t identify with the fact that everyone else has problems of their own.”

  “You mentioned her being bitter about the divorce.” Marcella took a sip of her tea. “Um, this is delicious.”

  “Ha, bitter is putting it lightly. When that hooker showed up at Thanksgiving dinner and humiliated her in front of her entire family, she was distraught. She probably thought it was a fate worse than death.”

  “Tell me more about your mother’s background.”

  “My great-grandparents were murdered when she was a child and I don’t think she ever recovered from their loss. Her parents are retired. They were both janitors and she was ashamed of it.”

  “Do you see your grandparents?”

  “I try to visit them in Florida at least every two years, but when I go down there, they always seem introverted. It’s like I don’t exist. They never go out with me when I’m there and they don’t even offer to let me stay with them, even though they have the space.”

  “So where do you stay?” she asked.

  “At a hotel down the street,” I replied. “Plus, Florida brings back a lot of bad memories for me. Being tantalized and browbeaten. I don’t have any fondness for the place, but I do adore my grandparents.”

  “Does your mother have a close relationship with her parents?”

  “Good question. She talks to them on a regular basis; that much I know for sure. Whether I would classify them as being close, I don’t know.” I picked up a cookie and nibbled on it. “So much has happened this weekend. I’m not sure if I can handle anything else.”

  “What happened this weekend?” Marcella asked excitedly.

  “You better brace yourself.”

  Marcella sat up straighter on the sofa. “Okay, consider me braced.”

  “Darnetta showed up here yesterday morning and punched me in the nose.”

  “Darnetta? The coworker you mentioned? The one who invited you to the wedding?”

  “Yes.” I paused to take another sip of tea. “Apparently, a whole lot happened at the wedding when Jude took over.”

  “Such as?”

  “Jude seduced Darnetta’s man.” I searched Marcella’s face for a clue as to what she was thinking, but couldn’t read her thoughts. “She did it with Logan right there during the reception.”

  “Let me get this straight. Jude had sex with the man in public?” she inquired.

  “Well, in a private room somepla
ce, but basically, yes.”

  “So what did you say to Darnetta?”

  “I did the rational thing since I knew she wasn’t making it up. I apologized for Jude’s behavior—my behavior.”

  “Did she accept your apology?”

  “Absolutely not. In fact, I still need to go through the want ads so I can start applying for other jobs in the morning.” I got up and started pacing the floor. My anxiety had kicked back in full throttle, just thinking about going to work. “Darnetta is a drama queen and she’s going to do everything within her power to make me out to be the devil incarnate at the office.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “That’s also not all,” I uttered.

  “What else?” Marcella asked.

  “From what I’ve been able to piece together, the way Darnetta found out was by walking in on Mason and Logan arguing about it.”

  “Logan told Mason?”

  I shook my head. “No, Jude told Mason.”

  “Jude?”

  “Uh-huh. Mason came over here Friday night to ask me out to a movie and Jude convinced him that I was a whore and to prove it, she threw the incident with Logan up in his face.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “Mason told me.” I sat back down beside her, remembering the wonderful night we had spent together. “He’s such a good man.”

  “I take it that things went well between the two of you.”

  “I told him everything. He actually listened to me and even tried to comfort me afterward.”

  “That’s definitely a good thing.”

  “Yes, it is.” I began to think about the possibilities between Mason and me and how much I wanted to see what could actually develop. Then I thought about Jude and how she could ruin it all. “Jude’s getting out of control. Or maybe it’s the exact opposite. Maybe she’s in control.” Marcella was silent. She seemed like she was in deep thought. “She’s really going to take over completely, isn’t she?” I asked.

  Marcella said, “Not if I have something to say about it.” She took my right hand and held it tightly. “Jonquinette, I need to speak with Jude.”