Road to Love Read online

  “C’mon little girl. You’re sitting with Orlando and me.”

  I chuckled soundlessly and followed with no resistance. Miss Denise introduced me to her husband, and soon service began. I was so used to the no-nonsense and concise services of the Kingdom Hall that I was a bit taken aback by this church’s atmosphere thus far. It was way livelier than anything I'd been used to previously.

  The choir’s selection came to a close as the Pastor stepped up to the pulpit and people began to take their seats.

  “Church, I want to speak to you this morning about self-care. Now, see, we get so…wrapped up in making sure that we’re taking care of others many times at the expense of ourselves, but that is not what the Lord expects of us. Turn with me to First Corinthians, Chapter three, Verses sixteen and seventeen.”

  Ah, crap. A BIBLE! Seriously, of all things I could have forgotten to bring to church, I’d shown up without a Bible. Granted I had no idea where my personal one was, but this was a Grade A bonehead move. I fidgeted as the Pastor read the scripture aloud.

  “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? If any man defiles the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are. Take a minute to reflect on that. YOU are God’s temple, and HE will not hesitate to destroy anyone who defiles it. Now knowing that, do you think it is wise to burn yourself out for the alleged benefits of others?”

  This sermon struck a chord with me today, specifically the part about sacrificing yourself for the sake of others. I was taught growing up that we should be living a life that is in service to others for it is Jehovah God’s will. I spent many of my formative years making sacrifices that ultimately caused detriment to me. Consistently putting others before myself because my parents said that this sort of selflessness was the mark of a kind, earnest, modern Christian. Yet here was scriptural evidence proving the contrary.

  “Let’s look at First Peter, Chapter Five, Verses six through nine,” the pastor said.

  Miss Denise slid her dog-eared Bible over to my lap and moved closer to her husband Orlando to share his. I looked up, flashed her a grateful smile and quickly shuffled the pages to turn to the indicated scripture. Before the pastor read it aloud, I silently took the words in.

  Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time: Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you. Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: Whom resist steadfast in the faith, knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world.

  As I listened to the rest of the sermon, it seemed to be handpicked for me today. Everything seemed to be happening in succession that could only be described as divine intervention. From the chance meeting with Miss Denise to being here in this sanctuary right now receiving this Word. It was amazing for all of the years that I spent studying the Bible growing up; I had never actually taken a more in-depth look at the words that I’d learned by rote. Of course, I knew the scriptures everyone who has a passing knowledge of the Bible knows, but I had never taken the time out to read and interpret the Word for myself.

  At the close of service, Miss Denise invited me to go to brunch with her, Orlando and a few other members. I declined with the excuse of work to do at home. As I left Miss Denise gave me another of those comforting, grandmotherly hugs, urging me to take heed to pastor’s sermon and take care of myself. She also threatened to hunt me down if she didn’t see me at the church on a regular basis. I let her know that I was about to embark on a trip home for about six weeks, but I’d see what I could do upon my return. Dissatisfied with that answer, she made me exchange numbers with her, so we could keep in touch. I left Prince of Peace feeling invincible.

  My feelings of invincibility soon waned as I thought about the mound of laundry that was patiently awaiting me at home. I had always hated Sundays aka laundry and meal prep day. Until my dreams of becoming a very wealthy individual who could pay someone to do these tedious errands for me came true; these chores were a necessary nuisance.

  I was, however, kind of excited for meal prep this week because it was going to be easy peasy. I’d picked up a book of crockpot recipes that I’ve been dying to test out finally. There was a mouthwatering recipe for chicken and dumplings that I chose to be my inaugural dish. I’d never actually used my slow cooker to make anything more than the occasional pot roast, but this recipe seemed simple enough for me to not completely screw up.

  I headed to the grocery store to pick up a few of the items that I didn’t have on hand at home. Call me a weirdo, but there was something strangely comforting to me about the grocery store. I’d wandered around my local store for over an hour on multiple occasions and walked out with nary an item. Today though, I had no time to dawdle because I wanted to make it home in time to watch the games. One of the good things that Bobby brought into my life was his love of sports. Before dating him, I had a passing interest in anything sports related. During our relationship, however, there were only so many times that I could ignore his hooping and hollering in the den while his teams either marched to victory or fell into the valley of defeat on any given day.

  After picking up the items I needed for the chicken and dumplings, I wandered over to the snack aisle to pick up some tortilla chips to munch on while I watched the game and waited for dinner to be finished. Walking down the aisle, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Now babe you know the doctor said you couldn’t have hot Cheetos. It’s bad for the baby.”

  Sugar! Of all the people to run into today. Pulling my sunglasses from my hair to cover my eyes, I crept up the aisle, sneaking a brief glance to make sure I hadn’t mistaken that voice. Yep, there they were—my ex-boyfriend, Bobby, and his baby mama arguing over chips. Oh did I mention that his baby mama was someone I used to consider to be one of my closest friends? My roommate from freshman year of undergrad ended up being a backstabbing child of God who schemed to steal my man. That’s funny, right? So very funny in that way that’s not so funny at all. So how did we go from Bobby and I being together to him now being booed up with Jen? I had no idea, honestly. I thought we, Bobby and I, were good. I should have known something was going on though; the signs were there. Jen wanted Bobby from the first time we saw him, but he chose me. She never quite got over that I guess.

  When we met Bobby, Jen and I were out at one of those professional singles happy hour parties. Which, by the way, are generally loads of crap. You have dudes in there frontin’, peddling lies about their occupation and cash flow to all of the thirsty chicks who were so desperate for a man that they wanted to believe the ridiculous tales that fell from their mouths. I consistently refused to attend them because I knew that I would be bored out of my mind. After months of badgering from Jen, I decided to accompany her to a mixer, mainly because it was at one of my favorite bars whose mango habanero margaritas I could not resist.

  After about an hour of being approached by one boring dude after the next, I was ready to bounce; then I noticed Bobby standing by the bar. He was angled so that most of his back was pointed at me, but I appreciated the view. He was about six feet tall, with a broad-shouldered quarterback physique. He had on a charcoal grey suit, navy dress shirt and the shiniest black shoes in the building. I noticed that he had discarded the jacket to his suit and rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbow. His skin was the exact color of the Bittersweet crayon in the Crayola 64 box from my childhood. I willed him to turn around, praying that the front view was as glorious as the back.

  Jen noticed my gawking at the same time that Bobby turned around from the bar. We both clutched our invisible pearls as he trained his handsome gaze on the two of us. His full mouth curved upward into a smile as he disengaged from the conversation with his friends and made a beeline to our table. I waited nervously, not sure if he was coming over to talk to Jen or me but praying that it was me. That n
ight the Lord was on my side because Bobby struck up a conversation with me, without throwing a second glance at Jen. We ended up talking for almost an hour until Jen announced that the place was dead, and she was ready to go. Since she was my ride, and ride-sharing services were not a thing back then, I had no choice but to leave with her.

  Bobby and I exchanged numbers, and he called me that night. We spent all night on the phone like a couple of teenagers, conversation flowing smoothly as if we had known each other more than a few hours. That conversation led to our first date, and after that? We had been inseparable…well until I came home to find him entirely moved out and having left that raggedy note. I had to find out secondhand that he’d left me for Jen. Mutual friends alerted me to the new couple…and their bun in the oven, and I felt sick. Despite the size of this city, our circle was small, and I had gratefully avoided running into them so far. Until today.

  Of course, as my luck would have it, they were standing right in front of the hint of lime chips that I needed to accompany the guac I’d grabbed from the deli. Forget that noise. I didn’t need those empty calories anyway. I turned to move out of the aisle before being spotted by them.

  “Emerson? Is that you, girl?” I heard Jen call out.

  I had two ways in which I could handle this. I could act like I didn’t hear her and continue on my way. Or I could confront the situation head-on. The coward’s way out seemed most logical. Lord knows my temper would get the best of me and I didn’t want to have to call my girl Kellee to ask her to bail me out of jail on this beautiful Sunday. I couldn’t go from the church house to the jailhouse.

  I kept walking until I heard, “I know she heard me. Emerson! Yoo hoo!”

  Any other day I would have let that roll off my shoulders and kept my stride. Today wasn’t that day though.

  Pivoting and marching straight up to her I said, “Yes, Jennifer. I heard you. But then I said to myself, Emerson your mind’s playing tricks because why would this trashy yamp try to get your attention as if y’all were still cool? As if you really want to see the two of them together arguing over some daggone chips while standing in front of the one bag of chips that you wanted in this aisle. Nah, you’re bugging. But then…THEN you had to add insult to injury by calling me out when I was doing you a favor and avoiding…this,” I said, gesturing between the two of us.

  “It’s been six months, aren’t you supposed to be over this by now? You always said you should only dedicate a month per year after a break up…y’all were only together for five. Anyway. How are you?”

  “Are you serious?” I turned to Bobby, who looked like he was desperately trying to disappear into the Cheetos display. “Um…my dude, is she serious right now? Take your girl and walk away.”

  “No really, Emerson. I’ve been calling you, and you won’t return my calls. I miss my friend. I ran into Kellee a few weeks ago and told her to tell you to give me a call. I think we need to talk about some things.”

  Is this what pregnancy does to you? Does it distort reality so much that you become delusional? Am I being punked? Where’s Ashton?

  “What, pray tell, do we have to talk about, Jennifer? Do you think I want to you to detail how you spend the last eighteen months of my so-called relationship screwing my boyfriend? Did you think I wanted a play-by-play of the seduction techniques you used? Do you think I want to know exactly how many times you did him in my bed? You got me in the middle of Miller’s Fine Foods, screeching like a freakin’ harpy and looking a fool because you couldn’t just let this go. Did you think I’d somehow gotten retrograde amnesia and forgotten about you stabbing me in the back and stealing my man? WE don’t have a THING to talk about, Jen.”

  “You don’t have to be so nasty, Emerson.”

  “So nas---no, nope, nein, nyet. Not today. Y’all be blessed,” I said, reaching forward to grab those hint of lime chips I’d been craving. I deserved a reward for having to deal with this mess. My hand was pushed out of the way by Bobby.

  “Did you really think I was about to put my hands on that yamp? Really, dude? Please, she isn't worth it,” I said while once more reaching for and grabbing the hint of lime chips I wanted and stalking away.

  I seethed my way through the checkout line and into my car. After loading my bags in the trunk, I got in and just sat. What the heck was that? Did that really just happen? I took a few cleansing breaths and counted down from fifty before I turned the key in my ignition and began my drive home. Before I pulled off, I texted Kellee.

  Code Pope.

  While I drove home, her response came up on my car’s dashboard.

  OMW with Petite Syrah and chocolate. - Kells

  “So wait…explain this to me like I am a third grader,” Kellee said while refilling our glasses. We’d gone through the bottle of Petite Syrah she brought over while I told her about my grocery store run-in and had moved onto a bottle of Pinot Noir we uncovered in my cupboards. No telling how long that bottle had been there, but we were in a bind, so it would have to do.

  “Kells, there is nothing to explain. That trick tried it, plain and simple. But I look like the fool because while I was ranting and raving, they both stood still as statues and let the crazy lady go off.”

  I grabbed a chip, violently crashing it into the guacamole. I didn’t even really taste the food as it entered my mouth. I just kept replaying my rant and how I could have handled it better. Things I could have said and things I wish I hadn’t said. I went to grab another chip, but instead just looked at the bag begrudgingly. Had I not just needed to have these darn chips to pair with my guacamole, that entire interaction could have been avoided. One thing was for sure, whether or not Liam could handle it; I needed to get away immediately.

  “Emerson? Are you listening to me?” Kellee waved her hand in front of my eyes.

  “Sorry, Kel, I wasn’t. I’m too busy replaying that mess from the grocery store. And WHY did it have to happen in the grocery store of all places? My sanctuary? It’s like the universe knew I was feeling too good, so it had to throw something at me to muck that all up.”

  I sighed and got up to check my crockpot. The chicken and dumplings smelled good despite its appearance. I had still been a bit heated when I came home and began preparation, as the jagged pieces of chicken and vegetables clearly showed.

  “I’ll never get this grocery store thing, Emerson,” Kellee laughed.

  “It’s just my place.”

  “I was asking if you were finally going to take that trip home that you keep threatening us with.”

  “You actually read my mind, Kells. I have a meeting with Liam tomorrow to discuss time off, but it’s a definite thing in my eyes whether he agrees or not. As a matter of fact, pass me that tablet. I need to look up flights.”

  While I searched flights, Kellee took her leave. I’d interrupted her lazy Sunday with my text, and now that she was satisfied that I was calm and not feeling foolish enough to seek out Jen and Bobby again, she left.

  I found a nonstop flight leaving early Wednesday morning, which would get me home around midday Central Standard Time. I booked it and texted Grace my details.

  You’re flying into Detroit? Really sis? Ugh, you know I hate driving out there. – Amazing Grace

  But you love your little sister more, right? Besides, we can go to Mangione’s before heading back home. I KNOW you love their pizza.

  That’s right, appeal to my outer fat girl. Fine. You owe me more than pizza though. – Amazing Grace

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. See you Wednesday. Love you.

  Love you more. :) – Amazing Grace

  Grace always ended each of our exchanges with “love you more”, which I found both endearing and maddening at the same time. That competitive edge never dies, I guess. I couldn’t wait to get home to see my big sis and have some quality time. It’d taken us a long time to get to this place in our relationship and I was so grateful for it now.

  While we were growing up, our parents, namely our father, always pitted
each of us children against one another. If one brought home an A, the others fought hard to bring home an A+. This tension between us boiled over until my older siblings decided to go against the grain and rebel. First to defect from our parents’ household was Grace, getting pregnant by her high school sweetheart at seventeen. I was only nine years old at the time, so I didn’t fully grasp everything that was going on. She was banished from our home, exiled because she dared not only to fornicate but also have a child out of wedlock. I missed the first few years of my nephew Grayson’s life due to my parents being fanatical about us not associating with Grace after she had been put out.

  Miraculously, my mother’s resolve weakened one day, and we began seeing Grace again. Just she and I though, secretive visits that were never planned or lasted very long. My father didn’t meet Gray until he was nearly seven years old when Tamia was born. I guess it took a little grandgirl to soften his cold, black heart.

  “So let me get this straight, love,” Liam said, leaning back in his chair, balancing on one leg at an angle that scared me every time, “You expect me to sign off on you taking over a month of vacation effective two days from now?”

  “Yes.”

  The room fell silent, and we all sat there looking at each other. It was just Liam, Heather and I in his office. I knew that he fell silent as one of his intimidation tactics, but I wasn’t falling for it. I sat there sipping my espresso while Liam remained precariously balanced on one wheel of his office chair. Both Heather and I had warned him against tilting his silly behind back and more than anything I wanted him to fall today. He was behaving ridiculously. We had no pressing pitches on the docket. It was actually our slow season, so there was no more perfect time for me to take this leave than now.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Liam, just say yes. You already know you’re going to,” Heather yelled, breaking the silence.

  I remained silent because I knew that he was looking for me beg and plead, using reasons of which he was more than aware, and I just didn’t have it in me. We both knew that without his express permission or not, I was going, and he would deal. Liam finally brought his chair down flush with the ground, and I looked him in the eye with a raised eyebrow.