Grown Folks Business (10 page)

Sheridan shook her head, full of disbelief. This was the same woman who had spent an entire night and then the next day in bed with a man she barely knew. Yet Kamora sounded as if only Quentin was bound for hell.

“I’m just sayin’,” Kamora continued, “you gotta watch out. Girl, all sin comes from spirits.”

“Who told you that?”

“Girl, it’s in the Bible…somewhere. Just be careful. You gotta think about who your children are around.”

What’s the difference between you and Quentin?

“Anyway”—Kamora sat back and let one of her Jimmy Choos dangle from her foot—“you haven’t seen a man until you see Jackson naked. And the way he…”

Sheridan’s eyes wandered around the coffee bar as Kamora continued her litany of the virtues of her new man. She focused on the couple sitting at the next table. Then she watched the baristas as they whipped up exotic drinks that were once just called “coffee.” She stared at the photo of Magic Johnson holding a Starbucks mug. Anything to keep her from asking Kamora why she was above God’s word but Quentin wasn’t. Kamora slept with every man who smiled at her, yet she sat in judgment.

Sheridan wanted to scream her thoughts at Kamora. But she just kept her cup to her lips and her eyes away from her friend. She said nothing because Quentin didn’t deserve her defense.

W
ho is banging on my door?

“Mom!”

It took every effort to open her eyes. Sheridan hadn’t fallen asleep until the first morning light nudged its way through her window. All night her eyes had been open, seeing her husband with Jett. And even when she’d been gifted with minutes of rest, the stalker followed her into unconsciousness, pulling her awake to face the pain of her man with a man.

“Mom!”

“Come on in, Tori.”

Her daughter bounced into the room wearing mauve Capri pants with a matching shawl. She pirouetted like the ballet dancer she was. “What do you think?”

“Looks good, but when did you start asking me what to wear?”

“I just want to know if you think I look good. I want to look nice for Dad.”

Sheridan almost groaned. “You look great.”

Tori paused. “Mom, you don’t look good.”

“I’m tired.”

“You didn’t sleep?”

“I worked late,” she lied.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be ready for church in a little while. Christopher’s already downstairs.”

Sheridan glanced at the clock. Even though she could be ready in thirty minutes, church was not where she wanted to be. People would be there. People who would ask, “Where’s Quentin?” People who would stare and perhaps see her shame.

She said, “I’m not going to church today. You and Christopher can walk. Or call your Aunt Kamora and go to church with her.”

“Okay, we’ll call Aunt Kamora because Chris will never walk.” She kissed Sheridan on the cheek and then almost skipped out of the bedroom.

Sheridan closed her eyes and prayed that God would keep away the stalker. Keep away the worry of the AIDS test. And she rested. But soon, the banging began again.

“Mom!”

It took enormous effort for her to rise. “Yes!”

Tori bounced in with a smile that wasn’t contagious.

Sheridan said, “I thought you were going to church.”

“We went.” Tori frowned. “We’re back.”

Sheridan twisted her head toward the clock. It was almost two. She certainly didn’t feel as if her eyes had been closed for over three hours.

Tori continued, “Dad’s downstairs. He wants to see you before we leave.”

Her first thought was, why didn’t her husband just come upstairs to his bedroom? And then it made sense. This wasn’t his bedroom.

Sheridan jumped up. “I’ll be down in a minute.” She wrapped herself inside her robe and rushed to the mirror. She undid the twist that held her ponytail and combed her hair. Then she rushed to the bathroom. Within minutes she’d brushed her teeth, washed her face, and prayed that Quentin would remember how he once loved the way she looked in the morning.

She scrambled out of her flannel robe and then searched her closet for the floor-length silk wrap that she’d ordered from Victoria’s Secret years before. But she shook her head when she looked in the mirror.

Ridiculous.

She was back in her flannel robe and walking down the stairs a minute later. She almost smiled when Quentin looked up at her.

“Hey, you,” he said.

Everything about the moment made her want to hold him. The way he spoke, the way he sounded. The way he looked, the way he smiled.

“Hi.” Sheridan crossed her arms when she got to the bottom of the stairs. She glanced at Tori and wondered what her grin was about.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I was just up late last night.” When he frowned, she was glad that she’d chosen those words.
I’ll just let him wonder,
she thought.

“Mom worked late last night,” Tori said.

Sheridan rolled her eyes.

“Oh.” His smile returned. “I was hoping to see Chris too.”

“We have to call him Christopher now, Daddy.”

Sheridan noticed the muscle in Quentin’s jaw tighten as he remembered Christopher’s hurtful words.

Sheridan asked, “Where’s Christopher, Tori?”

“He stayed at church for the afternoon service.”

Sheridan and Quentin exchanged glances, knowing their thoughts were the same. Their son staying for an extra church service? They both knew the reason.

“Well, I’ll see him when we get back.” Quentin turned to Tori. “You ready?”

“Yup.” Tori waved. “See you later, Mom.”

Sheridan tightened the belt on her robe when Quentin turned to her. This was the point where he always kissed her. She waited, but then he stepped outside and closed the door without another word. She stood in place until she was sure he wasn’t coming back to do what he’d forgotten.

At least this time she was dressed.

But Quentin didn’t come into the house. He simply waved from the car when Sheridan opened the front door for Tori.

As she watched Quentin drive away, Sheridan was saddened. Her husband was way ahead of her, already settled in his new world, at ease with his role as a separated parent.

“Dad said he’s late for a meeting,” Tori explained when she followed her mother into the living room. “That’s why we didn’t go to the movies. But he said we’ll go next weekend and that he’ll call Chris…I mean Christopher, later.”

Was he rushing to meet up with Jett?
“Who’s he meeting?” she asked, picking up the newspaper and trying not to sound interested.

Tori shrugged. “I dunno. But Mom, I had a great time. It was absolutely fantastic.”

It was only lunch, Tori.
“Really? What did you have?”

“Just a hamburger,” she said, scrunching her nose as if the food wasn’t part of it. Tori plopped onto the couch. “I’m excited because Dad’s living in Encino and I’ve never been there.”

Sheridan’s heart beat faster. “He told you he was living there?”

“Yup.” And then her smile faded a bit. “Mom, all week I prayed Dad would come home, but then today he explained why he can’t.”

Her heart stopped pumping blood through her veins. They had agreed not to say anything to Tori. Not yet. She put down the newspaper. “What did he say?” she squeaked.

“He said everyone gets to a point in their lives when they have to figure out who they are. He said he waited until he was older to do that, and he was sorry because it hurt you and me and Christopher. But he thinks we’re going to all be better because he is better. He said it’s all about God’s perfect timing.”

How could he bring God into this?
“Is that all he said?” Sheridan asked.

“He said that I might not understand it all now, but that I would soon. But I understand most of what he was saying.”

Sheridan breathed. At least Quentin hadn’t lost his complete mind. But still, how could he tell Tori he was living in Encino? Suppose she figured out that’s where Jett lived?

“I still wish Daddy were home. I asked him if there was a chance of him ever coming back.”

Sheridan’s heart pounded.

“He said no,” Tori said, her sadness apparent. “He said for a long time he’s known he had to leave, but he didn’t because he just wanted to leave his life, not us.” Tori paused and frowned. “I didn’t really understand that part,” she said. “But he says he’s happy, and I want him to be happy.”

You’re way ahead of me.

The joy that walked in with Tori returned to her. “And Dad said he can’t wait for me to visit him in Encino and that we’re going to always do a lot of fun things.”

They were just words, but they pounded her head like a hammer. Sheridan massaged the top of her forehead.

“Mom, are you all right?”

“I have a little headache.” She stood. “I’m going to take a nap and then I’ll fix dinner.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Tori leaned back onto the couch and rested her feet on the ottoman. “I’m not hungry.”

Sheridan had barely closed her bedroom door when she grabbed the telephone. She punched the numbers on the handset so hard, her finger pulsed. Sheridan spoke the moment he answered, “Quentin, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What did I do?”

“You told Tori you’re living in Encino,” she said in a tone that put an exclamation point after each word.

“So?”

“You didn’t ask me if you could tell her that,” she snarled. “Suppose she figures out that you’re living with Jett.”

“First of all, I didn’t know I had to get approval. And second, how will Tori figure out that I’m living with Jett? I didn’t tell her that.”

“At least you had the good sense not to.”

“Well maybe I should have. We’re going to have to address this with Tori…and Chris.”

“Not until I say so.”

“When did you become the rule maker?”

She wanted to curse him out. “When you walked out of our lives.”

“I didn’t walk out of your life, Sheridan. I think you’re just upset…”

You think?
“I don’t care what you think. I want to know everything you’re going to say to my children.”

“If you weren’t so angry, you’d realize how ridiculous that is and you’d realize what I did was good. It’s the first step to telling Tori the whole truth.”

“We’re not telling her anything.”

She heard his sigh. “Why are you so upset?”

She didn’t know if it was his words or his calm that made her anger rise. “Because you’re not here. You’re not here to help me handle the children through this mess.”

“Well, how are you going to handle it when someone tells Tori about me?” He paused. “Sheridan, please calm down and listen to me.”

She sat on the bed.

He said, “Even Chris could slip and say something.”

I didn’t think of that.

“I want to make sure Tori learns about this in the right way,” Quentin finished his argument.

“I know,” she said, reeling in her rage. “Look, Quentin. This is a bad situation—”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he interrupted her.

“But it is. You’re not here when Tori is crying herself to sleep or when I’m trying to explain this new life to Christopher.”

He hesitated. “Is it that bad?” he asked softly.

What are you, stupid?
“Yes, but what did you expect? You’ve turned our lives upside down and you’re surprised that we’re having challenges?”

“I’m sorry, but believe me, the conversation with Tori was innocent.” He paused. “You know, maybe you and I need some time together. Maybe we need to sit down and talk…about this and other things. What about…” He stopped as if he had changed his mind, but then he continued. “What about meeting me tomorrow?” He hesitated again. “For dinner.”

She paused with surprise. There was a lot for the two of them to talk about. But dinner…dinner with him might take her anger away, and she wanted to hold on to it and nurture it so it would grow and cause him the pain he’d caused her. Still she said, “Okay, let’s meet at Carousels.”

Now her words surprised him.

Sheridan said, “Before you ask, I’m sure. Let’s meet at Carousels,” she repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She hung up before she could change her mind.

Yes, Carousels would be the perfect place. No chance of things getting out of hand in public; they were both much too civilized to allow that to happen. And maybe after a few hours with her at Carousels, Quentin would be reminded of the many things he seemed to have forgotten.

T
he FedEx truck rolled away from her home and Sheridan tore at the envelope the delivery man had just left. It was what she thought it was. A thick packet. Legal papers. The top page said it all: “Dissolution of Marriage.”

She flipped through the pages, glancing at the yellow sticky notes her brother had attached for her. After a few minutes, she tossed the packet aside. She couldn’t believe the papers had come right now. Right when she had something so important to do.

She climbed the stairs, and tried to calm her trembling as she reached for the telephone.

“This is Sheridan Hart,” she said when the phone was answered. “May I speak with Dr. Hong?”

The seconds moved like minutes as she waited. Her eyes wandered around her bedroom, and she paused at the pictures on the dresser. Her family. Her children. Her past.

“Hello, Sheridan, how are you?”

“Not good, Dr. Hong. I’ve just been waiting.” She took a deep breath. “I’m calling for the results…of my AIDS test.”

“I have them right here.”

Sheridan closed her eyes, sat on the bed, and wondered why the room had turned so hot. And then she shook as the doctor told her the news.

“Thank you.” She hung up without saying good-bye.

She was a block of concrete, unable to move from the bed. On memories, she drifted back, traveling to the beginning of their days. Her wedding day. Her children’s births. Christopher’s first day of school. Tori’s first dance recital.

Now, because of God’s grace, she’d have a lifetime of more memories. Christopher’s graduation. Tori’s wedding. The birth of her grandchildren. Her future.

Her blood did not carry a certain death sentence. She’d been spared.

Sheridan reached for her Bible on the nightstand. She knew the scripture by heart, but she wanted to read the words.
“The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”

This was her favorite scripture. God’s promise to give back better than the devil could take away.

Sheridan walked to the window. There was only a hint of the sun, but Sheridan felt as if a light beamed inside her.

“This is a sign.” She’d been sure her life was over. The devil had stolen her husband, destroyed her marriage. She was convinced this was all designed to kill her.

But on the opposite side of misery, there was God. There was no need for her to pine for her past life when God promised her a future.

Sheridan turned away from the window, then did what she hadn’t done in a week; she dropped to her knees. Thoughts of the past days flooded her, taking her through all of the emotions. There was so much she wanted to say to God. So much that she wanted Him to know.

Finally she prayed. “Forgive me. And thank you.”

She stood, knowing that God understood. He would fill in all the words in the middle.

From there, Sheridan moved at space shuttle speed. She made the calls, jumped into the shower, and then slipped into a teal sweat suit. Inside her closet, she grabbed the cream pants suit she’d bought with Kamora and packed it inside a garment bag. Less than thirty minutes later, she hurried through the front door. In her car she snapped her fingers, rushed back into the house, grabbed the credit card from her office drawer. She stopped, the divorce papers catching her attention. But the moment of silence didn’t last long. God’s grace showed her that she had to release the grief. She smiled, then rushed through the door.

There was still enough time to have a drink at the bar.

Sheridan entered Carousels and glanced around the dimly lit space.

“Mrs. Hart?”

“Joseph, how’re you?”

“I’m fine,” the maître d’ smiled. “Wow, you look wonderful. Things must be going great for you and Dr. Hart.”

She only smiled. “I’m meeting Dr. Hart, but not for a half hour.”

“That’s fine. I can seat you now.”

“No.” She motioned toward the left side of the room. “I’ll wait at the bar.”

She could feel Joseph’s eyes following her as she sauntered away. The bar was full, but there was one empty stool in between two men dressed in almost identical tailored suits. She eased onto the cushioned seat and almost fell off when she glimpsed herself in the bar’s mirror. Her fingers fluttered through the edges of her new haircut. She’d never worn a style this short, and she’d held her breath as her hairstylist chopped off almost six inches of her tresses.

“Are you ready?” Crystal had asked as she held the oversized scissors in her hand.

Sheridan nodded, squeezed her eyes shut, and didn’t face the mirror again until Crystal had finished. She couldn’t believe how pleased she’d been when she saw the sleek bob ending inches above her shoulder. The angles framed her face, highlighting the sharp slope of her nose and the fullness of her lips.

“You look fab-u-lous,” Crystal had said as she snapped her fingers three times in the air. In the salon’s restroom, Sheridan had changed into the pants suit she’d carried with her and strutted out to whistles and cheers from the stylists and other patrons. Sheridan twirled as if she were the dancer in the family and embraced the compliments.

“I can’t believe you finally stepped out of those tired old sweat suits,” Luis, one of the stylists, sang in his singsong voice. “You know what I always say: if you’ve kept it, flaunt it. And you are showing out, girl.” He high-fived the stylist next to him.

Crystal said, “So, Sheridan, what brought about this change?”

Her smile dimmed, and then she waved her hand as if this transformation was about nothing.

“Hello.” A voice from behind stole her from her thoughts. “What are you drinking?”

She had to turn a bit to see the intruder. And she couldn’t help it. She smiled. From the gleam of his head to the tailored seams of his Italian suit, he was straight off the pages of
GQ
magazine. “I haven’t ordered anything yet,” she said.

“That’s why I’m asking,” he said in a tone that made Sheridan wonder if flirting was his job. “Whatever the lady wants, I’m willing to give her.”

Oh, brother.
“Thanks, but I’ll order my own.” She turned to the bartender. “I’ll have a…” She paused. It had been years since she’d ordered a drink. It was just something that she didn’t do as a wife and mother. “I’ll have a chocolate martini, please.”

When the bartender walked away, the man said, “All I asked was if I could buy you a drink. I didn’t ask you to marry me.”

“Really?” Sheridan pouted as if she was offended. She held up her left hand. “That’s too bad, because I really need a ring for this finger.” The voice was hers, but the words weren’t. That was something Kamora would say.

The man leaned back and laughed so loud that others looked at them. Sheridan laughed with him.

“Excuse me.”

In the mirror she saw Quentin behind her, his face stretched with surprise. She didn’t know what shocked him more, her hair or her company. She didn’t care.

“Hi, Quentin,” she said, spinning around on her stool. “You’re early.”

He stared at her for a moment, but then his glance turned to the man. He held out his hand. “I’m Quentin Hart, Sheridan’s husband.”

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing as she lifted her drink. She motioned to the bartender to bring her check to their table.

“Nice to meet you” was all the man would give Quentin. And then he smiled at Sheridan and said, “It was really nice to meet you. And don’t worry about that drink. I’ll take care of it.”

She smiled her thank-you and then followed the waiter to the table. Quentin held out the chair for her before he sat. She took the napkin from her glass and shook it onto her lap. When she looked up, Quentin was staring at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“You look different.”

You think?
She tilted her head. “Do you like it?”

He nodded. “I do. I just didn’t expect…What made you cut your hair?”

You.
“I needed a change.”

He nodded again. “Well…you look wonderful.” He looked over his shoulder. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, pointing his chin toward the bar.

Sheridan opened her menu and didn’t even bother to look in the bar’s direction. “Someone I just met.”

“Today?”

Sheridan looked up with a frown.

“I was just wondering because”—he glanced at the crystal glass in front of her—“you don’t usually drink.”

A shrug was her response.

Quentin cleared his throat. “What are you having? The usual?”

She shook her head. “No, I want something different.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you know what you’re having?” Sheridan asked.

He nodded. “The usual. So”—he placed his arms on the table—“you just woke up this morning and decided you wanted to do something different?”

She allowed herself to think back to the hour when Dr. Hong had given her the report—that she would not face death, but had received life. “I got some good news and decided it was time for me to push aside the anger and get on with my life.”

“It’s only been a week, Sheridan. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

She jerked a bit at his words. “I thought you’d be happy that I wanted to put my anger—at you—behind me.”

“I am,” he said, and Sheridan wondered why he glanced at the bar again. “It’s just that we both need some time. This is difficult.”

She wondered what the difficult part was for him. He’d left, moved in with Jett, and never looked back. “I want to be like you. You’re moving on.”

Quentin’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

She leaned forward and whispered, “Why did you do this?”

The waiter interrupted them. Sheridan felt like she was on a ledge, waiting to be pushed.

They gave their orders, and she held her breath until Quentin continued, “I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left because I finally loved myself.” He sighed. “My intentions were to never give in to what I truly wanted.”

“How long have you…wanted this?”

“All my life.”

Three words that made her heart sink.

He continued, “When I was a little boy, I knew I was different. I didn’t want to do the things or play the games that my friends enjoyed. And when I got older, I didn’t have the same interest in girls or sports other boys had.”

“So you were never interested in me?”

“Oh, no, Sheridan. I loved you. I still do. But I forced myself—”

“To love me?”

“No, I didn’t have to force that. But I forced myself to live the American dream. I wanted to be part of this country’s tradition. So I hid what was in my heart and molded my mind into what everyone expected. It was difficult, until I met you. I fell in love.”

“So you didn’t have those thoughts when we met, when we got married?”

“Not right after we got married, but soon they came back.”

The image of Quentin with Jett at the golf course returned. And the stalker brought his other possessions: the images of them holding hands, caressing, kissing. She took another sip of her martini, hoping to drown the mental pictures.

He said, “In the last few years, I’ve been overwhelmed with these feelings and thoughts and desires. Every time I looked in the mirror, I came face-to-face with the truth. And then I met Jett.”

She hated the way he said his name. Hated the affection in his tone. And she wondered, had it all been there before?

For two years they’d known Jett Jennings, a top-one-hundred player on the PGA tour. He had been a phenomenon years before Tiger. Retired, Jett moved to Los Angeles from Orlando to run the Jennings Foundation—a sports program for underprivileged children.

Knowing no one in L.A., he’d joined Hope Chapel and, as part of the church’s Brother-to-Brother program, was paired with Quentin, who helped him get acclimated to the city.

Sheridan had been convinced it was a perfect match. Quentin was a wannabe golf pro, and Jett had just been inducted as an honorary member into Quentin’s fraternity. A great friendship was born. Sheridan had called Jett her friend too. He’d attended family dinners, children’s parties, and holiday gatherings. But Sheridan had been unaware that as she opened her home, Jett was stealing her most valuable possession.

Two waiters returned and placed the salmon lasagna in front of Sheridan and the filet mignon with cheese potatoes in front of Quentin.

Sheridan bowed her head, prepared to say a silent grace, when Quentin began, “Dear Heavenly Father, we come to you with praise in our mouths and thanksgiving in our hearts.” His words surprised her. Quentin always blessed their food, but she hadn’t expected him to do that now.

He continued, “We give you thanksgiving for the food we are about to receive. We pray that all impurities will be removed for the nourishment of our bodies.”

Sheridan was about to say, “Amen,” when Quentin added, “And Lord, we thank you for this time of healing, this time of understanding as two of your children come to you for guidance. We thank you and we bless you, Lord. We honor you and we love you. We give all praise in Jesus’ name. Amen.”