Grown Folks Business (19 page)

P
ancakes just seemed to be in order.

Sheridan couldn’t remember the last time she’d awakened on a Saturday and had the urge to prepare a full breakfast. But by nine she’d awakened Christopher and Tori with the aroma of blueberries and sausages.

As Sheridan placed the pancakes on the table, she heard it. The sound she’d listened for over the years—Quentin’s car, pulling into the driveway. Her husband coming home.

When he put his key in the door, Tori’s eyes widened. “Daddy’s here?” It was a mixture of pleasant surprise and caution.

“Yes, to see you.” She paused. “And Christopher.”

With her concern gone, Tori raced to the door.

Sheridan eyed her son. “Your father told you he was coming over, right?”

“Yeah,” he groaned.

“Christopher, lose the attitude. After last night you’re facing serious punishment. Keep that in mind.”

Quentin came to the kitchen’s doorway with Tori by his side. “Good morning.”

Sheridan smiled; Christopher moaned.

In their past, at this moment he would kiss her. In the present he returned her smile and pulled out the chair next to Tori. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” Sheridan sat and joined her family, as she’d done for years.

It was a one-sided conversation. One side of the table—Tori and Quentin—chatted about school and the dance recital and how she was beating all of her friends at chess. The other side of the table—Christopher and Sheridan—picked at the pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs.

Quentin asked, “What’s been going on with you, Chris?” Sheridan eyed him. “I mean Christopher,” he said.

Christopher shrugged and fork-stabbed his eggs.

“How are your classes?”

“Fine.”

“How’s your golf game coming?”

It was the first time Christopher looked directly at his father. “I don’t play anymore. I’m into basketball now.”

Quentin sat back, shocked by the news. “I thought you loved golf.”

You don’t get any of this.
Sheridan explained, “He plays basketball a lot…with his new friends.”

“Oh.”

Sheridan said, “Tori, go get your bag. Your grandmother will be here in a few minutes.”

“Do I have to go?” Tori whined.

“This was your idea, sweetie. You asked her to take you shopping for the recital.”

“But I didn’t know Daddy was going to be here.” She beamed at Quentin as if he were a national hero.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he said. “We’ll get together tomorrow after church.” He looked at Sheridan as he said, “I’ll take you to lunch.”

“Great.” Tori ran to her room.

Christopher stood, dumped his plate into the sink, and then moved toward the door.

“Christopher, we want to talk to you,” Sheridan said before he could disappear.

He turned, looking only at his mother. “Can I at least get dressed?” he demanded.

You’re not going to get a reduced sentence that way.
“Be back here in five minutes.”

Sheridan waited until he was out of earshot. “Last night I prayed that God would bring him home. This morning I’m wondering if I should ask God to take him away.”

Quentin nodded. “Teenagers don’t make it easy.”

Sheridan piled the empty plates on her arm and then in the sink. As she returned to clear the table, Quentin asked, “Do you want any help?”

She shook her head. “I’ll take care of this later. I want to handle Chris now.”

He moved toward the living room, but before he took two steps, he turned back. “I don’t want to fight with you…about Tori,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to fight either, but I have to do what I believe is best.”

His glance was intense, as if he were trying to see inside her. “It’s hard to believe you don’t think I’m good for our children.”

“I know how good you are with both of them. That’s why I’m always calling you about them.” She sighed. “I wish you could understand my point.”

“Funny, I wish the same thing.”

The doorbell chimed, giving them a time-out. Sheridan rushed toward the door. “That’s probably my mother.” She paused. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

He frowned. “You don’t think your mother wants to see me?”

“No, but I thought you…never mind.” She opened the door.

“Hey, honey,” Beatrice said, as she stepped inside. “How are…” Her words stopped. “Well.” She looked from Quentin to her daughter, then back to her son-in-law. “Quentin.” There was love on her face and in her tone when she said his name.

“It’s good to see you, Mom.” His steps toward her were cautious, until Beatrice lifted her arms and wrapped him in an embrace. After a moment Beatrice leaned back, and her stare made Quentin turn his head away. With gentle fingers she touched his chin and encouraged him to face her. They stood, eye to eye. “If you ever want to talk, Cameron and I are here. We’re praying for you.”

The three stood like the family they used to be, and Sheridan wondered if Quentin harbored any regrets.

“Hey, Grammy.” Tori bolted down the stairs.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Beatrice kissed Tori’s cheek. “Where’s Chris?”

“He’s getting dressed,” Sheridan said.

Tori added, “We can’t call him Chris anymore. He’s Christopher now.” Tori twisted her lips as if she still found her brother’s demand ridiculous.

“I’m his grandmother and I can call him Chris if I want to.” Beatrice chuckled. She turned to Sheridan. “What’s that about?”

Sheridan shook her head as she straightened the collar on Tori’s jacket. “You don’t want to know.” She kissed Tori. “You guys have a good time.”

“Bye, Daddy,” Tori said as she grabbed his neck. “Will I be able to come to your house next weekend?”

Without looking up, Quentin said, “Maybe.”

“Yeah,” Tori cheered.

Sheridan wanted to slap Tori for asking and beat down Quentin for answering.

When Sheridan closed the door, Quentin said, “It was good to see Mom.”

“You shouldn’t have said that to Tori. I told you that’s not going to happen.”

Quentin folded his arms and leaned against the banister. “Don’t be so sure.”

The certainty that covered each word made her shudder, just a bit. Before she could question him, Christopher strolled down the stairs.

Quentin stared at Sheridan a moment longer, just enough to make her shudder some more, before he turned toward the living room. Christopher followed, and with a deep breath, Sheridan did the same.

“I wanted to talk to you, son, because I don’t understand what’s going on,” Quentin said, once they all sat. “The tattoo, and missing curfew, and even this morning your telling me you’re not on the golf team. I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

Their son shocked them both with his laughter. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Christopher!” Sheridan yelled.

“Mom, I can’t believe you and Dad are asking me what’s wrong. You know what’s wrong.”

She had to agree with that statement.

“Well, maybe I’m not as aware as your mother…”

“I wonder why,” Christopher said.

Quentin ignored his son’s tone. “Explain it to me.”

Christopher leaned back as if he were the one in control. “I dropped the golf team because everyone there knows you.” He paused. “Everyone knows
about
you.” Christopher glared at his father. “I hate that.”

Sheridan sat on the arm of Christopher’s chair.

Quentin said, “Chris, I’m so sorry—”

“Call me Christopher,” he said, his stare continuing. “Chris could be a girl’s name, and I’m nowhere near that. I’m nothing like you.”

A long stream of air pushed through Quentin’s lips as if Christopher’s words pricked his lungs. “I’m sorry, son—”

Christopher didn’t let his father finish. “I hate school because my friends know. I can’t hang out with Nicole or Darryl or any of my other friends. Because they know, Dad. Everyone knows you’re gay, and I can’t stand it. I know Nicole is talking to her friends about it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Nicole.”

“And Darryl and the guys won’t have anything to do with me,” he continued, as if Quentin had never spoken.

It was Sheridan’s turn to reassure him. “Christopher, Darryl’s been your friend for a long time. He’s not like that.”

Christopher jumped from the chair. “You guys don’t know what it’s like. I had to make new friends. I had to get around guys who didn’t go to my school, who didn’t know anything about me.”

“Christopher.” Quentin said his name slowly, as if he was trying to remember to call his son by his full name. “None of this has anything to do with the way you’re behaving.”

“I just want the new guys to like me. I don’t want them to think I’m some fag—” He stopped before he finished the word. With tears in his tone, Christopher said, “You ruined my life, Dad.”

Quentin stood. “Christopher, that’s not what I wanted to do. I love you too much for that.”

“Well, if you love me,” Christopher paused to control the quivering in his voice, “stay away, because I don’t want any of my other friends to know about you.”

Christopher rushed from the room.

Sheridan said, “Christopher, come back here.”

“Let him go.”

When she faced him, Quentin broke her heart all over again. But this time it wasn’t with his words, but with his stance. He was a beaten man.

“I never thought Chris would react like this.”

Sheridan squinted, trying to understand. “Quentin, are you really surprised?”

He nodded as if he were taken aback by her question. “Chris has always been such a good kid. I didn’t think this would change that.” He dropped to the couch.

“So what did you think would happen when you left your children?” Her tone screamed that she found his naiveté hard to believe.

“I just didn’t think…it would be like this. I would have never…”

She sat next to him, let quiet minutes rest between them, and then said, “What happened? What happened to us?”

He looked at her. “Nothing. It all happened to me.”

“But didn’t you know that anything happening to you was happening to me?”

“It’s a lot clearer looking backward. But I just wasn’t happy,” he said, shaking his head.

“I couldn’t make you happy.”

“I told you before, I was happy with you. I wasn’t happy with me. I truly believed it would be better if I told you who I really was. I still think it was better…at least I did until all of this started happening with Chris…and with Tori.” He looked at her, and the confidence he’d worn when he walked through the door this morning had faded away. “Maybe I should have just…”

She waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. “You’re doubting this now?” she asked.

“How could I not? I didn’t want my family to fall apart.”

She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “What about the other side?”

He frowned.

“Are you sorry about”—she took a breath—“being with…Jett?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked that question, and his momentary silence told her he couldn’t believe it either.

He looked straight at her. “I’m only sorry because it’s affected you.” He paused. “Do you believe me when I say I still love you?”

She shook her head. “I have a hard time believing that you ever loved me.”

“That makes me sad.”

“How can you love someone for seventeen years and then one day just leave them?”

“I can’t give you any scientific explanation. I can only tell you what’s in my heart.”

She let his words settle between them for a few seconds before she asked, “Are you afraid?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve lost Chris.” He paused. “And I’m afraid that soon I might lose Tori.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Doubt was in his eyes.

She paused for a moment. “What I was asking, though, was are you afraid…about God?”

He frowned.

“Are you afraid that you’ll never be forgiven for this?”

He exhaled. “There’s nothing I need to be forgiven for.”

His words made her shake. His words made her remember that she had to pray for him.

He said, “For years I saw myself as a sinner because of this and I was tortured by that. But I’m free now. I’ve accepted that this is the way God made me.”

“But what if you’re wrong, Quentin? What if it’s exactly the way the Bible says it is?”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’ll be punished for the heart I was born with. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be this way. This is not my will.”

This is your will.
She wished she had the words to save him. She wanted to tell him to read the Bible. And then read it again. Read it as many times as it took.