Love Delivered (35 page)

When I made it to the back of the apartment, I could hear Stenton instructing Jordan on getting ready for bed, starting with a bath. I decided to shower myself before returning to the kitchen to finish the pizza rolls I put together and needed to bake. Jordan loved those things. As I dressed when I got out of the shower, I heard another alarming yelp. This time it held lots more testosterone than the previous one. I threw on my clothes and skipped down to Jordan’s room.

I saw Jordan, at his desk, apparently reading a book. I recognized the book. It was one I assigned to him over the summer while he was in summer camp. Stenton appeared ghostly.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s reading this without a break!” Stenton’s eyes were spooked and his nose flared.

I shook my head softly while wrinkling my brows. “Jordan knows how to read. He’s been reading for almost a year.”

“I knew he could recognize some words, but…this?” he pointed to the book.

“Stenton, that’s not much of a challenge for him. He reads at a third grade level, though I’m pushing for sixth.”

“Third…sixth? Hell, I was bragging about him being able to oil paint and spell his name, mine, yours and his grandparents’.” Then he turned and glared at Jordan, who fought to hide his gloating smile. I guess he could sense his dad gushing over him. “You’ve been holding out me.”

“What?” Jordan burst out in giggles, looking just adorable. A miniature Stenton, that kid was. He really was. The way his eyes slanted to the point of closing, and when his thick, curly eyelashes would connect, it was one of my favorite features of his father’s. Just one.

“You know what, man!” Stenton yelled, playfully. He was impressed. “I’m gonna go hard on you now. You’re going to read my contracts while I put my feet up from now on.”

“Contracts?” Jordan and I screamed at the same time.

I walked out, shaking my head. “We’re having pizza rolls. Be out in twenty minutes.”

“Pizza rolls! Yay!” I heard Jordan shout from behind me.

That night we ate together and discussed the upcoming preschool year for Jordan. Together Stenton and I worked to really hype Jordan up for school. We laid out our expectations for him in concert. This was unusual, but felt good. When it was time to turn in, I slept in Eligia’s bed, not understanding why I hadn’t thought to do it days before. She wouldn’t be returning from her homeland, the Dominican Republic, for a few days.

The next morning proved there was no end to the discoveries of one Jordan Michael Rogers. While he was using the bathroom, just before washing up for school, Stenton strode into his room.

“What are you doing?” His throaty morning vocals stirred something within.

I snorted. “I’m making the bed. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I see that, but I guess my question is why?”

“Because the bed won’t make itself.” I stood, taken aback by his undertone.

“It doesn’t have to,” he informed before calling out, “Jordan, come out here after you’ve washed your hands.”

“‘Kay,” Jordan dragged out, sleepily.

I jerked my head. “Stenton, I usually wash his face and fix his toothbrush for him to brush his teeth after he pees.” 

Stenton ignored my objection and waited until Jordan came out. When he did, Stenton asked, “Why is your mom making your bed, dude?”

Jordan’s little eyes bounced back and forth between his father and me, and within seconds I was able to identify guilt in them. He shrugged his shoulders, holding his little palms out.

You little—

“Come make your own bed, Jordan. You know how to do it. You do it every morning at my place.” I gasped. “And when you’re done with that, I’ll watch you put toothpaste on your toothbrush and get your washcloth soaped for you to clean your face.”

“Okay,” Jordan murmured as he advanced toward the bed and began picking up where I left off.

I couldn’t believe Jordan knew how to make a bed. A short while later, I learned he was far more independent than I knew at getting washed up, too. Stenton supervised him washing his face and brushing his teeth, but Jordan did it all himself. I felt hoodwinked.
Is this what happens when parents don’t work together?
Was the distance between Stenton and me negatively impacting our co-parenting? 

An hour after sending Jordan off for his first day back at school, Stenton’s driver picked us up and with his security in a car behind us, we drove up to New York for Quincy’s funeral. Not only was it completely packed, but it was of a different culture than I was used to. All the funerals I attended were more emotionally charged, with heavy organ-play, random guests regretfully speaking about the deceased, a choir crooning, and a whooping eulogy from the preacher. Quincy’s home going service was more polished, formal, almost aseptic, but not quite. There was emotion shared by his wife, who had a few screaming bouts, and his son who was too overcome with grief to speak.

During the repast, the dynamics were strange. Jackson, whom I’d met a few times over the years at functions for Jordan, sat with a woman looking to be around his age during the service. The same young woman stuck around for the repast. When Stenton and I were ready to leave, we searched for Jackson, not wanting to go before saying goodbye. We found him out near the restrooms, coming from a side door with an older woman—
a very pregnant older woman
—on his heels. She was calling out to him, trying to grab him once he hit the hall, but retracted quickly once she noticed us there. Jackson approached us upon recognition.

“You good, Jax?” Stenton asked in reference to the weeping older woman.

Old hag!

It was easy for me to see there was an intimate connection between the two, and for some strange reason, that pissed me off. What is a woman her age doing screwing Jackson Hunter?

“Yeah, I’m good, Stent. Y’all leaving?” Jackson asked, turning towards me.

“Yeah. We need to get across the bridges to pick up JR from school.”

Jackson’s eyes lit up at that comment. “Like together?” He turned to me again.

I felt my eyes bulge at that dual question. “No!” I whispered forcefully. “No. Well, we’re picking him up together today, but…Jenna’s out of the country and I wanted to come and pay my respects. And then you know…I know how close you guys are and didn’t want the big guy here,” I elbow Stenton in jest. “…doing this alone, so it only made sense that we came…” I cleared my throat. “Together.”

A slow smile crested Jackson’s handsome face. It was even more embellished after seeing his scowl all day.

“StentRo, looks like someone is over-explaining being with you. Let me find out, bruh. You must have worn Zo’s ass out. Got her stuttering, too.” Jackson broke out in laughter with Stenton right behind him.

Despite being the brunt of their joke, it was good seeing them both light-hearted.  

When he was able to, Stenton mumbled something under his breath that neither Jackson nor I asked about.

“Glad to see you again, Zo. Make sure you keep an eye on my man. These are going to be rough days ahead for many of us.”

People don’t believe that I’m no good at the
right words
. I’ve never been the type to respond soothingly to death. So, I did what came natural. I stepped up and hugged Jackson. He immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. When Stenton cleared his throat, Jackson whispered to me loud enough for him to hear.

“Okay. I’m gonna let go, not because I want to, but because I don’t want to have to explain to the media why my client hooked off on me at my old man’s memorial.”

I laughed as I pulled back. When I chanced a glance over at Stenton, there was no smile on his face at all. The fellows said their goodbyes and Stenton and I headed out to lunch, then back to Philly. We picked up Jordan from school, something he was beside himself with glee about. Once back at my place, Stenton helped Jordan with his homework while I prepared dinner. At dinner, we again had great laughter and conversation while we ate.

Stenton bathed Jordan while I changed out of my clothes and prepared dessert. The plan was for us to roast s’mores at the fireplace, something Jordan had done with us separately, but never together. When Stenton came into the kitchen dressed down in sweats and a t-shirt, I peeked behind him for Jordan.

“Where’s the kid?”

“Passed the hell out,” Stenton muttered while walking into the pantry for a nightcap.

“Really?”

“Really.” He poured a glass of tequila. “First day back will suck a lot out of you.”

“And the excitement of having your dad staying the night at your mom’s place will exert a considerable amount of energy out of you, too.”

Stenton froze in place. I didn’t want silence to creep in. We needed to discuss this.

“When do you think you’ll be ready to resume life?”

Stenton angled his neck and asked, “Have I worn out my welcome, Elizabeth?”

Him singing my name like that had heat coursing through my veins. I grabbed his tumbler and downed the entire glass. The burn in my chest could rival the heat he caused between my legs. I still recalled the racy card game we played a few nights ago. But I kept it cool.

“Not at all. I just don’t want to enable you.”

He shook his head as he refilled the glass.

“When’s Jenna returning?” I attempted casually while putting the graham crackers back into the bag since Jordan wouldn’t be joining us. 

“Zo,” Stenton shook his head softly with a mild expression of contentment playing at his face. “I don’t know when Jenna will be returning. I’d have to check with Srey for that information. But I will say, I don’t want to discuss her tonight. I don’t want to discuss anything outside of you and Jordan tonight.” While studying my eyes, communicating something deeper than the words he’d used, he gave me a soft nod. “Okay?”

It took a few seconds, but I let it go. I didn’t question or meditate too long on my response, especially with his heart shaped lips so close and into my face. “Okay,” I whispered as I returned the nod. Oddly, I understood Stenton’s need to momentarily escape his life for relief. I understood the responsibility of so much and many on his shoulders and I didn’t rebuff him for wanting that relief. My heart raced in my chest and pulse beat a quickened rhythm. Unable to remove my eyes from his, I licked my dry lips. “Meet me in the living room. I have something I want to share with you.” I turned to leave the kitchen and when I made it to the opening, I tossed over my shoulder, “Feel free to bring your drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~

So, what’s the science behind this now?”

Stenton almost had me convinced he hadn’t been enjoying my services. His voice was almost that placid. But there was only so much you could pull over on Elizabeth Barrett. I was just that good, particularly with a former lover. My only true lover.

“Servitude.” I returned while rubbing his long slender, skeleton-like feet in a foot tub in the living room. “I ushered a couple of weeks ago during Marriage Ministry Week at my church. Some of the topics and teachings were surprisingly fascinating. This being one of them. During ancient times, biblically speaking, feet-washing was a big deal, seeing everyone wore sandals and would sustain minor injuries and experience daily stains from the terrain. In some of the more affluent homes, when the host had a visitor, to express good will and hospitality, they would have their slaves wash the guests’ feet.” I singled out his toes. “You’re a guest in my fancy…”—I gesture with my neck and head around the room—“…affluent home. I can see the weight you’re carrying, even though you refuse to talk about it. I just want you to relax and let go of it…until you’re ready to man up and get back to life.”

Stenton snorted then took another nip at his drink. “But how does that read in the context of marriage?”

I shrug. “You know what they
say
about marriage—not sure if it’s really carried out—man and wife are supposed to be of the mindset of servitude for one another. They are to work every day to strengthen each other and edify the body of Christ. Washing each other’s feet regularly can demonstrate that.”

“You don’t believe it? Sounds like you call bullshit.”

Finding it hard to look at him for some strange reason, I returned, “I don’t know what I believe exactly. I mean, again, it sounds ideal in theory, but most don’t get that mutual responsibility part. All they understand is the wife is to be seen but not heard. She’s supposed to be the homemaker and baby incubator. It’s hard to buy into an institution that doesn’t fit the motif of your existence. I have more in me than that.”

“What do you want, Zo?”

That question stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t expecting it. Truthfully, I was buzzed and overly comfortable in Stenton’s presence. This wasn’t news to me, which was why I’d decided to avoid his presence. It caused me to lose myself. Like tonight.
Am I really washing this man’s feet?
He belonged to someone else. Again.

I lifted his left foot out of the tub and dried it off, then went for the right.

“I’m waiting,” Stenton pushed.

“I just want to find a man who appreciates me and expects no roles to be played out in the name of traditional love. Just love and want Zoey.”