Love Delivered (5 page)

Things got quiet. I glanced up to find Stenton’s fixated gaze on me. It was intense, searing. The depth of emotion in his marbled eyes could strangle me. I didn’t understand it though.

“So, you and Erika finally, huhn?” my tone feigned cheerfulness.

I’d watched and read the countless reports of their official announcement of formally dating.
Formally dating…
What did that mean? According to Stenton when we first met, for him and Erika Erceg it meant a manufactured relationship. But for Erika it meant she’d gotten what she’d wanted for years. I was still baffled by what Stenton had to gain by it, though.

“Zo—” he started.

“That’s your business life, right? Don’t worry about it. You like your privacy and I respect it. It was a simple reference to Mr. Google, not your real life, right?” My tone was even.

I didn’t want him to feel like he did anything wrong when he moved on. Stenton had been generous to Jordan and me. I should have had no complaints. These are things I said to myself as I packed up our things and secured Jordan over my shoulder before standing.

“Sarah Barrett made your uncle banana bread. If you’re kind he’ll share one piece with you. Just keep your shoes on,” I advised.

Stenton’s face morphed into a quizzical expression. I didn’t want to allow time for a serious talk, so I reached up, signaling for him to bring his head down as I always did, and planted a kiss on his stubbled cheek. Inhaling his virility was torturous. I didn’t slow my steady stride out into the living room where Stanley sat, watching television.

“You leaving?” he echoed his nephew’s question.

“Yes. I have homework to complete.”

“Okay,” he replied monotone, not even facing me or offering goodbyes to a sleeping Jordan, who Stenton was locking up in his car seat.

His reticence had returned. That was okay with me because I knew my time in his good energy had expired, but would return the next time he agreed to interfacing. Similar to his nephew, who was now leaning against the doorway of the living room, wearing the same morose expression I woke from my catnap to find. This time, though, it wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of his appendage. He too would come around to being the Stenton I fell in love with when he got ready.

My momma would always tell me, “
Never dim your light to accommodate ill-tempered people. Most often, the best solution to their disposition is the consistency of your shining light. People may not like people, but they love the consistency and predictability of them.
”

That was my resolve when preparing to leave the Rogers’ residence. I didn’t like that Stenton was “formally dating” Erika Erceg, no more than I liked Stanley turning cold as soon as I left the kitchen, but I was confident that they’d both come around. Stenton picked up Jordan’s car seat and I took it from him, refusing his help. I could manage on my own. But that didn’t stop him from watching us out the door and into the truck.

“You two Rogers’ men, take care. Oh, and Stent,” I halted my steps and tossed him a glance over my shoulder. I saw him straightening, apparently affected by my attention. “T-Murder says this lil’ nigga, JR, looks just like you.”

Both their eyes flew to me. Stenton’s nostrils flared and his shoulders broadened.

“That muthafucka said what?” Stenton hissed through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I’ll handle his narrow ass,” I could hear Stanley promising from inside.

All I could do to keep from laughing while placing Jordan inside and then myself was bite my bottom lip.

~~~~~~~~~~

~
Stenton
~

After watching my life drive off and around the corner, I acknowledged my armor parked in front of the house. Then I slowly closed the door.

“That’s a good girl right there. A special…forever kinda girl,” Uncle Stanley muttered while his eyes were fixed on the screen.

“Yeah,” I concurred painfully. “Do I know…”

“Question is what’d she ever see in your wayward ass?” he grunted.

“That part I don’t have worked out just yet. I only have an anchor to make sure my ship of treasure doesn’t sail the fuck away,” I answered, rubbing the back of my neck, surprisingly not offended by his tone in the least.

He laughed hard. “Anchored…as in at sea? You think that little baby is gonna keep some other man from finding the treasure, buried at sea, since we’re using oceanic analogies here?” Very few knew and less even remembered that my uncle had a double bachelor’s degree in science and psychology. He never used them, never wanting much more than the accomplishment of obtaining them.

Then I saw his eyes as he stood from the couch. “Let me explain something. That happy-go-lucky-I’ll-play-nice-even-though-I-wanna-be-with-you-and-only-you act that she strolled outta here with has an expiration date. If you don’t want to meet it, you better act now because when that day comes, not only will you have to worry about the next man she gives her heart to, and your beloved son calling him daddy, but you’re also going to have to endure her bitterness toward you.” He gave me a leveling glare before stalking over to the kitchen, mumbling, “Dumb ass!”

Yup! That’s how I felt…like a fucking dumb ass for this fucked up plan I had in place. I was upset with myself.
Wouldn’t it have made sense to have my family visit my uncle all together?
But we weren’t a real family. I’d made that our reality.  

Nevertheless, Zoey with another man? I wasn’t ready to consider that distant possibility.
Over my fucking dead body…

December 2008

~
Zoey
~

“No! No!” I stomped my foot to the concrete almost to the point of pain. I fought back the panic that wanted to lead my emotions. This was hard considering it was Christmas Eve and my breasts were likely three quarters full and my pump was nearly two hours away. “I don’t need this. Not now!” I cried aloud as I inspected the two flat tires on the truck. I remember feeling less balanced on my ride to the church, but didn’t dwell on it, not a moment more with the myriad of things running through my mind of what I needed to do before hitting the road to be with my family.

“Hey, Zo!” I heard from behind me. “What’s up?”

I glanced over my shoulder to find Bernard coming my way.

“Maaan, Zoey,” he exhaled the same sentiment of disbelief I had moments before.

“I know. I don’t know what I ran over. I didn’t feel anything or hear anything.”

“Well, obviously you did. I mean, look at this, Zoey! These tires alone will set you back about two grand. This is a luxury SUV. You think your boy, the baller’s gonna deduct this from your child support check?” Bernard scoffed, “Because this expense is ASAP.”

I tossed him a sharp eye, cautioning his candor of my business with Stenton as if he nickel and dimed me or Jordan. I never discussed our arrangement with anyone. Stenton had been extremely generous and I didn’t need to assert that. That part of his heart was good.

“I’m just saying, Zoey. You need to be more careful. This ain’t Bessie. You’re driving luxury now. You don’t want to give him any reason to believe you’re irresponsible or ungrateful.”

“You’re overstepping, and more offensively with each word you speak about my son’s father. Bernard, if you can’t offer solutions, please get in your car and go about your business.”

His eyes grew wide as did his mouth. “Oh, Zo, honey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just don’t want him coming down on you li—”

“He doesn’t
come down
on me!” I qualified. “I don’t know if I’ve ever given you the impression that Jordan’s father and I have a capricious or estranged relationship. If I have, let me clarify that we don’t. And what he does or doesn’t do financially will never be a topic of discussion between you and me. Do you understand?”

When Bernard’s eyes dropped to assess my stance, mine followed and I realized my index finger pointed to his face, my center shifted in poise as though I was preparing to attack him. That wasn’t my intent, so I slowly retracted my finger, hand and then arm before turning to face my truck. I pulled out my phone and realized my battery was on red. The day couldn’t get any worse.

“I’m sorry,” his tone now timid as I prepared to call Chesney’s firm, something I dreaded. When emergencies arrived, I was to contact his office—an office I was sure was closed on Christmas Eve. “What can I do?”

At that, my head popped up from my phone. My brows quickly peeked, then dropped.

“No. My family’s spending Christmas in Pennsylvania this year, out near the Poconos. Everyone’s there and I should have been on my way an hour ago, but I stopped here to drop off those printed offering envelopes that Pastor Whitaker forgot to before his family left for upstate New York yesterday.” I brushed my face with my hands while letting out a long exhale. “Then when you asked me to listen to the Tye Tribbett cover, I lost track of time. I should have hit the road right after my last final,” I sulked.

Too late for that.

Stenton had his “people” rent a house out there for the holiday. He thought it would be great for Jordan’s first Christmas to be a white one. I knew my mom would be texting or calling at any moment, asking me to pick up a forgotten item, believing I was in town. And my Jordan. He probably wondered where his mother was. He had plenty of milk there from my frozen inventory, but I needed my pump to relieve myself. Everyone was there, so I had no one to call for a lift.

“I can take you.” Bernard disrupted my reverie.

“Huhn? Oh, no. Bernard, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Sure you can. I was only going home to throw on my headphones to drown out my mother’s fussing anyway. I would only ask that you put the gas back in old Henry over there because a brother is broke…and starved,” Bernard’s crooked smile appeared.

There was something charming about that physical flaw. Some women couldn’t get with men with bad teeth. I’d wondered if Bernard had a hard time with his.

“Thanks, Bernard,” I sighed, hating the imposition. Something about his offering felt endearing. It almost had me remorseful for checking him minutes ago. “How about we fill up at the Mobile around the corner and stop at the Burger King next door before hitting the road?”

“Ewwww, Zoey. I don’t eat Burger King. There’s a McDonald’s up the street. I like them better,” he corrected while gaiting back to his car, making me snicker, thinking of Stenton’s crack about him being the Queen of the Golden Arches a while back.

I grabbed my bags from the cargo portion of the truck and joined him. We made our stops and chatted all the way to Pennsylvania where we were met with snow coming down and already sticking to the ground, such a contrast in weather settings to New Jersey. I had been told portions of Pennsylvania got snow sooner than we did, but seeing it was totally different. Another difference in climate was the heavy winds picking up here.

When we pulled up to the house, Bernard verbalized my shock at the log cabin that resembled a wooden mansion. I knew Stenton’s hand was in this, but gosh! I didn’t know who found this place: Stenton, or his people, but it was impressive. Snow covered the red logs of the house and the tall pine trees rooted next to it, but the circular driveway was paved.

“Jesus, Zoey. Deacon and Sister Barrett sure have good taste.” Bernard whistled.

I was speechless. This was hardly my parents’ style, more like Stenton’s speed. We cleared my things from Bernard’s Toyota Corolla, but I was the first to make my way up the wide steps to the front door.

When my mother swung it open forcefully, she gasped at first sight of me. “Oh, praise God, Zoey!” she shrieked while clutching her fist to her chest.

My dad rounded her as he approached the door himself. “Elizabeth Ardell,” he called out, almost in an admonitory fashion.

“What? What’s wrong? Is Jordan okay?” I began to panic.

“No… Yes! JR is just fine. It’s just that we couldn’t get you for the past hour,” my mother went into explaining.

“And that snow storm is coming any minute now,” my father amended. “I’m sure you felt the temperature drop and the winds picking up on your way up.” My father retrieved the bags and boxes from me then pulled me in.

There, in the foyer of the home, I was hit with its opulence: bright ceiling lighting, shiny hardwood floors, and contemporary rustic décor. It was beautiful, but before I could fully admire its grandness, Ruth appeared, and in the same freaked state as my parents. 

“Damn, Zo! If you really wanna slight me, leave me with our parents as they panic at the prospect of me being their only living child. Where the hell have you been?”

“Your mouth, young lady!”

“Mouth!” My parents shouted concurrently.

Then all three of their faces fell to the floor. Suddenly embarrassed by their demand for an answer, a nervous giggle erupted from my throat.

“Guys, I’m here in one piece. I came out of church to two flat tires and Bernard,” I turned to find him in the doorway, “…was generous enough to offer me a ride.” I tried to smile my way through my explanation until I heard thumps against the hardwood floors. At the same time, I heard giggles from my favorite infant nearing. Also in that moment, I realized neither my mom, dad, nor sister had Jordan. “Wait, where’s Jord—”

And that’s when it clicked. Their expressions were that of surprise. They were not expecting Bernard. Similar to how I wasn’t anticipating Stenton, who now appeared, bouncing a giggling Jordan in his long, corded, and inked arm. It was now time for my face to drop.

“Stenton,” I breathed his name. Clearing my throat, I continued, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Appearing unperturbed, and without eye contact, he replied. “Miss my son’s first Christmas. You expected that instead?”

That was meant to hit below the belt. I would not allow him the upper hand. Just then, his eyes traveled over to Bernard and now I could see some emotion. Shock, and then anger. But why? Stenton had moved on; he’d even announced it to the world. I couldn’t allow him to one up me.

“Yeah. You did his first Thanksgiving.”

There were a myriad of throaty and mouthy sounds: sucking of the teeth, clearing of the throat, nervous coughs. All of this from my family and Bernard.

“What the fu—” Stenton caught himself.

“Elizabeth Ardell! That’s enough!” my mother hissed.

“I was working. You knew that.” Stenton’s tone was cold.

Yeah, but not that night.
I wanted to yell, but my better sense had kicked in. When I was able to pull my daggers out of him, I muttered, “I need to put these things away and pump. Thanks, Bernard for the ride. I need to give you a few dollars for gas. Hang on.” I rummaged through my mammoth Louis Vuitton tote for my wallet. That darn Tynisha, talking me into this bag. “Let me get my—”

“Here you go, B,” Stenton’s vocals poured over me again. When I glanced up, I noticed him handing over a wad of cash to Bernard. “Thanks for bringing her safely.”

Huhn?

Bernard’s mouth hung wide and I caught him quickly adding up what could have easily been a couple hundred dollars, accepting it in his hand.

“Wait,” my dad interrupted. “The storm is here. We can’t send you out in that. It’s supposed to pick up and get heavier. It likely won’t stop until the wee hours of the morning.” He then turned to Stenton. “Stenton, I know there’s plenty of room. You mind if he crashes until it clears?”

Holy mother of Joseph!

“You’re the head of the family. It’s your and Sarah’s call,” Stenton uttered while walking off with his eyes glued to a cheery Jordan bouncing in the air.

That was brusque.

I glanced back over to Bernard, whose expression of confusion and shock mirrored my own. “
Su
-sure. I’ll just have to call my mom to let her know.”

“Okay,” my mother added. “When you’re done, come meet me in the kitchen.”

One by one, my family sauntered out of the eventful foyer, paying me a last admonishing glare, I’m sure accusing me of slighting Jordan’s father. Even Ruth, who swears to not care for Stenton!

My shoulders dropped.

It’s going to be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~

~
Stenton
~

At dinner, tension reigned over the table. I couldn’t shake my brooding, although Sarah did a damn good job of creating a big ass feast for Christmas Eve. Michael was sitting at one end of the table and I was down at the other. Sarah was to the right of him and Zoey sat to his left. Next to Zo was Jordan in his high chair, who was to my right. To my left was Ruth and next to her was Bernard. Dinner was served buffet style with the spread in the center of the table.

I was surprised at the large feast being served the night before Christmas, until Sarah explained at the table minutes ago how when Zoey and Ruth were kids, she and Michael preferred doing the dinner this way because, often times, he was out doing missionary work on Christmas day, leaving limited time with the family.
Talk about dedication
. Sarah and Michael made sure to keep the conversation going at the table in spite of the discord between Zoey and me.

I left Boston yesterday, right after the game to get home to make sure everything was intact for tomorrow. I had to be on my A game. Zoey was sour as hell that I missed Jordan’s first Thanksgiving. I had every desire to make it, but my schedule didn’t allow it. She said it was cool at the time, but even now at the table, she refused to look at me more than the few seconds that I addressed the table when engaged in a conversation. Was I tight? Hell, yeah! Bernard’s corny ass had no business here with my family. I couldn’t give a damn that he knew the Barretts longer or his connection to them; he wanted Zoey, and that fucked with me.

“Ewwwwwww,” Ruth sang as she squeezed her face. “JR is that you, baby?”

All eyes went to Jordan, who is aloof while straining and attempting to grab a kernel of corn between his thumb and index finger.

Damn, J, don’t shit at the table, son.

“Is my Boopee taking a poopee?” Sarah asked in her baby voice.

Zoey smiled at Jordan with adoration as she typically did.

“Well, I ain’t changing him. You my lil’ man and all, but that smells like a load,” Ruth stated with her nose still wrinkled.

“Oh, whatever, Ruth,” Zoey hissed. “He’s not done yet. Are you, pumpkin?”

“No, he isn’t. Let my Boopee finish in private please,” Sarah’s voice was more terse and protective than I’d ever heard. “Bernard, are you saying you’re doing the McDonald’s Gospel Fest again this year?

“We’re gonna try. It was really fun last year. I told Zoey she should come next time. Everybody goes.” Bernard was gushing like a bitch.