“Is my lane free?” I was a creature of habit. I used the same lane every time I came. Even when I had lessons, I demonstrate on “my lane” and have my client on an adjacent lane.
Mr. Albert’s eye perused the sheet on the counter in front of him. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you but let’s see…Ah. You’re a lucky woman, Ms. Nedra.” He reached under the counter and handed me a wooden dowel with a small flag on the end.
“Do you need anything else?”
I started to say no, then I remembered that all of my equipment was at home, including my bullets. “I need some ammo.” I rattled off the type of gun I had and gave him my debit card as he slid me a small box of 25 rounds. Once my card was safely back in my purse I said my thanks and headed for the door that led to the range.
Once he pressed a button on the wall, there was a loud buzz and the door unlocked. I yanked the heavy door open and stepped into the next room. There were lockers against the wall and a shelf that held soundproof earmuffs and goggles. I would hang the flag on the outside wall of my lane so that others would know the lane was occupied and that they needed to use caution when approaching because I was more than likely unable to hear them.
This had been an unplanned trip so I didn’t bring my .45 with me. I always rode with my .380, though, so I pulled that out of my purse and put the bag into a locker. I put on my protective gear and made my way down the range until I reached the eighth lane. I stuck my flag in the holder and set my gun and ammo on the tall, narrow table in the space. There was a stack of unused paper targets on the table. I clipped one to the hanging mechanism and pressed the button that would pull it to the back wall.
I readied my firearm and steadied my breathing. On my exhale, I started firing.
I never went to Bullseye in the middle of the day like this. I either came in the morning because I preferred to get my time in early, or I came in the evening. The women that I gave handgun handling lessons to usually worked during the day so evening lessons were better for them. I tried to be as flexible as possible by offering several time slots, understanding that free time was hard to come by when you worked for someone else.
The lessons had always been a side thing for me, sort of like a hobby. I loved to shoot and was good at it so when friends learned of my skill, they solicited me to teach them. My granny actually suggested that I turn it into an actual business. After the insurance firm I had worked at since I was fresh out of Franklin let me go six months ago, I had been struggling to find my footing. I didn’t know what to do with myself after being an executive assistant for so long.
Granny had brought me here to Bullseye and told me to turn my hobby, my passion, into my livelihood. From there, Black Girl, Magic Bullet was born. I went right to the county clerk’s office to register my business name and immediately set up social media accounts. Then I came to see Mr. Albert. He didn’t hesitate in allowing me to offer my lessons in his building. I was overjoyed and overwhelmed by the growth of my little hobby-turned-business. Currently, I had four women who came for weekly lessons. My plan was to eventually have my own range so that I could recruit more clients.
At that thought, the red light above me blinked rapidly. It caught my attention, and I stopped shooting immediately. I engaged the safety on my gun and set it on the table before turning around.
“Oh, hey!”
Two of my regular clients and one woman I didn’t recognize were standing behind me. They were all dressed in the appropriate safety gear and my clients each held a box that I knew held the firearm and rounds they owned. I gave all three ladies a hug and put my thoughts aside to give them the lessons that they had shown up for.
Two and a half hours later, my clients had left, and I had a bit more money in my bank account. I gathered my targets, tossed the empty box of rounds in the trash can, and headed back to the locker room. My shoulders were a little stiff, but my head was clear and for that, I was happy.
I pushed open the door that led to the front of the shop and stopped in my tracks. Sitting in one of the chairs of the lobby, chatting with Mr. Albert, was my granny. She looked up as I entered the area, and our eyes connected. Mr. Albert followed her gaze over to me then turned back to her. He leaned toward her—closer than necessary—and said something that made her smile; then he walked in my direction, coming to a stop in front of me.
“I’ll see you next week, Nedra.”
I glanced suspiciously at him and my granny. I started to nod then I thought about Ashton’s arrival the next day. “Actually, you might end up seeing me again before the week is up, Mr. Albert.”
He nodded like he expected that and I wondered what my granny had been telling him. Hell, I wondered what she was doing here. He patted my arm.
“That’s no problem. I’ll see you then.”
My attention shifted to my granny. She sat in her chair and watched me make my way over to her. The front door tempted me to pass her up and simply exit the building, but I’m sure I’d already garnered enough ire by leaving her house hours earlier.
“What’re you doing here, Granny?”
She waved her phone in the air. “I saw on Facebook that you would be here until six.”
Mentally, I rolled my eyes. My granny had no business being on Facebook, especially if she was using it to stalk me. I held out my hand and pulled her up from her seat. Getting to the door before her, I held it open and just before she exited, she turned her head and called out, “See you later, Albert!” I frowned at the flirtatious note in her voice, but my eyes widened when I was sure that I heard Mr. Albert reply with, “Yes, you will, Delores!” in an equally flirtatious tone before the door closed fully.
What the fuck was going on here? Certain I didn’t want to know, I walked my granny to her car and stood silently, waiting for the fussing I was sure to get. A few minutes went by, and all she did was stare at me expectantly. My brows furrowed in confusion.
“Don’t you have something to say to me?”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am. Is there something you’re expecting me to say?”
She cocked her head but didn’t say anything.
I sighed. “Why don’t you give me a hint because I’m lost.”
“Does your storming out of my house like a petulant child ring a bell?”
That was an inaccurate account of events, but okay. “The storming does; the petulant child part sounds made up.”
Her hands went to her hips. “So, you don’t think there’s a problem with you running out anytime you don’t want to hear what someone has to say?”
My mouth dropped open, and I gaped at her incredulously. “That’s not what happened, Granny!”
“That’s exactly what happened.”
“No, you were attacking me, and I—”
“Here you go.” She rolled her eyes. “No one was attacking you, little girl. I’m just trying to help you avoid making a horrible mistake. But I guess you think you’re too grown to accept advice from anyone?”
I threw my hands in the air. “What advice? Beg Chris not to divorce me?”
“Yes, if need be! You made vows before God that you need to uphold! The Bible says—”
“I’m sorry, Granny, but that’s where I have to stop you. If your biggest argument is to tell me what the Bible says then you might as well save your breath. I need something tangible.”
“What about experience? I was married for forty-eight years; you don’t think I know a little something about this?”
I pursed my lips. “Well, you were married for forty-eight years so I’m going to say, no. No, I don’t think you know anything about how it feels to go through a divorce.”
“Your granddaddy and I almost divorced once.” She took a deep breath and looked across the parking lot at Bullseye before bringing her steady gaze back to mine. “I’d packed up your mama, and I was prepared to leave him.”
This was a story I hadn’t heard before. My granddaddy had died ten years ago and to my knowledge, they had been happ
ily married until the day he took his last breath. “Why? What happened?”
“I fell in love with another man.”
I gasped and grabbed my chest above my heart. “Granny! What?!”
She nodded. “We’d been married for fifteen years, and I was tired of being ignored by your granddaddy. He was never home, always working and never had time for me during the rare moments he was home.”
“So, you cheated?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All that shit she talked about vows and the Bible, and she was a old, thotty hypocrite!
“Will you let me finish?”
I nodded hurriedly. This was crazy.
“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, your granddaddy was never home, and since I didn’t work back then, I filled my time with hobbies while Rose was at school. I became close friends with a man I met through one of those hobbies, and before I knew it, that friendship became a lifeline for me.”
“Then what happened?”
She narrowed her eyes at me but I just shrugged. She had me hooked on this story, and although I know how it ended, I needed to know what happened next.
“I told you; I packed up my and Rose’s things and told him I was leaving.”
A long pause came and when she didn’t continue, I prompted her. “And then what, Granny?”
“Well, he cried and begged me to stay. He promised to change his ways and asked if we could renew our vows. And Rose didn’t want to leave her daddy anyway. She cried and clung to him and begged right along with him. That was a daddy’s girl if there ever was one.” She chuckled but it was hollow. Her eyes were red, and mine prickled with empathy as my own feelings resurfaced of being presented with a divorce by someone I love.
“I never told him about my feelings for another man. I simply agreed to give my husband another chance because he was worth that much, and I promised to fight harder to be a better wife.”
I wiped at the two tears that trickled down my cheeks. “What happened to the man you fell in love with? Was he waiting for you?”
“What? No. He didn’t even know I was planning to leave for him.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears, and she cleared her throat. “Nothing happened to him. We remained friends, but I distanced myself from him. He was a danger to my marriage; what I felt for him was…dangerous. And your granddaddy really did make a change. And our family was better for it.” She looked at me. “So, now, do you see?”
I stared at her for a few moments without saying anything and she looked away from me, back in the direction of Bullseye and cleared her throat again. When she looked back at me, it was the controlled sauciness of my granny that I knew. I spoke before she could
“I see that you’re still broken up about it.”
“Nedra—”
“I see that you haven’t moved past it if the emotions you feel right now are any indication. I see that you are the one who was mistreated yet you’re also the one who had to sacrifice.”
“Now, wait a minute—”
“You know what else I see, Granny? I see that even though you were ready to leave Granddaddy, you didn’t have both feet out of the door yet. He asked for a second chance, and you gave it to him, even though you could see a better life on the horizon. You were willing to work it out, so you did. That’s not the case with me and Chris. He wants a divorce, and there is nothing I can say that will change that.” I shook my head. “I appreciate you sharing your story with me, Granny, but now all I can think of is what if? What if you had left? What if you had told that man that you were leaving Grandaddy for him? Or, what if Granddaddy didn’t care that you were leaving? If he was on some ‘Bye Felicia’ type ish? What then? But I guess we’ll never know.”
Granny grabbed my hands and shook them. “All I want is for you to try everything you can before you throw in the towel.”
“Why do you think I haven’t? That’s what I don’t understand about all of this. You don’t even know what I’ve done, but you automatically decided it wasn’t enough!”
She gave me a knowing look. “Did you suggest counseling?”
“Yes.” The lie slipped out of my mouth so fast, I almost choked on it.
The lights in the parking lot flickered on, and I glanced at my watch. “Granny, it’s almost eight o’clock. We need to get out of here.” I started to pull my hands back but she gripped them tighter.
“Hear me when I say this, Nedra. If you don’t give this marriage all you’ve got, you will always wonder what if. You’re so hellbent on being unphased that you haven’t even demanded to know why he’s divorcing you. Chris could be laid up with some other woman right now, a friend that he’s made over the past few months, and you wouldn’t even know. Listen to me good, little girl. Stop trying to be so big and bad and go see about your husband.”
After those carefully and successfully aimed shots, she released my hands, throwing them back at me like they disgusted her and climbed into her car. She didn’t give me a second glance as she drove off.
♥♥♥♥
When Reminiscing Shines an Ugly Light
What my granny didn’t know was that I had researched marriage counseling and planned to approach Chris with the suggestion that we consider it. I stand firmly by what I said about the desire to stay making the difference. Before I’d had the opportunity to broach the subject with him, he cut me off at the knees. Apparently, Chris had found the printouts in our room—the one he no longer slept in—and felt the need to question me about them right away instead of waiting for me to come to him.
I was stepping out of the shower when I noticed him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, waving the papers around with a confused look on his face. He asked me why I kept trying to fix something that was beyond repair and he stood there, genuinely curious to hear my answer. Until that moment, I didn’t know it was possible to simultaneously feel white-hot rage and bone-shaking despair. What kind of fucked up shit is that to ask the woman who had given you almost half of her life?
Then again…maybe he had a point. I can admit that I was fully expecting him to change his mind at some point. Maybe when I brought up the counseling or maybe if I really started to withhold sex, Chris would come to his senses. For putting me through all of this, I’d planned to make him sweat it out a little bit but ultimately, I was going to forgive him, and we would move on from this.
However, now that I’d heard my granny’s story, the thought of trying to go back to what we once were made me sick.
What was I doing?
If you had asked ten-year-old me what I would do if a boy I liked didn’t like me back, I probably would have given you all of the attitude I could muster back then and tell you that said boy could do the 1990s equivalent of kicking rocks. Hmph. What happened to all of that confidence? To that self-assured girl with the big afro puff and an even bigger helping of sass?
Oh, that’s right!
She became a teenager, met a skinny boy named Christopher Phillips, and all that talk became just that: talk.
I’ll never forget the day I met Chris. It was a sunny Friday afternoon and I had just walked home from school with my friend, Ashton. My mama had to work late, and after plenty of begging and tears on my end, followed by a long phone call with Mrs. Phillips, she had finally agreed to let me go over to Ashton’s house until she could pick me up. We were sitting on the couch, drinking Fruitopia and watching 106 and Park when the front door banged open and we heard a huge commotion from the front of the house.
Ashton shot up off the couch and raced to the front room, and my nosy behind followed right after her, stopping near the bottom of the stairs when I saw what was going on. My eyes were as wide as saucers and my mouth gaped open as I took in the sight in the kitchen.
The most gorgeous caramel-skinned boy my fourteen-year-old eyes had ever been blessed to see was standing by the sink, gulping down a glass of water. Ashton hit his elbow, and I watched greedily as rivulets of water trailed down his chin and fell onto the front of
his already soaked gray t-shirt.
“Hey punk, come say hi to my company.”
Ashton was obviously talking about me, but I found myself looking behind me toward the living room as if another person was there. My heart thumped erratically, but it was all for naught as my eye candy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head.
“Dang, Ash, can I take a shower first? I just walked in the door.” He had a valid point; I could smell the dirt and sweat on him from across the room. As my mama would say, he smelled like an outside puppy. Ashton just shook her head and grabbed his arm, pulling him backward, toward where I stood quietly observing them.
“Nope, come say hi first.” She turned on her heel and almost ran into me at the doorway.
“Dang, girl! I didn’t know you were right here.”
My cheeks heated with embarrassment but even then, the sass was strong with this one. I cocked my hip to one side and slapped my hand on it.
“Well, with the way you ran out of the living room like the house was on fire, I woulda been crazy not to see what was going on!”
Ashton smacked her lips in response, but her brother chuckled, and I felt a smile lift my lips at the sound of his voice even as I initially refused to look his way.
“Anyway! Chris this is my new friend, Nedra. Nedra this is my older brother, Chris. He plays football at the high school. He’s a running back.” The pride in her voice was evident, and Chris heard it too because he shyly ducked his head and I could see a soft blush creep onto his tanned cheeks. Apparently, though, the Phillips’ were raised right because Chris then offered his hand to me in greeting.
“What up Nedra, nice to meet you.”
When I placed my hand in his, the thumping in my heart morphed to butterflies in my belly as my initial crush exploded into something thick and heavy that I would bear for the next four years. It was a sick cliche that I hated to admit, but by the time I was a junior in high school, I was definitely in love with my best friend’s older brother. And because my life had become a cliche, predictably, Chris never acknowledged me as anything other than Ashton’s “little friend”.
To Buy a Vow Page 4
