by La Jill Hunt
Chapter 11
Sylvia
Sylvia had just drifted off to sleep when she heard movement downstairs. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up in bed. Her first instinct was to call out to Garry, who would normally be sleeping in the sitting area of their bedroom, but she remembered that he wasn’t home. He decided to accept a last-minute travel assignment for work and wasn’t scheduled to return home until late Saturday afternoon. Having no choice but to go and check herself, she got out of bed and eased into the hallway. Maybe it’s the dog. She heard the noise again and realized it wasn’t the dog, but the door.
“Mom?” Peyton whispered in the darkness behind her, causing Sylvia to clutch her chest in fear.
“Jesus, Peyton. What the hell?” Sylvia hissed.
“You heard something downstairs too?” Peyton scurried toward her on her tiptoes.
“Yes. Go back in your room.”
“I’m not letting you go down there by yourself.”
“Fine. Stay behind me, though,” Sylvia said as she slowly began to descend the staircase. Her heart raced, and she squinted to see if she could see any type of movement as she reached the bottom.
“You think it’s Jordan sneaking out?” Peyton asked, startling her.
“Shut. Up. Peyton.” Sylvia emphasized each word, wishing she had grabbed something to use as a weapon in case she needed it. Garry’s gun was locked in the top of the hall closet, but she didn’t know where he kept the key. He’d tried to tell her several times, but she refused to listen. She couldn’t fathom having to ever be in a situation where she would need to use it, and if she did, would she really have time or be in a state of mind to find the key, unlock it, and take it out to use? Now she wished she had listened. Not that she knew how to use a firearm, but at least she could have it as an option.
Click. Another sound came from near the kitchen. Peyton grabbed Sylvia from behind. The thumping in her chest was so hard, Sylvia was certain whoever was in her home could hear it. The creaking of another door echoed through the room, and Sylvia turned around.
“Who’s out there?” a voice yelled, and then the lights in the foyer came on.
Sylvia and Peyton screamed, and so did someone else. She turned to see Jordan standing at the top of the stairs near the light switch, brandishing a broom like a Samurai sword.
“What the hell is going on? What is all this screaming?” Aunt Connie asked as she rushed in through the kitchen door. Gypsy was right on her heels.
“Oh my God, Aunt Connie, what are you doing? What is going on?” Sylvia gasped.
“I’m fine. I was just taking Gypsy for a walk, that’s all,” Aunt Connie told her.
“Everything okay in here? Connie, you all right?” They all turned around to see the man who now stood behind her aunt. No one moved or said anything at first. It was as if they were all in a state of shock and didn’t know how to react.
“Deacon Barnett?” Peyton was the first person to speak.
“Good evening, everyone.” Deacon Barnett nodded toward them. It was the first time Sylvia had ever seen him not wearing a suit and hat. But he was still matching from head to toe in a blue jogging suit, blue sneakers, and a blue baseball cap. She wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he already looked.
“We thought someone was breaking in,” Sylvia explained as she folded her arms across her body, suddenly aware of her own bedroom attire, which consisted of a T-shirt and a pair of Garry’s old basketball shorts. “We heard the noise and came to check it out.”
“And what were you gonna do, sweep him to death?” Aunt Connie smiled at Jordan, who was still standing at the top of the stairs holding the broom.
A wide grin spread across Jordan’s face until she saw Peyton giggling. She quickly turned and walked away.
“Well, Deacon Barnett, thank you for checking on us, but as you can see, we are fine. You can be excused,” Aunt Connie dismissed him.
“Y’all have a good night.” He tipped his baseball cap and backed his way into the kitchen. A few seconds later, Sylvia heard the door close behind him.
“Let me make sure that door is locked,” Aunt Connie said as she turned toward the kitchen.
“Uh, ma’am.” Sylvia rushed behind her.
“Don’t start. It’s not what you think.” Aunt Connie sighed. “I promise you, ain’t nobody up to no good.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Gypsy was acting anxious, and Jordan was asleep. I didn’t want the dog peeing in the house, so I decided to take her out. As chance would have it, I walked to the entrance of the neighborhood, and here he comes driving by and saw me.” Aunt Connie shook her head. “He offered me and Gypsy a ride home, insisted on walking me to the door, and that’s when we heard all this screaming.”
“It was fate.” Peyton smiled.
“It was foolishness,” Aunt Connie corrected her. “Now, let’s all get back to bed.”
“Aunt Connie, why do you let Jordan sleep with you?” Peyton asked as they were going up the stairs. “She does have her own room.”
Aunt Connie stopped and said, “Because we enjoy one another’s company, that’s why. And for the same reason I let you sleep with me when you want to. Any more questions?”
Peyton shook her head and said, “No, ma’am. Good night.”
Sylvia gave her daughter a hug and kissed the top of her forehead. “Goodnight, baby. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.” Peyton went into her room and closed the door.
“You hurt her feelings, Aunt Connie,” Sylvia mentioned just as Aunt Connie was about to go into her room.
“How? I answered her question.”
“I don’t think she meant anything by it.”
“And I didn’t mean anything by answering it.” Aunt Connie shrugged.
Sylvia decided that it wasn’t worth any more energy. She went into her own room and climbed back into bed. Her adrenaline was still flowing, and she couldn’t sleep. She thought about Deacon Barnett running in like he was there to save the day, and she began laughing. She had to tell someone. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed Garry’s number.
“Hello? Syl?” he answered. “What’s wrong?”
Sylvia tried to talk, but she was laughing to hard. “Ga... Garry.”
“Sylvia, calm down and tell me what’s wrong. Stop crying.” Garry’s voice was panicked.
“I... I’m . . .” She gasped.
“Syl, where’s Peyton? I’m gonna call her so she can help. Where are you?”
For some reason, Garry’s concern was making her laugh even harder. “No, no. I’m fine,” she somehow managed to say.
“Wait, are you laughing?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God, I thought something happened. What the hell is so funny?”
By the time Sylvia finished telling Garry about the robbery false alarm, Jordan with the broom, and Aunt Connie’s secret midnight pop-up rendezvous with Deacon Barnett, they both were gasping for air.
“Stop playing! Deacon Barnett, for real?”
“I’m not playing. And, Garry, he was still matching, even in that sweat suit.” Sylvia laughed.
“He still gotta coordinate, Syl. In church and out.”
“I see. And he was definitely that.” It felt good to laugh, especially with Garry. Their conversations had been tense and brief, mostly about the girls and their schedules. There hadn’t been any mention of them separating, his leaving the house, or anything about their marriage. After her breakdown on the phone with Amanda, she’d gone and had one therapy session and had another one scheduled. But she hadn’t mentioned any of that to Garry either. She figured it was something they would talk about face-to-face once he got home.
“I’m glad that there really wasn’t any real danger, though, Syl.” Garry sighed. “This is why you need to know where the key is for the gun safe.”
“No, I don’t. We’re fine. But I have to confess, I did think about it w
hile I was creeping down those steps.”
“I bet you did.”
“Well, that’s all I wanted. It was funny, and I knew you would laugh.” Sylvia pulled her comforter tighter around her.
“I’m glad you called, because I needed a good laugh.”
He sounded discouraged, and Sylvia almost asked him if everything was okay, but she didn’t. They shared a good laugh, but she wasn’t at a place where she felt like she even wanted to know if he was or not. And she didn’t want to make him think that she was, so asking would be giving them both some sort of false hope.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow then,” Sylvia told him.
“Yeah, I’ll call you in the morning. But, Syl, we need to talk when I get home this weekend. Just the two of us, away from the house.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. I have some things I need to tell you anyway.”
“Okay, sounds like a date then. We can go to dinner, your pick.”
“My pick? Wow, I hope your pockets are deep.”
“After almost twenty years, you already know there ain’t no depth when it comes to you, Syl. Good night.”
“Good night, Garry,” Sylvia whispered. She put her phone on the nightstand and turned over in the bed. As she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, she giggled again at what happened earlier, and she realized she was looking forward to going to dinner with the man who was still her husband.
Chapter 12
Tricia
“Are we renting a car next weekend or driving your truck?” Tricia asked Titus as she walked into his man cave. It was one of the rare nights that he and Tank, who was upstairs doing homework, were home.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, his eyes still glued to the television. “We don’t leave for Atlanta for another few weeks. It’s not next weekend.”
Tricia paused. “Are you trying to be funny, Titus? Because you’re not.”
“I’m not trying to be anything.”
“Titus, we’re going to my mother’s for her birthday,” Tricia told him.
“I thought you were going. I hadn’t planned on it. And Tank definitely can’t go,” Titus told her. “He has two-a-days starting next week.”
“I don’t even know what that means, and I really don’t care. You know I told you months ago that we were going to my mother’s for her birthday and to make sure the plans for her retirement were in place,” Tricia snapped.
“Tricia, you may have mentioned it, but I swear, I didn’t know you had made plans. Months ago? With everything Tank has going on, I can barely remember what time I have to be at work every day.” Titus stretched his legs on the coffee table in front of him. “But I do know I can’t go because I don’t have no vacation days to spare.”
“You have plenty of days to go to Atlanta.” Tricia’s voice raised an octave.
“That’s important.”
“And my mother’s birthday isn’t?”
“I ain’t say that.” Titus sighed.
Tricia couldn’t believe Titus. The thought of arriving at her mother’s house without him was something she hadn’t planned on and definitely didn’t want to deal with. Her sisters would have a field day if she came alone, and her mother would be disappointed. There was no way she was going to be able to tolerate being there by herself in front of her family and all of their friends. No damn way.
“I’m not going by myself, Titus. You know how I am when I fly,” Tricia told him. “My nerves can’t take it.”
“Then drive, Tricia. It’s only like five hours away. You can leave the house when I leave for work Friday morning, and you’ll be at your mama’s house before lunchtime.”
“You want me to drive five hours by myself, Titus? Who would even want their wife to do that?” Tricia whined.
“What’s wrong now?” Tank walked in and asked. The question seemed to be directed at his father rather than her.
“Your mom wants to see your grandma next weekend, but she doesn’t wanna drive,” Titus told him. “So, she’s upset.”
“Oh, well, did you check to see if maybe the train goes there, Mom? Because I know you ain’t catching no bus.” Tank laughed and flopped on the sofa beside Titus.
“I’m upset because I planned this trip months ago, and now your father is acting as if he didn’t know. And he’s saying that you can’t go,” Tricia explained to her son. “It’s your grandmother’s birthday, and there is a dinner planned. She’s expecting us to be there, especially you, Tank.”
“Oh.” Tank shrugged. “I didn’t know.”
“Tarik, don’t you want to see your grandmother?” Tricia asked, hoping if she showed him how important the trip was to her, he would help persuade Titus.
“I mean, I guess. But, Mom, I got practice.”
“You can miss practice for your grandmother’s birthday, Tank. You haven’t seen her in a while.”
“We saw her last summer when we were at the family reunion that you and your sisters argued at the whole time, remember?” Titus laughed.
“That was the worst.” Tank shook his head. “All that screaming about everything. And remember the fight over the T-shirts everyone was supposed to wear?”
The incident her husband and son were referring to was a weekend the summer before when they all gathered at a cabin large enough to hold the entire family in Tennessee rented by Felicia, who took pleasure in telling everyone how much she paid for it. Of course, she made it seem as if it were a deal, but Tricia knew better. Tricia offered to help with the cost, but Felicia wouldn’t let her. So instead, Tricia decided to have family T-shirts printed for everyone. Unfortunately, upon arrival, they were given gift bags with shirts inside and instructions to wear them the following day for the family photo. Tricia was livid, especially when both her sisters insisted that Tricia should have told them what she was planning.
“You’re really overreacting,” Violet said.
“We asked for everyone’s input for weeks, and you never mentioned anything about wanting to bring shirts,” Felicia added. “How were we supposed to know?”
Tricia spent the entire weekend at odds with everyone and complaining to Titus and Tank. Her one moment of enjoyment was the family photo where she, Titus, and Tank wore the shirts she brought instead of the ones worn by everyone else. Needless to say, even though Violet and Felicia were smiling in the picture, they weren’t happy at all.
“I don’t have to stay here and listen to this. All I want to do is spend time with my mother for her birthday, and now I can’t.” She shook her head and brushed away the invisible tears in the corners of her eyes. “Tank is leaving for college in a few months, and she wants to see him. She’s getting older, and I would hate for something to happen to her. She’s older, and you know she has some health issues. I expected better from both of you.”
“Mom, please don’t.” Tank leaned forward and touched her arm.
Tricia quickly pulled away from him and stormed out without saying anything else. She went upstairs into her bedroom and closed the door. She’d verbally expressed herself to make her point, but there was another method she planned to use as reinforcement so that Titus would know exactly how she felt.
Hours later, he climbed in bed and reached for her.
“Don’t,” she said, moving all the way over to the edge of their bed.
“Whatchu mean? Tricia, stop tripping. Look at the calendar. Tonight is on the schedule,” Titus said, sitting up and pointing to the small calendar hanging above her nightstand where she kept her schedule for everything, including nights designated for sex.
“Going to visit my mother for her birthday next weekend is also scheduled, but that ain’t happening, is it?” she responded.
“Tricia,” Titus said. She ignored him, and he tried again. “Tricia.”
He exhaled loudly as he stood up. Her eyes remained closed, and she didn’t move as he loudly closed the door as he left the room. Now who’s mad? she thought as she went to sleep.
&nb
sp; * * *
The next morning, the first thing Tricia saw when she opened her eyes was a folded piece of paper attached to the calendar. She hopped up and carefully removed it. The airline logo at the top was clearly recognizable, and her eyes quickly scanned the flight itinerary for her and Tank the following weekend. There were also hotel and car reservations, all of which were paid in full. Tricia would undoubtedly still have to deal with folks questioning about where Titus was, but she was confident that Tank and the news of his state championship win and upcoming All-American Game would overshadow his father’s absence.
A note on the bottom of the page in Titus’s handwriting read:
Make sure Tank hits the gym every morning, and he has to be back by 5:00 p.m. Sunday. Enjoy your trip.
She looked back at the calendar with a satisfied grin. The next date with a star on it was three weeks away. Not only had she gotten her point across, but she’d also bought some free days of not having to fulfill her wifely bedroom obligations in the process. Now all she had to do was find her mother the perfect birthday gift that would outshine anything her sisters would even think of giving her.
* * *
As she sat at her desk shopping online instead of working, she got a call from Mr. Matthews. Tricia knew he was calling to follow up with her, but other than the failed conversation she’d had with Titus, she had nothing to tell him about. She thought about ignoring the call, but then she remembered how nice and pleasant their conversation had been.
“Hello, Mr. Matthews.” She spoke low into her cell phone. Although her desk wasn’t near anyone else’s, she didn’t want to risk anyone seeing her on a personal call.
“Everett,” he corrected her. “How are you, Mrs. King?”
“I’m good. I know you’re calling to get an update from me, which I kind of don’t have,” Tricia explained.
“It’s fine. I understand.”
“I mean, I did bring it up to my husband. But like you said, he wasn’t really receptive,” Tricia told him. “But I still plan on talking to Tarik without his father.”
“Oh, really?” Everett sounded surprised.
