Love Delayed

by Love Belvin

  I stopped the sound when I realized I was making it. It was a bizarre call on his part. It felt like a small and intimate fact only someone who paid attention would catch. Did Andrew know I had that bad habit? My mind raced with what that meant.

  Me: Okay.

  Stenton: And Zo…you could’ve text me with this. You would’ve gotten a quicker response.

  Okay. This is my last message to him.

  Me: I don’t have your number, geek!

  Stenton: 215/555-9658

  Chapter 3

  Then

  August 2006

  Zoey

  It was the middle of August, only a week before we were due to complete Working Toward the Stars. When Angela was done with whatever she was doing with Alton, we drove her car to church. Our cousin, Karen, texted us the night before asking to meet her there when we were done with our summer internship.

  Of course, she wouldn’t know we were done hours earlier, but had to wait for Ang’s extra curriculum activities to conclude before we were actually considered done for the day. What concerned me was her demeanor. Ang wasn’t her usual chatty self. She seemed preoccupied as her oscillating eyes faced the road.

  “Was it that bad?” I teased.

  “What was that?” she barely paid me a glance.

  “Today…with Alton. Was it that bad that you don’t have much conversation for me?”

  “Oh, that asshole?” She sucked her teeth. “Not only is he selfish, not wanting to go down on me, he also likes to try the most awkward positions. He’s a total bust, that little guy.” I couldn’t fight my grimace.

  “TMI, Ang,” I warned.

  Ang waved the entire conversation off. “Nah, I’m just thinking about what this meeting could possibly be about. You know Aunt Jenny and Uncle Al are going to flip when they find out about the pregnancy.”

  “Yeah, but we’ve talked to her. I think we were pretty successful in our encouragement,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah,” Ang sighed. “I hope so.”

  When we arrived inside the dining room of the church, we learned how wrong we both were. Karen was there with our aunt Jenny, who wasn’t as bubbly as usual. As soon as Karen laid eyes on us, she leaped to her feet and made her way over to us by the door of the large room.

  When she was just inches away, Aunt Jenny called out, “Hi, ladies. I know this is short notice, but we need to get this wedding planned and done.” Her chunky arms waved animatedly in the air when she finally approached us. Karen looked mortified. Her eyes were swollen and red. Whatever she was going to share with us, Aunt Jenny intercepted it with her own agenda. “Now, Karen here couldn’t decide on which of the two of you would be her maid of honor. I have a feeling she doesn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, but I don’t have time for this. I wasn’t given proper notice, ya’ know. Let’s flip a coin. Call out heads or tails,” she charged while rummaging through her purse.

  Angela and I turned to each other, now appearing just as mortified as Karen. She did it. She let them set the path for her. Our pep talk did nothing, or not enough. Karen was just a year younger than Angela and me. We grew up in the same church community whose views on marriage being the answer to pregnancies outside of wedlock were outdated.

  Karen and her boyfriend, BJ, had been together for three years and were in love, but hardly ready to commit to marriage. She’d been keeping the pregnancy from her parents for almost a month. She had only told us last week. Karen pretty much shared our views on delaying marriage to explore life. But she was also still in high school.

  BJ, on the other hand, was the organist at our church and was in his second year at Middlesex County College. Her parents thought she was too young to date him at the beginning of their relationship, which in hindsight was true. Nonetheless, they dated and got pregnant. When she broke the news to Angela and me after Bible study last week, we took her out for dinner and attempted to give her arguments to present to her family in the event they tried to force marriage. When we’d left Karen that evening, she seemed determined and unwavering, Angela and I both agreed in a subsequent conversation. We were wrong.

  “You got it, Zo,” Angela sulked, unable to squeeze those words out.

  I didn’t care about the title. I was devastated by this centuries-old practice of marrying young people off simply because an unexpected pregnancy had occurred. I was seething, so upset that I didn’t respond. Instead, I made an about-face and left them in the dining room.

  This can’t be the cloth I’m cut from.

  As I stomped my way to Angela’s car, I heard ruckus behind me. I turned to find Angela on my heels, wearing a similar scowl. Her flip-flops flapping up dust in her wake. Then I saw my Aunt Jenny burst through the side door, clearly angry.

  “You don’t talk to me like that, young lady! I am your auntie!” Angela didn’t even glance back before she reached for the door. “I’ll call your momma and see what she has to say about this, young lady!”

  “Let’s go, Zo!” Angela screamed, waking me from my stupor.

  I jumped in the passenger seat, and before I could strap up, Angela was peeling out of the parking lot.

  “What in the world happened in there, Ang?” It was my turn to flog my arms.

  “I cursed her ass out three shades of Sunday,” Angela hissed as she kept her eyes on the road.

  I knew we both shared the same vehemence against our family’s archaic practices, but never had we disrespected anyone. The rims of Angela’s eyes were pink. She was about to cry.

  “What’s going on here, Angela? What would make you curse at Aunt Jenny?”

  “Because I want her to prepare my mother for what’s waiting for her if she tries to pull that marriage shit on me!” The first tear spilled. Less than a half a second later, the stream came.

  “Ang, how long have you known you’re pregnant?” At this point, I was struggling to keep my food down. There were just too many surprises in one day.

  “Long enough to get this over with. You’re the first to know. I have to tell everyone else now.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  “Whatever it is you’re writing must be pretty important,” his voice held its usual gruff and heaviness.

  My mouth collapsed as my eyes focused in on Stenton. I was squatting against the wall, staring up at his fierce visage. He was freshly showered and in a grey t-shirt and cargo shorts with a baseball cap turned to the back. Having less of his tattoos exposed and two large diamond studs pinned to his ears, Stenton resembled a rapper rather than a rocker today.

  And his scent… God help me.

  I must have been that engaged to not catch him coming.

  “What do you mean?”

  He gave me a one-sided grin. “You’re making that clicking sound with the back of your throat.”

  Great.

  I collapsed my face into my hands. The last thing I expected to happen, happened in that instant; I realized I could no longer deny my extreme attraction to this man. My life couldn’t get any more chaotic.

  “Hey…hey,” he softly sounded off. “What’s going on with you? And why are you over here in the corner like you’re hiding from someone?”

  I am! From you.

  I brought my head up to meet his quizzical gaze. Confusion etched his face and I couldn’t say I didn’t know why. I was being awfully dramatic. Then he took me by the wrist, igniting fire in my core. He’d only touched my arm with his calloused hands and I was able to feel it all over.

  “Let’s chat about it over a meal.” I managed to stand without giving away my weakened knees. Stupid body! “I know you’re starved. Your hungry ass always is.”

  “I was waiting for Angela.” I sort of lied.

  I was waiting on Angela. I’d assumed she was saying her final goodbyes to Alton…in the moral manner. I’d hoped. But the other truth was I was avoiding Stenton.

  “She and Alton were in a heated conversation when I passed them. He knows I’m going to grab a bite. They’ll find us.”

/>   “Mr. Rogers!” I heard someone call just beyond Stenton. “Mr. Rogers…”

  Within seconds Jeffrey appeared and you could see the revelations—accurate or not—visibly running through his mind. “Oh,” was all he could say initially.

  And initially I panicked, but then I remembered that I’d made it to the end of the summer and didn’t need to care. I was so stressed that getting kicked out wouldn’t have had the same effect as it would have earlier on.

  “Ms. Barrett,” Jeffery greeted pointedly, I’d guessed indirectly asking for an explanation for me speaking with Stenton Rogers “after hours.” That explanation would never come. I was too preoccupied to care that I didn’t care.

  “Jeffery?” Stenton called his attention from me. “You wanted me for…?”

  “Oh…oh!” He chuckled, pushing up his frames. “I’ll be on vacation all next week and I know you’ll be done here when I return. I was hoping you could sign this jersey for my son, Christopher Peter.” Jeffrey held up a toddler size 76er’s jersey.

  Stenton smiled politely as he took the jersey from Jeffrey. “It’ll be my pleasure. And I’m sure Elizabeth here won’t be penalized if I take her to lunch. She’s been extremely gracious my entire time here. I’d like to thank her.”

  I couldn’t help my gasp. What was Stenton doing?

  Jeffrey’s pleading eyes shot over to me. I guess he didn’t want me to decline Stenton’s offer. “Su-sure! That’s perfectly fine. Please…enjoy, Ms. Barrett.”

  As soon as Stenton was done being Stenton Rogers, we headed over to the restaurant. Once we were seated with menus, Stenton didn’t hesitate.

  “So, what were you documenting in the gym?” He gave a reverse nod, gesturing where we’d just left.

  “It’s called journaling, geek.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Okay,” he muttered as he straightened in his seat. “May I ask what has you so affected that you’re journaling here?”

  I fought with if I should share. The battle had a short life. Once I whispered the first word, the remainder came out spiritedly. I told him about my family’s obsolete beliefs and how it had caught up to my generation with Karen. I left Angela out of the conversation feeling she was too close to an associate of Stenton’s—or more like it was a sore topic. When I was done, I exhaled. I don’t know what I expected, but it felt odd when Stenton sat back in his chair and didn’t utter a word for a while.

  I’d wondered if he’d paid attention until he asked, “What are your aspirations?”

  W-what?

  “Aspirations?”

  “Yeah…” The waiter came to take our order, but Stenton raised his finger dismissing him and the uniformed man scurried off. “When we were at Sergue, you mentioned your goals and that they mirrored Angela’s.”

  He remembers that?

  “Oh…ummm.” I was floored. He had been listening. I wasn’t expecting that. “Well, to break this cycle of…societal norms in Christendom. The ultimate goal of a woman shouldn’t be marriage, having babies and making a home for her husband. I want to travel the world, explore the wonders of it. I want to find who Zoey is and why God put her here. I know my purpose supersedes the small box my family and church leaders try to put me and other young women in.”

  “So, how are you going to prove it? What’s your plan?”

  “First, to stay away from marriage long enough to find out if it’s even for me. Second, to finish undergrad, move on to Wharton for my MBA, and get a good job to help my family out. I want to provide relief for my parents, and that can’t happen if I’m in some man’s house, cooking, cleaning and making his babies.”

  Stenton nodded meditatively. Maybe because I needed to make my voice heard, but for some reason, I felt like I’d connected with him.

  “Let’s get you something to eat. You’ll need your energy to lead the next wave of the feminist movement.” He cracked a playful smile.

  “I’m no feminist, Stenton!” I feigned being offended.

  “Good, because if you were, I’d have to insist on you paying for this expensive ass meal we’re about to partake of.”

  I laughed so hard that I snorted like a pig, unabashedly.

  “Nah,” he attempted to sober up from our laughter. “I think you can do whatever you want, Zo. If you have plans to assist your family instead of pursuing what your family views as traditional goals, go for it.”

  “I know I have to strategize better, but I at least know what I don’t want.”

  “You may not have your plans organized from A to Z, but you have a vision and passion. That combination is what brings dreams into fruition. You’re a spitfire.” He snorted and then inclined in his seat. “My mom used to have this little mutt. She couldn’t have been more than six inches off the ground and weighed less than five pounds. Mom called her Niña. And she would fuss every dog out in the neighborhood…I mean even the biggest Rottweilers that were chained to their yards. My mom used to laugh and say if she came face-to-face with one of them without leashes being involved, Niña wouldn’t have much of a bark.”

  He chuckled as he stared into the distance, I assumed, visualizing the memory. I was captivated. “One day, a big ass German Shepherd got loose and chased my mother. I saw my mother hauling ass up the walkway for the house when I opened the door. Somehow little Niña came charging past me then my mom and toward the German Shepherd. I saw that miniature mutt sprint so hard that when the German Shepherd saw her, he skidded his brakes and made a U-turn to his yard with Niña racing after him. By the time I caught up with them, she had her canines pierced into his left front leg. She only punctured his skin, but scared the shit out of him with her ferocious determination.” His eyes rose to mine. “That’s you: small in size, but big in bite. Fiercely determined.”

  I don’t think I’d ever been complimented so. An intimate story from Stenton—not Stenton Rogers—changed the course of my day. I was sure I’d read too deeply into it, but didn’t care. I chose to view this encounter from rosy lenses.

  “Niña is a Spanish reference.” I observed.

  “My mother is Dominican,” his voice was uneasy and I’d lost his eyes. I felt a pang of disappointment. He lifted his menu.

  “I’d like to hear about her someday…I mean whenever you’re ready.” I stumbled over my words.

  “Perhaps. If you agree to be my Niña.” Stenton’s eyes peered over his menu.

  I narrowed my brows. “And what does that entail?”

  He placed the menu down on the table and straightened his shoulders. “You pledging your friendship. And you must swear to no piercing of my skin…or my heart.”

  I choked on my spit…like really choked. My eyes watered.

  “Calm the hell down, Zoey. We’re not pledging love; just friendship.” It took a minute, but I was able to clear my throat. I threw him a dubious regard. “You’ve pointed out my trust and paranoia issues; I’d like to use you as a guinea pig. Deal?”

  Still, I was too stunned for words. When did we turn this corner? This was Stenton Rogers…Number 2 Overall Draft Pick, three-time MVP Awardee, and four-time Champion, Stenton Rogers.

  “Damn it, Zoey.” He chuckled…beautifully, melting my core. “I’m not asking for marriage, just permission to let down my guard when we talk.”

  I gasped. “You better not be! Ughhhh!” I grimaced, earning a hard laugh from Stenton. It was infectious. I really needed to chill out.

  “Yo, man! It’s time to go!”

  My smile faded as I peered up at a glaring Alton. My anxious eyes returned to Stenton whose expression mirrored mine.

  Stenton looked back, I assumed for Angela, just as I did. “What’s up, my dude?”

  “We just need to get the fuck up outta here, bro.” Alton was seething.

  “Alton, where’s Ange—”

  He put his index finger in my face. “Don’t even ask me about that bitch.”

  Stenton shot from his seat almost as if to cover me. “The fuck gotten into you, bruh?”

&
nbsp; My eyes enlarged. As crass as Alton was, he’d never taken that tone with Angela or me.

  “Like I said, it’s time to go!” Alton shouted then charged out of the restaurant as seamlessly as he’d come in.

  Stenton offered regretful eyes. I knew he was just as confused as I was. He went into his pocket and pulled out several bills of cash. “Zo, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into this dude today. Rest assured I’ll find out.” He grabbed my hand. “Lunch is on me.” And then he made his exit on the heels of Alton.

  While I watched him jog out of the restaurant, Angela appeared in the doorway with tears flowing. I knew in that moment her tears had derived from the same place that had pissed Alton off.

  When she arrived at the table she cried, “He’s an irreparable asshole.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he doesn’t want to accept responsibility for this!”

  “Angela!” I gasped.

  “What?”

  I browsed around the table to be sure we weren’t drawing any more attention than Alton had.

  “Because you know it wasn’t Alton who got you pregnant. You were just with Timmy the night before we started Working Toward the Stars.” I couldn’t believe she’d lay aside that inconvenient fact.

  “So?” she kept her arms crossed protectively over her belly. I knew she was feeling more vulnerable than she wanted to let on.

  “So, Ang, you can’t just pick and choose whose baby this is. You have to recount facts. And the biggest of them all is that you’d missed your period before you and Alton.”

  “Whose side are you on anyways?”

  “Yours, Ang. Always yours,” I struggled to keep my voice low.

  “I can’t tell. You sound like a PR rep or lawyer from his entourage. You can’t have my back for once?”

  I jumped from my seat, no longer caring who saw us, and invaded her space to get into Angela’s face. “I’ve spent almost my entire summer in the face of a man I didn’t want to be within a hundred million feet of, trying to prove I’m not something he thinks I am because you’ve been with his boy, doing the very thing he thinks I’m about.” I pointed in the chair across from mine, referring to Stenton. “The thing that I’m not.”