Seeking Sarah

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “I don’t care what you want,” my mother replied.

  “She doesn’t eat mashed potatoes, Sarah.” My father sighed.

  “She’s six. She eats what we tell her to eat.”

  My father took my plate and scooped my mashed potatoes onto his plate. “There, Princess. Now eat your pork chops.”

  My mother slammed her hand on the table. “Why must you undermine everything I do? That’s what’s wrong with her. You spoil her and give her whatever she wants,” my mother snapped. “And she knows you will take her side so she manipulates you.”

  “She’s six,” my father repeated. “She doesn’t even know what manipulate means.”

  A mist covered my mother’s eyes as she glared at my father. “We finally get a moment to ourselves with your mother gone and I try to do something nice for this family and nothing is ever good enough.”

  “Now you’re being dramatic,” my father casually replied, sliding a forkful of spinach into his mouth. “If you’d cook more often, you’d know that your daughter doesn’t like mashed potatoes. Or spinach.” He winked at me and I smiled. My daddy knew me so much better than Mommy.

  “Stop spoiling her!”

  Now I was wishing that I’d just eaten the mashed potatoes. I hated to give them any more reason to fight.

  My father calmly set his fork down and pinched my cheek. “First of all, she’s my princess and if I want to spoil her, I will.” He directed his attention in my mother’s direction. “Secondly, you’re misdirecting your anger. You’re mad at me and taking it out on her.”

  I didn’t know what misdirecting meant, but it made my mother look at him like she wanted to take that fork he’d just set down and poke him in the eye with it.

  Her voice was firm as she said, “I made dinner. I turned down the gig and I’m playing the dutiful housewife.”

  My father went back to eating. “I think it’s pretty sad that you feel like that’s a role you have to play . . .”

  ······

  “Brooke!”

  I snapped out of my thoughts as Trent gripped my arm and shook it.

  “Oww,” I said, jerking my arm away. “That hurt.”

  “Sorry,” he replied. “Mama was talking to you and it’s like you zoned out.”

  I shook away my memories and turned to her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Grant. I didn’t hear you.”

  Her anger with her grandson was now replaced with one of her infectious smiles.

  “I was just saying, how does it feel to be engaged?”

  “It feels wonderful.” I shivered. Why had that memory affected me so?

  “Let me see that ring,” Kimala said, reaching for my hand. I extended my arm and she almost snatched my hand off trying to get a good look at my ring. She studied it for a few seconds, then said, “That doesn’t make any sense. That had to cost a grip. I thought you didn’t make that much money,” she said to her brother.

  Trent narrowed his eyes at her. I knew that Kimala was the bold one of the family, but that question even caught me off guard.

  “First of all, you don’t need to worry about how much I make,” Trent said.

  Kimala shook her head like she wasn’t convinced. “I know your little tech job ain’t paying money like that.”

  “Ignore her, little bro,” his brother Clark said, reaching for another scoop of macaroni and cheese. “Congratulations, you two. When is the wedding?”

  Trent reached up and took my hand from his sister. “I don’t know but we’re going to set a date soon. I want to do it quickly.”

  Mrs. Grant’s eyes widened in surprise as her hand went to her mouth to cover her squeal. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Are you pregnant? She’s pregnant,” she exclaimed, without giving me time to answer.

  More chatter broke out across the room, with Demarcus singing, “Uncle Trent is gonna be a daddy, him and Brookie did the nastyyyy.”

  I ignored Demarcus, and the fact that no one chastised the seven-year-old, and said, “Hello! Can everyone slow down for a second. I am not pregnant.”

  No one seemed to be listening to me, though. Trent thought it was funny as his family went ballistic with excitement. Mrs. Grant’s eyes teared up as if this would have been her first grandchild and not her eighth.

  “Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I would have rather you two got married first. But a baby is a blessing no matter what. That explains why you’re looking a little plump. I told Charlie you were pregnant, didn’t I, baby?”

  I decided to ignore her dig—because I’d been around her long enough to know that she didn’t really mean anything by it.

  “You called it, babe,” her husband replied.

  “I. Am. Not. Pregnant,” I said as loud as possible.

  “Oh.” His mother lost her smile and the chatter died down. “It’s just Trent said you were going to get married quickly,” she said, confused.

  Trent took a sip of his sweet tea, then said, “Mama, it’s just quickly because I love her and I want us to go ahead and get married.” He hesitated, and looked at me. “Before I reenlist.”

  “You’re going back?” Clark exclaimed. An Afrocentric militant, Clark was opposed to all things military and made no secret of his disdain for his brother’s commitment to this country.

  All of us looked at Trent in shock. But no one was more shocked than me. Trent hadn’t said a word to me about reenlisting. When he’d gotten out of the Navy, he’d taken a civilian job doing technology work for a local computer company. It was a great job, with great benefits, so I had no clue why he would want to leave it and reenlist. Not to mention that I had no desire to go live on a military base.

  “Man, Uncle Sam got you whipped,” Clark said. “The black man needs to be fighting for rights right here in our own country, not fighting some foreigners who haven’t done anything to us.”

  “Oh, Lord. Please don’t get Little Malcolm X started,” Kimala said.

  Trent must’ve known I was getting upset because he squeezed my hand and said, “It’s just something I’m considering. But for now, I want to focus on marrying my love.”

  “Well, y’all don’t need to be doing a big ol’ wedding,” Mr. Grant said. “Kendra did that, spent a luxury RV on a wedding, and was divorced a year later.”

  “Thanks, Dad, for reminding me,” Kendra quipped.

  He shrugged, unfazed. “I’m just saying. Don’t make a bit of sense to spend all that money so a bunch of other folks can see you tie the knot.”

  “We’d have something small, if we don’t elope.” I managed a smile even though it was taking everything to keep my attitude in check. At this point, we needed to discuss if there would even be a wedding.

  Trent leaned in, gently kissed behind my earlobe, and whispered, “Don’t be mad. I’m not going to do anything without talking to you.”

  Trent knew this was not something I was even willing to discuss. The reason why it had taken me months to even go out with him was that I had no desire to be that woman who opened the door to uniformed officers telling her her man had died while serving his country.

  I knew that death was inevitable, but I didn’t believe in opening the door to usher death in. As a sergeant, at the first sign of battle, Trent would be gone. And I’d drive myself crazy with worry, waiting on that call that my future had been snatched away. Again.

  No, thanks.

  “Well, let’s change the subject,” his mother announced. “I don’t want to ruin dinner with heavy stuff.”

  I wanted to pull Trent aside so we could discuss this in detail, but he said, “Me either, Mama. Brooke has made me the happiest man ever and that’s all I want to think about.”

  He kissed me again and just like that, I relaxed and smiled.

  For now.

  Because this conversation definitely wasn’t over.

  CHAPTER 3

  * * *

  It was ironic that the place I’d met my future husband was the place I was now s
itting, contemplating how I’d ever see this marriage through. It had been a week since Trent proposed. Between that and the I’m-thinking-about-reenlisting-but-I-hadn’t-decided-yet, I hadn’t exactly been a blushing bride-to-be. In fact, we’d had a big blowup this morning about the reenlisting. I saw paperwork that he’d been filling out for housing at the base in Norfolk and I’d gone ballistic. That’s why April had all but dragged me out to dinner, so I could “get away from the drama.”

  “Hey, Mark,” I said, leaning in to look at the Outback name tag of our waiter. “Can you bring me another margarita, with salt?” Since my mother had been killed by a drunk driver, I had detested alcohol for years. In fact, I didn’t start drinking until my midtwenties, and even now, seldom indulged. I guess that’s why April was sitting across from me with a perched eyebrow.

  “You want to slow down?” April asked. “We haven’t even had dinner and you’re on your second drink.”

  “Nope,” I replied, giving Mark a would-you-hurry-up look.

  “For someone that just had an amazing proposal, you sure don’t act like it.” She ran her hand across her belly as she sipped on lemon water. “Oooh. These babies are having a Gymboree session.”

  I smiled at the sight of her. Her little boy had swollen her petite frame to twice her normal size. But nobody who knew her sweated it. April was a health nut, so there was no doubt that any weight she gained from the baby would be gone in less than a month.

  I couldn’t wait to be a mother, to carry a child in my womb. Nurture and love them. There was something special about motherhood and for April, she was wearing it well.

  “I can’t believe you still have three months left,” I said, grateful to get the attention off me.

  “Girl, the doctor is talking about putting me on bed rest for the rest of my term. I am not about to go lay up in the bed all day so Sam can drive me crazy.”

  April’s husband, Sam, worked from home. On the outside, they had the perfect marriage, but like any seemingly perfect marriage, behind closed doors they had their issues. Sam wanted April to be a stay-at-home mom, and April wanted to have it all. Her career as a pharmaceutical sales rep and motherhood.

  “Anyway, don’t try to change the subject,” April continued. “We were talking about you—and your lack of excitement at getting married.”

  I downed the rest of my mango margarita, then set the glass back on the table. “I am excited. Trent is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

  And he was. When we first met, I had no desire to strike up a relationship with a military man. And I’d known that because he was wearing his uniform in Outback, which I thought was real cheesy. I’d accused him of trying to finagle a free meal. Even though I’d given him my number, and we talked almost daily, he was still in the Navy and I was, therefore, uninterested. But then he’d gotten out, come home, and won my heart.

  April narrowed her eyes, studied me, then said, “So why then do you not look like a happy bride? I remember the day Sam asked me to marry him. You would’ve thought I won the Powerball, the Mega Millions, and the Big Apple scratch-off. But you’re acting like you’ve been sentenced to an arranged marriage. What’s up with that?”

  I had been asking myself that same question. If I loved Trent, why was I hesitant to get married? I was thirty-two. What woman didn’t want to be married by thirty-two? Was it my aversion to forever? And if so, why had I paid that therapist all that money if I was still scared of love?

  ······

  “Come on, Brooke. You’ve got to let him go.”

  “No, no, no,” I sobbed, rocking back and forth like a woman on the verge of losing it. I hadn’t moved from my seat since they’d lowered my fiancé into the ground. The cemetery groundskeeper was standing off to the side. He and his workers had empathetic expressions. I’m sure they’d seen their share of people who couldn’t let go. And my name would just be added to the list.

  I was supposed to be having my bachelorette party today. Instead I was putting my fiancé in the ground.

  “Baby, the car is waiting,” my father said.

  “Why? Why do I lose everybody I love?” I cried.

  My father took my hand. “You still have me.”

  “And me,” April added, taking my other hand. The two of them hadn’t left my side since I had gotten the news of Jared’s death. I had taken it especially hard because I felt like it was my fault. I’d begged Jared to come over. I was feeling emotional about my mother not being at my wedding. He had so much to do but he’d come because I called. And on his way to my place, some thugs decided they wanted his Mustang. His pride and joy. And if I knew Jared, he resisted.

  One fatal bullet altered the course of my life.

  “You have to let him go,” April said, gently squeezing my arm.

  I knew they were right. All of the guests were gone. Even Jared’s mother had left. I took a deep breath and stood just as a light sprinkle started.

  God was joining me in my mourning.

  I summoned up my strength and inched closer to the hole where Jared’s body would spend eternal life. I tossed my one red rose into the hole and watched as it landed on top of Jared’s casket.

  “I will never love again,” I mumbled.

  ······

  “I am happy about marrying Trent,” I said, struggling to bury the memory of Jared. “It’s just . . .” My words trailed off as my hand instinctively went to my necklace.

  April reached over and patted my other hand. “You’re missing Jared and Aunt Sarah?”

  I nodded. “You would think after all these years, it would be easy. But it’s like I have a hole inside of me. I worked hard to heal that hole.”

  “Death is a part of life,” she reminded me.

  I sighed, knowing she was right. But if I didn’t have that soul-loving love, I’d be better equipped to handle death.

  “It’s not just the forever thing with Jared,” I continued. “I mean, do I really want to love someone like my dad did—to the point that you can’t function once they’re gone? And then, a wedding day is something you’re supposed to share with your mother. It breaks my heart all over again that I won’t get to do that.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought back the tears welling up inside me.

  April’s mother, my daddy’s sister, had also died when she was just a little girl, but her stepmother had done an awesome job and had become my de facto mother. Unfortunately, she and April’s father had retired to Florida, so we didn’t get to see them both much.

  “Well, you know Aunt Sarah is up there looking down on you, proud as Michelle Obama’s mama on Barack’s Inauguration Day. She’ll be there with you on your wedding day.” April leaned in and tapped my heart. “She’ll be right there.”

  That made me smile. Even though she was younger than me by two years, April had been the voice of reason all my life. And just that quickly, she had me feeling better.

  “Now, come on, let’s find a dress,” April said, her mood shifting into planning mode as she grabbed a stack of magazines out of her tote bag. She set them on the table, brushed her spiral honey-blond curls out of her face, and flipped open the pages of the first magazine.

  “I don’t need all of that,” I said, pointing to the stack of bridal magazines. “I told you I’m thinking about eloping.”

  “Girl, please.” She studied me, I guess trying to see if I was serious. When she realized that I was, she said, “I cannot believe you are seriously going to elope. Who elopes these days?”

  “People that don’t want the pomp and circumstance of a wedding,” I replied.

  “Everybody wants a big wedding,” April said.

  “No. Your wedding was big enough for everyone in our family.”

  “It was kinda big, huh?” She laughed.

  I was April’s maid of honor. And she’d had ten bridesmaids. Her wedding had been the thing fairy tales were made of. I didn’t need all of that.

  “It’s just me and my little small circle of friend
s,” I replied. “Plus, it would look bad with Trent’s side of the church packed and my side only having you, Dad, Grandma, and a couple of other people.”

  “I told you, you need to get some friends.”

  “I have friends. I just like to keep my circle small. Women can’t be trusted.”

  “It’s that negative mentality that keeps women from thriving and supporting each other,” April chastised.

  “Okay, okay, not all women,” I admitted. “Just some.”

  Mark interrupted us when he came to set my drink on the table. “Ready to order?” he asked.

  We placed our orders for the steak salad, then tossed around more honeymoon ideas. Even though my mind hadn’t been right at first, by the time our salads came, I was completely on board.

  In one of the magazines, I had just found the perfect dress—an ankle-length number that was just right for an informal ceremony, when my cell phone rang. I picked it up, frowned, and put it back down.

  “Who was that?” April asked.

  “I don’t know. Unknown number. Ain’t nobody got time for that,” I joked.

  She laughed, then minutes later, her phone rang. She glanced at the phone, then pointed it toward me. The caller ID read the same, “Unknown.”

  “I can answer unknown numbers because I don’t owe anyone.” She winked as she pressed TALK. “Hello . . . What? Grandma, calm down.” April sat straight up in her seat. “Yeah, she’s here with me . . . what’s going on?”

  My heart dropped as I watched terror spread across my cousin’s face.

  “Okay . . . yeah . . . Duke Memorial? Got it, we’re on our way.”

  “Oh, my God. Is Grandma all right?” My heart felt like it was preparing for an Olympic track meet. My grandmother had been living with us since I was four. She’d moved in after my grandfather died and had been there ever since.

  April grabbed her purse, pulled out three twenties, and tossed them next to our plates. “We have to go.” She pushed away from the table.

  “What’s going on, April?” I demanded, standing along with her. “What’s wrong with Grandma?”