Audrey turned around in her seat to face her scowling daughter. “Zee, aren’t you happy for us?”
“If you like it, I love it,” Zenovia replied as she turned to look out of the window.
Audrey sighed and seemed to abandon the notion of getting Zenovia to ride the happy train. She turned back to her man and beamed with excitement.
“So who’s going to be your best man?” she asked.
Phillip responded without hesitation. “Oh, that’s easy. My friend Bryce Goodman.”
“Have I met him yet?”
“No, not yet, but he gave a sermon at the regional meeting. It was right after lunch. Young black guy…”
Audrey didn’t seem to remember, but Zenovia’s eyes opened wide. The cheater from her vision now had a name. Bryce Goodman. Her mother’s fiancé had a cheater for a best friend. Wow.
Zenovia let it all sink in. She hoped that the two men weren’t birds of a feather, because Phillip definitely did not want to rumble with Audrey.
Audrey cleared her throat and said in an almost whisper, “Honey, Phillip and I made another decision too.”
“What? Don’t tell me you two are planning on having children.”
Phillip laughed. “We are living way too close to the apocalypse to be thinking of having children.”
Zenovia rolled her eyes. “Okay, then what?”
“I’m not going to be taking my meds anymore,” Audrey announced.
“Mom!”
“Wait, Zenovia,” Audrey explained. “Don’t flip out. We’re going to do it gradually.”
Her mother, without medication, was not a mother at all. She was a monster. Phillip had no idea what kind of Pandora’s box he was ripping open.
Zenovia asked, “Phillip, was this your idea?”
“Yes. Well, it was a joint decision.”
“Have you spoken with her doctor?”
“Zenovia…” Audrey tried to interject, but Zenovia glared angrily at her mother.
“Mother, I’m talking to Phillip.”
Phillip responded to the question. “No, I have not talked to any doctors.”
“I know you haven’t, because if you had, you would know that my mother’s schizophrenia is fully advanced. Without her meds, she is violent and delusional.”
Phillip chuckled. “First of all, your mother and I do not answer to you. We’re the parents. You’re the child.”
Zenovia seethed, but held her tongue. She stopped herself from spewing curses all up into the front seat because she wanted to hear what other foolishness Phillip had to offer.
Phillip continued, “Second, your mother’s past illness is the work of the adversary. We have faith that she’ll be healed. In fact, I believe she’s already healed.”
Zenovia shook her head. She had faith too, but hers was based on a reality and childhood of living with a deranged mother.
“She’s not the same person without her meds. You won’t love the person she becomes,” Zenovia said somberly.
“To the contrary,” Phillip declared with confidence. “This medicated person is not your real mother. She can’t begin to realize God’s plan for her life until she accepts her healing.”
Audrey pleaded with Zenovia. “Zee, don’t you want to see me get better?”
Zenovia blinked back tears. She wanted nothing more than to see her mother get better. It had been her prayer ever since a zealous Sunday-school teacher had told her there was someone listening—and that He would answer her.
Leaving Audrey’s question unanswered, Zenovia turned to stare out of the window. Phillip pulled into the parking lot for the Homestyle Buffet, a cheesy all-you-can-eat pseudo-soul food restaurant that Zenovia hated.
“You guys go ahead,” she said, “I’m not hungry.”
“You aren’t coming? You gotta eat.” Audrey asked, with audible concern in her tone.
“No, thanks. I’ve got a book I should be reading for an exam on Friday.”
Zenovia watched as her mother and Phillip linked arms and lovingly strolled across the parking lot. She felt helpless to stop the impending disaster.
She cracked open her copy of Manchild in the Promised Land and thought about the A essay that she planned to write. No matter what foolishness Audrey decided, she was going to college and she was going to program computers like nobody’s business.
Because she was fully engrossed in her novel, Zenovia jumped when she heard a loud tap on her window. Tristan and Kyle stood outside the car, both wearing trench coats—highly appropriate for the chilly October afternoon.
“Roll down the window!” Tristan’s warm breath frosted the window.
Zenovia smiled slowly, and her troubled mood disappeared immediately. “No! It’s cold out there and I’ve got the heat on in here.”
“We’re out here doing God’s work, but we can’t get in to warm up! You are cold, Zee.”
Kyle saw an elderly couple crossing the parking lot and ran off to share the Brethren gospel with them, leaving Tristan standing alone, still looking cold.
Zenovia paused for a second and wondered what Phillip might think if he caught her snuggled up in the backseat with Tristan. Especially since he seemed to have adopted some strange “I’m the parent” complex. Then she decided that she didn’t care and leaned forward to unlock the doors.
Tristan flashed his beautiful smile and jumped in the backseat. He breathed in his hands and rubbed them together. Zenovia inhaled as Tristan’s drier-sheets scent filled the car. She pretended not to notice when he sat close enough for their thighs to touch, even though there was plenty of room in the car.
Tristan asked, “Why aren’t you at school? You sick?”
“No. Phillip and my mom are celebrating their engagement.”
“Wow!” Tristan exclaimed. “That’s great, Zee!”
To punctuate his exclamation even further, Tristan ever-so-casually rested his arm on Zenovia’s leg. You ain’t slick, thought Zenovia with a tiny smile.
“If you say so. So why aren’t you and Kyle at school?” Zenovia asked.
“Oh, we only have to go half a day. We get out after our morning vocational classes.”
Zenovia wrinkled her nose. “Vocational classes? You mean like wood shop and auto repair?”
“Well, I’m actually in the dental health specialist class. You have a problem with people learning a trade?”
Zenovia bit her lip. She didn’t have a problem with vocational programs for people who needed them. But she did have an issue with someone as smart and articulate as Tristan blowing his chances at a college education.
“Nah, Tristan. I don’t have a problem with it.”
Tristan lowered his defenses. “Good, because we’ve got a great Data Processing program at Carver. You will be going to Carver when Phillip and your mom get married, right?”
Zenovia nodded slowly. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Switching schools in her senior year of high school was definitely not a part of her plans. But she knew that she could succeed anywhere and the thought of seeing Tristan on a daily basis was enough to make learning fun.
“I guess I will be transferring, but I won’t be taking a Data Processing class. I’ve got too many scholarships riding on my college prep classes.”
Tristan looked disappointed. “You still on that college stuff?”
“Yeah. Still on the college stuff.”
“Zee…”
“Look, Tristan, let’s not have this conversation again. There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. If the apocalypse comes while I’m in school, then oh well.”
“I wasn’t going to try to convince you again.”
“Oh. Well, then what were you going to say?”
“Um…”
Kyle tapped on the window. Dang! Dang! Dang! Tristan moved his arm from her body as if she were wearing acid blue jeans. And just when Zenovia thought that Tristan was about to declare his love. Or like. Or whatever.
Zenovia hissed, “The door i
s unlocked, Kyle. Get in the front seat.”
Kyle jumped in the front seat and looked from Tristan to Zenovia. He raised a suspicious eyebrow.
“Did I interrupt something?”
“No.” Zenovia said. “You didn’t.”
Tristan added, “Zee’s mom is marrying Brother Phillip.”
“That’s cool. Did you tell her about Justin?”
“I was about to.”
With a confused look on her face Zenovia asked, “Tell me what?”
“I think Justin likes you.”
Wrong, wrong, wrong, and the total opposite of right. Why in the world would this be happening? Tristan was supposed to be asking her to be his girlfriend.
“Why do y’all think that? Justin is just being nice to me.”
Tristan shook his head. “I know my brother. He likes you. But he likes a lot of girls, so I just wanted to warn you.”
“So are you gonna talk to him?” Kyle asked with excitement in his eyes.
His question caught Zenovia off guard. “What? N-no.”
There was absolutely no conviction in her response. Zenovia was a horrible liar, and she just couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t talk to Justin. Especially if Tristan never made a move.
“Well, you shouldn’t, Zee. I don’t think he’s the one for you,” Tristan said.
Zenovia puffed air into her cheeks, feeling utter frustration at Tristan’s roundabout way of saying nothing. She decided to change the subject.
“Do y’all know Bryce Goodman?”
Kyle replied, “Yeah. He’s a minister. Just gave a sermon at the regional meeting.”
“He’s friends with Brother Phillip,” Tristan added.
“I know. He’s going to be the best man in their wedding.”
“Well,” Kyle said, “I don’t like him. He’s pretty foul to his wife.”
“You don’t know that, Kyle.”
Kyle frowned deeply and crossed his arms defiantly. “I know what I saw with my own two eyes, Tristan. If I hadn’t walked up on him, I think he would have hit her.”
“That’s so sad,” Zenovia said, thinking of her vision. A cheater and an abuser?
“Zee, the Bible says to ‘touch not my anointed and do my prophets no harm.’ That means that you guys have no right talking bad about Brother Bryce.”
Zenovia pressed her lips together tightly to keep from cutting Tristan to shreds with her words. How anointed could Bryce be if he was meeting up with women in alleys and going upside his wife’s head?
Audrey and Phillip, apparently finished with their lunch, walked back to the car arm in arm. Zenovia marveled at how normal they looked, or rather how normal Audrey looked. Tristan stepped out of the car and hugged Phillip.
“Congratulations, brother! Zenovia just told us your good news.”
“Thanks, man.” Phillip glanced over at Zenovia. “You’re not thinking of going down the same path, are you?”
Tristan laughed out loud. “Nah, man! Not me. I’m gonna be single and loving it until I’m forty.”
“You keep hanging around pretty girls like Zenovia, I’m not sure that’s going to happen. Girls like her can be quite tempting.”
Zenovia scowled. This was the second time that Phillip had made a comment questioning her chastity.
“Aw, Phillip. Zee and I are just friends. Right, Zee?”
Zenovia could literally feel her blood evaporating from anger. Was this how it was going to be with Tristan? Was he always going to flirt and be sweet to her only when no one was around?
“Yeah. We’re just friends. Like siblings almost.” The sarcasm dripped from Zenovia’s tone like a melting ice-cream cone.
Then Kyle had to chime in. “And Zenovia is not really Tristan’s type.”
“I don’t have a type, yet,” Tristan said.
“Do tell, Kyle,” instigated Zenovia. “What is Tristan’s type?”
“Well, he likes them stylish with long flowing hair. What did you say, Tristan? When your wife enters the room, everybody is going to stop and look at her. Right?”
Tristan bit his lip sheepishly, “I guess I did say that, but I really wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular.”
Anyone like who, Tristan? Mia perhaps? Zenovia felt a knot form in her throat and she knew she was on the brink of tears. Could Kyle be any less subtle? But he was just confirming what Zenovia already felt deep down—the Tristans of the world would always be with the girls like Mia.
Audrey’s eyes darkened with anger. “Well, Tristan isn’t Zenovia’s type either. She likes those college boys.”
Even though Zenovia was furious with Audrey about the medication drama, she could’ve jumped up and said, “Thank you, Mommy!”
“Okay, right! I’m gonna bring home a doctor from Howard.”
Tristan made a facial expression that Zenovia couldn’t interpret. He said, “The Brethren could definitely use more doctors.”
“Well, we’ve wasted enough time chatting with y’all,” declared Kyle. “There are lives out here to be saved.”
As soon as he started the car, Phillip and Audrey began their inane wedding preparation talk. Zenovia could barely stand to listen to the two of them go on about their lives when she’d just experienced such a blow.
Tristan had dropped the mother lode of definitions. He had broken it down so that it could forever be broke. He had defined their relationship.
There wasn’t one.
Chapter Nine
What are we going to do with your hair?”
Zenovia scrunched her nose into a frown. She didn’t like the disgust in Mia’s tone when she asked the question, nor did she like the use of the word “we” when referring to a concern that only involved Zenovia.
Alyssa chimed in. “Yeah, Zee. Your hair has to be fly for your mother’s wedding.”
Zenovia could strangle Audrey for forcing her to attend this slumber party in Tristan’s basement rec room. It was the night before the wedding, and Audrey had a lot of last-minute running around to do with Charlotte for the special occasion.
Charlotte had suggested the sleepover so that the girls would be out of their hair, but Zenovia was one hundred percent against it. First of all, Audrey had cut her meds down to once a day, instead of twice a day. So far Zenovia hadn’t seen any drastic changes in behavior, but that could change in an instant, and Zenovia wanted to be on hand if it did. If Charlotte said the wrong thing or set Audrey off, it would be tragic.
Second, Zenovia had absolutely nothing in common with Alyssa or Mia—especially Mia. It would almost feel like punishment spending the evening with them, since Zenovia was clueless on their areas of expertise—makeup, clothes, and boys.
“I’m going to put curls in it tomorrow. That’s why I have it wrapped right now.”
“Oh, that’s what you call that?” Mia asked. “It’s wrapped?”
Zenovia rolled her eyes. Her hair was plastered to her scalp, and she would comb and fluff it in the morning, before adding curls. The definition of a wrap. But of course the two longhairs sitting in front of her had no idea what she was talking about.
Alyssa said, “Oh, yeah. I saw a girl at the salon getting her hair wrapped. It looked hard, like a turtle’s shell or something. Why don’t you just let your hair grow?”
She might as well have asked Zenovia for the meaning of life. Zenovia rocked that short hairstyle like nobody’s business, but truthfully she suffered from a severe case of hair envy. She wanted bouncing and behaving locks that draped across her shoulder or pulled up into a high ponytail.
But Zenovia lied. “I don’t let my hair grow because I like it short.”
The truth was that her hair was short because of years of chemical processing to try and make “good hair” out of her kinky curls.
“Seriously? Both of my brothers say that boys like girls to have long hair,” Alyssa said.
“Well, maybe I don’t care about what boys think.” Zenovia lied again. “Especially your brothers.”
; Mia laughed. “I’m sorry, but I do care what they think. Speaking of which, I think I just heard Tristan in the kitchen, so I’m gonna sneak upstairs and say hi.”
Alyssa giggled as Mia ran up the stairs. They could hear her saying, “What’s up, Tristan?” Zenovia felt her stomach lurch.
“Do you really not like Tristan?” Alyssa whispered.
Zenovia sighed. What would admitting that she liked him prove?
Alyssa continued. “I only ask because I think he really likes you. He might not say it, but I think he does.”
“Your brother is not thinking about me, Alyssa, but if he was, I’d probably talk to him.”
“You do like him! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think I was your friend because of it.”
Alyssa laughed as if the thought would’ve never occurred to her. “Girl, please! I wouldn’t think that. A lot of girls like Tristan and Justin.”
Mia came back downstairs with Tristan in tow. Zenovia hadn’t spoken to him since he’d burst her bubble, and she was in no mood to talk to him now.
Mia gushed, “I asked Tristan if he wanted to play Monopoly with us.”
“Do y’all mind?” he asked. Even though he said “y’all,” he was looking at Zenovia.
She didn’t reply, but Alyssa did, “Of course we don’t mind, big broham.”
“What about you, Zee?” pressed Tristan. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
Zenovia avoided eye contact with Tristan as Alyssa set up the game pieces. She could feel him smiling in her direction, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook.
While Zenovia took her time processing what Alyssa had revealed, Mia didn’t waste any time with flirting. Zenovia thought she would vomit if Mia batted her eyelashes one more time or tossed her hair any harder.
“So, Tristan,” Mia asked, “have you told Zenovia your good news?”
“No. I hadn’t gotten a chance.”
Alyssa did the honors. “Tristan got accepted to serve at the Brethren headquarters in Boston. Justin did too. Tristan leaves at the end of the school year and Justin leaves in a month.”
Zenovia blinked rapidly. Tristan was leaving? She’d gotten baptized and joined a church to make him notice her, but now he was leaving. And Justin too.
In the Midst of It All Page 6
