“I thought that was one of the rules—never talk about your ex with your new…”
He grinned. “You don’t know what to call me, do you?” Before she could answer, he leaned across the seat and kissed her. For a moment she wondered if Mrs. James was watching. But then with his tongue he took away thoughts that weren’t centered on him. When he pulled away, he asked, “So are you going to tell me about Quentin?”
“Quentin who?”
They laughed, but then she turned serious. “Why do you want to know about him?”
“I don’t want to know about him, I want to know about you.” He shrugged. “It’s just that sometimes, Sheridan, I feel there is an emotional wall around you. You let me get close but only so close.”
“I don’t feel that at all.”
“Like right now. You know how to direct the conversation. You almost had us going off on another subject.”
“I guess I haven’t accepted my separation from Quentin in my head yet.”
“Have you accepted it in your heart?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. What comes first—the heart or the head?”
“You tell me.”
She was quiet and looked away. “Quentin’s out of my heart. I’ve worked hard to close that door. But maybe he’s not out of my head.”
Brock nodded slowly, digesting her words. “So, if he’s out of your heart, is there room for someone else?”
More time passed. “I didn’t think I had any room.” She stopped, still not looking at him. “But you’ve opened that door a bit for me.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I think so.”
With his fingertips, he turned her head so she faced him and kissed her gently. He pulled back and said, “If there’s room in your heart, I’d like to submit an application for residence.”
She shook her head. “I just don’t know if I’m capable of loving again,” she said softly. “How can I love when I still may have a broken heart? How would…”
He covered her lips with his fingers. “A while ago, you promised to just go for it with me. Stop asking the questions. Just go.”
Her stare was intense. “Is that what you’re doing?”
He kissed her, gently, tenderly. Then, urgently. When he leaned back, he’d taken all of her breath away. “What do you think?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The door to her heart cracked open just a bit more. And she knew then that maybe, just maybe, she could make a little space and perhaps let Brock Goodman inside.
The couch enveloped her like a soft leather glove.
Sheridan eased further into the crevices, dipping deeper into the comfort. And then she did what she’d wanted to do all day. She closed her eyes.
She couldn’t count the hours since she’d last rested. For the past days her slumber had been filled with images of Christopher, Déjà, and a baby. She’d awakened every morning tangled in tousled sheets as if she’d been battling an enemy.
But now she wondered what would fill her dreams tonight. Today all of her wishes for her son had been granted, but not the way she wanted. Never did she expect to feel such overwhelming loss. She wished now that she had never prayed those prayers.
“I know you’re sovereign, Lord,” she whispered. “I know everything is for your purpose and glory. But please forgive me for my thoughts. Please understand my heart.”
She sat, relishing the peace that came with that prayer, and minutes later, her calm ushered in a vision of Brock. And her entire body smiled.
“You look happy.”
Slowly she opened her eyes and took in Quentin. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, standing as if he were home.
“Happy is not exactly the word I’d have used.”
He joined her on the couch, leaned back, and rested his legs on the table. “Been a long day,” he said.
“Longer than long.”
He smiled.
“How’s Tori?” she asked.
“She’s okay. I stayed with her until she fell asleep. I think this was traumatic for her.”
Sheridan nodded. “I thought about letting her stay with Mom and Dad tonight. But when I called, she said she wanted to come home.”
“Told me the same thing.” He paused. “I think when things like this happen, people want to be around those they’re closest to. Makes them feel safest.”
It was the way he spoke that made her twist to face him. “You miss this.”
She wasn’t sure herself whether she was asking a question or making a statement. She wasn’t sure at all what she thought he missed. But he nodded—understanding and agreeing.
In the silence Quentin’s eyes slowly took in the room as if he was digesting memories, saving the nourishment for sometime later. His eyes rested on the family pictures on the mantel.
“I miss all of this,” he finally said. He sounded as if he were drowning in sadness.
“Is it because of what happened…with Déjà?”
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Even though it was killing me that Chris could be a father, in other ways, it felt good. I felt like I was home again. I was needed by my children.” He turned to her and placed his hand over hers. “And it felt good that you needed me too.”
I’ve always needed you, Quentin.
His hand stayed, but he turned his glance away. “I was surprised to see Brock at the hospital.”
She said nothing.
A moment passed, then, “This may be none of my business, but how serious are you about this guy?”
“You’re right. It’s none of your business.”
He turned back to look at her and then smiled when she smiled.
“It just seems…he’s around quite a bit.”
“You’ve only seen him a few times.”
“But I can do the math. If I see him once a week, I know you’re seeing him more than that. So what’s the deal?”
His tone was light, as if he were just asking a friend a simple question. But in his eyes Sheridan saw seriousness. She tilted her head. “You know, over the past few months there’ve been times when I actually thought…some of the questions you’ve asked me…you almost sound jealous.”
He shrugged. “I’m not jealous. Just a little sad that you’ve moved on with your life.”
“Why? You’ve gone on with yours.”
He nodded, opened his mouth, and then closed it.
“Quentin, are you happy?” she asked.
His glance roamed to the mantel again, where the history of their love remained, even though he’d left almost half a year ago. “I thought I was. I wanted to be. But…”
This time she reached for his hand. They settled in the comfort of the familiar, until he said, “I’m leaving Jett.”
His words froze every part of her. Finally she was able to ask, “What happened?”
“I’ve been asking myself that.” He stared at the wall. “I haven’t been happy.”
“That’s what you said about being…with me.”
He nodded. “If I were a psychiatrist, I’d diagnose myself as being totally confused.”
“So then I won’t say it,” Sheridan said, wanting to lighten the mood. But then, she asked, “Quentin, is all of this based upon today? It’s been an emotional day. I don’t think you should make any decisions…” She stopped herself. Couldn’t believe she was actually talking to Quentin about this. Couldn’t believe that she wasn’t jumping up and down, shouting, “Hallelujah.”
She said, “So what’s going on?”
“I wish I could explain it. But being with Jett didn’t solve any of what was going on inside of me.”
She exhaled a long breath.
“Now, I’m not saying I’m not gay. What I’m saying is that I never felt right with Jett. I don’t know if that’s a function of Jett not being the one for me or whether none of that life is right for me. I don’t know. What I do know is that God’s not finished with me. This isn’t my final stop.”
I know he loves the Lord. If Quentin will just pause and listen, he’ll hear God’s voice.
Sheridan recalled Pastor Ford’s words. Was Quentin listening to God’s voice?
“What are you going to do?”
He grinned without happiness. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask if I can move back home.” He chuckled just a bit when she exhaled. “I think you and Chris and Tori have all found your way through this. I’m just going to take some time for myself.” He shook his head. “I’ll probably move out next weekend.”
“You have a place already?”
“Been looking at a few spots, but I’ll grab a hotel room for now.”
She nodded.
He said, “It’s amazing. I’m over forty and I’m searching for an apartment and myself at the same time.”
She squeezed his hand. “Do me a favor and really spend some time with God.”
“I will, just like I always have. Through all of this, I’ve maintained my relationship with God. He’s been with me.” He paused. “I want you to know that I continued to ask God to take this desire away from me. And I still feel it, Sheridan. It’s real. It’s who I am.”
She took a deep breath. “Maybe that’s the challenge. Maybe you keep asking God to take the desire away when all He wants is for you to give it up.”
He was silent for long minutes. “You still think it’s wrong for me to be gay.”
She held up her hands. “I’m not judging you. I just keep you in my prayers. I’m just asking you to look at this through God’s eyes.” She took his hand. “You should consider talking to Pastor Ford.”
He shook his head. “I know her position on this.”
“Her number one position is as your spiritual leader. She’s only concerned with your spiritual health. This isn’t a personal opinion or judgment for her. You know how she is.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I know that Tori and probably now even Christopher would love to have you back at church with them.”
“I’ll think about it,” he repeated. He looked at her, and for the first time she saw the new lines in his face. It looked like sadness had etched itself deep inside his skin and made itself at home. “I will always love you, Sheridan.”
She nodded. “I know that, now.”
“We still have quite a life in front of us—together.” He paused. “We were almost grandparents.”
“Isn’t that scary?”
He nodded. “But one day we will be. You’ll be a terrific grandmother.”
“And you’ll make a wonderful grandfather.”
“I hope so. In the meantime”—he dropped her hands and stood—“I’ve got to figure out my life so that I can be here totally for my children. And their children. And their children.”
She held up her hand. “Please, I can’t think about any of that.”
He gently pulled her from the couch. When he put his arm around her shoulders, she inhaled. With each step they took toward the door, Sheridan was aware of Quentin’s touch, the way his arm folded naturally over her shoulders as if it belonged there. When they stopped moving, she could feel her heart beating, and then she realized it was his heartbeat she felt.
He looked down at her, and her heart hammered more. It was a familiar stance, but one she’d missed for months. He stood so close she could see the speckles in his eyes and smell the fragrance of his breath. And tonight, on his face, she saw the same love that had been there so many years before.
Minutes stopped moving and Quentin leaned, his lips aimed for hers. As the edges of his lips touched her, she turned her head, so that his mouth landed on her cheek. He kissed her and let his lips linger against her skin. Softly. Easily. Sadly.
When he leaned back, there were tears in his eyes but none in hers.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She nodded.
“Good night.”
He opened the door and stepped outside. She watched until his Mercedes joined with the night. And then she closed the door.
Sheridan couldn’t sleep.
Her mind was a tousled mass of thoughts—Christopher, Déjà, Brock, Quentin. It was enough to keep her eyes stretched open as if it were three in the afternoon. But it was three in the morning and she gave up trying to win the battle to rest.
Sheridan tightened her robe and then wandered downstairs. Inside the office, she looked around the room. Six months ago, only pain stayed with her as she studied Quentin’s words. Now, she felt nothing. Next time she saw Quentin, she’d have to tell him—she would be closing their business.
She sat at her desk and frowned when she saw the FedEx envelope. She wondered where it had come from, and then remembered that her parents had come to pick up Tori when she rushed with Déjà to the hospital. Maybe it had been delivered then.
She glanced at the return address, and her heart pounded. Slowly, she ripped open the envelope. Her eyes stayed on the large letters. And she waited for the tears to come.
“Final Divorce Decree.”
No tears, but sadness filled her nonetheless. It was over. Officially now. All that was left for her and Quentin was a lifetime of sharing their children. And a love for him that she knew was there—but it was tucked away into a corner of her mind.
She stared at the paper for a moment longer and then filed it inside her drawer under “Important Papers.” But even though the notice that legally recognized Quentin’s deception was in the file cabinet, the thoughts stayed with her.
Six months ago, he’d told her about Jett. She remembered that day and all of the horrific times in between. And then, she recalled the good days. When she knew that she and Christopher and Tori were going to make it. She had quite a testimony.
She paused. That’s what her father had said.
You have quite a testimony. And testimonies are not for you alone. They’re meant to be shared.
Sheridan pulled out a pad. Maybe I’ll just make some notes, she thought. But the pen wouldn’t move, even though her mind was racing, even though she had ideas—remembering the way Quentin had come to her. Remembering her fear of AIDS. Remembering the emotional devastation that rocked Christopher and Tori.
Quentin may not have had down-low behavior, but he had a down-low attitude, keeping the secret from her for far too long, hiding who he was, sending their world into chaos.
Down low.
And then her pen moved across the paper. She wrote the first words, studied them and smiled: My Life as a Survivor: How I Learned to Live Up High.
Author’s Note
Whew! This was the most difficult novel I’ve written to date. Not only because of the subject matter, but because I have friends who are gay whom I love dearly. I decided to write Grown Folks Business (in 2002) for two reasons. One, I know the Word of God and the truth of God’s Word. I know what He says about the act of homosexuality. I wanted to write a book about that. However, the other reason for this novel is that I often hear the judgment of Christians regarding homosexuality and how Scripture is often mis-quoted in this regard. I’ve heard people say that homosexuality is a sin on a different level—that it is an abomination and the only sin that is an abomination. That’s not true. So, I wanted to write a book that addressed those issues as well.
While I understand God’s direction on how we should judge one another as Christians, I also once heard wonderful words from a friend who was about to get married. He said, “You can love someone into submission.” I believe as Christians, we can love someone so much that we can lead them to know the truth. I prefer the love approach. And that’s what I wanted to show in this book.
Also, please note that this story is told from just one point of view. This novel is not about Quentin Hart and why he is gay or why he chose a particular time to leave his family. Grown Folks Business is just about Sheridan Hart’s journey. This novel is about wh
at would happen if your husband came home and told you he was in love with a man. I had the pleasure of speaking with a wife who experienced this and also with men who have left their families. I thank all of you for your candor.
My hope is that this book will open up discussion in a positive way and that we all come to know the truth—which is the Word of God.
Touchstone Reading Group Guide
Grown Folks Business
Quentin tells Sheridan that he’s in love with someone else, but that he hasn’t been having an affair. Do you think that an extramarital affair includes sexual infidelity by definition? What do you think constitutes “cheating”?
Sheridan feels that she is suffering the worst kind of betrayal by her husband. Is it harder for her because Quentin loves another man and not another woman? Do you think Sheridan would have felt differently if Quentin confessed to sleeping with a man, but not having fallen in love? How would you feel if you were in Sheridan’s shoes?
Grown Folks Business presents situations that cause us to reconsider what makes a man a man. Consider Quentin’s sexual identity crisis, Cameron’s prostate cancer, and Christopher’s attitude toward his father. What do you think the defining characteristics of a real man are?
Similarly, Grown Folks Business asks questions about womanhood and femininity. Kamora, with her sexy clothes and active love life, resides at one end of the femininity spectrum. Sheridan, with her sweat suits and celibacy, believes she resides at the opposite end—and, in fact, blames Quentin’s abandonment on her lack of femininity. What do you think it means to be a real woman?
Homosexuality is an increasingly sensitive issue in our communities. What are some of the different views on homosexuality presented by the various characters in Grown Folks Business? How do you feel about these opinions?
Kamora tells Sheridan, we’re all “only human.” What do you think is the difference between the hypocrites in this novel and the people who are “only human,” but are trying to do right by God? To which camp would you assign each of the following: Sheridan, Quentin, Sheridan’s brother, Kamora, Beatrice and Cameron, Déjà, Francesca, Christopher, Brock, and Pastor Ford?
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