by Dwan Abrams
Two hours later, Shania and Greg met Cheyenne and Jonathan at the Westin Peachtree Plaza. They greeted each other with hugs and kisses on the cheek and boarded the scenic glass elevator to climb the hotel’s seventy-three stories to the restaurant. Once inside, Shania looked around and noticed that the restaurant had a nice-sized crowd. Live jazz music filled the air. She felt Greg’s arm reach around her waist and pull her close, making her feel even more safe and secure.
They didn’t have to wait long before being seated at their table and placing their drink and food orders. Shania glanced out the window and admired the lit buildings. She couldn’t believe how much had changed in a few short months. Who would’ve thought that the four of them would be on a double date without Shania wanting to strangle Jonathan? She remembered how she felt when Cheyenne first started dating him. They were juniors in high school, and Shania didn’t think he was good enough for her little sister. Not long afterward he became a high school dropout and occasional street pharmacist. In her eyes, he lacked ambition and his very essence meant trouble. But in Cheyenne’s eyes, he was her gift from God.
It wasn’t until Jonathan had been shot in the abdomen after an altercation and hospitalized that Shania felt compassion for him. Although she felt devastated when she found out that Cheyenne had run off and eloped with Jonathan, she decided to give him a chance.
“We have a surprise for you, sister.” Cheyenne’s eyes glowed, and she sounded excited.
A surprise for her? Why were they giving her surprises on Greg’s birthday? Shania stopped looking outside and looked at Cheyenne. She held her breath, hoping that Cheyenne wasn’t about to announce that she was pregnant. If her sister’s lips so much as formed a p-word, she was going to flip. When it came to Cheyenne and Jonathan’s relationship, Shania needed to take baby steps, not quantum leaps.
Squeezing Jonathan’s hand on top of the table, Cheyenne announced, “Jonathan got his GED. He’s even going to attend the fall semester at Valdosta State along with me.”
Cheyene was a sophomore at Valdosta State and Shania felt proud of her younger sister for going to college, because it was no easy feat getting her there. In high school, Cheyenne was notorious for skipping classes. It was a favor from God that allowed her to graduate. Shania had never seen someone miss as much school as Cheyenne and still graduate with honors.
Shania exhaled, and a smile spread across her face. She could tell that her sister was proud of him, and even though she was reluctant to admit it, she was proud of him too.
“I’m so glad to hear that. Congratulations,” Shania said.
Greg chimed in, “That’s terrific. Very smart decision.”
Jonathan eyed Greg and Shania. “I owe y’all a lot.” He raised a brow. “When I was coming up, my mom abandoned me and my brothers and sisters. For a while, I lived on the streets. I was homeless.” He tilted his head to the side. “I sold drugs to survive—am I proud of that?” He paused. “No. I was just doing what I had to do.” He placed his hands on his lap and exchanged glances with Cheyenne. “Then I met my boo, and everything changed.”
Cheyenne leaned over and kissed Jonathan on the lips; then she leaned back in her seat. For the first time, Shania could see how her sister might be attracted to Jonathan. Beneath his thuggish veneer lay a decent guy trying to find his way.
Jonathan took a sip of water and swished a cube of ice around in his mouth. “Man”—he shook his head—“I coulda been dead. When I got capped, all that stuff people say about your life flashing before your eyes is true, the bad and the good. While I was in that coma, it was like a presence was all around me, keeping me. You know what I’m sayin’?”
All eyes were on Jonathan until Greg broke the silence.
“It wasn’t your time,” Greg said. “God has a plan for your life.”
“I know that now,” Jonathan relented. He looked at Shania. “I had always heard people talk about the Lord, but I wasn’t a believer. I just thought black people had too much religion. Like it was an excuse for not trying hard. I used to hate when my grandmamma would say, ‘I’ma pray for you.’ I used to be like, ‘Pray for yourself.’ She was poor and seemed to be happy. I couldn’t understand that.” His mouth formed a circle as he wiped the corners of his mouth with his hand. “Now I know better. That’s because of you, Ms. Shania.” He pointed his index finger at her.
Shania’s eyes misted as she remembered how hard she and Cheyenne had prayed for Jonathan’s recovery while he lay helpless in that hospital bed.
He continued, “I used to hear people talk about the Lord, but they were doing just as much dirt as me. I wasn’t feelin’ that. But then I met you. You were the first person I ever met who talked the talk and walked the walk. And then when you came to the hospital and prayed for me even though I knew you couldn’t stand me . . .” He snickered. “I knew there was something different about you.”
Shania let out a slight chuckle.
He composed himself and said, “Then you took the time to talk to me about my salvation afterward. That changed my life. Maybe if the guys I used to hang with had somebody like you all in their lives, they’d be all right too. You guys are the only family I’ve got.”
Shania dabbed the corners of her eyes with her napkin. She had no idea that she had made such an impact on Jonathan’s life. The fact that he considered her to be family came as a surprise to her as well, especially since she hadn’t gone out of her way to embrace him as a member of her family. Until now she had considered him to be the bane of her existence. In her mind, he was merely a test that she needed to overcome. Now she realized that she had been way off. The Lord had used her to bring Jonathan to Christ.
“Sister, are you crying?” Cheyenne teased.
Shania’s nostrils flared. “Shut up. I’m not crying. Just trying to make sure my eyeliner’s not smeared.”
Cheyenne smirked. “Sure you are.”
The waiter arrived with their food. Shania welcomed the distraction. Although she appreciated the bonding moment that she and Jonathan had shared, she thought he had gone too deep. She wanted to lighten the mood and make the evening more festive. After all, they were celebrating Greg’s birthday. So, she cracked a few jokes, and everyone laughed.
They finished eating dinner and ordered coffee to go with the birthday cake they planned to eat for dessert. Shania had picked up a caramel cake, Greg’s choice, from her friend who owned a bakery and brought it with them to the restaurant.
Before slicing the cake, they sang “Happy Birthday,” and Greg opened his gifts. Cheyenne and Jonathan got him a silk tie and expensive cuff links. Shania could tell by the look on his face and the way he kept thanking them that he loved his gift. Then he opened the jewelry box containing the onyx ring Shania had gotten for him. He showed his appreciation by giving her a kiss.
They enjoyed the buttery caramel cake while making small talk and sipping coffee. When they finished, they all stood and followed each other outside. Although Cheyenne and Jonathan would be spending the night at the house with Shania and Greg, Shania hugged her little sister like she never wanted to let her go. It was still hard for her to accept the fact that as Cheyenne’s husband, Jonathan came before her. After so many years of providing for and protecting her little sister, it was difficult for her to accept that now provisions and security rested solely in Jonathan’s hands. Despite the fact that he now had a GED and had changed his lifestyle, she still felt that God had greater plans for Cheyenne . . . than him.
On the drive back home, Greg thanked her for making his special day exquisite, and though he wouldn’t admit it, she could see the exhaustion from the day resting in his eyes.
“I need to make a quick stop. Is that okay?” Greg asked, covering a yawn with his hand.
Curious as to where he was going, she nodded and called Cheyenne’s cell phone to tell her they had to make a stop. Cheyenne told her that they’d just meet them at the house rather than following them. Shania ended the call and sat quietly for
the rest of the ride. She wasn’t surprised when about forty minutes later he pulled into Mother Washington’s driveway. He left the car running as he jogged up the steps and used his personal key to open Mother Washington’s door. She watched as her husband ducked into the house and closed the door behind him. Greg was a total sweetheart, and it touched her heart that he looked after Mother Washington, always checking up on her and helping her with the upkeep of her house.
Mother Washington had bounced around from church to church, but when she had visited Saved and Sanctified Baptist three years ago, she had instantly considered the place her home and had taken Greg in as her “adopted” child. Rumor had it that Mother Washington had two daughters, but if she did, she never talked about them. Shania wondered why.
Greg came out the house a few minutes later, looking bothered.
“Something wrong?” Shania asked as he clicked his seat belt in place.
“She has a really bad headache. Said it’s been bothering her all day.”
“You want to stop and get her something?”
Greg shook his head and drove off. “She said the only thing she wants is darkness, silence, and sleep.”
“I know that’s right.” Shania settled in her seat and stared at the headlights of the cars as they passed by. She nodded to the music and before she realized it she had drifted off to sleep. She didn’t awake again until she felt Greg’s arm slip beneath her knees and the other arm behind her back as he hefted her out of the passenger seat and against his chest. Still sleepy, she rubbed one eye.
She held on to his neck while he balanced her against one knee and used his free hand to unlock the front door. While he carried her to the bedroom, she could hear the sound of the TV coming from Cheyenne’s closed bedroom door. She snuggled her head into the curve of his shoulder and inhaled the cologne that faintly clung to his shirt, as well as the masculine musky scent that belonged to only him.
Once inside their bedroom, he closed the door behind him, undressed her until she wore not a stitch of clothing; then she held her hands high in the air as he pulled her favorite raspberry red night slip over her head. Then, to top it off, he picked her up and tucked her in bed.
Shania cooed in contentment. “You are too sweet to me. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, babes. Now, shhh.”
She smiled as he placed a finger against her lips.
“We had a long day today, and you’re going to need your rest for tomorrow,” he explained.
She kissed the finger against her lips, moved it out of the way, then grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips down to hers. She thanked God for blessing her with a husband who was so caring and considerate. Even if he had made a selfish move by purchasing that dreadful bike without her input, considering the totality of the circumstances, she could let that one mishap slide and continue loving him for being the excellent husband that he was. Flaws and all.
Four
Greg lay in the bed looking at Shania as she slept. His chest stuck out just thinking about the care his wife had taken to make sure that his day was special. What a birthday. He scratched his head and stared over at his wife, whose body was only half covered by the satiny sheets. One of his hands dragged along the inside of her uncovered thigh, and she moaned his name in her sleep and turned toward him. For half a second, he considered waking her up for an energy boost to start his day off right, but he decided against it. Yesterday had been long, and he was sure that she would spend all day in the kitchen, rushing to make up for lost time.
The wedding was only six days away, so she had her work cut out for her. As much as he enjoyed morning sex, he allowed his sleeping beauty to get a few more minutes of rest before she got up and started to get ready for Sunday morning service.
He leaned against the headboard, not ready just yet to shed the blanket of tranquility that the bed offered. Mentally, he did a quick run-through of the notes that he’d speak on during today’s youth service—depression. It always surprised him how much his students went through during each week. Sometimes it was a breakup with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or grades plummeting in school, failed exams, dealing with bullying or peer pressure, and dealing with broken homes and absent, distant, or inadequate parents. Adults oftentimes failed to realize that even though the youth didn’t have to deal with major bills, job stress, or marital problems, they still had a wealth of issues to trudge through. Greg could only hope that the words of encouragement that he filled them up with every Sunday morning was enough to carry them and guide them throughout the week, and throughout their lives.
A glance at the clock told him he needed to get out of bed and put some pep in his step. He was never late to work, so he didn’t need to be late to God’s house either. He hurried up and showered and shaved. When he finished getting dressed, he wrote a note to Shania telling her that it was his turn to be in charge of the youth services and that he’d see her at the 11:30 A.M. service.
After placing the note on his pillow, he kissed her cheek, and she didn’t even stir. So he left the room without making a sound and went into the garage, where his convertible Mercedes and motorcycle were parked. He eyed Halle, itching to ride her, but he dismissed the urge and unlocked his Mercedes instead. He didn’t feel like answering a bunch of questions about his new purchase, or having the kids harass him about giving them a ride when they knew full well that wasn’t going to happen. The elders and mothers of the church would probably disbar his membership if he pulled up on church ground wearing a Sunday suit on the back of a motorcycle.
As soon as he walked through the doors of Saved and Sanctified Baptist Church, the few young people that were in the main sanctuary ran up to him and greeted him with hugs, daps, and high fives.
“What are you all doing in here?” he asked them after greeting each one in turn. “Shouldn’t you be in the youth department?”
“We’re headed that way,” the oldest of the crew, a freckle-faced kid, said. “We just wanted to say hey to Pastor Ray first.”
“Okay then. Just make sure you’re in your seats by 9:30 A.M.
“Yes, sir, Minister Crinkle,” they said in unison.
Greg smiled at them and tousled a few heads and patted a few shoulders as the youth left out the main doors in the direction of the youth department. Greg scouted the sanctuary for Franklin, but he wasn’t there yet, which was expected. On a good day for him, he usually didn’t show up at church until the praise team had reached their second or third song. On a bad day, he got there seconds before the pastor had asked everyone to stand so he could give the benediction.
Greg saw his pastor speaking with one of the deacons, and he waited patiently until they finished before he walked over to his pastor and gave him a manly hug. Pastor Ray asked him how he was doing and inquired about Shania, to which Greg admitted that she was a bit tired, but she’d be there for Sunday morning service.
As he headed toward the back, he bumped into Mother Washington as she was leaving the restroom.
“Good mornin’, suga,” Mother Washington said.
Dressed in a purple suit with a matching hat that had a feather sticking out the side, Greg thought Mother Washington looked real good this morning, considering how bad her head was bothering her the night before. But he expected her to be dressed sharp because that was her motto: you could half step it throughout the week, if you so desired, but on the Lord’s day, you gave Him your Sunday best.
“Good morning, Mother Washington,” Greg said as he bent over and gave her a big hug. The smell of Bengay ® assaulted his nostrils. “How’re you feeling today?”
She sighed and massaged her temple. “You know, suga, my head ain’t bothering me as bad as it was last night, so I consider myself blessed. These old bones have seen better days, but I won’t complain.” She gave her signature smile, one that lacked about three teeth on the top row and five or six on the bottom. “I made two cobblers this morning. Got ’em sitting on the stove cooling. You make sure
you come by and get ’em, okay?”
Greg nodded, licking his lips in anticipation. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll come by after church and get them. Thank you, Mother.”
“Where’s that beautiful wife of yours?” She looked around as if she were expecting Shania to show up at any moment.
Whenever he heard other people refer to Shania in such an endearing way, his chest filled with pride. It reminded him that he had made a good decision in making Shania his wife. He believed she deserved all of the accolades people gave her, and more.
“She’s a little tired. We had a long day yesterday, but she’ll be at the 11:30 A.M. services,” he explained.
Mother Washington snickered and elbowed his side. “I guess you put it on her, huh?”
Greg felt his cheeks grow hot, and he looked around to see if anyone else was standing nearby. One thing about Mother Washington was that she didn’t bite her tongue for anybody. If she felt it, she said it.
“Don’t be blushing,” she said, and pinched his cheek. “Y’all is married folk now. It’s all right in God’s eyes. And I know y’all have only been married a few months, but don’t do like a lot of these modern couples.” She wagged a finger.
Greg furrowed a brow, wondering what she was talking about.
As if she had read his mind or his expression, Mother Washington didn’t miss a beat when she said, “I’m talkin’ ’bout babies, suga. Don’t get so caught up with stuff that don’t matter that you forget about your family. Life is short.” She looked him in the eyes. “People get married and think they got forever to sort everything out. Marriage is forever, but we got a limit on life. Give that woman a baby and don’t wait too long. Ain’t nothing more important than your family, suga.” When she said these words, she held her crumpled handkerchief against her lips, and her milky eyes glazed over with tears. She said into the handkerchief once again, “Ain’t nothing more important than your family.” She looked back up at Greg and added, “And blood ain’t always thicker than water. Sometimes water thicker than blood.”
