“Thanks for understanding.”
“Baby, family first always. I’m nowhere near retirement. You and I can fall asleep before curfew in Seattle next year.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You and I fall asleep?”
“Yeah, we’ll be married by next season.”
I sighed. Lord, this man had not changed. He always said what was on his mind no matter how much I did or didn’t want to hear it.
“You’re quiet, Tay.”
“I told you I need some time. I came to the reunion for work, not all of this.”
“All of this is love.”
“I know that, but I didn’t come for love. I didn’t even come voluntarily,” I added, gently reminding him of how he’d smoked me out of hiding with his social media posts. “Being involved with an NFL player is a big deal. You know I’ve been incognito.”
Stephen sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I forget how big my world can be. As long as you promise me that you and I will spend some quality time together, I can be patient.”
I had to push the lie through my teeth. “I promise.”
“And there’s no other man, like, for real, that you need to go break up with.”
I laughed. “I’ve told you. Not a soul.”
Stephen chuckled. “Well, that makes two of us.”
“One-Person-Pierce, right?”
He was teased with that nickname in high school. None of his friends could understand why he was committed to one girl when so many of the girls from our school and neighboring schools were interested in him.
“One-Person-Pierce forever. That’s never going to change.” Heaviness reentered his voice.
“I’ll let you go. I know you need your nap.”
“I’m not ready to let you go and you’re waiting, so let’s talk until I fall off.”
I frowned. “Talk about what?”
“Anything. Everything.”
I paused. My life was boring. I hadn’t done anything exciting in years, so I went back to when I was a little happy and told him about the time I spent in South Africa after college. I’d gone on a writing fellowship. I taught writing to the children in the village and worked on my first novel.
Stephen listened to me for almost fifteen minutes and then I heard light snoring. I pressed the button to end our call. A few minutes later, I was in the line picking up my aunt’s prescriptions. I received a text message from Stephen that said:
Thanks, babe. Best naptime story ever.
I texted him:
Don’t oversleep.
He texted back:
I’m going to dream about you. I won’t want to wake up.
And then before I could respond.
I won’t tell you I love you because I know you need space.
He added several romantic emojis.
Once, I returned to the house, I gave Aunt Joe her medication. Just as I was about to walk across the street to the neighbor’s to get Isaiah for dinner, I heard Aunt Joe call my name. I entered her room. She was sitting on the side of the bed, coughing up blood. A lot of blood.
***
I didn’t wait for an ambulance. I helped Aunt Joe dress and rushed her to the hospital. She was taken into one of the E.R. rooms and Dr. Butler was phoned by the internist on duty. They drew blood, started an IV and sent her for a chest X-ray stat. I felt like I’d been waiting for days when the nurse came in and stated Dr. Butler had requested a CT scan, and they were taking her for the test.
“Does she have pneumonia?” I pressed for details. If they were ordering a more invasive imaging test, they had to have the results of the first one. “I thought you could see that with an X-ray?”
Aunt Joe interrupted me. “Tamar, let the people do whatever they have to do to get me out of here. I feel better since they gave me these IV drugs, so I want to go home in the morning.”
But she didn’t go home in the morning, or afternoon, or at all the next day. There were more tests and finally Dr. Butler came in to tell us that Aunt Joe did not have a respiratory infection. His eyes were sad and weary, his cheerful, but professional bedside manner not what it had been.
His voice cracked when he said, “I’m sorry to tell you this Joe, you have a mass in your lung that is highly suspicious for cancer. You need a biopsy.”
Chapter 4
I hadn’t expected my world to be turned upside down like this. Two weeks ago, I was sitting in my cubicle, working under my deceased mother’s name and hiding from the world. Now, I was receiving text messages with heart emojis from my long, lost love, and I was sitting in an oncologist’s office with my beloved aunt. The reintroduction of Stephen had my head swirling, but this situation with my aunt had me completely shook.
The new doctor was not tall, dark, or handsome like Dr. Butler. First of all, the new doctor was a she. Dr. Mowry was her name. She was a white woman, young – probably not more than forty – with a seriously decorated resume, noted by the wall of achievement behind her. Dr. Butler insisted she was the best oncologist around and hard to get an appointment with, but he’d called and smoothed the way for us to get in without a wait.
“You have Stage 2, non-small cell carcinoma. Which means the cancer has spread to the lymph nodes inside the lung, but it has not spread to any other organs.”
I held my breath, assuming “not spread” was good news.
“The treatment?” Aunt Joe asked.
“Radiation, surgery, more radiation and probably chemotherapy. The addition of chemo will depend on how the disease responds to radiation.”
Aunt Joe let out a long, exhausted breath. “It sounds like a lot.”
Dr. Mowry folded her hands together on her desk and offered a sympathetic response. “It is. I’m not going to tell you it’s not, but we need to be aggressive. Lung cancer can be difficult to treat. I also don’t like the growth pattern of the tumor. I want to give you the best chance I can.”
“To get about a 30-60% survival rate,” Aunt Joe replied, quoting the numbers the doctor had stated earlier.
“Yes.” Dr. Mowry picked up a pen and looked down at a calendar in front of her. “The treatment plan would include radiation first because I’d like to shrink the tumor before we operate.”
I tried to stay focused as she spoke about the size of the tumor and the different types of chemo and PET scans and all the other medical jargon, I was hoping I’d never have to understand. But it was hard to stay focused. My heart was broken. My aunt’s fear was like a heat radiating off her body. The energy of it permeated the entire room, and I’d listened to her cry for days. I’d cried myself. We’d worn ourselves out just getting here.
We left the office and made the trip home without uttering a word between us. Aunt Joe gripped the straps of her handbag. She closed her eyes and prayed and then opened them again and then closed them for more prayer.
Finally, once we had pulled up in front of the house, she spoke.
“Do you know why I stopped smoking fifteen years ago?”
I turned my head in Aunt Joe’s direction and waited for the answer.
“Because I didn’t want to get lung cancer.” She raised a hand to her face and covered her mouth. “I’m most concerned about Isaiah.” She looked at me. “I wish I didn’t have to tell him this.”
“He’s smart. He already knows something is wrong with you.”
Aunt Joe closed her eyes, made a fist and pushed it into her other palm.
“Auntie, you can’t put it off anymore.”
“I know that, Tamar,” she snapped. “Don’t you think, I know?”
I waited before speaking again. When I was sure she wasn’t going to say anything, I asked, “Do you want me to help you tell him?” Aunt Joe had already told me she wanted to tell Isaiah alone.
“I told you no. If I add you to the conversation, it’ll make it a bigger deal. He’ll be scared.”
“He’s going to be scared anyway.”
&n
bsp; “More scared.” She pulled the door handle and pushed the door open. “I’ll tell him this weekend.” She climbed out of the car and dragged her tired body into the house.
Aunt Joe kept her word. Isaiah and she had the conversation in the living room. I overheard bits and pieces of it from the guest room which had officially become my bedroom now that I was staying with her. Choosing Monday and Friday as telework days, I made the drive from Atlanta every Thursday evening after work and back on Monday evenings.
I pressed my ear flush against the door and listened. Isaiah asked a few questions. I didn’t hear much of Aunt Joe’s answers. Her voice was weaker these days, but I did hear when he broke down and began to cry. “I don’t want you to die, Mama.” And then promises from Aunt Joe that she would not leave him.
Tears ran down my face. I could feel his pain. I wanted to comfort him through this. With respect to Isaiah, I had always allowed Aunt Joe to tell me what I could and could not do and should and should not feel. I’d always been lighthearted and fun, Cousin Tamar to him. I came to visit just long enough to bring gifts and take him out to restaurants my aunt did not frequent on her single-parent, para professional teacher’s salary.
But in this moment when he was experiencing the worst heartache he’d ever encountered in his life, I wanted to be more. I wanted to comfort him and wipe his tears. I wanted to take the pain away, because I wasn’t just Cousin Tamar. Isaiah was my son.
Chapter 5
The last NFL championship game was happening in Atlanta. I was on my way home for it. Before I left Aunt Joe’s house, I had to tell her I was back with Stephen. She followed football. The chances we might be photographed together, or something was too great for me not to.
Aunt Joe shrugged. “It’s your life, baby. If you think you can trust him...” She let the question hang in the air.
“I don’t know what I think. It’s early.”
She grunted. “You know you’re going to have to tell him about Isaiah.”
I nodded.
Aunt Joe’s brow wrinkled. “When are you planning to do it?”
This time it was me who shrugged. “After football season is over. He doesn’t need the distraction right now.”
Aunt Joe nodded agreement. “How do you think he’ll react?”
“Honestly, I think he’s probably going to hate me for it.”
Aunt Joe took my hand. She squeezed it. “How do you feel about him?”
I was slow to respond. I didn’t want to admit how I felt to myself, so admitting it to someone else was difficult. “I still have feelings for him.”
“You mean you love him. That’s what I thought.”
Her reaction surprised me. “I expected you to be upset.”
Aunt Joe released my hands and waved away my words. She chuckled with no joy. “Baby, I have bigger problems than what’s going on with you and Stephen.”
“I was also holding off because I was thinking you needed time. I don’t want you to worry about Isaiah.”
She frowned. “Why would I worry about Isaiah? He’s my son.”
“I know, but you’re going through a lot right now.”
“Don’t worry about me. Whatever comes of this happens, but Isaiah will always be my child. He may gain a father. That’s not a bad thing. Not at his age. And if Stephen Pierce is who he appears to be—”
“He is,” I interrupted her. Happiness and sadness swirled in my spirit about that truth. Who he was was what I loved about him, but it also scared me.
“Well, then do it.” Aunt Joe put a finger under my lowered chin. “He will understand.”
I gave my aunt a weak smile and nodded, but my heart…my heart said he would not.
Aunt Joe released my hand. “I’ll be praying for you. You go on and get on the road.”
Aunt Joe’s words about Isaiah gaining a father were on my mind the entire time I was driving back to Atlanta. After I told Stephen, it would be good for Isaiah. It might even be good for Aunt Joe. She’d have the male help she needed.
Stephen also had money. Money opened doors for everyone. I wanted Isaiah to have the opportunities having a rich father would afford him. The only person it wouldn’t be good for was me. Isaiah would be angry with me. Stephen would be angry with me. I was back to feeling like that eighteen-year-old pregnant girl who thought her baby was going to ruin her life.
And as much as Aunt Joe tried to put up a brave front, this was not a good time for her. She didn’t need stress. The doctor told us that, so I needed to keep the stress to a minimum, at least until she recovered from surgery.
I exited I-75 at Stockbridge and made my way to my best friend, Kim’s, hair salon. I entered the shop and approached the booth Kim was working at.
“You have time for one more head?” I asked, looking around at the packed waiting room.
Kim smiled. “Now you know it’s Friday, and I can’t fit anybody in.”
She wiped her hands on a towel and gave me a hug. I needed that hug, because I was seconds away from crying again. “Well, if you can’t curl my hair, do you have time to talk?”
Kim grunted. “Your face looks worse than that mop on your head. You’re seeing Stephen tonight? I might have to fit you in.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “A quick wash n’ go and I’ll be good. Ain’t nobody got time for all this waiting.”
Kim surveyed my head and then walked around me to look at the back. “Nothing a little water, curl cream and oil can’t fix. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you next door.”
I left the salon and went to the coffee shop.
I placed latte orders for Kim and I. I found a table. I took my phone out of my bag and went to Instagram. I didn’t have a page. I was social media skittish and would remain that way, but I kept up with Stephen on a daily basis by visiting his. He’d posted a group of pictures earlier this morning with the message:
Hello Atlanta! Grateful to God for a safe flight. I believe and expect a blessing. #FinishStrong
The day prior, he’d posted a pic taken of him catching the ball. The caption read:
I’m ready to meet my fans in Atlanta.
The day before that he’d posted a picture of a heart with the caption:
I have it for the game and her. #2loves #MyQueen #forever
I swallowed something that felt like regretful anticipation and closed the IG app.
Five minutes, later Kim entered the coffee shop. She rushed to my table and sat. “I have three heads under the dryer and one in the sink. What’s up?”
Suddenly I didn’t want to talk anymore. She was in a rush. What I had to say would take time, so I simply said, “I missed you.”
“You did not come all the way over here because you missed me.” Kim picked up the latte I’d ordered for her and took a sip.
“I was coming from Aunt Joe’s. I’m on the way home so it’s, you know, on the way.” Attempting to hide my face, I raised my cup and took a sip, too.
“You look like you’ve got something to say.”
“It’s my aunt.”
I’d updated Kim on Aunt Joe last night so there was nothing new to share.
“How’s Stephen?”
“He’s great.”
“You don’t seem too excited about that.”
I shook my head and dropped it back. How was I going to tell Stephen when I couldn’t even get up the nerve to tell my best friend?
“Kim, have you ever done something you really regretted? I mean it was the right thing at the time, but now it doesn’t feel so right anymore?”
“Like the tattoo of my ex’s name on my shoulder?”
I laughed. “Girl.”
“I’ll get it off as soon as I meet the right man.” Kim took another sip of her coffee. “But what are you talking about? You got a tat on your behind or something?”
I laughed at her silliness. She knew better than that. “No. I have something that can’t be er
ased.”
“Okay, I see I’m going to have to pull it out of you,” she said. “The answer to the question is, of course. I haven’t always been this marvelously in love with Jesus. I’ve made some mistakes.”
I hesitated a moment and then let the words I’d been holding back slip from my lips. “Stephen and I have another secret between us.”
Kim cocked an eyebrow and settled back in her seat for the audio version of the movie playing in my head.
When I was done telling her about Isaiah, I asked, “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Her jaw was locked open. “I don’t know what to say except you continue to surprise me, Tamar Anne Ferguson.”
I released a sigh and took a sip of my coffee. “You being wordless is not helping.”
“I’m shocked,” she cried. “Do you have any more secrets?”
I chuckled through the pain in my chest. “No. I’m done. I couldn’t top that one if I tried.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to eventually tell him, but I can’t right now. Not with Auntie being so sick. She says it’s okay, but I don’t want to add stress. Her doctors say no stress.”
Kim sighed. “So, you have a son. I can’t believe it. What’s he like?”
“He’s sweet. Well mannered. Smart and funny as he can be. A good student. He’s perfect.” I shrugged. “No thanks to me.”
Kim reached for her coffee cup. “I’m sure he would have been the same child if you had raised him.”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. My aunt is a special woman.”
Kim sighed again. “God works in mysterious ways.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant. “You’re not saying it’s in God’s plans for my aunt to die, are you?”
“Of course not. Aunt Joe will live to be a hundred. I mean everything. You and Stephen hooking back up after all these years, possibly when your son might need you both.”
I was still confused about what she was saying. “My aunt will get better.”
“I’m not saying she won’t, but is it possible that she needs to be focused on herself right now instead of trying to bear the weight of being a single mother? That’s what I mean by you and Stephen being available.”
The Winter Wedding Page 3
