Chapter 5
Saturday night, Quinn and I made our first stop at my mother’s house. She had a big pot of spaghetti and her infamous garlic bread waiting for Eric—we smelled it before we even got into the house. “You sure you don’t want to eat here?” Quinn asked me.
“I know, huh?”
We were barely in the door when my mother pulled us both into a headlockish hug. “Oh, my baby! Getting married!”
Quinn gasped for air. “Hello, Mrs. Miller.”
“No more Mrs. Miller, Quinn. Call me Momma now,” she insisted as she finally released us.
Quinn beamed and practiced her new name. “Hello, Momma.”
She hugged him again. Then she turned her attention to Eric, smothering him with kisses and hugs. Eric ate them up.
Momma tugged my ear for a moment about the wedding photographer. Apparently, my uncle Charles was trying to build his portfolio and had offered to take pictures free of charge. I was fine with it, but she wanted another photographer there for backup.
“Wonder, will Uncle Charles be upset?” she asked.
“Probably,” I replied.
“Well, he’s just going to have to get over it,” she smacked off, leaving me to wonder why she’d asked me in the first place.
My mother then led us all to the kitchen and offered us food, though she knew Quinn and I were meeting LaShondra and Stelson at a north Dallas restaurant for dinner. “I don’t want to ruin my appetite,” I declined.
Eric sat down at the table, ready to devour the food, but I gave him a detour: Put your things in the room and wash your hands before eating.
“Well,” my mother said to Quinn and me as she searched through the cabinets, “let me pack you up something to take with you.” Before I knew it, she had two bowls full of spaghetti and two slabs of garlic bread wrapped in foil—one for me and one for Quinn. “I know you still a bachelor, Quinn. You need good food to keep you goin’ till you marry Peaches and she start cookin’ for you.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m lookin’ forward to that good home cookin’,” Quinn said as he nodded toward me.
I looked him up and down like he was crazy. He waited until my mother turned her back, and he pinched my side. I couldn’t scream, so I coughed.
“You feelin’ all right, Peaches?” my mother asked.
I mustered up a straight face. “Yes, ma’am.”
She eyed Quinn and me suspiciously. If she didn’t see it on my face, I know she saw mischief painted all over his. Both of us were about to bust out laughing, so I said, “We have to go now, Mother.”
“All right,” she said. “You want me to take Eric to church with me tomorrow or you want to pick him up early?”
“I’ll pick him up,” I answered.
“Okay. Y’all have a good time,” she said as she narrowed her eyes, staring us down. “And don’t be makin’ no babies before the weddin’ night.”
My eyes got real big and my mouth dropped open. Quinn answered for us both, “Yes, ma’am. I mean—no, ma’am. We won’t.”
“Well, bless the name of the Lord. Good night,” she almost sang.
When we got into Quinn’s car, he started in on me. “You got us in trouble!”
“You’re the one who pinched me!” I yelled in laughter. “Don’t be touchin’ me all in my momma’s house!”
He backed out of her driveway and we headed toward the highway, joking because neither of us was willing to take the blame for my mother’s scolding.
Once we were in the flow of freeway traffic, Quinn turned on the radio. Marvin Sapp’s “Never Would Have Made It” was playing. It took me back down memory lane—through the fat childhood, the reclusive teen years, the rebellious twenties, the single motherhood, and more recently the loss of my father. But I was stronger and wiser for it all. And now I was sitting beside the man I was to marry, looking ahead to much better days.
Quinn began singing along with the chorus, and I was suddenly reminded of his pleasant stage voice. He sang a few more notes and pulled me out of my trance with a question. “What are you thinking about?”
“Mmmm ... just thinking about how good God is.”
He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “All the time, baby.”
I asked, “What do you think about when you hear this song?”
“You. Us. God. I think about a lot of things—all we’ve been through. When I lost my job and you helped me get a better one. How you encouraged me to keep directing stage plays when other people told me to give up my dreams. I think about Eric and what a blessing he is to my life. I never knew a relationship could add so much meaning and purpose to everything. I can’t be anything but thankful.”
My eyes were watering by this point. I wiped the tears away with my stray hand but kept the other wrapped in Quinn’s. We rode the rest of the way to the restaurant in a silence that spoke volumes about our relationship. We were beyond the stage where every moment spent together had to be filled with words. We could now speak the soundless language of love and just be together.
The upbeat gospel tune playing when we parked put us both in a cheerful mood. Stelson and LaShondra were waiting for us, and seeing them was a welcome sight.
Our men exchanged manly greetings while LaShondra and I met in an ecstatic embrace. Seriously, you would have thought it was the Celie and Nettie reunion from The Color Purple. I hadn’t seen LaShondra in a minute because she and Stelson spent the holidays in Louisiana with his family. I believe her hair had probably grown a good inch since I saw her last, right before Thanksgiving. Her spiral curls swung freely as she did a little dance when she finally saw my diamond solitaire. She was still the same ole fun LaShondra, even if we didn’t hang together as much as we used to.
When we came out our BFF world, she and Quinn hugged, but I complained to her husband, “Stelson, I don’t know if I should hug you, seeing as you stole my best friend from me.”
“Come on, Peaches. Give a brother a hug,” Stelson joked as he held out his arms.
I couldn’t help but laugh and return his gesture. “You are so wrong. You know you’re the only white person who gets to call me Peaches, right?”
He put one hand over his heart and bowed slightly. “I count it an honor to call you Peaches, Peaches.”
I shook my head and smiled. “I can’t even be mad at you, Stelson.” Aside from his sense of humor, it’s hard to stay mad at someone who treats your best friend like a queen. If I had to lose LaShondra to anybody, I was glad that somebody was Stelson.
Since we had reservations, we were seated right away in a circular booth. The restaurant, a steakhouse, had been renovated to reflect a cowboy motif. Longhorn skulls and saddles were mounted on the walls, giving the restaurant a country impression.
The waiter brought our menu, and Quinn took the liberty to order a combination appetizer: shrimp, chicken wings, and stuffed baked potato wedges.
“So, what’s up with you two?” LaShondra asked us. “Any more wedding plans I should know about?”
“Nope,” I said. “Momma’s still working my nerves.”
“What’s the date?” Stelson asked.
“July seventh,” Quinn piped up. “Six more months.”
“Awww,” LaShondra cooed. “You are such a good fiancé, Quinn. You know the date and everything.”
Then she gave Stelson a loaded glance. We all knew why. LaShondra and Stelson were deep into the wedding plans when Stelson suddenly recalled he had committed himself to a major business conference in New York on the same day as their wedding. They had to push the wedding back almost another month, which was thoroughly inconvenient, not to mention embarrassing. LaShondra almost called the whole thing off, but thankfully, I was able to talk some sense back into her. I don’t think she’ll ever let Stelson off the hook for his scheduling error.
“She’s still got you on payment plan for that one, Doc,” Quinn chided Stelson.
Stelson put his arm around LaShondra and apologized for the umpteenth time. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Give me a break!
The appetizer arrived just as my stomach was turning flips. We all dove into the platter and could only hope our entrées would be as delicious. LaShondra and Stelson split the last potato wedge just as our waitress served our main dishes.
After all those calories from the appetizer, chopped salad was my best option. In the years since I lost eighty pounds, I had learned to eat in moderation. A little chicken wing never hurt anybody, but topping off chicken wings with a hefty steak would go straight to my hips.
Stelson blessed the food, and that’s when the problem started. LaShondra said something about our honeymoon, Stelson said something about a seven-day cruise out of Miami, I said something about getting back to Dallas in time for Eric’s annual youth camping trip with the church, and Quinn busted out with, “Well, there should be plenty of places for him to camp in Philadelphia.”
“So you are moving!” LaShondra cried. “I knew you’d come to your senses, Peaches.”
My mouth was full, so I couldn’t respond before Stelson jumped in with, “Peaches, I’ve been meaning to tell you—if you need some help finding a job in Philadelphia, let me know. I’ve got lots of clients there. You won’t have any trouble, that is if you want to work right away.”
Quinn took advantage of my manners by adding, “See, baby, look how God’s already worked this out.”
I swallowed my food as quickly as I could without choking and put a screeching halt to this whole table trying to plan my life for me. “I have not made my decision yet.”
“Oh,” from LaShondra.
“I see,” from Stelson.
The table endured an abrupt break in the flow of conversation. A few minutes later, I dismissed myself. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”
“I’m coming with you,” LaShondra insisted. She trailed me all the way to the restroom and patted her foot just outside my stall.
“I just haven’t made up my mind, okay,” I said to her and then flushed the toilet immediately so I couldn’t hear what she had to say. Then I stepped out of the stall and washed my hands, taking note of how the cross pendant on my necklace had shifted out of place. I fixed the necklace, patted my do, and smoothed out my blouse. LaShondra watched me the whole time, arms crossed at her waist, leaning against the granite countertop.
“Are you finished?”
I clasped my hands. “What do you want from me? I mean, I just haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“What is there to think about?” She shrugged. “You have no options. You love Quinn, he loves you, his job is transferring him, you go with him. That’s as simple as two plus two equals four, Peaches. What gives?”
“Okay, add one for a child, one for a baby daddy, one for a job—” I counted on my fingers.
“No,” she interrupted, “subtract the job. Northcomp is going under. You need to jump ship while you can and you know it.”
I ran my tongue along the top row of my teeth and then smacked my lips. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“It’s not about you, Peaches. Stelson watches the stocks every day. The major stockholders in Northcomp are selling because they see the writing on the wall.”
“Since when do you and Stelson sit around watching the company I work for?”
“Well, when I told him that you and Quinn were moving to Philadelphia, he said it was a good thing, because Northcomp got a red flag in some report—something about volatility and moving averages,” she explained. “He’s always checking out stocks because of his corporate clients.”
“Northcomp is simply downsizing, that’s all. Don’t you think I watch the stock, too?” I lied like a rug. I hadn’t a bit more looked at my company’s stock in months, but I couldn’t tell her so. The restroom’s dim lighting helped cover my facial expressions.
LaShondra gave me the time-out signal. “Peaches, this is not about Northcomp and you know it.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what it’s about, then?” Now it was my turn to cross my arms, kick one leg over the other, and observe.
“It’s about you being stubborn and independent,” she mouthed off.
“Since when is independence a sin?”
“Since it gets in the way of you following God’s will,” she preached.
“Look,” I took up for myself, “Quinn is a wonderful man, but I will not just up and leave everything on account of him. I had a life before I met Quinn—a very good life, mind you—and I’ll have one after him, if something should happen to us.”
“Something like what?”
I rattled off a list of worst-case scenarios. “Him cheating, losing his job, getting on drugs, acting like he done lost his mind. Anything could happen, and I don’t want to be stuck out with my son, fifteen hundred miles away from home, looking stupid.”
LaShondra laughed and grabbed my left hand. “Listen to yourself, Peaches. If you really thought Quinn was going to mistreat you, you would not be wearing this engagement ring right now.”
“Being engaged and being married are two different things.” I cleared that one up for her. “You know, if Stelson had said the two of you were going to have to move to California soon after the wedding, you would have thought twice about it.”
The truth hit her, and she nodded. “You’re right. I would have thought about it for a minute. And then I would have thought about the consequences of not going. Not having him in my life, always wondering what might have been. I can’t imagine my life without Stelson in it, and I know you would be miserable without Quinn. Not to mention how Eric would feel.”
She struck a low blow there. Everybody knew Eric was crazy about Quinn, and vice versa. Alas, there was another issue. “What about Raphael?”
“Y’all can work something out. You’re not the first woman to get married and move out of state with a child. And you and I both know Raphael is not going to ask for custody.”
We stood there for another moment, LaShondra staring at me, me staring at my feet.
I washed my hands again.
“Peaches, I’m going back to the table now. Wait—have you prayed about this, by the way? What did Daddy say?” she wanted to know.
I could skirt the truth about a lot of things, but not about God. “I need time to pray.”
“Uh-huh.” She’d read me. “Well, you pray long and you pray hard—but don’t act like He hasn’t given you an answer when He does.” She walked toward the door. “And don’t hate if I fix Quinn up with somebody else who knows how to appreciate a good man.”
“No, you didn’t.”
A smug grin swept across her face. “Mmm-hmm. Now you wanna get mad ’cause you know I’m right.”
“Don’t play.” I rolled my eyes at her and followed her back to our booth.
Quinn and Stelson were in the middle of a conversation that LaShondra and I obviously interrupted. We were all seated again and we tried to ignore the Philadelphia topic, but the elephant had plopped his behind smack-dab in the center of our table. We couldn’t talk around it, so when the waitress asked if we wanted to see the dessert menu, I quickly spoke for our whole table. “No, thank you. We’ll take our checks, please.”