Chapter 4
The following week at Kobey and Asia’s house had been particularly hard. They were setting up for the Heritage Ride, so brothers had been at the house all week. The only time I felt like I got any peace was when I was in my truck or when I was at work.
I loved being a doula. My original goal was to become a midwife.
I had the credentials. I was a registered nurse, and I had years of experience from my time in labor and delivery at Inner City Hospital.
I just couldn’t complete the coursework, because I couldn’t shut my brain down long enough to concentrate on school.
Not to mention that my memory had been shit since the shooting.
I felt like maybe if I could get a good night’s sleep, I could start to reclaim my brainpower, my concentration, and my memory.
But sleep continued to elude me. And when I did sleep, the nightmares were too much to handle.
Once again, on the morning of the ride, I was up early.
The brothers planned to take off from the clubhouse.
Asia, a couple of other wives and girlfriends, and I arrived there before the crack of dawn.
Everybody else was yawning and chugging coffee.
I was fine, as we used the clubhouse kitchen to prepare a big breakfast for the guys, along with several gallons of coffee.
We passed out premade plates and filled thermoses with the steaming hot liquid.
I watched the couples love up on each other as the men prepared to start their ride.
I smiled at the love in the air and at the fact that some people would never imagine that these big, burly, and bearded men would be so romantic.
The way they buried their faces in their women’s necks and kissed their lips.
The way they held their women’s chins in their hands or squeezed their butts. I loved it.
Instead of remaining a creepy voyeur, I went over to Quentin. “You good?” I asked him. I knew it was his first group ride since he’d lost Teagan. “You can tell me the truth.”
He looked into my eyes. “I know I can, E. I got . . . feelings. But it’s better if I don’t dwell on them.”
I nodded because he was more than likely right. “You want me to pray with you?”
He seemed surprised that I asked. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Pray with me.”
We clasped hands. “Heavenly Father. Thank You for such a beautiful morning and for such beautiful weather, vibes, and spirits. Your word says that Your mercies are new each day, and we need that promise today, Lord. You know all the thoughts, ideas, and emotions that are running through Quentin’s head this morning.
You know the concerns of his heart. I ask that You give him peace today, Lord.
A peace that surpasses all understanding.
I pray that You allow him to enjoy riding with the brothers today, because You know the joy that it’s always given him.
And as he thinks about Teagan today, I pray that it’s with fondness, love, and gratitude for the time he had with her, and not with sorrow and heaviness. In Your holy name, we pray. Amen.”
I opened my eyes and looked up at Quentin.
Tears rested inside his eyelids, but they didn’t fall.
That made tears spring to my eyes. I pulled him into a hug, which was not accurate, because he was too big for me to really make him do anything.
He let me pull him into a hug and embraced me tightly. He smelled so good and felt good too.
I watched him walk away and take his place in the middle of the circle of motorcycles, as the brothers waited for him to perform the blessing of the bikes. The revving of the engines stopped, and the space outside the clubhouse grew quiet and still.
“Heads are bowed, mouths are closed, and hearts are open,” he began.
“Spirit of the living God, we come to You this morning asking for Your grace and mercy. We come thanking You for all that You are and all that You do. Thank you for being a keeper—keeping us from dangers both seen and unseen. We ask that You continue to do so as we make this journey. May Your hand of protection stay on us, while Your mercy travels with us, and Your guidance goes before us. Bless this ride. Bless these bikes. Bless these brothers. In Your mighty and matchless name, we pray. Amen.”
Asia and I stood side by side as we watched the men ride off just as the sun became fully present in the sky. “Well, you’ll finally get that peace and quiet you’ve been wanting,” she told me. “With the brothers gone, it’ll be all kinds of quiet at the house.”
I giggled. “You’re right. Too bad I won’t be there to enjoy it.”
She twisted her face. “Where are you gonna be?”
“I’m going to Quentin’s.”
“Quentin’s? Who is Quentin?”
I sucked my teeth. “Stop playing with me. We just had this conversation. You know Quentin is Bishop’s first name.”
“I know. I just like messing with you. And I like that you call him Quentin. It’s like y’all have this little private relationship that only the two of you know about.” She eyed me suspiciously. “Don’t end up pregnant.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She gestured with her hand in a way that I couldn’t decipher. “It feels like there’s something going on there. You calling him by the government name that only you know—”
I jumped in. “I am not the only one who knows his government name, Asia.”
“Whatever. And him being all overprotective about you. Rescuing you from our loud ass house and setting you up in his lake cottage. Tell the truth. Are you and that man gonna be sleeping in the same bed?”
“What?” I repeated, this time louder and with my jaw practically on the ground.
“Are you even serious right now? Absolutely not. I’m sleeping in the guest room.
In the guest bed.” I huffed out a sigh. “Quentin and me are not on it like that. He’s Kobey’s friend.
I’m . . . the homey’s little sister. Besides, that man is still grieving the wife he just buried. ”
“Just buried? Chile, that was like three years ago. That dick probably gets hard when the wind blows too hard at this point.”
I had to laugh. “I’m not thinking about his . . . parts. I just know that he’s still working through her death. The last thing he would ever need is to try to start hunching on a basket case like me.”
“Why are you calling my favorite future sister-in-law a basket case?” She pulled me into a hug.
“You’re not a basket case. You had to hide in a supply closet while some fucking YN gang bangers shot up your hospital.
Twenty-seven people were shot. Eight people died.
You saw those bodies. You saw that . . .
hell, killing field. You have trauma. That’s normal. Anybody would have trauma.”
“Yeah.” I agreed half-heartedly. She thought that Bishop should be past his dead wife in three years, but she thought it was okay for me to still be traumatized after two years.
When she spoke again, she changed the subject. “What’re you going over to his house for?”
“I told him I would tape off the bedroom he’s letting me stay in. You know, so he can paint it.”
“He’s painting the guest room for you?”
“Not for me,” I said, even though it was kind of for me. “His whole house is beige, and I can’t live in all that beige.”
“So, he’s painting it for you,” she reiterated. “Mark my words, you’re gonna be fucking this man before the end of the first month.”
“Shut up. Just because you and my brother are some freaky freaks that can’t keep your hands . . . and other parts off each other, doesn’t mean that everybody’s like that.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” She waved me off. “But I want you to write down that I said it. And when you come to me telling me how good the dick is, just know that I’m the one who spoke it into existence for you. You’re welcome.”
I wished I could sincerely laugh her off, but I couldn’t.
The truth was that I had a crush on Quentin when I was younger.
Not the kind of crush where I hoped it would one day morph into something real.
It was the kind of crush where you knew nothing would ever happen but dreaming that it might felt better than good.
So, you let yourself dream. “Whatever.” I dismissively waved her off.
“So, you don’t think he’s fine?”
I thought he was gorgeous. Flawless mocha-brown skin.
Dark, expressive eyes covered by thick eyebrows.
His cheekbones were high, his mouth was kinda small, but his lips were full.
He had dimples in his cheeks, and his neck was tatted.
His nose was perfect, as was his beard. With a broad chest and strong arms, he always, always smelled good enough to eat. “I don’t look at him that way,” I lied.
Asia eyed me momentarily, but eventually, she let me make it. When she spoke again, she changed the subject. “What color are you going with for the bedroom you’re not gonna be sleeping in?”
“Stop!” I commanded her. “Stop saying that. I haven’t really thought about it. But the room overlooks the lake, so maybe something you would see in nature. Maybe a blue or a green.”
She nodded her head. “Okay, now I see where I come in. God sent me to help you choose the right color. Let’s go to the paint store and look at some samples.”
My feelings about going shopping must’ve shown on my face.
“East.” She whined my name. “You can’t pick out colors from a website. You have to see them in person. We can go to Right Ready Hardware Store when they open. I’m sure there won’t be a lot of people there that time of morning. They hardly ever have a huge crowd.”
“Okay,” I agreed with a sigh.
I was still at his house when Quentin got back from riding with the brothers late that night. I was sure he saw my truck in his driveway, but I still called out to him as soon as the alarm on the door chimed.
“Damn,” he dragged out as he quickly moved from the foyer through the great room and into the kitchen. “You got it smelling good as hell in here. What you cooking?”
I couldn’t help giggling. “I wanted to show my appreciation for you letting me stay here, so I picked up some groceries. It’s pepper steak. I didn’t ask, so I hope you like it.”
“A home-cooked meal? I love it. Let me take a piss, wash my hands, and settle myself.”
“No problem,” I called as he made his way to the back of the house where his bedroom was located.
A little while later, the two of us sat across from each other with plates of pepper steak nestled on steaming beds of rice. “How was the ride?”
“It was good.” He nodded his head and took a bite of food.
“There were peaceful moments where it felt good to be on my bike. Feeling the wind. Feeling the sun. When we got there, we shot the shit. Laughed. Ate. Coming home, we got rained on.” He shook his head.
“It’s been a long time since I got rained on, riding my bike. It was good. Glad I went.”
“I’m glad you went too.”
“What’d you do? You get the room taped off?”
I nodded. “Yeah, most of it. Asia forced me to go to the hardware store and look at paint samples. Then she went home, talking about she wanted to enjoy a quiet house for a little bit. I stayed here. I thought I would start taping, but I ended up falling asleep. When I woke up, I taped. I didn’t want the day to be a total loss. ”
His eyebrows went up. “That’s major. Sleeping in an unfamiliar place.” He took a beat. “After KD told me what you went through at the hospital and that you were struggling, I did some research.”
He did research on my situation? “That was thoughtful of you.”
He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was.
Typically, when people heard that I’d been present during a mass shooting, they weren’t all that horrified.
I couldn’t blame them. Depending on the neighborhood they grew up in, they could’ve been involved in a mass shooting on the block regularly.
Sometimes I felt like as black people, we were supposed to be able to put things in the rearview mirror and move on from them.
We weren’t always given the grace to deal with the trauma from those situations.
The fact that Bishop did the research and was ready and willing to offer me space to . . . deal was huge for me.
“Anyway,” I said. “You’re right. Falling asleep here tells me two things: I was exhausted, and I felt safe here. Sleeping in familiar settings is hard. So, sleeping someplace unfamiliar is major. I have insomnia real bad.”
“Nightmares?”
“Not as much now. It’s hard to have nightmares when you’re awake. But I slept today.” I smiled because I was kind of proud of myself. “I slept, and I didn’t have not one nightmare.”
He smiled. “That’s what’s up. How long did you sleep?”
“Almost two hours.”
“You needed it.”
“I did. Anyway, when I woke up, I sat on the back porch for a little bit.”
“You like the lake, huh?” he teased.
I grinned. “It’s my spirit animal.”
He laughed. “The water is your spirit animal? Got it. Water’s healing.”
“I need a good healing.” That sentence made me remember what Asia had said about Quentin probably needing some coochie. I pushed the thought that we both could’ve used a good sexual healing from my mind.
We were both quiet, eating our food and thinking our thoughts. “Did you pick a paint color?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
I smiled. “I did. It’s a blue-green color. It’s called ocean air. We figured one gallon would be enough to do the bedroom.”
“Cool. Tomorrow is church, but I’ll start Monday after work.”
“I’m coming by to help you.”
He shook his head. “You ain’t gotta help, E.”
“I know. I want to. Besides, maybe if I wear myself out, I’ll be able to fall asleep again.”