Chapter 10
JULY
It was a few weeks after the Juneteenth/Father’s Day event, and The Braveheart Brotherhood was back on their community service grind.
July was National Minority Mental Health Month.
And that was definitely a cause that the brothers supported.
My brother, in particular, felt it was important to fight the stigma that black people, and black men in general, didn’t believe in acknowledging or addressing mental health issues.
Three weeks into the month, the club sponsored a weekend long event with medical professionals, advocates, resources, vendors, and activities for the public.
It was held in Downtown Londynville and always drew a large crowd.
It was my first time attending. I would’ve stayed home, because I didn’t need the stress of an event that might throw me into another crisis.
But Quentin offered to teach three sessions of self-defense.
Two were open to the public, the other was just for the wives and girlfriends of club members.
I wasn’t a wife or girlfriend, so I really didn’t feel that I should attend, but Asia was adamant that if I didn’t go, she wouldn’t have anybody to talk to.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just talk to other old ladies,” I told her as she searched for a place to park. “They all want to be your friend.”
“Right. Exactly. Why? Why do they want to be my friend, East? I’m not even friendly.”
“True,” I muttered, and we both laughed.
“I’m for real. Some of them are always hovering around me. It’s giving, let’s suck up to the Queen Bee.”
I glanced over at her. “You consider yourself the Queen Bee, huh? Okay. Didn’t know I was rolling with the Queen Bee,” I teased.
“Shut up! I don’t consider myself the Queen Bee. But Kobey is the big dog, and I’m his girl. So it makes me feel like they want to get close to me to be close to Kobey’s power.”
I knew what she meant. I just liked messing with her. “You’ll never know who’s sincere if you don’t give them a chance.”
“If some of them are sincere, then I’m sorry. I don’t have time to weed through the fake ones. I’m cool on that. No new friends.”
I didn’t comment, because it wasn’t like I was rolling in friends myself. The last friend I made was Rikkia. I hadn’t spoken to her since she told me she was moving back home. I was the last person who needed to give advice about cultivating relationships—friendships or otherwise.
“How are you doing, East? You having any negative feelings about coming with me today? I know I was kinda pushy about it. Sometimes I forget that you’re still .
. . healing from something I can’t really relate to.
Kobey thinks I should’ve let you stay in Sweet Jackson if that’s what you wanted, but I figured you would wanna support Bishop. ”
“You’re good.” I waved her concern off. “I’m only going for the class, right? You’re taking me home right after the class ends, right?”
“Right.”
“I should be fine.” I couldn’t help smirking. “I’m not anticipating any fireworks going off while we’re in Quentin’s studio.”
“Me either. And speaking of Quentin.”
My stomach sank.
“How’s that going?”
I played dumb. “How’s it going how? His house is still peaceful and calm. I’m sleeping at night. No nightmares.”
“Are you still in the guest room, or did my prediction that you would be sleeping in his bed in less than a month come true?”
I hated to admit that she was right, but I also wasn’t going to lie. “The night of the Juneteenth thing, I slept in his bed because I was scared to sleep in the guest room by myself. I’ve been sleeping in his room ever since.”
“In his room or in his bed, East? Don’t play word games with me.”
I huffed out a sigh. “In his bed, Asia. But I promise you, it’s strictly platonic. This man is still very much caught up on his wife.”
“Ex-wife.”
“No.” I looked over at her profile. “He’s not divorced.
He and his wife didn’t break up, Asia. She died.
She died while they were still very much living and loving in a healthy marriage that they both saw going the distance.
If she was alive, they would probably be coming to these events as couple goals.
They would probably have little Quentins and Teagans. ”
“You seem bothered, stink. Are you bothered?”
Was I bothered? I asked myself the question one thousand times throughout the day.
I asked it again as I stood at the stove.
“Am I bothered that Quentin still loves his wife, is still in love with his wife?” I whispered to myself.
That thought played on a loop in my head as I stirred the sauce for the shrimp scampi I was making.
The chime of the security system let me know that the front door had opened. Shortly after the chime, Quentin appeared in the kitchen. “Damn, you got it smelling good as hell in here, and I’m hungry as hell.”
I smiled to myself. “Well, it’s basically ready. You can eat if you want to.”
“I want to. Just let me holler at the bathroom, wash my face and hands.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
I pulled the baked chicken and the roasted broccoli from the oven. Then I got two plates from the cabinet and began to load them with food. Quentin came in just as I set the plates on the table. “Sit down,” he told me. “I’ll get us something to drink.”
I sat and waited for him to join me. Once he placed a glass of iced water and a glass of sweet tea on the table for both of us, he sat. We joined hands across the table, and he said a quick prayer.
“Thanks for coming out to the studio today. It was cool to look into the crowd and see you out there.” He blew on a forkful of pasta and shrimp scampi before putting it into his mouth.
“You’re welcome. You had a really good turnout, and the information you gave was really good.
I never thought about self-defense classes, but after getting a small taste, I can see how they would be helpful.
I think knowing that there are techniques and strategies I could use to get out of certain situations might help ease my anxiety.
I’ll probably sign up for the full ten-week class. ”
“You should think about it.” He took another bite of food. “This is good as hell, E. You’re a really good cook.”
“Thanks.” I took a beat. “I’mma go back to sleeping in the guest room.”
He literally choked on his food. I jumped up to help him, just as he regained control of his windpipe. “What?”
“I’mma go back to sleeping in the guest room,” I repeated. “And I’mma start looking for a place.”
“Where is all this coming from? I thought you were good here.”
“I am good here. Trust me, it’s nothing you’ve done or that you’re doing. I just feel like . . . I feel like it’s best if I figure something else out.”
“Yeah, I heard that. My question is why.”
“Because, Quentin.”
“Because isn’t an answer.”
“I don’t feel comfortable telling you the answer.”
He sighed. “Come on, E, baby. I’m not trying to push you, but you gotta give me more than that. What’s up?”
“You’re a man, Q. You’re a good-looking man. I’m lying in the bed with you every night. You’re praying over me. Protecting me. Feelings are starting to develop.”
Realization washed over his features. “Yeah.”
“Yeah. And it’s so obvious that you’re in love with your wife.
” I took a breath, thinking of the best way to phrase it so I didn’t sound whiny or resentful of his deceased wife.
“You’re not . . . available to engage me the way I want to be engaged when I’m all pressed up against you in the bed.
When my back is resting on your chest, and your arm is wrapped around me, it feels romantic.
But it’s not. It’s intimate, but in a friendly way.
“And the more time I spend in bed pressed up against you, the more these feelings are going to develop, and neither of us needs that. I don’t need to get my heart broken. And you don’t need the drama of explaining my broken heart to Kobey.”
“I would never purposely break your heart, E.”
“I know you wouldn’t. You would never do it on purpose. But if I keep falling for you when you can’t love me back, my heart getting broken is gonna be inevitable.”
“I should’ve kept my big mouth closed,” I told myself the next morning as the light from the sunrise greeted me.
I dozed off periodically throughout the night.
No deep REM sleep, but no nightmares either.
When I slept with Quentin, I usually slept straight through the night.
But those days were over, so I needed to put them behind me.
For the first time in almost a month, I felt anxious.
So, I did my morning routine. Deep breaths from my belly followed by the body scan.
Next, I went into my gratitude statements.
I ended it with my loving-kindness affirmations.
The routine didn’t make me feel any more grounded or calm, but I figured it would take some days for me to get back into the swing of it.
Or you could just sleep with Quentin tonight, Inner-Eastley told me. But she was wrong. I couldn’t just sleep with Quentin. I couldn’t become dependent on him.
I climbed out of bed, grabbed the stuff I needed for my shower, and padded down the hall to the bathroom.
After I was clean and dressed, I walked into the kitchen.
Quentin leaned against the counter looking fresh and well-rested.
He was probably glad to have his entire king-sized bed back to himself.
He looked away from his phone, and our eyes met. He grinned at me.
“Good morning. You sleep all right?”
I forced a smile onto my face, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “Yeah,” I lied. “You?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. My bed was cold as hell.”
“Aww.” I gave him the sad face. “I know it’s gonna take some getting used to, but—”
“Nah. I’m not gonna get used to it. But I understand your position, and I support it. I’m a big boy. I’ll get through it.”
I gave him a weak smile as I moved around the kitchen to prepare my breakfast and my lunch. I had a full day at the birthing center ahead of me.