Chapter 7
I have been home from work for about thirty minutes, trying to determine what I want for dinner, but my brain is all over the place.
It’s been two months since my life imploded on me, and I’m still dealing with the aftermath of everything.
I didn’t think I would struggle to bounce back, because Kelvin and I were still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship.
But my mind occasionally reminds me of my mistake of being the other woman, and at the most inopportune time too.
I also blame the soul tie that resulted from sleeping with that man, whose commitment should have been reserved for the woman he exchanged vows with.
I’m praying that my unknowing knowledge of interfering with someone else’s happiness won’t block me from finding my own.
“Lord, please don’t let karma snatch my chance of—” The chime coming from my phone halts my sentence, causing me to lift it to see who’s sent me a message.
A weary and lopsided grin upturns my lips upon seeing Zakai’s name staring back at me.
At first, I thought Zakai would be on the same level of trifling as Kelvin, after learning of his daughter.
However, unlike Kelvin, Zakai quickly shattered the notion that he was moving with ill intentions.
Nevertheless, it’s hard to trust or take someone at their word after what I went through with the last man.
I know I shouldn’t crucify Zakai for the mistake of my last, but it’s hard when life hasn’t always been kind toward me.
Nevertheless, I open the text with shaky hands as curiosity gets the best of me.
Zakai:
I’m moving about my day as usual, but my mind keeps wandering to thoughts of you, so I think a check-in is warranted. How are you, Ziya?
My stomach feels like a herd of horses galloping as I read Zakai’s text, and warmth fills my extremities.
A small smile forms as I bite my lip with my head slightly tilting while pondering an appropriate response.
There’s something about Zakai that feels new, exciting, and different, but I have reservations about being hit by another bomb or something going wrong.
Or Zakai’s charm being as fake as a leprechaun, making his attention vanish faster than a rainbow after a storm.
Before I can compose myself and sort through the fog of my wayward thoughts, my phone chimes again with a new message.
Zakai:
I can sense your hesitation, and I promise that my motives are pure. All I need is a chance to show you something you’ve never had before.
A heavy sigh escapes my mouth, and a lone tear falls from my eyelid when I read the new message.
This is part of the aftermath I’m still dealing with post-Kelvin because, while Zakai’s words feel trustworthy, my conscience has me side-eyeing everything he’s saying.
While I’m trying my best not to be bitter or resentful toward the opposite sex, I often feel like throat-punching some of them who stare at me with googly eyes or speak to me, trying to gain my attention.
“Is it fair to judge Zakai without taking a minute to engage with him, though?” The question not only surfaces but makes its way out of my mouth as I finally reply to Zakai while holding my breath.
Me:
Please be patient with me.
My lip trembles once I hit send on the message because my emotions are once again welling within me, and I’m unable to shift my mind from what happened months ago.
“Damn. This sucks. I’ve gotta—” Again, a chime sounds, cutting off my sentence or ability to verbally express the things I genuinely need to bury at the bottom of an ocean somewhere.
Zakai:
I’m the father of a two-year-old. Patience comes easy for me. But are you alright? My mind won’t settle unless I know you’re good. So even if you’re not, lie to me.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, trying to get the two words to register in my mind so I can type them into a message for Zakai.
Zakai’s concern is something I appreciate more than he’ll ever know for reasons I can’t communicate to him. Opting out of sending another message, I hit the phone icon while taking deep cleansing breaths when it rings.
“Hearing your voice is so much better than the coldness of a text. Hello, Ziya,” Zakai says in a deep yet husky tenor that almost causes me to forget to breathe or reply when the call connects.
If I could judge and grade Zakai based on attraction, I would be a woman without pause. Too bad I’m a woman whose past has been dictating her moves; otherwise, I would shamelessly throw myself at this man.
“Hi, Zakai.” My words sound forced, even to my own ears, but my desire to temporarily forget everything during a phone conversation with him pushes me forward. “How’s your day been?”
“Before now, pretty mundane. But now, perfect. I know you might not be, but tell me you’re good.”
“I will be,” I whisper over the lump in my throat, forcing myself to embrace where I’m heading and not this present moment.
“What’s wrong?”
I take a minute to answer without going into too much detail so it doesn’t shift the conversation. Then I reiterate with confidence. “I will be fine, though.”
“Damn right, you will be because I’m gonna help you. Contrary to what you might be thinking or feeling, that shit doesn’t define you or your character. I see the good in you, Ziya. I see the amazing in you. I see the marvelous in you. I see the warrior in you. You’re gonna be good.”
Zakai’s words wrap around me like the tightest hug I’ve ever had, causing a longing for physical connection to invade my mind.
“Thank you, Zakai. I appreciate your kind words.”
“They aren’t just lip service. I mean every single one.”
Nodding, I wipe the tears I only realize now are falling as my heart screams for the one person capable of mending my brokenness in this moment.
“Again, thank you. Do you mind if I call you back later?”
“Of course not. Until then, Ziya.” Without another word, Zakai disconnects the call, allowing me to rush to slip on some shoes so I can head to my childhood home.
My mind is all over the place during the drive, preventing me from enjoying the music playing in the background. Before I know it, I pull into the familiar driveway and enter the house with my feet eating up the space toward my rescuer.
“When you walk down the road, heavy burden, heavy load. I will rise, and I will walk with you.”
My steps falter, and a bright smile upturns my lips at seeing Aunt Emmy’s body moving side to side while singing heartily. The heavenly aroma permeating the air has my stomach growling, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything in hours.
“When you walk through the night, and you feel like you want to just give up, give up, give up on the fight. I will come, and I will walk with you.”
Aunt Emmy turns toward me with beams of light shining in her eyes while holding a spoon like a microphone.
My chest expands with admiration for the woman who has been in my corner my whole life.
Emmy Winston is my great-aunt, and most would say she should never have been expected to raise a child she didn’t give birth to.
However, I am eternally grateful that Aunt Emmy didn’t turn her back on me when my selfish egg donor decided that motherhood wasn’t her cup of tea.
At seventy years old, Aunt Emmy is still holding me down and providing the motherly guidance I need to walk out this thing called life.
“Walk with you. Walk with you. I’ll be there all the time. I’m gonna walk with you. Walk with you. I’ll be there until the clouds just fade away,” Aunt Emmy sings. Placing her makeshift microphone on the stove, she pulls me into her arms and rocks me while singing.
Thank you, God. I needed this moment today.
My heart gallops in my chest at the warmth and affection flowing through my body at feeling Aunt Emmy’s heart beating against my ear.
No matter what I have been through and how absent my mother has been, a single hug from Aunt Emmy always makes me feel cherished.
It’s remarkable how a simple hug can significantly improve my mood and outlook on whatever I’m experiencing.
In the arms of Aunt Emmy, all of my stress and sadness seem to melt away, so I often come to my childhood home just to receive one of her soul-changing hugs.
“What’s wrong, Bunny?” Aunt Emmy asks, instantly upturning my lips at the nickname she gave me as a child.
No matter how often I try to pretend everything is okay, Aunt Emmy always knows when something is bothering me. Wordlessly, I remove the space between us and hug Aunt Emmy’s body as a broken sob escapes my mouth, causing her to instantly envelop me in a tight embrace.
“Ssh. I got you, Bunny. Let it out. Whatever it is between me, God, or Buzz, you’re gonna make it through this.”
My laughter cuts off my despair as I connect eyes with the woman who has been my anchor since my mother selfishly chose to walk out on me.
Aunt Emmy plays about a lot of things, but Caziya Arleta Winston will never be one of them.
Knowing that she’s licensed to carry the .
22 that is always with her and ready to unload a clip about me has giddiness replacing the sorrow I entered with.
Now that I’m able to breathe easier, I take a minute to catch her up on what happened with Kelvin, including meeting Zakai.
“So if Zakai seems like a good man, what has you hesitant?”
“Rosetta Winston,” I whisper.
Aunt Emmy stares at me for a second before guiding me toward the table, motioning for me to take a seat.
Kelvin’s deceit is heavy, but it somehow uncovered a layer of pain caused by the woman who gave birth to me.
It seems that ever since I began dating, I have consciously or unconsciously chosen men who have attributes reminiscent of my mother.
“You’re gonna have to come to terms with your abandonment issues if you ever expect God to bless you as it pertains to love and marriage, Bunny.
My Bible tells me that you can’t pour old wine into new wineskins, and the same is true for you.
You have to move past the place of pain caused by your mother if you want to experience what real love is like from someone other than me. ”
My lip trembles as I process Aunt Emmy’s words and suggestion, because I want to overcome Rosetta’s inability to love or nurture me, but it’s hard.
My mother didn’t find it necessary to raise or nurture the child she had at eighteen.
She also doesn’t go out of her way to build a connection or relationship with me.
In fact, she moved to Puerto Rico not long after surrendering her parental rights to Aunt Emmy, and she forces me to call her by her first name.
Rosetta Winston is the first person in my life to make me feel inadequate and like a burden.
On the rare occasions that she comes to visit or calls, I’m left feeling like I’m interacting with a distant friend or long-distance relative.
Seeking emotionally unavailable men, especially after Kelvin, isn’t what I want to continue doing.
A man like Zakai, who is raising his child solo, won’t have time for it.
That reality is what pushes water from my tear ducts and down my cheeks because Zakai feels different than the men I’ve experienced in the past.
“How can I? Rosetta’s abandonment and lack of love have always had the ability to choke me. It’s made me accept the mediocre treatment from men simply because I’ve never had one to push for more. How will I know this one is worth the risk?”
“What does your heart say? Sometimes, we convince ourselves that what we feel isn’t real, but it’s in the fabric of your heart’s chambers where you distinguish real from fake feelings. Love doesn’t come with a blueprint, but it often comes with the ability to let go and the openness to try again.”
“But—”
“Let the excuses and torment of Rosetta’s imperfections go, Bunny.
Holding on to what Rosetta didn’t do or allow herself to become will only keep you from allowing God to heal the places within you that are holding you down.
My suggestion is to give yourself permission to see what this man is about without expectations of him failing you. ”
This is why Aunt Emmy is the person I often run to in the midst of my battles because she always knows just what to say.
Even while pondering her words and the inkling of picking myself up, Zakai’s affirmations ring deep within my soul like a church bell.
Maybe, just maybe, Aunt Emmy is on to something, and I’ll give Zakai a chance to prove his worth after all.