Chapter Forty
CHAPTER
FORTY
Jae
Uncle Rowan is sitting in his white recliner in the living room, a newspaper spread over his crossed legs. He likes to sit there beneath those dripping chandeliers with a cup of evening coffee.
He looks up at me briefly and then does a double take, his eyes lingering on the stack of papers in my hand. He makes a big production of sighing and closing the newspaper and rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Sit down,” he mutters.
“How long have you had these?” I ask.
“Sit down.”
I walk around the coffee table and lower myself onto the sofa. “When did he give these to you?”
He purses his lips and sighs. “A couple of weeks after I found him in your room,” he says, his voice full of accusations.
My jaw falls open. “Seriously? That long ago? Why’d you keep them from me?”
He huffs. “Need you ask?”
“You said we have to stay away from each other. You didn’t say we can’t communicate as long as we’re both alive! Were you ever going to give them to me?”
“When the time was right.”
“And when would that be?”
He gives me a stern look, beady-eyed. “When I decided to give them to you.”
I want to scream at him, but it would only make him feel justified. A lovestruck teenager who can’t control her emotions. I won’t give him that. I take a slow breath to collect myself.
“You say I’m smart. But you don’t think I’m smart enough to handle this. Him.”
“It’s not about handling it, Janelle. It’s about protecting you from all the bullshit.”
I straighten. I’ve never heard Uncle Rowan cuss.
He lays the paper over the armrest and lowers his elbows onto his thighs, leaning forward with his eyes fixed on mine. “Janelle. Sometimes love is just bullshit. It can’t feed you. It can’t put a roof over your head. It’s a distraction from your main goals. Focus on your goals.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
His eyes widen. “You’re not gonna psychoanalyze me.” He picks up his paper again, opens it noisily over his face. “By the time that poetry night is over, you’ll have forgotten about that boy. Outta sight, outta mind.”
“This proves otherwise.” I hold up Derek’s papers. “You said we couldn’t see each other. I was still thinking about him. He was still thinking about me.”
“I hope that makes you feel warm on a cold night. Now, let’s drop it.”
I clench my teeth. Swan’s voice is in my head, insistent. No more hiding. Not even from Uncle Rowan.
“No,” I tell him. “I’m not gonna drop it. Because it’s not even about love. It’s about having a choice. You are constantly taking choices away from me.”
“Now. That’s not true. You had a choice to stay here or go back to Atlanta. You had a choice to stay in that club or let Derek stay.”
“That’s some choice. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t get sassy. You’re living with me now. It’s my job to protect you.”
I have to breathe deep to calm myself, because I’m starting to feel that tightness in my throat, that shakiness in my voice. “It’s your job all of a sudden? Where were you all those years? You talk about Dad leaving like it’s the worst thing a man could do. How about you?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t—”
“You just stopped coming around. You stopped visiting. Why didn’t you call me? I missed …” I stop. I’m not ready to say those words. I missed you.
He draws in a long breath and rubs the top of his bald head, not saying anything. The ticktock of the wall clock grows louder and louder in our silence.
He removes his glasses and busies his hands over the frames.
“Word on the street was your father had another family. I confronted him about that, told him to tell your mama or I would. I was trying to look out for both of you, but the truth was something she couldn’t deal with.
She blamed me for him leaving. Wouldn’t have any contact with me. Told me not to call.”
For a moment, the news stuns me into silence. Uncle Rowan knew about Dad before we did. I breathe deep and let that old pain go.
“Is that all it took?” I ask him. “She said don’t call, and you didn’t? I wasn’t worth fighting for? You told Derek he couldn’t see me. And this is what he did.” I hold up the papers. “Looks like he’s fighting harder for me than you ever did.”
For the first time, I see something different in Uncle Rowan’s face. Uncertainty? Shame? He clears his throat. “I should have been there for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t.”
I blink away the sting in my eyes. “You think I just had a baby. That’s not it. I had a part of me torn away. Do you think that just because I was young it didn’t hurt? That I didn’t need anybody? I needed somebody. Somebody. And no one showed up.”
“Janelle.”
“She was gone and my milk came in. So much. And no baby. Milk and no baby. It was for her. She was supposed to be mine.”
“Janelle.”
“She was supposed to be mine.”
“Janelle.”
Uncle Rowan’s voice, calling me again and again, finally pulls me back. His hands are on my shoulders and he’s pulling me up from the sofa. I let the papers fall from my hand and wrap my arms around him. My tears wet his shirt. His heart beats against my ear. He’s warm. Big and broad like Dad.
“I didn’t know,” he says.
“You never asked.”
“No, baby girl, I never asked.”
When my breath stops shaking, he lets me go and takes a step back. He places his hands on his hips and examines my face. “I didn’t do a good job of taking care of you back then. But you’re here now. I can’t just sit back and let another person break your heart. Do you get where I’m coming from?”
I nod.
“Now, I saw that boy’s living situation. And I know what kind of family he comes from. Things won’t be easy for him.”
“They weren’t easy for you, either.”
“And that’s how I know. I fought hard for the life I have now. Blood, sweat, and tears is not a metaphor for me. Most people aren’t willing to put in the work. Those friends who grew up with me? They’re still in the projects, too scared to fight for better.”
“That’s not him.” I shake my head. “It’s just not. He’s good at so many things.”
“It’s not talent, it’s tenacity. Fighting for what you want.”
I grab the papers again, hold them up. “He is fighting. And he’s trying not to disrespect you in the process. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
He sighs heavy, rubs his eyes. “I appreciate that. Yes, I do. I think at his heart, he’s a stellar kid.
He communicates. That’s important.” He gives me a stern look.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re right for each other.
Or that it’s even the right time. The fact that you’ve both had it hard doesn’t mean anything.
From my experience, it makes things more difficult. ”
I frown, realizing then that the only thing that’s ever been difficult for me and Derek is other people.
“You were wrong,” I tell Uncle Rowan, “for leaving my life like that. You’re wrong about this, too. I’m not saying Derek and I belong together. I’m saying you need to give me a choice. And Uncle Rowan, you need to call me Jae.”
He turns his head and looks at me sideways. And for the first time since I moved here, his eyes tell me I’m right.
“What did you want in my office in the first place?” he asks, scowling.
“A pen, what else?”