Chapter 20 Chanel #4
Vincent wrapped his arms around her and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I can’t even imagine how difficult this is for you
and Jada, but I’m keeping the faith that one day she will want to go.”
“Me too.” She choked back tears. Clearing her throat, she said, “I guess we need to go in, although at the moment, I’d rather
just stay here in your arms.”
A grin curved his lips. “There’s always tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan.” When they got to the door, he held it open for her to go first.
He gave her hand a little squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”
She smiled as he disappeared down the hall, then met Freda’s accusing stare. Here we go.
“So all this time you’ve been dating Vincent when you knew I was interested in him. I can’t believe you went behind my back like that.”
“Freda, I didn’t go behind your back. You’re acting like I stole your man or something.” She lowered her voice to keep the
people in the waiting room from hearing. “Vincent is a grown man and can decide to see whomever he chooses. And he chose me,”
she gritted out. “So what? I’m supposed to give up a good man who treats me like a queen and loves me just in case you can
convince him that he really is interested in you, even though he told you he wasn’t multiple times?”
“Whatever. I guess we aren’t the friends I thought we were.” She jumped to her feet and stormed off.
Chanel ran a hand across her forehead. I knew this would happen.
She endured Freda’s frosty looks and silent treatment for the rest of the afternoon and was more than ready to leave at the
end of her shift. But her reprieve was short-lived because she had to gear herself up for another possible outburst. Dealing
with her mother felt like walking through a verbal landmine. She never knew what would set her mother off.
Chanel parked in the lot of the apartment complex that had seen better days and made her way to her mother’s unit. She rang
the bell and a few seconds later heard the locks turn. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, it’s you.” Turning away from the door, she shuffled back down the short entryway.
Sighing, she followed and studied the woman who’d given birth to her.
She’d lost weight since Chanel had seen her last month, and the long-sleeved tee she wore hung off her thin shoulders.
Her short strands stuck up all over her head as if she hadn’t combed her hair all day.
She winced as her mother dropped down onto the small sofa with a glass of amber-colored liquid that sloshed all over her hand and knit pants.
Her mother didn’t seem to notice. “How’re you doing? ”
“Like you care.” She brought the glass to her lips with one hand and changed the TV channel with the remote in her other one.
There was no need to argue that point anymore. “I wasn’t sure if you’d had dinner, so I stopped and got you something from
that Italian restaurant you like.”
She grunted. “You can leave it on the table. I’ll eat it later.” She angled her head toward Chanel. “If you’re here to try
to talk me into going to one of those rehab places where they lock you up, you can just march right back out that door.” She
turned back to the television.
“That’s not why I stopped by. I wanted to tell you that I’m getting married.”
Her mother whipped her head in her direction. “Married?”
“Yes.” She held up the hand with her engagement ring. “He’s a great guy, and I want you to meet him.”
“By the look of that rock on your finger, he must have some money. Now you can’t complain about not having any when I ask.
You need to be giving me a monthly stipend anyway.”
Any elation she’d felt dissipated like a puff of smoke. “Is that the only thing you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you’re happy for me, you’ll be at the wedding . . . something.”
She waved a hand. “I don’t have any money for no fancy dress.”
“I’ll get the dress, Mom. I just want you to be there,” Chanel pleaded.
Her mother snorted. “Oh, so you can find money for a dress, but not to take care of me. Your sorry daddy left me to fend for myself, and now you and your sister are doing the same.”
Chanel bit back the urge to tell her that she’d done the same thing to them, only they had been children at the time. That
she never wanted to take responsibility for her own actions. Instead, she said, “We don’t leave you to fend for yourself.
Jada and I bring you food, try to clean up around here, and offer to take you out sometimes. You always tell us no. Mom, please
let us help you.” Tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“I don’t need that kind of help. I’m a grown woman and can drink whenever I want. I don’t need you trying to police me.” She
took another healthy swig from the glass and refocused her attention on the TV. “I’m tired of talking now, so you can go.”
Chanel sat there a few minutes longer, waiting, but when her mother didn’t say another word, she picked up her purse and started
for the door. Chanel paused, came back to kiss her mother’s cheek, then rushed out to her car and let the tears fall. She
cried, grieving the mother-daughter relationship she feared would never happen.