Chapter 31 Sabrina
Georgetown, South Carolina
Present Day
Quinton was going to have to see the whole of me in order for us to move forward. I didn’t keep secrets. I didn’t have time for judgment. Any man who was going to be with me had to accept me for who I was. So, I showed him my van.
“That’s my grandfather’s pickup I drive,” I said as he inspected it inside and then out.
“I assumed that. It’s kept like a man’s truck.”
I suppose it was with the fishing tackle box and tools on the rear floor in the back part of the cab.
“I don’t see you buying a plain gray truck for you and Kenni. You’re much too... colorful for that.” He smiled and then returned his attention to the van.
“I know this is a lot to take in.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed. “It’s different.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“I mean, what do you want me to say? I feel bad that you had to live in a vehicle. It just seems you’ve had a hard time of things.”
“I’m not the bright-eyed ambitious teenager from ten years ago.”
“You thought you were bright-eyed and ambitious?”
I smirked. “I assumed. You tell me what I was.”
“More like doe-eyed. Cautious, contemplative, and unsure.”
“Why are you using three words that mean the same thing?”
He fell back against my van and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Driving my point home.”
I sighed, seriously. “Have I changed?”
“You’ve completely evolved.”
“For the better, I hope.”
“Oh yeah, in good ways.” Quinton smiled. “For one, you’re a talented cake designer. You own your choices and your words. You’re sure. Quite decisive.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. I mean you don’t linger on decisions. You let your no be no and your yes be yes, all the time.”
Quinton sensed my anxiety. He pulled me closer, raised his hand to my hair, and pushed it off my face while planting his eyes on mine. “Timing is everything. Don’t let this van situation make you question your purpose.”
“I think my purpose is to be a mom.”
“It’s one of them. Sometimes one takes precedence over the other. You’ve been raising a small child and not as able to manage your cake business, so your finances suffered.”
I pulled away from him. “But I haven’t been raising my child. Not alone.”
Quinton frowned, waiting for me to go on. I told him about Ellen. How I had Kenni for the first three years because I could live off Kendrick’s life insurance, but once that ran out, I couldn’t afford the rent. “And I let it run out,” I said. “I saw the end coming, and I still couldn’t make myself figure out how to keep us together. I’m so ashamed of that.”
“You were depressed.”
“My great-great-grandmother had the same situation. Her children’s father died. He left her with nothing. All she had was a small savings. Instead of wallowing in her pain, she carved out a restaurant business and a life for herself. During Jim freakin’ Crow.” I could feel heat in my eyes about what I was going to admit to him. “I didn’t do that. I gave Kenni to his mother, and now she’s suing me for custody.”
“Wait a minute. What?”
“She’s angry I’m here and not in Greenville or Greer where she lives. She’s used to having Kenni close.” I was hesitant about sharing everything I thought, but I’d told myself I was going to be completely honest with him. “The thing is... I wonder if Kenni isn’t better off with her.”
Quinton pulled me into his arms again. He kissed the top of my head. “No, babe, she’s not better off with anyone except you.” He held me back and stared at me. “Why do you question your motherhood? You love your daughter. I can see that.”
“Is it enough? Am I loving her in the right way? I don’t know. I didn’t have a great example. I mean my stepmother adored me, but she treated my sister bad... As I got older I could see it, so it was hard to receive her love.” I closed my eyes. I hated seeing that truth about Lorraine, but if I was ever going to understand Mariah, I had to.
“I want Kenni to feel secure. To have self-esteem. Not to struggle with those things.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “I still struggle. I can’t give what I don’t have.”
“Sabrina, you’re being really hard on yourself. What’s going on?”
“People who grow up without mothers do this. We question if we can be good mothers. I’m a textbook case. I don’t feel like I’m on solid ground.” I looked at the van. “This was my home for almost a year.” I stepped back. “I don’t want to fail Kendrick’s daughter. Despite his complaints, his mother did a good job with him.”
“Just because she did a good job with her son doesn’t mean she gets to raise your daughter,” Quinton said. “If it was just the homeless situation, I get it. That’s temporary. Let Kenni stay with family. But if you’re delaying getting yourself a stable place because you’re delaying being a mom full-time, don’t do that to yourself. Don’t do it to her.”
Quinton and I stood there with inches between us, looking into each other’s eyes. I liked that we could do that and not look away. I liked that I saw no judgment from him. “If the only issues you really have are living in this van and a pending court thing, let me help you.” He shrugged. “I have money.”
I stopped him right there. “I can’t take your money, but this understanding thing you’ve got going on is attractive, sir.”
“It’s real.”
“I know. You’re a good man. Everything I remember about you as a teenager is still true.”
I folded myself into his arms. I was glad to have his comfort and his respect. He knew everything, except that one thing, and if I could, I would probably take it to my grave.
***
“You have done such a good job with the social media,” Mariah said.
We were standing in Grandma’s kitchen. I was making macaroni and cheese. Mariah had just come in from the restaurant. If being knocked over with a feather was a real thing, I would have fallen.
“Thanks,” I said. “I learned everything I know from YouTube videos and Dante. He’s a social media wizard.”
“You took the time to learn. You took the pictures and came up with the captions and used the hashtags. And it’s working,” Mariah said. “I don’t know where we’d be if it wasn’t for the work you’ve done on social media.”
“Dante’s a great chef.”
“People had to learn he was here.” Mariah reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of water. “That’s all you.”
She opened her drink, and then she reached into the junk drawer for a pair of scissors and cut through a small box the mailman left earlier. She smiled, removed a business card, and handed it to me.
Tears came to my eyes as I read, Tabby’s M S Diner. It listed the address and phone number and then our names together with our new website.
“I figured we might need them for something.”
I wanted to hug my sister, but I thought better of taking this emotional moment too far. I fought letting the tears fall too. She’d always accused me of being sentimental. “Thank you.”
“We’ve both worked hard.” Mariah pulled a stack of about twenty cards out and gave them to me. “I’ll put the box in the office at the restaurant.” She turned to walk in the direction of the living room and then turned back. “Something is bothering you,” she said. “I sense it.”
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t used to this Mariah, and I had to gather myself around that fact.
“You should tell me,” Mariah pressed. “Maybe I can help.”
I nodded and decided to take a chance. Quinton accepted me for who I was. Maybe it was time to trust Mariah too. If things were ever going to change between us, we had to share our lives, not just business cards. I dismissed the little voice in my head that taunted me—made me feel ashamed—and told her.
“Ellen is suing me for custody of Kenni.”
This time it was Mariah who could have been knocked over. I told her the whole story, which ended in tears for me... my sister, anger.
I raised my hands to dab at the water in the corner of my eyes and sniffed. “She’s not budging. She wants me back in the Upstate.”
“What makes her think she can control where you live?”
“She’s not thinking. She just wants her way. She also thinks she has something...” I paused and reached for my bag. I put my cards in the interior pocket.
Mariah was waiting for me to finish. “You were saying?”
“What?”
“You were about to finish a sentence. Ellen thinking she has something. What does she think she has?”
“It’s not something I really want to talk about.”
“Let me help you.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “You? Since when?” I hadn’t meant to say it. I wanted to take the words back. Mariah didn’t look fazed.
She shrugged. “Since therapy, girl.”
I cocked my head. “Therapy?”
“I’ve been going for weeks. Haven’t you noticed a change in me? I just gave you a compliment on the social media and purchased business cards.”
I examined her claim by thinking about recent events. “I did notice some changes, but I thought you’d just... had a good day and that you’d snap back.”
“To being a witch.”
“Pretty much.” I dropped my arms as I laughed.
Mariah pursed her lips before saying, “Well, I’m not. I’m working out my issues, so tell me more about this Ellen thing.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to ruin the beauty of the last ten minutes. I didn’t trust my sister. “I get that you’re trying to be better, but how am I supposed to believe you’re not going to judge me as soon as it comes out of my mouth?”
Grandma walked into the room. “Because no one is going to judge you in this house. I overheard a little of what you’ve been saying. I know you’ve been whispering with your lawyer. Tell us what happened so we can know how to help you and so I can know what to pray about.”
I dropped into a kitchen chair. “You’re asking me to share the saddest and most painful day of my life.”
“Yes, we are,” Grandma said.
“Does this have to do with Kendrick?” Mariah asked.
“No. It’s about Kenni.” I took a deep breath and paced myself as I talked. “You know she was a beautiful baby, and we started off so good.” I looked at Grandma. “You remember when you visited us after I had her? She was breastfeeding, but that didn’t go well. A lot of it had to do with me being depressed. My milk supply was low. I started giving her formula, which she had problems with. She got gassy and colicky. She wouldn’t stop crying.”
Grandma reached for my hand.
“I wasn’t getting any sleep. I didn’t want to eat. I was grieving. Everything was wrong. Everything.” A tear slid down my face. “I took Kenni to Ellen and told her I couldn’t keep her. I told her I didn’t want her. I didn’t understand her. I literally freaked out. Ellen thought I was a danger to myself because I talked about not wanting to live without Kendrick. I was having a moment.” I tossed my hands in the air. “She had me put on a seventy-two-hour hold.”
Grandma and Mariah’s eyes told how heavy the pain of this story was for them. I kept going. “When I was discharged, I didn’t go get Kenni.” I shrugged. “I was tired. I couldn’t bear to deal with the crying, so I left her there. I felt like she was better off without me. I didn’t call or check on her for a month. Ellen applied for guardianship to be able to take her to a doctor’s appointment.”
“Oh, chile,” Grandma said.
“I was scared of how I felt around my own daughter. I was afraid I was going to hurt her. I sat in my apartment in the dark for weeks. The mail was piling up. Someone called the police to do a wellness check. I ended up going back to the hospital where I had Kenni. They did a full assessment and diagnosed me with postpartum depression.
“Once I got treatment, I went to get my daughter. Ellen was glad to give her to me. She wanted me to be well enough to care for her.”
“So that’s what she’s holding over you—abandonment?” Mariah asked.
“Kenni was five weeks old when I left her. I was so messed up.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to us,” Mariah said. “PPD is a real illness. The judge is going to understand that.”
“But I don’t want Kenni to ever know that happened. If we go to court, there’ll be documentation in a file that I said I didn’t want my daughter.”
Grandma tightened her grip on my hand. Suddenly, I felt a hand on the opposite arm. Mariah said, “We’re not going to let Ellen run over you.”
“Custody fights are expensive. She has money. I can’t fight her. I might need to go back to Greenville.”
“You don’t need to go anywhere you don’t want to go. She’s not going to hold you hostage,” Grandma said.
“I have money,” Mariah said, “and I’ll have more once my divorce is settled.”
I turned my eyes to my sister’s.
“Money from Clark’s, and there will be much more, so you tell your lawyer you’re in for the fight.”
Grandma’s face broke into a smile.
Mariah squeezed my hand. “I should have been the one you came to when you were struggling with Kenni, but you couldn’t because”—she shrugged—“I was not a good sister. I’m ashamed of that. But I’m not going to stay ashamed.”
“The devil likes to use shame,” Grandma said. “He uses it because it works, but not when you resist him.”
“When you resist him, he will flee,” Mariah said.
“Great-Great-Grandma Tabitha dealt with shame. It kept her away from her family for years,” I said.
“It sure did,” Grandma said. “Things like shame can be strongholds that pass down like a spirit affecting each generation.”
“Not anymore,” Mariah said. “We are breaking this curse on us. Shame will not work against me. It will not work against you, and it will never work on Kenni.”
“Thank you, Jesus, for healing up in here.” Grandma lifted her hands in praise. “Glory!”
Mariah and I smiled at our grandmother’s loud exclamation of joy.
My sister said, “You couldn’t count on me then, but you can count on me now. I’ve got you.”
I never thought I’d hear those words come out of Mariah’s mouth. I stood and wrapped my arms around her and hugged her like I’d been wanting to do my entire life.