Chapter Eleven
Eleven
“Y’all up in here just testing all of my Christianity.”
Aaliyah
I squeeze my eyes closed, listening to Tamara’s front door closing behind Von, ringing with finality.
With loss.
Pain wraps around my ribs and tightens until I’m gasping for breath.
“Aaliyah, I didn’t think it was possible to be this disappointed in you.” Daddy’s sonorous voice penetrates the agonized haze cloaking me. “What happened to my daughter?”
“Oh my God, could you stop with the guilt trip?” Tamara snaps. “She’s not a child.”
“Tamara, your uncle deserves your respect,” Mom admonishes her.
Tamara tilts her head. “And I don’t? The three of you popped up in my place uninvited. Who does that? And to do what? Lie? Embarrass your daughter? This right here—” she wags a finger back and forth, encompassing my parents and Gregory “—is exactly why people avoid church. They see who the so-called Christians are, rolling up in there every Sunday, and want no part of your religion. Now call me a heathen all you want, but I bet God is no more pleased with y’all.”
My mother gasps, splaying her fingers across her chest, while Daddy looks damn near apoplectic. And Gregory. Jesus, Gregory. How in the world did I ever agree to marry him? His disgusted scan of Tamara’s body tells me everything about how he treats others.
I would’ve been miserable as his wife.
“Aaliyah, pack your stuff. You’re coming back to the hotel with us, and we’re leaving out of here first thing in the morning,” Daddy orders, his voice cold and brooking no disobedience.
My first reaction is to obey. Since Tamara opened her door to the three of them standing on the other side, I’ve felt myself shrink smaller, my voice grow fainter. A part of me is still entombed in shock going from the warm bliss of being wrapped in Von’s arms, up under his big body and thrust into this cold, judgmental space. Even with Von and Tamara having my back, I couldn’t... I couldn’t...
A sob crawls up from my belly at the thought of Von. At his disbelief, his hurt. But the worst was his terrible indifference as he walked out of the apartment.
Walked away from me.
He took joy with him. Took the peace and contentment I’d found with him and Gia. Took my safe space I’d only started to appreciate.
I close my eyes again and try to capture the ephemeral sensation of his hand in mine.
Anger boils up inside me.
Anger at myself for reverting to that voiceless, powerless woman who arrived in Chicago months ago.
Anger at failing the woman I’d become.
Anger at my parents for their grasping control and refusal to really see me.
Anger at Von for not believing in me, trusting me. For walking out.
Was this karma? I’d run away from Gregory all those weeks ago, and now the man who’d become so important to me—so vital—had done the same to me.
You reap what you sow .
Screw that.
Then I’m due to reap kindness, acceptance. Joy.
Love.
“Aaliyah, don’t make me repeat myself,” Daddy says.
“Sweetheart, do what your father says, please.”
And on top of her order, Gregory says, “We can talk when we all get back to the hotel.”
“Shut. Up.”
The room falls quiet, the clicking on of the central heating is like one of those loud cannon firecrackers the neighborhood kids set off every Fourth of July.
My parents and Gregory gape at me, and my chest heaves, nerves attacking me. But satisfaction and...power sings in my veins, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a prettier song.
I turn to Tamara, who’s wearing a smirk though her gaze shines with something like...pride?
“Not you, Tamara.”
“I wouldn’t even care if that was directed toward me, babe. You got it.”
“I know you’re not talking to us like that.”
“Aaliyah Renee Montgomery, I raised you better than this!”
“This is unacceptable.”
When Daddy’s, Mom’s and Gregory’s shocked and highly offended voices trip over one another, I hold up both hands, and miraculously, they all go quiet.
Didn’t expect that.
I might need to check Tamara’s bottles of water to see if they’ve changed into wine since it seems to be a night for miracles.
“Thank you.” I lower my arms. Though there’s still a tiny part of me that wants to cower under those heated glares, I refuse. That part is going to have to grow up like the rest of me. “Now, Daddy, Mommy, I love you, and let me apologize for running away. I should’ve had enough courage and integrity to sit you both down and tell you how I was feeling and what was going on with me.”
“Yes, you should’ve,” my father agrees with a soft grunt. “Then we could’ve talked past normal wedding-day jitters.”
“Or me,” Gregory interjects. “After all, we are to be husband and wife—”
“Gregory, I’ll get to you. And, Daddy, I’m not finished. While I’m sorry for how I did it, I don’t regret doing it. This may be hard for you to hear, but I’m not going back to Parsons. Not now, and not anytime in the near future. For now, my life is here in Chicago.”
“Sweetheart, you can’t mean that.” Mom steps forward, her hand outstretched toward me. “Parsons is home. You’ve been here just a few weeks. I get it may seem shiny and new, but home is what you know, where you have family.”
“I have family here, too. Family and a best friend.” I glance at Tamara, and she smiles at me, nodding. “Just because Alabama is home for you doesn’t mean it’s enough for me. Or even what I wanted for my future. Have you even stopped to ask yourselves why I chose Chicago?”
Daddy humphs. “Your cousin. No doubt she convinced you to do this foolishness.”
I give a small, disbelieving chuckle. “You still refuse to listen, to see me as a grown woman instead of the girl you’ve tried to keep me. Leaving was my decision. I went to Tamara and begged her to take me with her. You think you corner the market on family, but my cousin offered me a place to live, refusing any money. My cousin put clothes on my back and supports me without expecting anything in return. That’s family. That’s love. But you’re so judgmental, so critical, that you can’t see past your own plans, expectations and standards for my life. You can’t even thank her.”
I inhale a deep breath, and for once, none of them say anything to interject. Knowing that won’t last long, I continue. “Like I asked, have you stopped to consider why I chose here? It’s because I was accepted into the University of Chicago art program and received a partial scholarship.”
“College? Art?” My father balks, and nope, that precious judgment-free zone didn’t last long at all. “Aaliyah, you went to college and got a practical degree that will serve you in life. Why are you wasting those people’s money on a degree you can do nothing with?”
“And why is this the first we’re hearing about it?” my mother adds. “You never said anything about wanting to further your education.”
“I told you weeks ago, Mom. I told you when I ran out of that church,” I say, voice low, solemn. “It’s not my fault you didn’t listen. That you’re still not listening. Daddy, I got that associate’s because it’s what you wanted, not me. I said yes to Gregory’s proposal because it’s what you intended for me, not what I desired for myself. This one time, I made my own choices. I am making those choices. I don’t care if the only job opportunity I have is drawing on a paper menu at Denny’s, it’s my dream. My decisions. My life. And I’m through living it for everyone else.”
Turning to Gregory while my parents digest that, I smile. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you by running out on the wedding.” I refuse to call it our wedding because it was never mine. “I should’ve come to you long before then and told you that I didn’t love you the way you deserve, and I have no desire to be anyone’s first lady. Honestly, I shouldn’t have accepted your proposal in the first place. That said...” I narrow my eyes on him. “Let me make this abundantly clear right now. I am not and will never be marrying you. I’m not your fiancé, and to think that I still am is bordering on delusional. Move on and do better than pursuing a woman who ran out on you. I sincerely hope you find a woman you love who will be proud to stand by your side.”
His lips part then snap closed, his face contorting into an insulted mask.
“Aht aht.” Tamara holds up her hand, stopping anything about to come out of his mouth. “She said what she said, and we don’t need an epilogue. Move around.” She shoos him with a flick of her fingers.
Smothering an inappropriate snort, I return my attention to my parents. Would I love for us to part on terms where we understood and accepted each other? God, yes. But one glance at my father’s sternly set expression, and I know that’s not happening. And that’s okay. The little girl inside me who still seeks her father’s approval is hurt, but the grown, capable and independent woman who’s standing in front of him will be fine.
“When you find the mind you’ve apparently lost between Alabama and here, you know where to find us,” he says. “Let’s go, Georgia.” He immediately turns and strides for the front door, Gregory on his heels.
But Mom doesn’t follow.
My heart pounds in my chest as she remains standing in front of me. Even when Daddy whirls around and snaps her name.
“In a minute, Tim.” She doesn’t glance over her shoulder to see his shock, but I do. And I’m as stunned as he is. Mom moves forward and pulls me into her arms. After a brief, astonished hesitation, I hug her back, and her embrace tightens. A sob wells up inside me at her familiar sent and the unfamiliar joy that she chose me. Put me first. Even if only for a couple of moments, my mother chose me.
“I love you, sweetheart,” she whispers in my ear. “Anytime you need me, I’m just a phone call away. And, Aaliyah... I’m so proud of you.”
The words are just between us, but they still have tears stinging my eyes. She briefly cups my shoulders before releasing me with a smile. Then she walks toward my father, who leaves the apartment without a backward glance. Mom waves to me then steps out, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Did that shit just happen, or did I smoke too much weed earlier?” Tamara asks into the silence.
I snicker. “Yes, that just happened. Even though I’m still not sure what ‘that’ is.”
I glance over at her, and we stare at one another for a long moment then crack up, our laughter loud, obnoxious and cleansing.
I stood up to my parents, and I’m good. Most importantly, though?
I’m free.
“I’m so proud of you, Aaliyah,” Tamara says. “For a minute there, I was a little worried, but you telling them ‘I think the fuck not’ without one curse was something worth buying tickets to see.” She laughs, but then sobers. “Are you okay, though? Not just with your parents and fuckboy but...Von?”
That quick, the peace and happiness bubbling inside of me goes flat.
“You warned me not to fall for him,” I murmur.
“I did,” she agrees, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “But what the fuck do I know? The way that man had your back—”
“The way he walked out of here without a word or even a look at me, you mean.”
She sighs. “He was hurt and didn’t have the full story. And shit, your parents and a man claiming to be your fiancé would overwhelm anybody.”
“He hurt me, too,” I softly admit. “He encouraged me to find my voice, to use it. He’s come to know me, the real me, over these past couple of months. And at the first sign of trouble, he ran. He left me alone. No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what this means about my job, but if I don’t stand up for myself, who will? For the first time, I’m having my own back. And that’ll have to be enough. It is enough.”
Besides, I can’t erase his hard, implacable expression as he walked out that door from my mind. For a man who’s been betrayed like he has, the wounds go deep. And those aren’t wounds I can heal; he can only heal those himself.
The love and acceptance I crave—from my parents, from him—has to start with me.
“Damn, girl. Who the hell are you and what have you done with my cousin? I’m asking so you can tell her ass to stay over where she at. I want this woman right here.”
Though the pain in my heart hasn’t abated, I laugh at this fool woman. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“You love it.”
“I do,” I say. “And I love you, too.”
“Oh fuuuuck.” Tamara tips her head back, scrunching her face up. “Did you really just go there? Don’t make me feel . That’s not fair.”
Cracking up, I hug her tight. And she hugs me back.
This right here?
This is enough.