Chapter 3 #3
I threw my head back, laughing. “Butterflies? Baby girl, please. You know damn well I wouldn’t disrespect you with no Lisa Frank starter pack on some granite. I’ll put a whole pit bull engraved on it just to piss you off, though.”
Her mouth dropped open before she broke into laughter, smacking my arm again. “A pit bull? Boy, I’d drag you out your sleep for eternity!”
I leaned closer, grinning. “Good. Then I’ll never spend a night without you. Sounds like a win to me.”
She shook her head, biting her lip to hide her smile. “You always gotta flip it, huh? With ya ol’ poetic ass.”
I kissed her knuckles again, softer this time. “Flip it? Nah. Just truth. My love, you my forever. Even paperwork can’t change that.”
Her laugh cracked through the heaviness, sweet and warm.
I picked the pen back up and tapped the line. “Alright then, Mrs. Edmonds. What church?”
She rolled her eyes, but her voice was soft. “Mt. Olive. Same one my mama and daddy had. But, Eli, this don’t feel right.”
“It ain’t about right, love. It’s about direction.” I jotted it down. “Okay, music?”
She tilted her head at me. “Something holy. Don’t you dare play no Johnnie Taylor at my funeral.”
I smirked. “You know he gon’ sneak in there. Old folks gon’ two-step whether you like it or not.”
She laughed, tears shining. “And what you gon’ put on my stone? You better not write no corny poem.”
I twirled the pen, tapped the paper. “Simple. Wife. Mother. Warrior. That’s you, Temp. That’s who you are.”
Her lips parted, her hand smoothing over her belly. “Warrior, huh?”
I reached across, brushed her cheek. “My love, you fight for all of us every day. For me. For him. For yourself. For your clients. That’s a warrior.”
Her eyes filled, but she smiled anyway. “Eli… you gon’ make me cry ugly.”
“Then cry ugly,” I said, kissing her hand. “I’ll still think you beautiful.”
She let out a laugh through her tears, shaking her head. “You always know how to make heavy feel so light.”
“And you,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss her belly, “always know how to keep me grounded when shit hits the fan.”
EJ kicked hard right then, and we both laughed.
“My little champ,” I murmured against her stomach. “Your mama out here threatening to haunt me over butterflies, but your daddy gon’ make sure his whole world, both of y’all, always covered. Forever.”
Her laugh lingered in the kitchen, warm and steady, the sound that could light up a dark room.
That same laugh echoed in my chest as I stared at her stone, my voice breaking.
“I thought it’d be me, Temp,” I whispered. “Thought EJ would know me in folded flags and secondhand stories. But it was you. My love, my world, you left me first.”
The wind moved through the trees then, brushing across my face, curling around me like a robe I could almost smell her.
“You still mad at me?” I asked softly. “’Cause I’m still mad at you. You went to that damn store for hot fries and ginger ale. I told you I’d go after work, but you swore I was tired.”
I laughed, broken and empty, shaking my head from left to right. “You were always too damn considerate, baby.”
I picked a blade of grass and shredded it down to nothing.
“My love,… I’m struggling,” I whispered. “I ain’t touched another woman since you left. You know that, right? Couldn’t even look at one without feelin’ like I was cheating on your memory.”
The breeze whispered through the branches again, as if to change the subject.
“But there’s this woman.”
I froze, then smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know. Chill, Tempest, damn. I can hear you. You’d say, ‘She better not have been in your damn face, E, I know that.’”
I chuckled for real this time, shaking my head. “She wasn’t. She ain’t even trying to be seen. But there’s something in her. Pain. Real pain. She walks like grief strapped to her back, but she talk like she used to shine before life swung on her. And when I looked at her… I felt something.
“And I don’t know what to do with that. She ain’t you. She could never be you. But when I see her, I see pain. The same kind that lives in me. And for the first time, I felt something stir that wasn’t just grief. And that scares me, Temp. ’Cause wanting anybody but you feels wrong as fuck.”
The breeze pushed again, stronger, tugging at my hoodie, pulling at me like hands I couldn’t see.
“I ain’t saying she’s your replacement. Nobody could ever fill your shoes.
But I’m tired, Temp. Tired of sleeping alone.
Tired of rolling over to cold sheets. Tired of carrying your memory like a coffin strapped to my chest, dragging it through every damn day.
Baby, it’s heavy. Too heavy. Some nights, I swear I’m crying out for you, like I’m Mario and shit.
You played the fuck outta that damn remix with him and Lil’ Wayne, baby. ”
A laugh slipped through my throat, broken and jagged. I swiped my hand across my face, shaking my head. “You probably clownin’ me right now. Sounding corny as hell, but I mean every word.”
Another sliver of wind wrapped around me, sliding along my neck like fingertips.
“Thanks, my love,” I whispered into it, my voice cracking.
The wind swept harder then, steady, and sure, almost like she was pushing me forward.
“If you sent her, I’m listening,” I said, breath shaking. “If you didn’t… tell God I’m sorry in advance. ’Cause I can’t keep doing this alone.”
I stood, brushed the dirt from my jeans, and stared at her name one last time.
The wind kissed the back of my neck, and I took it as her answer.
“Thank you, my love.”
And with Jonay’s name burning at the edges of my lips, I walked back toward the truck, heart heavier than ever but finally ready to move on, and I had my wife’s blessing to do so.
Back at the precinct, the locker room was filled with the scent of Axe body spray and male ego.
Some of the guys were still out there smelling like poor choices from high school and unfulfilled responsibilities, but I kept moving.
I was halfway through putting on my SRPD jacket when Chambers slid up next to me, loud as ever.
“Hey, yo, Edmonds, E Dub! You out here smelling like soul ties and sandalwood. Who the hell got you moisturized at eight a.m. on a Tuesday?”
I rolled my eyes, the exasperation evident as I shook my head without even looking up. “It’s cocoa butter and peace, fool. You should try it.”
He smirked and popped open his locker with a shoulder. “Peace? You haven’t had peace since your wife passed. You finally tapped in with a therapist, or is somebody touching your spirit… and maybe a few other places?”
“Chill, bro,” I said, raising my eyebrow and giving him a glassy glare.
“Nah.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Let me find out Mr. Grief and Grind out here making googly eyes at somebody. Who is she, though?”
I shook my head, chuckling, because this negro was ignorant as fuck. “Nobody. I just… met someone. Briefly.”
“Briefly?”
He raised an eyebrow like I just said I had lunch with Beyoncé but didn’t ask for a picture.
“She was at the hospital. Her mom was in a drunk driving accident. I assisted with the call.”
“Oh, so now you’re Captain Save-A-Mama?” he joked.
I didn’t laugh. Instead, I sat on the bench with my elbows resting on my knees.
“She just looked like she was trying to hold herself together. Something about her reminded me of the old me, the one before the badge felt like a casket.”
Chambers looked at me, his expression now serious as he let out a heavy sigh. “That’s deep. But also sounds like somebody got your attention.”
“I’m not looking for anything, man.”
“Maybe not. But sometimes, the thing you need has your name on it before you even see it coming.”
I stayed quiet for a second too long, and he jumped on it.
“Aha! I knew it. What’s her name? Let me guess. Trina? Nia? Does she have locs? Big hoop earrings?”
“Jonay Jacobson.”
He froze mid-uniform adjustment. “Hold on… Jacobson? You’re talking about that detention deputy who works at county intake?”
I looked up. “You know her?”
“I know of her. Everybody does. I hear she’s solid, always in a good mood, positive attitude, doesn’t play around, doesn’t smile unless it’s real, and she doesn’t take any crap from inmates or officers.
Her twin goes upside people’s heads for her.
What did you do? Save a puppy in front of her or something? ”
“Nah,” I mumbled. “I just saw her when she didn’t feel like being seen.”
He leaned back against the locker like he was contemplating my future. “Is she pretty?”
“Hell the fuck yeah.”
“Is she funny?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Is she damaged?”
I paused. “Shit, aren’t we all?”
Chambers gave me that look: half “You’re right” and half “Boy, you’re going to fall if you keep standing near ledges.”
“Well, don’t mess it up if God slid her number across the bar of your grief.”
“I don’t even have her number.”
He blinked. “Then what the hell are we sitting here talking for? Go get it, Mr. Cocoa Butter and Closure!”
I smirked, zipped up my jacket, and stood.
He clapped my shoulder as we headed out. “Real talk, though. When you’re ready, love doesn’t need an invitation. It’ll show up unannounced, bring groceries, and unpack your trauma before you even blink. Damn sure happened to me.”
Did this nigga just admit to being in love with my sister? I’d touch on that later, but it wasn’t like I didn’t already know the shit.
I didn’t say it out loud, but my chest hummed with the possibility. What if love had already knocked, and I was just too busy guarding the door to answer?
I wasn’t even supposed to be at the gym that day. However, after talking to Chambers and spending too long staring at my ceiling, I needed to put my hands on some weights instead of dwelling on my emotions.