Chapter 22
Val
As soon as Fran walks into the house, I hustle to the front of the condo, where she’s taking off her jacket.
“What did Dad say? Is he really upset?” I bite my lip, waiting for her to answer.
Fran stares at me, then bursts into tears. My own eyes immediately well up, and I gather her in an embrace. We don’t say anything for a long while. I simply weep with her until she calms. I take the time to wipe my face with my hoodie sleeve before I pull back and look into hers.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
“He’s livid. Nothing Ann said to calm him down made anything better.”
No surprise there. Dad never listens when super angry, simply rants until he runs out of steam.
“She actually left because she couldn’t take his mood any longer.”
My mouth drops. “Really?”
Fran nods. “She accused him of being hypocritical and unfair.” Fran shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. He’s mad. He has a right to his feelings.”
“Not if he made you sob like that.”
My little sister gives me a look as if to say What else can I do?
I totally get that. She heads to the kitchen and fills the electric kettle with water. I stand in the entryway and watch, feeling helpless. If I could’ve taken our father’s wrath, I would.
“Want some tea?”
“Yes, please.” I open the cookie jar. “Three cookies left.”
She smiles. “Want to split the third one?”
I nod as I retrieve the goods. I plate the desserts, then place them in the microwave for thirty seconds. Fran and I like our cookies warm and gooey.
Fran brings two mugs of hot water and sets the cups down on the kitchen table before coming over with the tea box. I scan through the offerings and grab a honey chamomile. Fran reaches for the Irish Breakfast and adds a splash of milk to her cup.
After she chews on part of her cookie, she finally speaks. “Dad said he can’t even look at me anymore.”
“Dramatic.” I wince. “At least we know where we get it from.”
She laughs, then sniffs, blinking back tears. “He said not to expect any help.”
Not a surprise. Our parents raised us a certain way and definitely have strong feelings when we don’t toe the line. Though Fran has always been the one happy to find the boundary, she’s never erased it from existence before. I guess Dad’s tolerance finally evaporated.
“Do you have a plan?” I ask hesitantly. I don’t want to set her back into tear mode, but I am interested to hear what she has to say.
She lets out a small moan. “I’m not sure if there’s a plan for this. I’ve stopped hanging out at the club, which means I have more funds. I’m putting that money into my savings before I start buying baby items.”
“Fran, you know I’ll throw you a baby shower.” Those parties have to be the biggest blessing from God. A bunch of friends and family ready to fill your nursery with everything you need to raise a little one and you don’t spend a dime? Favored!
Wait, a nursery. I blink. “Do we need to find a bigger place to live?” Our condo is a two-bedroom.
Fran has the smaller room because she didn’t want the extra space.
Since I like to insert a potted plant everywhere I can, it makes sense I’m in the primary.
Even though my room has more square footage, a crib still won’t fit.
So much for the idea of swapping spaces.
“I can’t ask that of you, Val.”
I roll my eyes. “If I’m not helping you, how are you going to raise a baby on your own?
You’d have to move to the suburbs.” I shudder.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but seriously .
. .” We’ve lived in DC all our lives. How would we adjust to living outside the city and in one of the smaller suburban areas?
Would Fran want to live in southern Maryland or northern Virginia?
“Thanks, Val. I guess I need to figure out my finances.”
“Right. Once you have the baby, are you going to use daycare?” I doubt Dad will let her bring the baby to work. He’ll give her maternity leave because our HR has that in place already. But he certainly won’t give Fran any extra favors.
She drops her head into her open palms. “There’s too much to figure out.”
“Don’t stress. You have time.” If she’s eight weeks pregnant, that makes her delivery date sometime in October. I think.
“Do I? I’ve already gained four pounds because I have this insatiable hunger and no morning sickness.
Any day now, my pants will refuse to close, which means I’ll have to buy maternity clothes.
Then that means I’ll have to start answering questions at work, with people at church.
I just . . .” Her breath shudders, then the waterworks start all over.
I reach out and take her hand. After a moment, she composes herself, gathers her tea, and offers a weak smile.
“I’m going to lay down.”
“Do you want some company?”
She shakes her head. “But thanks for trying to cheer me up.”
“That’s what sisters are for.”
“Maybe give Jabari a call. I’m sure he’s shocked by everything.” She winces as if remembering the dumpster fire that was lunch.
“We already talked.”
Her gaze narrows. “About what? There’s something in your tone.”
“Um, he might want more than I’m ready for.” I can hear the shock in my voice. As much time as I’ve spent trying to sort out our conversation, I simply can’t wrap my head around it. My brain has malfunctioned, and nothing makes sense.
“I knew it.” Fran grins. “Go for it.”
“But Jackie . . .”
Fran sucks in air through her teeth. “I’m so sick of bowing down to Queen Jackie.” She places a hand on her hip. “Why do we tiptoe around her feelings all the time? Why don’t we ever make her take accountability for the crap she does? I’m sick of Little Miss Gets Away With Everything.”
I blow out a breath. “She’s our sister.”
“Doesn’t give her a right to lay down a law she never follows.”
Silence fills the tense space between us.
“Do you ever wonder if her account of their breakup is true?” Fran asks.
I nod slowly. “I asked Jabari about it.”
“And?” Fran sits back down. “Did she lie?”
I don’t want to throw my sister under the bus, but after talking with Jabari and hinting about things with Jackie at lunch, I know she lied. But to what extent? “I don’t have her full side.”
“We all got her side ad nauseam.” Fran snorts. “Jumped on the hate Jabari Hall bandwagon without a second thought. I never believed Jackie a hundred percent because she’s always lying about something. It’s like she’s only capable of giving ten percent truth to any story she tells.”
I mean, I don’t think Jackie is that bad, but she does like to embellish a little. It’s only with Jabari that I’ve now been willing to call her out on it. Yet I still don’t think that makes it right to go out with her ex.
But what about what you want? You like him.
“Don’t let her win this time, Val.”
“Is it always about winning? Can’t I just want the truth and peace?”
Fran shakes her head, a sorrowful expression on her face.
“Truth doesn’t always bring peace, but it does show you what’s right.
I should’ve never slept with Derrick, yet I did.
That’s the truth. It’s not going to bring me peace because I was in the wrong.
But knowing that Jesus will forgive me, that’s where true peace lies.
It’s not earthly, and it’s not temporary. ”
She takes a sip of her tea. “Giving in to Jackie is not peace. It’s burying truth to temporarily avoid conflict. Be bold. Explain how things are going to be, or miss out on a potentially great relationship.”
“How do I know it’ll be a good relationship? And what about sister code?” Everything is so jumbled up inside. My brains feel completely scrambled.
“Did sister code keep her from lying to us?”
I hate that Fran is right. Being on the outs with anyone tears me into knots. Knowing Jackie doesn’t want to speak to me right now hurts my soul. But I can accept the wisdom Fran is sharing. It’s like becoming pregnant has suddenly matured her.
“I still don’t know if it’s worth the risk.”
“Then go out on a date with him,” Fran urges. “It’ll be different than Valentine’s because you’re not going in blind. If it’s everything you imagined or more, carefully consider that Jackie’s in the wrong. You do have a right to experience a great relationship with someone who likes you.”
“You’ve turned wise overnight,” I joke. My mind is reeling with every bit of knowledge my little sister shares with me. I want to ignore some of her words, but I can’t.
“Think about it.” She stands and heads to her room, so I go to mine.
As I lay staring at my ceiling, I think of what Fran said of the fiasco at lunch and my conversation with Jabari.
What do I do, Lord? I like Jabari, but being more than friends seems like a minefield. Please just tell me what to do, and I’ll listen.
Then again, if God tells me to take a leap of faith, will I? The very thought tenses my whole body. I don’t know how to stand up for myself. I wish I could be more like Fran. More like Jackie.
Okay, so maybe not more like Jackie in this instance.
But I’ve always admired how she goes after what she wants with all the confidence I lack.
Can I find it within me to be bold, like Fran suggested?
I’ve been overlooked for so long and for so often, I don’t even recognize what I want half the time.
What do you want, Val?
A picture of Jabari’s face immediately pops into my mind.
I’ve never been so comfortable around a guy before.
I don’t have to pretend to be more than and don’t have to make myself less than.
He lets me occupy space and just be. I can’t help but wonder what that would be like if we enter into a romantic relationship.
Will that comfort flee, or will it only increase?
You know there’s only one way to find out, right?
I do. But the real question is, Am I brave enough?