The Grocery Store #2
The words I needed from my mother hadn’t come from her, but God worked in mysterious ways and He’d delivered the message through this Good Samaritan.
This very good-looking Samaritan—not that I was paying any attention.
The problem was I wasn’t ready for kind words.
Not yet. All my good manners flew out the window, the command galvanizing my feet until I was sprinting away from the scene of my inattention.
The man had said what I needed to hear and looked like he knew how to give good hugs. My chest fluttered, an innocent flapping reminiscent of high school crushes, hidden kisses, and stolen hugs. And I needed one so bad. It seemed that no matter how sad I was, he’d made a deep impression.
After all the meddling I’d gone through these past months—people trying to fix me up, blind dates, disappointing outings, and a few duds that made it past the third date—I’d been disillusioned with men.
But I hadn’t given up hope. I wasn’t actively looking for anything, but my heart felt too big in my chest for all the love and care I was ready to give to someone I loved besides my mom and my friends.
In every dream I had for myself since childhood, I had a family.
I was married. I had a husband. It didn’t define me as a person; watching my mother separate from my father taught me early that no one but yourself defines you.
It also taught me that some interests need to align in order for a successful marriage to last.
But companionship? Partnership? Passion, love, devotion? Building a life and a legacy together with someone you adored? I’d been past due, ready for it all.
The feeling of regret, of not stopping to speak with him, flooded me, and I panicked slightly.
I looked around, trying to locate him, feeling like this had been a sign that I’d completely missed in my grief and sadness of what I had lost today.
I hated to sound cliché but when one door closes and all?
My pulse accelerated. Standing in the aisle, I shifted back and forth, not knowing what to do.
Flashes of color and cereal boxes made me dizzy as I swiveled my head back, trying to decide what to do.
I must appear a mess, tear-stricken and now jittery because I had an instant crush on a man.
Who was I right now? None of my usual poise was anywhere to be found.
Pushing the cart forward, I navigated the aisle. It was time to pay and go. If only the insistent niggling that signs were for the ones paying attention would stop …
What if I never saw him again?
What was I thinking? I was in no condition to remotely attempt to be cute right now. If that was my man, then the Lord would have put him in front of me in a way I didn’t miss any of the signs, and more importantly, that I was ready to receive His blessing.
My chest deflated. This grocery run was a failure.
I rushed to the cash register and paid for my stuff, embarrassed, sad, and lonely. Maybe Mom would…no. Mom wasn’t even going to attempt to understand. I’d had a faint hope, but her text was clear enough.
Back behind the steering wheel, I checked my phone right before pulling out of the parking lot to find another text.
Mom: And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
Why couldn’t she just text me, her daughter, words? Not scripture. Words, her own thoughts, how she felt—actually tell me. Why did she have to take everyone else’s side but mine?
The knot in my throat dissolved in a watery meltdown.
Tears streamed unstopped down my cheeks, my chest hollow, my stomach in knots.
Huge sobs racked my body. I gulped air, every little molecule precious but not enough.
Liquid streamed down my eyes and nose, and even though my decision was the right one, it wrecked me to the core.
A brisk knock jolted me in my seat, my chest tripping as my man, the one from the grocery store, the one with the penetrating gaze and the lush lips and the plush beard, patiently waited outside of my door.
My man?
Lord, please let this man not be one of those unhinged poor souls that harmed women. I truly didn’t want to die like that. Better yet, I didn’t want to kill anyone, even if in self-defense.
We stared at each other until his penetrating gaze urged me to crack my window open.
“Beleza, I don’t mean you any harm. But I couldn’t in good conscience get in my car and leave you here distraught like that. You sure you good?”
“I…” My eyes filled again, alarm coursing through me. No, no, no, I needed to keep it together, just enough to get home.
“Is there anyone you can call to come get you? You’re too upset to drive home,” he said politely, but a steel thread laced his words. He told me I was too upset to drive home. It wasn’t a question.
“I’m fine, but I appreciate your concern. I’m gonna leave now.”
“I don’t think that is the best idea. If you don’t have someone to call, I’m happy to wait with you until you feel better. I can sit in my car. I won’t mess with you. But it’s not a good idea to drive in your state. You can barely speak.”
My racking sobs and hiccups lent additional credibility to his veiled command. I shook my head; why did this man think he could come and tell me what to do? But he wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t okay.
“I…” My voice trembled. “Fine.”
I deflated. I had no reason to be concerned if he waited in his own car. I’d try to calm down and, in five minutes, be on my way home. I’d probably have to drive to a fake address just in case he followed me, but that would be the price to pay to ensure this man just went calmly on his way.
He nodded and went to his car right next to mine. He sat in his seat and made a show of turning on what sounded like an audiobook. Pulling out some Kleenex, I wiped my face, inhaling deeply to calm my sobs.
I turned on my CeCe Winans playlist and closed my eyes, tears still streaming down my face, but the flow had definitely calmed down. Reluctantly, I was glad for the intense man in his car ensuring I was okay. I hadn’t felt that type of care in a while. How sad that it came from a stranger.
Three songs later, I was able to speak without my voice breaking. Not wanting to drive out before him, I stepped out of my car and went to his passenger side. It was his turn to press his window down.
“I’m okay now, you can go. Thank you so much for caring,” I said.
Deep brown eyes searched my face. All he could see was watery eyes and a flushed nose. That was all I had to give right now.
“You look much better.” He nodded.
“I look a mess, but I’ll be fine. I always persevere.
This won’t break me,” I said, a surge of faith filling each word with certainty.
The man’s nostrils widened and his eyes darkened, a thrill of delicious danger coursing through me.
I didn’t know what happened, but suddenly I was very aware of his thick lips, and whatever his yummy cologne was circled my nose.
“Give me your phone,” he ordered.
“No.”
He chuckled. “Didn’t I prove I’m no harm to you?”
“If you’re gonna say you’d never hurt me, please allow me to tell you I wouldn’t trust a stranger.”
“I never said I wouldn’t hurt you. I said I’m no harm to you. There is a difference. I’d never do anything you didn’t ask for or need.”
What in all the angels’ names did that mean?
“That is not very reassuring.”
“Isn’t it? You’d be in control of anything that happened to you.
Wouldn’t that be liberating? To ask for what you wanted and get it unequivocally?
” His polite mask never slipped, but his eyes…
My God, his gaze burned a path down my face, through my chest, missing nothing.
I didn’t know what he was saying and it was clear he was a bit shaken at what he said, but it had a deeper meaning.
Books I’d read before, books that I’d hidden away and read in the dark, books of whips and chains came to mind at his words. Could he be? Could it be?
Not knowing why but following my instinct, I pulled my phone from my purse and gave it to him. The man had looked startled at his words but now was back in control.
He took a picture of himself and then gave it back to me.
“Now go ahead and save my contact information under Quentino Jo?o Santos. People close to me call me Jo?o.” He rattled off a number and I put it in, following his instruction a little too well.
I flushed at the thought, but he seemed to be looking at me as if he was proud, and I couldn’t help but bask in that feeling.
“You can text me now,” he said.
I paused, wondering if I wanted to do that….
“I only have my word, but you can trust that. But you have my photo; you should take a picture of my plate too, and if I do anything out of pocket, you got plenty to get me in trouble.”
Shaking my head, I texted him. His phone chimed right away.
“What name am I saving your number under?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting as he awaited my next decision.
“Gisele,” I whispered.
“Nice to meet you, Gisele. Whatever happened today to you, as you said, you’re strong, And it’s gonna be better. I’ll be calling you this week to set up our first date. By the way, we ain’t strangers; we’ve seen each other before. You sang at my father’s funeral.”
Quentino Jo?o Santos nodded at me and swiftly pulled out of the parking space, smoothly driving away as I stood there wondering exactly what had just happened.
My phone vibrated in my hand as I stepped back into my car.
Jo?o Santos: I made sure to leave before you; you’re safe to drive home.
Who was this man?
And what did I just agree to?