dreads. “What about your husband? What kind of guy was he? Did you love him?” he quizzed, firing the questions at her.
She sat forward, then took a long swallow of the wine. “Sterling was a good black man. He’dbeen through his share of women before we met. Lots of them. When he met me, the first thing he told me was that he wasn’t really big on commitment. That shook me because I knew right away that I felt something for him. He said he refused to get serious with anyone because he didn’t want to play the games that went along with maintaining a relationship. Women were playthings for him. He told me that he went back and forth between four different women at the same time he was courting me. But he cut them loose when we started to build something between us. In so many ways, he was probably the most honest man I ever met.”
“But did you love him?” he demanded to know, as if the answer somehow held a magical key to what ailed him. He drank some more of the Jack Daniel’s, wincing at the burn of it in his throat.
“Yes, I loved him very much,” she said. “When we married, we both did a lot of growing up together. I think we learned that love came with a big responsibility. Loving him was easy. He was caring, thoughtful, and kind. Had a big heart, the biggest. You don’tfind those combinations in a man, in anybody, too much anymore.”
“You make it sound like it was so perfect,” he said sarcastically. “Ain’t nothing perfect,” he added, thinking of the battles he and Nikita had waged. “What messed up your postcard?”
She felt the sting of his words, knew he was goading her, and realized how he must have felt when she was coming at him like this, hard and heavy with the questions. Now the shoe was on the other foot and it didn’t feel good at all. He was testing her. Was she able to take it as well as give it?
“Our problems were with his family,” she said, still skirting the whole truth. “His parents, mostly his mother, didn’t think I was good enough for him. And he loved them almost to a fault, would have done anything for them. He was always trying to earn their love. They didn’t treat him like they cared much about him but he loved them unconditionally.”
“What did they do to him?” He glanced over her shoulder and saw the woman staring at him. If she kept this up, he was going over to the manager and complain.
“His mother always drummed into his head that he could have done better…in every area of his life: his job, his home, me. Making him feel worthless and constantly needing to prove himself. I think that’s why he ran around with so many women. Just to boost his ego.” Why he felt the need to control her life, make it seem unimportant, she thought but didn’t say.
“How long were you guys married, you and Sterling?” he asked, waving to the waiter for a refill.
“Eight years,” she said. “Eight good years,” she added, trying to convince herself.
“What about your daughter, Akia?”
She swallowed hard and finished her wine in two gulps. “Akia…was only five years old. My baby.”
In her mind, she recalled Akia as an infant wrapped in a blanket, touching her little pug nose with the tip of her finger, making her smile and gurgle with glee, sitting, just the two of them before the fire. The most blissful feeling in the world. Mother and child. Holding a tiny life you created, a life that depends on you andloves you without asking for anything in return. Her intoxicating infant smell. Her Akia.
Quinn saw the pain in her eyes, knowing that he’d pushed too far. And the satisfaction that he thought he’d feel at seeing her as miserable as he wasn’t there.
She turned away, keeping the memories to herself.
“Hey, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about the other night.”
“You shouldn’t apologize unless you really mean it.” She kept her face averted as the room suddenly filled with applause, halting any further conversation.
Amir, now
She sat forward, then took a long swallow of the wine. “Sterling was a good black man. He’dbeen through his share of women before we met. Lots of them. When he met me, the first thing he told me was that he wasn’t really big on commitment. That shook me because I knew right away that I felt something for him. He said he refused to get serious with anyone because he didn’t want to play the games that went along with maintaining a relationship. Women were playthings for him. He told me that he went back and forth between four different women at the same time he was courting me. But he cut them loose when we started to build something between us. In so many ways, he was probably the most honest man I ever met.”
“But did you love him?” he demanded to know, as if the answer somehow held a magical key to what ailed him. He drank some more of the Jack Daniel’s, wincing at the burn of it in his throat.
“Yes, I loved him very much,” she said. “When we married, we both did a lot of growing up together. I think we learned that love came with a big responsibility. Loving him was easy. He was caring, thoughtful, and kind. Had a big heart, the biggest. You don’tfind those combinations in a man, in anybody, too much anymore.”
“You make it sound like it was so perfect,” he said sarcastically. “Ain’t nothing perfect,” he added, thinking of the battles he and Nikita had waged. “What messed up your postcard?”
She felt the sting of his words, knew he was goading her, and realized how he must have felt when she was coming at him like this, hard and heavy with the questions. Now the shoe was on the other foot and it didn’t feel good at all. He was testing her. Was she able to take it as well as give it?
“Our problems were with his family,” she said, still skirting the whole truth. “His parents, mostly his mother, didn’t think I was good enough for him. And he loved them almost to a fault, would have done anything for them. He was always trying to earn their love. They didn’t treat him like they cared much about him but he loved them unconditionally.”
“What did they do to him?” He glanced over her shoulder and saw the woman staring at him. If she kept this up, he was going over to the manager and complain.
“His mother always drummed into his head that he could have done better…in every area of his life: his job, his home, me. Making him feel worthless and constantly needing to prove himself. I think that’s why he ran around with so many women. Just to boost his ego.” Why he felt the need to control her life, make it seem unimportant, she thought but didn’t say.
“How long were you guys married, you and Sterling?” he asked, waving to the waiter for a refill.
“Eight years,” she said. “Eight good years,” she added, trying to convince herself.
“What about your daughter, Akia?”
She swallowed hard and finished her wine in two gulps. “Akia…was only five years old. My baby.”
In her mind, she recalled Akia as an infant wrapped in a blanket, touching her little pug nose with the tip of her finger, making her smile and gurgle with glee, sitting, just the two of them before the fire. The most blissful feeling in the world. Mother and child. Holding a tiny life you created, a life that depends on you andloves you without asking for anything in return. Her intoxicating infant smell. Her Akia.
Quinn saw the pain in her eyes, knowing that he’d pushed too far. And the satisfaction that he thought he’d feel at seeing her as miserable as he wasn’t there.
She turned away, keeping the memories to herself.
“Hey, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about the other night.”
“You shouldn’t apologize unless you really mean it.” She kept her face averted as the room suddenly filled with applause, halting any further conversation.
Amir, now
Similar Books
