'Til I Want No More

by Robin W. Pearson

  Love and sacrifice go hand in hand. Take it from me. My brothers had to twist my arm to watch them play baseball. They just wanted me to spend a few hours at a measly game—not give them a kidney or a new car. And they arranged a clear spring day with a nice breeze to boot. So why did it take a kick in the pants and the promise of my mother’s chicken salad to take me out to the ball game?

  Because I’m selfish, self-centered, and self-seeking, that’s why. This submission-dying-to-self thing will take quite some getting used to once I say, “I do.” What all will Hubby-to-be ask of me, considering I’ve already drawn the line with my ice cream and my bath towels? What happens if he asks me to cook spaghetti every week, kill a spider, or change the oil in the car, things I have no interest in doing? Should I give up watching Home Town Monday nights because they’ll interrupt his football game?

  “Now, Maxine, is that how you encourage soon-to-be married couples?” Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror and back to the road as the mileage sign loomed . . . and as her ears tuned into “Strollin’.” She sucked in a breath.

  The first time she’d heard this song, she’d kept hitting Repeat, cranking the volume up and the windows down. Laughter and music had trailed out the open windows of Blue as they drove to Myrtle Beach. With her right foot propped on the dashboard and her head on his shoulder, she stayed close enough to nuzzle the spot behind his right ear every time Prince sang the words strollin’, rockin’, and rollin’.

  Vivienne had pitched a fit that morning years ago as Maxine slung her beach bag over her shoulder and kissed the air in front of her mother’s earlobe. “John, this girl is takin’ an inch and runnin’ miles and miles away with it!”

  “She’s a smart girl, honey. Aren’t you, Maxine? We don’t need to worry. Besides, despite the bad blood between you and Annie, I played high school basketball with Geoff. JD’s dad is good people. I know that firsthand.”

  But what First John hadn’t known hurt them all in the long run. Her stepfather hadn’t lifted the Coleman’s lid in the bed of JD’s truck and found the wine coolers packed under the ice-covered soda. No chicken salad to speak of. First John had never suspected that the mysterious “car trouble” preventing Maxine’s return had been planned for weeks. He hadn’t been told about the other teens sharing the two rooms they’d booked ahead of time so they could party on the beach long into the night. His stepdaughter had walked in the house the next day, a little sunburned and windblown, smug in the knowledge she’d pulled one over on her parents, telling herself it was okay since all they’d done was sleep off their buzz.

  Ultimately, the joke was on Maxine herself.

  “Just strollin’.”

  “Oh!” Maxine cried and braked hard as a deer sprang from the brush, leaped across the road, and disappeared into the woods on the other side. Scratching her suddenly itchy underarm, she glanced in the rearview mirror. “Thank God!” she cried, grateful no one was behind her. As she slowly accelerated, Maxine depressed the Power button on the CD player and redirected her thoughts that had raced off and away in a light-blue classic Chevrolet. “Help me, Lord.”

  Okay, let’s talk truth and consequences. And I’m not referring to my parents’ old television game show or that city in New Mexico. I mean the realities of life and love. Hubby-to-be just dropped everything to help his family—everything, including me. No worries, dearest readers! It’s evidence of his capacity for love, his willingness to lay down his life for his wife should the need ever arise. That give-and-take is worth a Friday evening of baseball, forgoing an episode of Home Town, or eating spaghetti. Believe me, that’s saying something.

  Maxine squinted at the road ahead.

  Truth and consequences. The truth is, loving someone has consequences, and sometimes, love hurts. Look at my parents. Every day, I watch them give up their lives to and for each other. I don’t think they even consider it giving up. They seem to gain as they lovingly sacrifice. They work together like a refrigerator-freezer combination. And not one of those refrigerator-on-top deals, but a side-by-side model. They’re a united front. No good cop, bad cop.

  And not only are they willing to kill themselves raising us, but they’re willing to kill us, too—or at least threaten to—to make sure we’re well in mind, body, and spirit. And my great-grandparents? They sent their son to another country, sight unseen, because they hoped and prayed for something better. Giving up something—someone—for their own good, despite your own wants and needs, your own broken heart . . . what greater love is there?

  Maxine blinked back tears. She forced herself to focus on the article.

  And what about Jesus? Yes, my friends, it all comes back to Him, as much as I want to make it about me. Like my grandfather, Jesus left His rightful place at home with His Father and came down to earth. Why? For an even greater purpose than my grandparents and great-grandparents envisioned—to submit Himself unto death because He loved us. Ornery, lying, sinful, selfish folks like me who certainly can’t be bothered to return the favor.

  No, loving submission is not all blood, sweat, and tears. There’s joy in taking up the cross, joy in giving, joy in loving, joy in sacrifice. If there weren’t any hearts and flowers, I probably wouldn’t be here, and neither would any of you, dearest readers. My faith and family have shown me that it feels right to give of myself, to give myself. Period. It’s something we do, no matter the consequences. We submit ourselves, one to another, and to our family, one after another. Baseball games, family dinners, family business, schooling, forgiveness, acceptance, love . . . No sacrifice too great. Just like with my hubby-to-be. And I hope, just like with me.

  Maxine pulled onto the grassy parking lot at the baseball field and withdrew her journal. When she finished writing, she retrieved her phone from its dashboard mount and quickly found the verses she had in mind. She read aloud Matthew 16:24-25: “‘Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.”’”

  Her phone vibrated in her hand. She looked at the screen. “My goodness. Hello?”

  “Maxi-ine?”

  She noted his slip. “Who else would it be, James Dee?”

  “So you’re still up in arms about my visit. You left the Y so abruptly, we never got to talk.”

  “I know.” She scribbled down the passage she’d read, put away her leather-bound book, and climbed from the car. She leaned against her closed door and took a deep whiff of fresh pine needles and newly cut grass.

  “Ricky says to tell you he can read seven pages.”

  Maxine couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the young reader from the Y. The butterflies settled in her stomach. “Good for him! Did you show him a magic trick?”

  “You took care of that, when you disappeared.”

  “It couldn’t be helped. Teddy—”

  “I know. Teddy Bear called.”

  “Yes, my fiancé. I’d already missed Theodore’s call the first time, so I had to take that one. Since he was in the area, he swung by and picked me up so we could talk about his problems with his mother.”

  “You’d already declined his first call, you mean. And Teddy Bear’s got more than the problems with his mother to worry about. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Jay—”

  “I want to see you.” He coughed a little. “To talk in person. About Celeste. We can’t keep dancing around this, making it harder for everybody.”

  “Who’s everybody?” Maxine needed something to do besides counting the butterflies that had resumed their flight in her stomach. She walked to the trunk and dug out her collapsible chair, visor, water bottle, and for good measure, a light pullover since North Carolina springs were notoriously mercurial and these baseball games were notoriously drawn out. She dropped each item by her feet.

  “You. Me. Our daughter.”

  “Would you stop call
ing her that! She’s no more yours than mine, JD.”

  “And she’s no less either.”

  Maxine closed her eyes for a long moment and took a breath that shook her chest. “JD. JD. I just don’t know what to do with you.”

  “Yes, you do. But this isn’t about me. It’s about—”

  “Our daughter.” Maxine flinched at a touch on her back and banged her head on the trunk’s roof. “Ouch!”

  Lilian Atwater leaned around to squint at her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just trying to get your attention. Are you okay?”

  “Hi.” Maxine smoothed down her hair, which had caught on the latch. She looked around, expecting the pastor to pop out of nowhere with a Bible and some holy oil. The better to save you with, my dear, she could hear him say. She pressed End on the phone, hoping JD would figure it out, and faced the interloper.

  Lilian reached out. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. You surprised me. That’s all. What are you doing here?” Though Maxine tried to mask her dismay, she could hear it seep through the edges of her words.

  “I had Willy put a trace on your car the last time you were at the church, and this is where it led me.”

  “What?”

  Lilian’s lips twitched.

  “Oh! Ha-ha. Baseball. You’re here to watch the game. Do you have someone playing?” Maxine tied the arms of her jacket around her waist and slapped her cap on her head.

  “This is my granddaughter’s first season. She plays with the Raptors. I surely wouldn’t waste a perfectly good Saturday morning on those hard wooden bleachers for just anybody. And you? Are you a fan, or are you here under duress like me?”

  Maxine’s heart beat a mile a minute. “Guilty as charged. My brothers play for the Blue Jays.” She lowered the trunk. Then she slid her phone and water bottle into the bag holding the chair. Maxine felt like she was gearing up for a long mountain hike rather than a short walk through the parking lot. She wished she could ready her heart as easily.

  Lilian reached for the bag Maxine had slung over her shoulder. “Can I help you carry anything? I see you don’t plan to sit on those hard bleachers. I wish I’d thought of that.”

  Maxine waved off the help. “No, no. I’m good. I should let you get to Pastor.” She hoped for and feared Atwater’s appearance.

  “Oh no, no. He’s not here. God had mercy on him and arranged a ministerial breakfast this morning. Blessed and highly favored, that man.”

  Maxine was trying to hotfoot it toward the field, but suddenly she froze. “Actually, would you mind helping me with the cooler? I left the chicken salad in my car.”

  “No problem. I’m glad to help.” Lilian returned to Maxine’s Volvo and retrieved the cooler from the backseat. She extended the handle and fell into step beside the younger woman. “Were you talking to Theodore?”

  “No. Teddy’s probably already here, with my family. Oh, and I’m sorry we had to cancel our last meeting. I meant to call Pastor Atwater back to reschedule, but I just got caught up with all the day-to-day.” Maxine flicked away that irritating inner voice that wanted to add, “Day-to-day worrying, avoiding, lying, and procrastination.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. We stretch out our seven sessions over a year’s time because, well, life happens. I’ll tell Willy. He’s probably already talked to Theodore himself. I’m so glad his father is doing better and that they had a good trip.” She withdrew a pair of sunglasses from her red cross-body bag. “Mind if I hang with you a minute? It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

  Maxine tried to spot First John and Mother in the crowd. And Celeste. “Are you sure this is okay, talking with you outside of our official counseling sessions? I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” Maxine adjusted her chair strap.

  “You mean, is this unprofessional? Maybe—if we were Philistines or a doctor and her patient.” Lilian studied Maxine through her green-tinted shades. “But we’re talking about ministry, dear. Jesus walked among the sick, didn’t He?” Lilian touched Maxine’s shoulder again. “Not that you’re sick, but you get the picture. Willy and I believe in making house calls.”

  Lilian covered her mouth with one hand. “There I go again. You know what I mean. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself without my husband. I imagine you were scrambling while Teddy was out of town. You also missed your couple’s outing with your grandparents, didn’t you?”

  Maxine squashed the image of cooking with JD and squared her shoulders. She wished she was cloaked by her typical tailored skirt and cardigan rather than her low-slung, gray cargo pants and wrinkled, pink-and-white V-necked tee. She squirmed under the warm brown eyes of Lilian, who looked fashionably comfortable in her lightweight yellow sweater and fitted cropped jeans. Coral-tipped toes peeked out of the holes in her stylish ECCO slides. Feeling like the ugly duckling, inside and out, Maxine focused on picking out the heads of her family among all the people milling about.

  But Lilian beat her to it. “Oh, my goodness! Without your glasses, she could almost be your twin!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  LILIAN LIFTED HER SUNGLASSES. “That must be your sister—Celeste, right?”

  Maxine had surely lived a Clark Kent–like existence, hiding behind her tortoiseshell frames and her role of “sister.” It had taken Lilian Atwater to point out the obvious. Maxine cleared her throat and waved at her parents. “Yes, that’s Celeste. With my family. She’s adopted.” Maxine hoped her reminder acted as a Danger: Falling Rocks sign, which would have stopped ordinary folks from blundering into an awkward and too-close comparison.

  But she’d forgotten Lilian Atwater skipped on the extraordinary side of the street.

  “That’s incredible that she’s adopted, considering the resemblance. How close is the family connection?”

  “It’s not something we talk about. Celeste is just as much a part of this family as I am.”

  “But—”

  “Dad! Teddy! Uncle Roy!” Maxine plastered on a bright smile as First John walked up with the other two men close behind.

  John gaped at her. Then he looked away from the younger woman he didn’t seem to recognize to the older woman he’d never met and back again.

  “Hey! Did you come over to help me with this stuff?” Maxine slipped the chair from her shoulder and handed it to Teddy. “Thank you, sweetie. And, Uncle Roy, could you grab that cooler?”

  Lilian proffered her now-free right hand in his direction. “Hello, I’m Lilian Atwater, Maxine’s frie—”

  “Teddy’s pastor’s wife—” Maxine began at the same time. She laughed weakly. “Excuse me. I’m bad at this introduction thing.”

  “Don’t I know it. And I thought this only happened with your old friends.” Teddy laughed as he hugged Lilian.

  “Especially lately.” Celeste peeked out from behind her uncle. “Hi, I’m her sister, Celeste. Maxine, I can’t believe the boys dragged you and Teddy out here. They couldn’t even get Zander to come. We’re leaving by the fourth inning, right, y’all?”

  Roy shook his head. “Absolutely not, young lady. I gave up a lunch date with a lovely woman to watch my nephews play, so nobody gets to skip out. Not me. Not your dad and your mama. Not Maxine. Not Theodore.”

  “Besides, I’ve packed plenty of goodies to keep us all fat and happy. And Maxine brought the chicken salad.” Vivienne had popped up beside her husband in the flurry of activity.

  “But, Mom, I’m bored, not hungry! I have plans tonight.”

  “Well, you should be hungry. You’re losin’ too much weight. All that rehearsal is killin’ your appetite. And what plans can a thirteen-year-old make that her mama wouldn’t already know about?”

  “I’m almost fourteen, and you don’t know everything.” Celeste crossed her arms.

  Maxine opened her mouth, but Vivienne stepped between her two daughters and leaned into Celeste. Still, Maxine discerned the warning in her mother’s tone.

  “Anot
her thing I don’t know is who you’re talking to.”

  Celeste unfolded her arms and glared at the field as the players moved to their respective dugouts.

  Vivienne stepped away from her younger daughter and back into character of host as she turned her attention to the stranger in their midst. “Hello. I’m Maxine’s mother, Vivienne Owens. This is my husband, John, and my brother, Roy. Did I hear you’re the wife of Reverend Atwater?”

  Lilian seem unfazed by the boisterous group. “Yes, you did. But I’m also Maxine’s friend. At least in a professional capacity. I think we’ll just call this one of our premarital sessions so everybody’s comfortable.” She threw her head back in a laugh.

  Vivienne’s red lips shifted in a move that only her inner circle knew was a smile’s third or fourth cousin, close enough to be mistaken for the real thing but not immediate family. “Well, professionally or personally, it’s nice to meet you. Theodore has told us nothing but good things about his church. We’re all on a family date with these two, per your orders.”

  Teddy beamed and looped his arm through Maxine’s. “You can report to Reverend Atwater that we’re officially logging in our hours.”

  For once, Maxine was grateful for her family’s typical tornadic arrival. She felt safe floundering about in the headwinds of her mother’s take-charge attitude. With one arm in Teddy’s, Maxine clasped her free hand in Celeste’s and squeezed. At first, the teen seemed to reject Maxine’s silent empathy, but then Celeste relaxed her shoulders and squeezed back and made a funny face.

  Maxine squinted hard, wrinkled her nose, and flicked out her tongue. Laughing, the two exchanged pokes and hip bumps on their trek. The others fell into step with them, lumbering en masse toward their chairs like elephants on the savanna—graceful, but enough of a force of nature to make others move out of their path or risk getting trampled. It wasn’t until they arrived at the jumbled circle their chairs, picnic basket, and bags had created that Mother raised a questioning brow in Maxine’s direction.