Forever Soul Ties

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  Well, you’d be wrong.

  Zanetta had informed us she was coming home, so we were expecting her. But Zion’s visit was a complete surprise. Zanetta and Zion arrived within two days of each other. (I would later learn that Zanetta had been the one to talk Zion into coming.)

  Zanetta looked good in her uniform, but she always looked good in blue. Zion had lost a lot of weight. She looked great as well. Zynique was over-the-moon ecstatic to see her two sisters. It had been over a year since either of them was last home.

  “Zanetta, you look so good!” I said as we sat in the den. She was wearing a white and gold velour jogging suit. Very classy. There we were all together again: me, Zanetta, Zion, and Zynique just like old times. As usual, Zeke was gone. I thought for sure with all of his girls being here (and it being the holiday season), he would have foregone his nightly routine to spend time at home. Well, I thought wrong!

  “Zion, have you been getting enough to eat over there in Haiti? Are they feeding you guys?” I asked.

  “Why, Mother?” Zion said. She began to swing the top leg of her crossed legs, a sign I’d inadvertently touched a nerve.

  I smiled. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just you’ve lost a lot of weight. You look like you’ve lost two to three dress sizes.”

  “You would think you’d be happy about that,” Zion said rather snippily.

  I frowned. “Why would you think I’d be happy about you losing weight?”

  “Oh, you know how you are.” Zion tilted her head to one side. “You’re always on us about something. If we eat too much, you think we need to cut back so we won’t gain a lot of weight. If we lose weight, you think we must be doing something we’re not supposed to be doing. I guess we can never win with you.”

  I knew exactly what Zion was referring to. When she was fourteen, I thought she might possibly be doing drugs. The signs were all there. She was slimming down way too fast and her behavior had become erratic. Her normally honor-roll, A–B grades were slipping to Cs and there was even one D. She was starting to get smart with me. . . talking back to me, something she never did and something she knew I didn’t tolerate—not in my house.

  I’d told her quickly, “Your little friends may have New Age mothers with New Age ways of thinking and disciplining. But I won’t stand for a child, especially not one of mine, talking to grown people like they’re equals.”

  Don’t get me wrong: I believe in respecting children. I always gave my girls respect. I would hear them out completely; I always gave them a fair hearing. But when one of them would try to raise-up on me . . . that just wasn’t going to fly. Not when you’re eating my food and sleeping under the roof and in a bed I was providing. Yes, I believe it was my place to provide for them. And I love them more than life itself. But still . . .

  “Well, Zion,” I said, coming back to the discussion at hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was merely making an observation. That was all. You just look a bit thin to me. And I happen to know that where you are, doing the work that you do, you may have to do without,” I said. “That was all I meant by it. You look good though.”

  Zion stopped swinging her leg. “Trust me: We’re doing a lot better than many of the Haitians over there. It’s a lot of work. But it’s rewarding work.”

  I reached over, placed my hand on her knee, then playfully shook it. “Honey, I didn’t mean anything by it. Really I didn’t.” Zion’s hardened face softened a bit.

  “At least you get to do what you want,” Zynique said. “Mother won’t let me do any fun things. It’s all about my grades with her.”

  “Now, that’s not true, Zynique,” I said, turning toward my youngest daughter, who now appeared to be turning on me. “I let you spend time with Madame Perry. Do I not?”

  “Yes. But you only do that because you started that flower shop and you want to get rid of me until you get home from the shop.”

  “Get rid of you?” I said puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m eighteen now and you’re afraid I’m going to have some boy over here while you’re still at work. So you let me go over there to be sure I’m not here alone doing things you wouldn’t approve of,” Zynique said.

  “Wow,” I said. “Wow. And all the time I thought I was being flexible by letting you spend that time with Madame Perry. You were the one that asked . . . begged, if we want to be truthful about it, did you not?”

  “Yes. But I’ve been asking you for the past two, almost three years, and you didn’t say I could do it until this year, after you opened up your shop.” Zynique folded her arms and made a huffing sound when she finished.

  “I see. So you think I’m letting you go there because I want to pawn you off on someone while I do my thing? Is that right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well, Zynique. If you want to know the truth: I didn’t say yes before because I didn’t think a fifteen-year-old, even a sixteen-year-old needed to be working. That’s what parents are for. Your father and I believe that we’re the ones who are supposed to work and provide for our children. At least, until you’re grown. After that—”

  “We’re on our own,” Zynique said, finishing my sentence.

  “Right. But if you must know: I went against my own personal judgment to let you work with Madame Perry because it seems like you really have your heart set on owning your own dance studio. I didn’t want to be the one standing in the way of you or your dreams.” I felt a tear begin to sting my eyes. “I thought I was doing something for you. I see now that apparently I can’t win for losing.”

  Zanetta jumped in. “Mother, what you don’t get is that all we ever saw from you was the disciplinary side. Since I’ve been in the Air Force, I get it. But when we were growing up, it just looked—to us, anyway—like you were the one always on us about something. You were the one who rode our backs. Dad was the one who seemed to understand better about how we felt and what we were going through.”

  “Dad is wonderful!” Zynique said, chiming in. “He gives me money when I ask him for it without giving me the third degree.” Zynique looked at me with a look that felt judgmental. “Dad will let me go places without being all up in my business. Dad is not as uptight about things—at least, not like you are, Mother.”

  I nodded. Not because I agreed, but because I knew I couldn’t say what I really wanted to say. At this point, it was best to just hold my tongue. What I wanted to say was: Yes, it’s easy for your daddy to be the cool one. He’s not taking care of too many responsibilities. He’s not here with you, Zynique, and he wasn’t here for your sisters either. If you need any further proof, take a look around. He’s not here right now! This is just the place where he stores his clothes, eats, and takes his baths. Everything fell and still falls on my shoulders. If I don’t do it, things don’t get done.

  I wanted to hang out with you girls the way he was able to, all of you, so you would possibly like me as a friend. But you didn’t need me as your friend; you needed me as a mother. You, all of you, needed someone who would look out for you, someone who cared enough to make tough decisions and do things in your best interests—even if that decision meant or means you’ll not talk to me or be upset with me. You needed and need someone who will push you to do your best, not because it makes me look good. But because I know you have it in you.

  You need someone who would lay down her life for you, if the situation ever called for it. That’s what you need and that’s what your sisters needed. And I’ve been that. I am that! And more.

  “Mother did a great job,” Zanetta said, interrupting my internal dialogue. She looked over at me. “You did, Mother.” She came over and grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “You did. I understand just how much. More than you’ll ever know. I understand it all so much better now.” She turned to her little sister. “And believe me, Zynique, you may not appreciate it now, but when you get older, you’re also going to see things much clearer. I appreciate all that our mother did for me . . . for u
s.”

  “Zanetta’s right,” Zion said, then smiled at me, before hugging me. “Mother loves us. If I know nothing else, I know this. And Mother is going to do what she thinks is right and best.” Zion gazed intensely into my eyes. “I’m sorry I was so sensitive about that comment. It’s not you. I just have a lot on my mind. I was wrong to have lashed out at you like I did. Forgive me.”

  I nodded, smiled, then with both hands wiped away the tears that had somehow managed to sneak their way down to my face.

  Chapter 14

  I wisdom dwell with prudence, and find out knowledge of witty inventions.

  —Proverbs 8:12

  The month of February turned out to be another booming occasion for the shop. Coming up to Valentine’s Day was crazy! I even got Zynique and her best friend Iesha to work for me after school and on the weekend leading up to the day when so many wanted to let their sweethearts know just how much they’re loved. I’d hired a driver to deliver all of the flowers scheduled for delivery (as opposed to me delivering them myself). If nothing, I was a true realist: there was no way I could do everything.

  Zynique and Iesha both turned out to be gifted in arranging flowers. If Zynique’s heart wasn’t so set on a dance studio, I could absolutely see her taking over my floral business.

  Compared to the way things were jumping the week of February fourteen, it was church-mouse quiet at the shop when March came in. But because I’d ordered so much extra to ensure there was enough on hand for the Valentine’s Day surge, I decided to create a few other floral specials that, to my delight, excitedly caused people to come in to the shop or call. There was hope that I was finally starting to figure out how to make this business work. If nothing special is going on, create your own special. I liked this saying so much I began using it for my shop’s slogan.

  Around the middle of March, one of the days when it was molasses slow at the shop, I decided to lock up and go walking in the park. Admittedly, I missed my walking partner. I hadn’t heard from Ethan since November when he’d called and wished me Happy Thanksgiving. He didn’t say how things were going at home and I didn’t ask. I could only pray that my previous advice to him about talking more to his wife, letting her in on his feelings, was paying off and helping them get their marriage back in sync.

  The Lord knows somebody’s marriage should be working, since mine apparently wasn’t. It looked like the more I told Zeke how I felt, the more he rubbed salt in my wounds by either continuing to do what he now knew bothered or hurt me the most, or by finding even worse ways to try and do me in.

  Still, I knew how much Ethan wanted (I dare say needed) things to go well at home and with his marriage. That’s the kind of man he was. I’d absolutely heard his heart when we talked that day in my car back in September. He genuinely desired a better marriage despite that slipup of a kiss he’d planted on me.

  So I prayed that things would get better for him . . . for all of them, if nothing else but for his girls. He loved those girls and his time with them. I saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice, each time he spoke of them. I only wished Zeke had been or would be now, with Zynique, a fraction of what Ethan was with his girls. When at all possible, girls need their fathers in their lives. Ethan had said it best back in September. They need their fathers to step up and show them what it is or how it should be, to be loved by a real man so they don’t have to search for it later in all the wrong places.

  I caught myself. I needed to stop pining over Ethan and his problems.

  So I closed the shop with my preprinted notice turned from OPEN to BE BACK AT with the simulated clock that allowed me to select a time. I went to the park where I normally go, not the one that Ethan and I had gone to back in September. This park was much smaller, but it got the job done I needed.

  I loved being able to walk around the track, talking to God under a beautiful indigo blue sky. It was like our special time together, just me and God. There were never many people at this park, especially during the morning hours when the school-age children were in school. It was also still a bit chilly outside, which was another reason folks weren’t so anxious to be out there.

  “Lord,” I said as I began walking. “I thank You for Your many blessings. Thank You for waking me up this morning, clothed in my right mind. Thank You for everything being well with my family. And Lord, I thank You for forgiving me of my sins. You are so worthy to be praised. Thank You for the business You’ve given me. Thank You that it’s beginning to thrive and it’s going to take off like a rocket soon, in Jesus’ name. I thank You that everywhere my feet tread belongs to me. I’m speaking life over my situations. I speak life over my health. I speak life over my family. I speak life over my husband. I speak life over our finances. Lord, I thank You for witty inventions and ideas, because I recognize that every good and every perfect gift comes from You.

  “I succeed only because You know the plans that You have for me. Plans to prosper me. Plans to bless me and not hurt me. Lord, please touch my heart so that I can love the way You would have me to love. Direct my steps so that I will walk in the path You’ve ordained for me. And bless our pastor. Keep him as he does Your work. Bless me as I continue to spread the Good News of Your Son, Jesus, and all He has done to secure our salvation to those who don’t know or haven’t honestly accepted Him, starting in my own house, with my own husband. Let whatever my hands find to do be true ministry for Your Kingdom.

  “And Lord . . . I know this might not sound right coming from me and given the situation, but please bless Ethan. I’m sure he has a lot on him right now. Temptation is all around and the spirit of discouragement waits to overtake him. Lord, You know his heart. You know his desires. Strengthen him and strengthen his marriage. Give him the desires of his heart as he continues to serve You. He is blessing so many. He’s bringing Your word to folks who might otherwise never hear it. Please . . .” I looked up at the sky. “I ask these blessings in Your Son Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  I walked a few more laps around the track, purposely planting my feet down hard as I spoke scriptures that I desired to manifest.

  Just as I finished and was walking back to my car, I saw him—Ethan getting out of his.

  He saw me and started walking my way. Without thinking, I sucked in a deep breath. And just that quickly, I forgot how to exhale it out.

  Chapter 15

  We give thanks to God always for you all, making mention of you in our prayers.

  —1 Thessalonians 1:2

  “What are you doing here?” Ethan asked as he was about ten feet away; close enough for me to hear him, without him having to speak too loudly.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I said, tilting my head ever so slightly as he came to a stop, an arm’s length away from me.

  “Well, since I asked first, I think the mannerly thing would be for you to answer my question.”

  “Mannerly, huh? Okay then. I was walking. Which now begs the question: are you following me?”

  He laughed. “No, I’m not following you.”

  “Really now. And you expect me to believe that you just happened to show up at the same park where I happened to be, completely by coincidence?”

  “I guess you’ll have to believe it since it’s the truth.” Ethan then began to bounce up and down, the way he does when he’s warming up.

  “Well, if you were following me, then you’re too late. I’m finished with my walk and I’m on my way back to the shop.”

  He grabbed one side of the top of his head with the opposite hand and tugged it ever so slightly a few times, then switched and did the other side. “So did you have a good workout?”

  “Yes, I did. I’m taking it slow; I don’t want to overdo it or anything. I just started back walking a few days ago, getting back into the groove and routine of it after not doing it these past few months. This is only my third time out here. I’m sure you know how that goes.”

  “Absolutely.” He began doing lunges, first to the right side, then the l
eft, before bending down to touch his toes.

  “Well . . . have a good one,” I said, feeling as though I was bothering him.

  He stood up and began to bounce again. “Will do. I’m on vacation . . . church revival this whole week. I came here to work out. Have to keep in shape if I want to keep doing what I do.”

  I nodded, then opened my car door.

  “Hey!” he said. I turned back toward him. “You’re praying for me, aren’t you?”

  I smiled. “Yes.”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding with a smile. “I can tell. I can feel it.” He began to nod more slowly before stopping completely. “Thank you.”

  I gave one quick nod of my head, got in my car, and watched him in my rearview mirror as he jogged toward the track.

  As much as I was glad that our bumping into each other at the park wasn’t anything more than sheer coincidence, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that he hadn’t had more to say to me.

  Just a little.

  Chapter 16

  And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.

  —James 3:18

  The period coming up to Mother’s Day had turned out to be another booming stretch for the flower shop. I was feeling pretty good about the business now. Zeke was the way he always was, although something wasn’t quite right with him physically. I could tell he was definitely in pain. But he kept up his normal seven-day routine.

  Zynique graduated from high school at the end of May.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I said as I snapped a picture, first of her with her father, then one with two of her friends.

  “Oh, Mom!” she said, then turned to her father. “Daddy, take a picture of me and Mother.” She came over and grabbed the camera out of my hand and handed it to Zeke before coming and standing next to me.