I Can Love You

by Mackenzie Joy

  “Never give up.”

  “Listen to yourself, Q. Don’t give up. There’s an answer and a way to get Tara to listen to you. Just be still while you’re down there, and it will come to you.”

  “You’re scaring me, KeKe. Now you sound like the oldest.”

  “I would have been if your big head hadn’t pushed me out of the way at the finish line,” she teased him.

  “Rub the baby,” he said quietly. “Did you think of any middle names yet?”

  “I didn’t know I had settled on a first name.”

  “I told you already that it’s Quinton,” he said, smiling when he heard her laughing.

  “See, now you got the baby kicking me ’cause I woke him up with my laughing. Get some rest and call me.”

  “I will,” he promised. “I love you, Ke.” She returned his affection, and he hung up and promptly fell asleep.

  * * *

  The phone awakened Quinton. “Hello?” he said, sounding somewhat disoriented.

  “I knew you would still be sleep,” Latrice chided. “About to put dinner on the table, and we are waiting for you.”

  “Latrice, who is we?”

  “You know my girls come over every Saturday night to play cards and eat dinner. Patty and Zenobia are looking forward to seeing you. Now get a move on before this food gets cold.”

  “I’ll be right over,” he replied before hanging up.

  Quinton opened his bedroom closet door looking for something to wear. He had learned to stock many items, like extra clothing, for the times he gravitated to the retreat. Quinton found a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt and changed for dinner.

  Twenty minutes later, he arrived at Latrice’s. Quinton believed the nurse had remained single because she still felt something for a former sweetheart who had since gotten married and had children of his own.

  Patty answered the door immediately, and Latrice’s two best friends welcomed him with hugs and kisses. When the women finally settled down from seeing the grown-up version of the little boy they had all babysat at one time or another, Quinton could still smell the hints of their perfume and makeup on his skin.

  Latrice smiled at Quinton and asked him to take a seat at the dinner table. He sat between Patty and Zenobia, with Latrice across from him.

  Latrice asked Quinton to bless the meal of Low Country specialties, including shrimp and grits, fried oysters, squash casserole, speckled beans, biscuits, and many more of Quinton’s favorite dishes. Immediately after, Patty jumped in with a question.

  “Is it true you and Tara are getting married? When are you going to bring her to Sigourney? We’d all love to meet her,” she said.

  Quinton felt Latrice’s eyes on him as he helped himself to the stew. He finally answered Patty. “We aren’t getting married, and I don’t think she’s coming here. We are just… friends.”

  Reaching for the casserole, Latrice had an understanding look on her face, and he detected she figured out his reason for the escape.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Zenobia said. “I tell you, I cried when I heard the news about you getting shot, but chil’ I prayed. I just prayed and prayed, and Lord have mercy. My prayers have been answered.”

  “Amen,” Patty added. “Yes, indeed. God sure is good.”

  Zenobia added, “All the time!”

  “I forgot how you all like to cut up on Saturday and sit in the front pew on Sunday,” he joked. Latrice flashed an irritated, stern look at Quinton, and he knew she was signaling for him to stop being disrespectful. He shifted the conversation, asking, “So where’s the other card shark? I can’t believe Bonnie is missing a chance to take y’alls money.”

  “The girl had to go in for some female surgery earlier this week,” Patty whispered, looking around the room as if making sure no one had else heard her comment. “She’s home recuperating.”

  Quinton smiled and looked around the room, ready to make fun of Patty’s hushed tone. He whispered, “Who else is in here that I can’t see?”

  Zenobia laughed and shushed Quinton. “Boy, you always had a mouth on you.”

  “Yeah, and you women still find it sexy, don’t you? Just be honest.”

  Latrice tossed her dinner napkin at him. “Boy, we are the ones who used to change your stinky diapers, so don’t even think about it. You will always be that little pain in the butt that wanted to hang out with us all the time. Remember when he snuck out of Mama Ellis’s and came down to the party we were having here at the house?”

  The other women laughed, with Zenobia adding, “You were always too old for your own good, but you were a good kid. For the most part, you stayed out of trouble. I knew you’d go far.”

  “You surely made us proud,” Patty said. “Even Latrice over here. She won’t admit it, but she is so happy with the man you grew into.”

  “Oh, hush before you make King’s big head grow some more,” Latrice said, referring to his family nickname.

  “Then again, Patty, there was that time he had Tricie fuming,” Zenobia interjected. “Remember when he brought that arrogant little thang in here? ‘Member how she turned her nose up at Sigourney and the way she carried on during dinner? Whatever happened to that girl? I guess all that matters is you’re done with her.”

  Quinton slid down in his chair as he thought back to the first and only time he brought Robyn to Sigourney. The moment they had arrived, Robyn couldn’t believe, in her own words, that he had subjected her to the small-town life. He thought he would at least try to love her and thought sharing his childhood home with her was a start. They spent their so-called honeymoon in Atlanta, where he worked on securing a production deal. After the meeting, he surprised Robyn with a short drive to Sigourney, where they had dinner with Latrice and her friends. Quinton intended to take Robyn to his house afterward, but the way she’d carried on, he instead took her back to Atlanta. Two weeks later, he received word while on the road that she’d had a miscarriage.

  Latrice sensed the mood getting heavy as her friends ventured into sensitive territory, although they weren’t aware they had done so. “All right, King, we are short a person, so why don’t you help me clear the table and then join us tonight.”

  “No offense, Latrice,” Quinton replied with a smile, “but no.”

  “You are acting like you have a choice.”

  “You can be my partner, Quinton,” Patty offered.

  Quinton forced a smile, although he wouldn’t be surprised if the women detected a hint of fear in his expression. Latrice laughed. “Nope. I think I better team up with him. There is no way I am playing with Zenobia, ’cause she always reveals her hand as soon as she gets it. And Patty, you make up the rules as you go along.”

  As the women got going with their usual friendly bickering, Quinton got up and started clearing away the dinner dishes. Eventually, Latrice joined him in the kitchen and patted him on the back.

  “You gonna be all right, baby?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. But, yes, I’m fine.”

  “If you say so,” she replied. “But I can tell you still love her. We’ll talk later, but right now, I want to enjoy this time with my favorite boy.”

  * * *

  His phone rang, and he considered letting it go to voicemail.

  “Why are you calling me?” he answered.

  Robyn sighed softly, keeping her voice soft. Reminiscent of the girl he once had feelings for before fame tore both of them apart. “Q, we need to talk.”

  Quinton took a seat on the steps and waited for her to talk. With his back against a post, he prompted her to speak. “What is it?”

  “Your sister reached out to me. You told her about the abortion?”

  Quinton shook his head not surprised, and if he weren’t so pissed at Robyn, he’d laugh out loud.

  “Q, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Robyn, you never mean to hurt anyone.”

  “I’m talking abou
t the baby. If you knew the truth, you’d understand why I couldn’t keep it.”

  “Enlighten me, and while you’re at it, tell me why you’re so hellbent on robbing me of yet someone else I love.”

  He heard her sniffling, the soft sound of remorse carried through the line. “The truth is… I cheated on you after you hooked up with that girl.” She quickly blurted out her confession.

  “I keep telling you nothing happened.”

  “Q, why would Jamal lie?” her voice trailed off, and soon she groaned. “That son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  “Jamal. He always was good at lying.” That much was true. He practically idolized his older cousin when growing up. Jamal took him under his wing and protected him, going as far as buying Quinton whatever he needed to begin his career. Jamal’s interest in keeping Quinton out of the drug game the older guy thrived in likely saved Q’s life, but still, his cousin was no saint.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Robyn cleared her throat. “The reason I got the abortion was that I knew the baby I was carrying wasn’t yours. It was Jamal’s.”

  Quinton sat in the dark space, taking one shaky breath in after another. His boy. His cousin. His own fucking family slept with his wife and almost got the woman he loved killed.

  “W-we had a thing over the years. I-I I’m so sorry.”

  “All I ever did was work my ass off to give you the lifestyle you demanded. I loved you, wanted to do whatever it took to be a good fucking husband to you, and this is what you do?”

  “Quinton, we were struggling, and you were always gone. H-he looked out for me. Checked on me. He took me out and treated me to things I knew we couldn’t afford.”

  “I knew your ass got all that shit from somewhere other than your daddy.”

  “Q.”

  “And my cousin? That’s why you flew back for his funeral. Still fucking with him before he died?”

  She sniffled in his ear. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re sorry, all right.”

  “I can make this right, Q. Just give me a chance. I don’t know how, but I can’t have you hate me like this. That’s the only reason I am telling you this now. We’re older now. Wiser. I want to fix what we had.”

  “Too fucking bad,” he muttered into his phone before hanging it up.

  * * *

  Quinton woke to the sight of Latrice standing in the doorway of his bedroom, her displeased expression showing him she had been there for several minutes trying to get him up.

  He forced himself during his fogged state to sit up with the sheets tangled around his body, but suddenly remembered he had gone to bed his usual way—wearing nothing.

  “Latrice!” he exclaimed, making sure the sheet still covered his groin. “What are you doing in here?”

  She was wearing her Sunday best and looking at him with disapproving eyes. “Do you know what time it is? You should be out of bed now. All your pining away caused you to miss a lovely service.”

  Quinton rubbed his eyes and looked at a nearby clock that showed the late afternoon hour. “I’m on vacation and wanted to sleep in this morning,” he replied. “If you keep busting in unannounced, I’m taking my house keys away from you.”

  “Whatever, boy,” she said, pulling up the window shades. Sunlight came pouring in, causing Quinton to cringe in the brightness. “Now, King, get dressed. I brought over a plate for you, and when you finish eating, I have something I need you to do for me.”

  “No, Latrice,” he groaned, “you will not suck me into your chore trap. I am here to clear my head, not lay fertilizer.”

  She glanced at him one last time. “As I said before, get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. Your plate is still warm, so hurry up.”

  * * *

  A cramp caused by sleeping too long forced Tara awake. She spent the evening trying not to think about Quinton, but everything she wanted to do evoked some memory of him. Even television was a reminder. Of all weekends, one of the entertainment networks chose this one to re-air a show about her ten-year career featuring him during the interview snippets. The accolades he shared about her sending her down an emotional spiral.

  The shelves of her sitting room, which was adjacent to her bedroom, held photo albums spanning the years of her life and career. She had recently started expanding her collection to include photos of Aaron. Tara took down one of the albums, a scrapbook Aaron and Marcus assembled for her Christmas present because her son discovered she had a fondness for them. With jazz coming from a speaker playing in the background, she opened the book, spending at least a minute on each page and cherishing the simplest detail of her son’s life from his birth through his first ten years. The final pages held the most recent shots—photos taken at his most recent birthday party. A candid shot of Aaron and Tara laughing. Another photo, taken with him in Los Angeles the day of the awards show. Sydney also snapped one on her phone, which she later had printed, and it showed Tara, Aaron, and Quinton dressed for the occasion and wearing smiles. With the boy standing in front, Quinton had his arm around Tara’s waist and a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. It was the image of what she expected to become her perfect family. Fighting back fresh tears, she closed the book and returned it to the bookshelf.

  Standing at the shelf, Tara looked up at several framed photographs, each one holding an image of someone close to her heart. Tara smiled when she saw one of her and her sisters when they were young, a photo of her mother and father, and even a shot of her extended tour family taken on the road. She then lingered at a photo taken when she had last experienced her father only as a daughter could.

  Tara took the picture down and walked with it to her bed. She stared at it, reflecting on that weekend in Santa Barbara. The second day of weekend-long wedding festivities for Grim and Quiana was just what Tara and her father needed, and it turned out to be the last time they would spend alone enjoying each other’s company. The candid photo showed Tara standing near her proud father as they engaged in conversation with Quinton. At the time, Tara and Quinton were just industry peers and had no idea the weekend together would change their careers and lives forever.

  The photo showed the two men Tara had loved the most, and she had lost both of them. And this image of her father was possibly the last memory she had of him looking happy and healthy before his illness took its course.

  Chapter 20

  Quinton sat on the front porch steps gazing up at the winter sky. The mild weather from earlier that day had continued into the night. He wished his grandmother was behind him sitting in her favorite rocking chair and his sister in the yard chasing fireflies.

  His thoughts fleeting back to his conversation with Latrice earlier that day. She never chose sides in conflicts, but she always gently point out where he had gone wrong. Quinton had agreed with her assessment, wishing he could go back in time and tell Tara the truth before it all had blown up in his face. But wishful thinking never by itself solved anything.

  His hand clasped behind his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. The crisp night air was comforting, and he listened for the answer he needed to come to him, the one his sister had predicted would happen.

  After several peaceful minutes, Quinton looked around at the grounds he had bought to preserve his grandmother’s memory, never expecting it would become his refuge. He had always dreamed of building a larger house, which he envisioned being ideal for a family to escape the hubbub of city life. Tara was the one he hoped to share all of this with. For the first time since arriving in South Carolina, he was ready to call her and tell her so. But first, he had another call to make.

  Quinton looked for the number belonging to the one person he knew could fix this. After multiple rings, she answered.

  “Q? What’s… why… hi.”

  “Robyn.”

  “I didn’t expect to hear from you. What’s going on?”

  “You owe me, and I think now is the perfect time to make everything righ
t between us so we can both move on.”

  “I can’t stop the deal. It’s done.”

  “There might still be a way, but I need your help, and you can’t let anyone know what I’m up to.”

  She sighed. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m about to text you my boy’s contact info. I need you to give him access to everything we have on Luca Ferrio and Spin, and Robyn, when I say everything, I mean everything.”

  “Are you insane? Why would I do that? I don’t have access to that, and even if I did why would I send it to someone I don’t know just because you say so.”

  “The financials have to be available for a deal like this. I’m sure Rebecca can point you to that and everything else that piece of shit had to turn over. Robyn, make this shit right. You’ll find a way. You always do.”

  Once he finished telling her what else he needed, Quinton got up, dusted off his pants, and went inside. He thought long and hard before dialing the next number. He was never one to give up, and he made himself believe he turned the situation around.

  The telephone rang several times before she answered. The mere sound of her voice made his heart ache. Quinton noticed she was still hurting, and it was he who had caused that pain.

  “Blue, it’s me,” Quinton said cautiously. “Can we talk?”

  “I thought you were coming back yesterday,” she mumbled.

  “I tried calling early in the morning, but there was no answer. I figured you might have wanted more time.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter. My feelings haven’t changed, and I still don’t want you in my life anymore.”

  “Do you honestly believe you are ready to give up what we had?”

  “What did we have, Quinton? A bunch of lies?”

  “Tara, please hear me out,” he begged.

  “Quinton, I listened already, and nothing will change. You did a good job with the act, though, convincing me that love could exist for me, and I opened myself up to find it. Thought all along, I was missing out on what was in front of me all along.”

  “It wasn’t an act. I do love you.”

  “What a good ass liar you are.”