by La Jill Hunt
“What? You don’t even believe that,” Sherrod said, flexing his arms in front of her. “Feel that right there. Feel it.”
Janelle rolled her eyes and then gently reached out and touched his arm. He was right. She didn’t believe it when she’d said it. She had noticed his nice physique when she walked over to say hi to him. He wasn’t muscular, but he had a nice, noticeable cut. He wore a white tank top, basketball shorts, and the same Nike Air Maxx that she had on.
“It’s a’ight I guess,” she told him.
“That’s that power ball right there.” Sherrod nodded.
“Whatever. So, you must be getting settled in and learning your way around town. You joined the gym and found the strip club.”
“True. I am. So far, so good. How’s your aunt? Still being safe, I hope.”
Janelle tried not to blush. “The condoms were for her, I swear. Don’t hate because my aunt gets her groove on.”
“I’m not hating. I’m glad she’s enjoying life at her age and being safe about it. That’s the most important thing.”
“I swear they were hers.”
“And I don’t—I mean, I do believe you.”
They both laughed as she continued trying to explain to him about her loving but eccentric aunt, who had recently moved in with her sister and brother-in-law. She shared how her mother had passed away unexpectedly and how Aunt Connie had immediately stepped in and became their matriarch, although she was crazy at times and her mind drifted.
“Is it Alzheimer’s?”
“No, it’s not. She always drifted for as far back as I can remember. Even when I was little, she would just start saying speeches or singing songs out of the blue. She’s just dramatic, like she is living her life out on stage. I know it sounds crazy, but we love her.”
“She sounds lovable.” Sherrod smiled, and he told her about his uncle who swore he was on tour with the Temptations and wrote “Tracks of My Tears” but never got credit for it. “He swore he came up with the dance moves and the whole nine yards.”
“Was he on tour with them for real?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I do know he played drums for James Brown. We have the pics to prove that.”
“Where does he live now? We may need to hook him and Aunt Connie up.” Janelle laughed.
“No way. Your aunt is already getting her groove on. I don’t need my uncle involved in no love triangle. I don’t care how safe she is.”
Janelle laughed again. “There you go hating again.”
“Am I interrupting?”
Janelle’s heart dropped when she heard the voice behind her. She turned to see Titus standing in front of her.
“Titus,” she said. “Um, no. This is Sherrod. He just moved here.”
Sherrod stood up and shook hands with Titus. “Nice to meet you, man.”
“Titus,” Titus said.
“Well, I gotta be going,” Sherrod said. “Nice seeing you again, Janelle. I am sure I will be seeing you around, especially when your aunt needs to feel safe.”
“Whatever.” Janelle smiled.
“Y’all seem cozy,” Titus said when Sherrod walked away.
“He’s cool.” Janelle shrugged. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. I thought I would surprise you, but I see I was the one who got surprised.”
“How did you even know I was here? Stalking me again, I see.”
“I saw your car while I was driving by. You know it’s not really that safe for you to be coming to this gym in the middle of the night like this, right? You may run into some weirdo up in here.”
“Like you?”
“More like him.” Titus nodded toward the door where Sherrod was exiting. “I see y’all got the same taste in shoes.”
“You are sounding quite jealous, you know that?”
“Me? Jealous? Never that.” He playfully pulled the towel from around her neck. “You are looking good, Nelly.”
Janelle nodded at him. “Well, it has been a while since you’ve seen me. I guess you’ve been really busy these days.”
“Now who’s sounding jealous?”
“Now, you know better than to even think that.” Janelle reached over and took the towel from him and turned to walk away.
“You leaving already?”
“Yep. I’ve been here almost two hours.”
“You weren’t in such a hurry to leave when you were laughing it up wit’ ol’ boy.”
Janelle stopped. “What? You’re kidding, right? I haven’t talked to you in almost two weeks, and you have the nerve to roll up in here talking sideways? Titus, please.”
“Look, I’m sorry. That was wrong. And I know I’ve been kinda ghost, but I’ve been spending more time with Tarik. You know it’s his senior year, and his team is doing great. Schools are recruiting him, and I’m trying to keep him focused.”
Janelle knew there was some truth to what Titus was saying. His son had been highlighted on the local news for the past few weeks as one of the standout basketball players in the state. Seeing him made her wonder about her own child had she not made the decision that she did. Both children would be around the same age. Would her son or daughter have been an athlete like Titus had been, or would he or she have been a social butterfly like her? Janelle rarely allowed herself to think about the “what ifs” of that situation. When she did, she believed that her child would have been much like her niece, Peyton: the perfect balance of beauty, brains, and popularity.
“You know I miss you, right? How have you been?” Titus walked closer to her.
“I’m fine.” She looked up at him and saw the love in his eyes and felt her heart flutter.
He touched the side of her face and rubbed her cheek. “You are fine, and beautiful, and amazing. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Janelle told him.
Titus leaned over and kissed her. In that moment, everything was instantly right in Janelle’s world. She was no longer lonely, and the place in her chest that was empty when she first walked into the gym was now filled with everything she needed to feel.
Sylvia
“Can I spend the weekend at Meagan’s?” Peyton walked into the den where Sylvia and Aunt Connie were folding laundry and watching a Lifetime movie. Gypsy, who had been lying on her pillow in the corner, jumped up and ran over to her.
“Don’t you have track practice Saturday morning?” Sylvia asked.
“Yeah, but Meagan is on the team too. Her mom can take us,” Peyton told her.
Peyton rarely asked to stay away from home overnight. That was probably due to the fact that it was something else her father didn’t really approve of. Meagan and Peyton had been best friends and schoolmates for years, and Sylvia knew her family from church. Had it been anyone else, Sylvia would have instantly denied her daughter’s request, but she didn’t have a reason to say no, especially since Meagan had stayed over at their house several times.
“That sounds like fun. I used to love slumber parties when I was your age,” Aunt Connie volunteered, then suggested, “Why don’t you invite Jordan?”
Sylvia and Peyton both looked at their aunt like she was the crazy woman everyone believed she was. Gypsy kept jumping and playing at Peyton’s feet. Peyton made it a point to ignore the dog at all times, often commenting that it wasn’t hers to play with.
“I don’t think so,” Peyton said.
“Why not?” Aunt Connie asked. “She needs to make some new friends here.”
“She has enough friends. Have you seen her Facebook page?” Peyton shook her head. “Move, dog!”
“Stop yelling at her. She just wants you to pick her up,” Aunt Connie told her. Gypsy ran over to Aunt Connie, who picked her up and placed the small dog into her lap.
“I haven’t seen her Facebook,” Sylvia said. “What’s on it?”
Peyton shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing really. She just has a lot of friends, that’s all. Besides, practice on Saturday is closed, and they don’t allo
w anyone there. Can I please go?”
“Then you should invite Meagan and y’all can have a sleepover here instead.” Aunt Connie passed Peyton the pile of neatly folded clothes. “Here, these are yours.”
“Thank you,” Peyton said. “Mom, can I?”
Sylvia looked at her daughter. “Yes, Peyton, but I need to talk with Meagan’s mom and confirm all of this.”
“I know you do, Mom.” Peyton leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mom, and you too, Aunt Connie!”
She ran out of the room and Sylvia couldn’t help but smile. Peyton deserved a break. She was dealing with this situation the same as everyone else. Sylvia was determined that even though this ordeal was disruptive and problematic for all of them, it wouldn’t have an adverse effect on Peyton’s life. She wanted her life to remain as normal as possible—ell, if that was even possible.
“Where is Jordan anyway?” she asked Aunt Connie, who always seemed to know more about Jordan than anyone else in the house other than Garry.
“She went to the library to work on a project. Garry dropped her off and is picking her up.”
“Oh, what kind of project?” Sylvia asked.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Sylvia had tried talking to Jordan, but unlike the way she seemed to be with Aunt Connie, the girl was distant and guarded. She was polite, but there was a wall up, and Sylvia wasn’t sure that she even wanted it to come down, especially now that she had asked Garry to leave. There was tension in the home, and everyone was walking on eggshells, except Aunt Connie.
“She’s not my problem,” Sylvia said, wanting to point out that Jordan was Garry’s daughter, not hers.
“She’s not anyone’s problem. She’s a child. A child who just lost her mother and is now living with her father and a woman who acts like she doesn’t like her.”
“No, she acts like she doesn’t want to be here,” Sylvia said, instantly becoming defensive.
“Would you?” Aunt Connie asked. “Come on, Gypsy. Time for you to go outside.”
Sylvia didn’t answer her. She picked up the pile of clothes that belonged to Jordan and took them into her room. As usual, there was stuff everywhere. She didn’t know where to put any of the items, so she laid them on the unmade bed. A pair of socks rolled off and onto the floor. Sylvia leaned over to pick them up when she spotted a colorful, cardboard box in the corner. It had stickers and drawings on it and the words The Magical World of Jordan. Curious as to what was inside, Sylvia peeked in it. She saw what looked like binders that someone had made into scrapbooks and photo albums.
She reached in and pulled out one binder. The pink foil cover read The Beginning, and inside was everything from Jordan’s conception and first year of life: ultrasound photos, reminder cards for doctor’s appointments, and a baby shower invitation announcing It’s a Girl! There was even a page that contained a neatly folded Hostess cupcake wrapper, remnants of foil from Hershey’s kisses, and the label from a chocolate Yoo-Hoo taped to it. I crave anything chocolate, so I know she will be sweet! was written on the bottom.
Sylvia turned the page, and her heart nearly stopped. There were pictures of a woman from each month of her pregnancy. She realized it was Jordan’s mother, Miranda. On one hand, Sylvia wanted to shut the book tight and throw it back into the box, but she couldn’t. She looked at the pictures of the woman and studied them. As much as Sylvia thought Jordan looked like Garry, she also looked a lot like her mother. They had the same high cheekbones and thick eyebrows. She was a beautiful woman who seemed to be enjoying every moment of her pregnancy.
Sylvia continued flipping through the pages, taking it all in. She came to the page that celebrated the day of Jordan’s birth, the Fourth of July. According to the birth announcement, Jordan was born at 6:37 a.m., weighed eight pounds six ounces, and measured twenty inches long—much bigger than Peyton, who had weighed only six pounds two ounces. Garry had been adamant during Sylvia’s entire pregnancy that she stuck to a healthy diet and stayed away from sugar. Clearly, he didn’t make those same stipulations to Randy.
Sylvia turned the page, and sure enough, there was a picture of Garry holding a newborn Jordan, smiling with pride. Sylvia quickly tried to think back, but she knew Garry was always home for the Fourth of July holiday. He had never missed one. She wondered how in the world he could have been in two places at the same time. She looked closer at the picture and realized it was taken two days later when Randy and Jordan were released from the hospital.
Sylvia became engrossed in the photos and memories that Randy had so meticulously recorded of the first fourteen years of Jordan’s entire life. From first steps and first words to each and every holiday, birthday, and school event, nothing was left out. The weird thing was that Garry was in most of the pictures. Her husband truly had been living what was a double life.
Sylvia kept going through each binder, one by one. When she completed one, she’d reach into the box and pull out another. She knew she was invading something private and intimate, but she couldn’t stop herself. Just as she opened the third book, a white envelope fell out and into her lap. Sylvia picked it up and was shocked to see that it was addressed to her. She looked around to see if there was a hidden camera somewhere in the room because someone was pulling a prank on her. She didn’t know what to do.
“What are you doing?”
Jordan’s voice startled her, and Sylvia nearly jumped off the bed. She slipped the envelope into the back of the binder and closed it tight. “Hey, Jordan. How was your day?”
“Fine,” Jordan said. “What are you doing in here?”
Sylvia looked at her, dressed in the fitted pair of jeans, crop top sweater, and combat boots, looking teenage-chic with her long hair piled into a bun on the top of her head, shiny lip gloss, and dangling earrings. It was a fashion look any girl her age strived for daily, and Jordan had it mastered. Garry’s daughter definitely had style and a taste for fashion.
“I was, um, putting your clothes away . . . and then, the socks fell and rolled over by this box . . .” Sylvia hesitated. “And then I was picking them . . . um, I was picking them up and saw the box. . . .”
“So, you went in my memory box?” Jordan frowned.
Suddenly feeling bad, Sylvia quickly passed the binder she was holding out to Jordan. “I did, and I apologize.”
Jordan took the book from her and stared. “You looked at my memory books?”
“Yes, they are beautiful, and so is—was . . . your mother.”
Jordan seemed surprised by Sylvia’s statement. “Thanks. She was.”
“I can’t believe she kept all of those memories of you. She loved you very much.” Sylvia smiled.
Jordan nodded. “I was her miracle. I saved her life.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. It’s just something she always said.” Jordan shrugged and continued staring at the book she was now holding.
Sylvia reached over and touched Jordan’s shoulder, and she slightly flinched. Not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was, Sylvia just said, “You’re beautiful like she was.”
“You think so?” Jordan’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Yes, I do,” Sylvia told her as she turned to walk out of the room.
“Wait,” Jordan called after her, and held the book out to Sylvia. “You can take it if you want. Just bring it back.”
“Thank you, and I will,” Sylvia assured her as she took the book into her hand. Jordan seemed pleased that Sylvia took it.
Sylvia went upstairs into her office and closed the door behind her. She sat down and called Lynne, telling her about finding the memory book and getting caught by Jordan. She also told her about the letter addressed to her from Miranda.
“What does it say?” Lynne asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t open it.” Sylvia made sure to lower her voice. Even though her door was closed, she didn’t want to chance anyone hearing her conv
ersation, especially Aunt Connie, who was normally hard of hearing yet seemed to have supersonic hearing when it came to conversations like the one she was having now.
“Why not?” Lynne sounded confused. “What are you waiting on?”
“Because I . . . it’s . . . hell, I don’t know,” Sylvia stuttered as she stared at the colorful binder that was now sitting in the middle of her desk.
“It’s yours. It’s addressed to you. Open it and read it,” Lynne told her.
There was a knock at the office door, startling Sylvia. She became nervous until the door opened and Kenny walked in.
“I gotta go. Kenny’s here,” Sylvia told her.
“Call me after you read the letter!” Lynne yelled through the phone just as Sylvia was hanging up.
“Who the hell was that?” he asked, looking at her strangely.
“It was Lynne,” Sylvia said simply as if it was no big deal.
“Are you sure? Because you’re acting like you sneaking on the phone talking to your side piece and ain’t tryna get caught.”
“You know I ain’t got a side piece,” Sylvia snapped.
“Fine, your side boo,” he said, placing his leather laptop bag in one of the chairs.
“You’re not funny.” Sylvia gave him an aggravated look.
“I’m serious. You may have gone out and met a guy to get back at Garry, who I noticed is still here. I thought you kicked him out.” Kenny seemed slightly amused, which annoyed her even more.
“I did. I told him he had thirty days,” Sylvia said adamantly. She knew where Kenny was headed and wanted to stop him before he started.
“He ain’t going nowhere.” Kenny laughed loudly.
“Shhhhh! Stop being loud before someone hears you,” Sylvia snapped.
“Oh, my bad,” Kenny whispered and dabbed at the tears that had formed in his eyes.
Seeing his amusement frustrated Sylvia even more than she already was. “And like I told you, he ain’t staying here!” she snapped. “This is just a temporary situation until he figures out a living situation for him and his other daughter.”
“Nah, it’s not. The way I see it, if you loved him enough to let him stay a month ago when all this came out, then there was something inside that gave you enough hope to see this thing through,” he pointed out to her.