Grown Folks Business

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  Sheridan waited until he was out of earshot. “Last night I prayed that God would bring him home. This morning I’m wondering if I should ask God to take him away.”

  Quentin nodded. “Teenagers don’t make it easy.”

  Sheridan piled the empty plates on her arm and then in the sink. As she returned to clear the table, Quentin asked, “Do you want any help?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll take care of this later. I want to handle Chris now.”

  He moved toward the living room, but before he took two steps, he turned back. “I don’t want to fight with you…about Tori,” he whispered.

  “I don’t want to fight either, but I have to do what I believe is best.”

  His glance was intense, as if he were trying to see inside her. “It’s hard to believe you don’t think I’m good for our children.”

  “I know how good you are with both of them. That’s why I’m always calling you about them.” She sighed. “I wish you could understand my point.”

  “Funny, I wish the same thing.”

  The doorbell chimed, giving them a time-out. Sheridan rushed toward the door. “That’s probably my mother.” She paused. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

  He frowned. “You don’t think your mother wants to see me?”

  “No, but I thought you…never mind.” She opened the door.

  “Hey, honey,” Beatrice said, as she stepped inside. “How are…” Her words stopped. “Well.” She looked from Quentin to her daughter, then back to her son-in-law. “Quentin.” There was love on her face and in her tone when she said his name.

  “It’s good to see you, Mom.” His steps toward her were cautious, until Beatrice lifted her arms and wrapped him in an embrace. After a moment Beatrice leaned back, and her stare made Quentin turn his head away. With gentle fingers she touched his chin and encouraged him to face her. They stood, eye to eye. “If you ever want to talk, Cameron and I are here. We’re praying for you.”

  The three stood like the family they used to be, and Sheridan wondered if Quentin harbored any regrets.

  “Hey, Grammy.” Tori bolted down the stairs.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Beatrice kissed Tori’s cheek. “Where’s Chris?”

  “He’s getting dressed,” Sheridan said.

  Tori added, “We can’t call him Chris anymore. He’s Christopher now.” Tori twisted her lips as if she still found her brother’s demand ridiculous.

  “I’m his grandmother and I can call him Chris if I want to.” Beatrice chuckled. She turned to Sheridan. “What’s that about?”

  Sheridan shook her head as she straightened the collar on Tori’s jacket. “You don’t want to know.” She kissed Tori. “You guys have a good time.”

  “Bye, Daddy,” Tori said as she grabbed his neck. “Will I be able to come to your house next weekend?”

  Without looking up, Quentin said, “Maybe.”

  “Yeah,” Tori cheered.

  Sheridan wanted to slap Tori for asking and beat down Quentin for answering.

  When Sheridan closed the door, Quentin said, “It was good to see Mom.”

  “You shouldn’t have said that to Tori. I told you that’s not going to happen.”

  Quentin folded his arms and leaned against the banister. “Don’t be so sure.”

  The certainty that covered each word made her shudder, just a bit. Before she could question him, Christopher strolled down the stairs.

  Quentin stared at Sheridan a moment longer, just enough to make her shudder some more, before he turned toward the living room. Christopher followed, and with a deep breath, Sheridan did the same.

  “I wanted to talk to you, son, because I don’t understand what’s going on,” Quentin said, once they all sat. “The tattoo, and missing curfew, and even this morning your telling me you’re not on the golf team. I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  Their son shocked them both with his laughter. “That’s a stupid question.”

  “Christopher!” Sheridan yelled.

  “Mom, I can’t believe you and Dad are asking me what’s wrong. You know what’s wrong.”

  She had to agree with that statement.

  “Well, maybe I’m not as aware as your mother…”

  “I wonder why,” Christopher said.

  Quentin ignored his son’s tone. “Explain it to me.”

  Christopher leaned back as if he were the one in control. “I dropped the golf team because everyone there knows you.” He paused. “Everyone knows about you.” Christopher glared at his father. “I hate that.”

  Sheridan sat on the arm of Christopher’s chair.

  Quentin said, “Chris, I’m so sorry—”

  “Call me Christopher,” he said, his stare continuing. “Chris could be a girl’s name, and I’m nowhere near that. I’m nothing like you.”

  A long stream of air pushed through Quentin’s lips as if Christopher’s words pricked his lungs. “I’m sorry, son—”

  Christopher didn’t let his father finish. “I hate school because my friends know. I can’t hang out with Nicole or Darryl or any of my other friends. Because they know, Dad. Everyone knows you’re gay, and I can’t stand it. I know Nicole is talking to her friends about it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Nicole.”

  “And Darryl and the guys won’t have anything to do with me,” he continued, as if Quentin had never spoken.

  It was Sheridan’s turn to reassure him. “Christopher, Darryl’s been your friend for a long time. He’s not like that.”

  Christopher jumped from the chair. “You guys don’t know what it’s like. I had to make new friends. I had to get around guys who didn’t go to my school, who didn’t know anything about me.”

  “Christopher.” Quentin said his name slowly, as if he was trying to remember to call his son by his full name. “None of this has anything to do with the way you’re behaving.”

  “I just want the new guys to like me. I don’t want them to think I’m some fag—” He stopped before he finished the word. With tears in his tone, Christopher said, “You ruined my life, Dad.”

  Quentin stood. “Christopher, that’s not what I wanted to do. I love you too much for that.”

  “Well, if you love me,” Christopher paused to control the quivering in his voice, “stay away, because I don’t want any of my other friends to know about you.”

  Christopher rushed from the room.

  Sheridan said, “Christopher, come back here.”

  “Let him go.”

  When she faced him, Quentin broke her heart all over again. But this time it wasn’t with his words, but with his stance. He was a beaten man.

  “I never thought Chris would react like this.”

  Sheridan squinted, trying to understand. “Quentin, are you really surprised?”

  He nodded as if he were taken aback by her question. “Chris has always been such a good kid. I didn’t think this would change that.” He dropped to the couch.

  “So what did you think would happen when you left your children?” Her tone screamed that she found his naiveté hard to believe.

  “I just didn’t think…it would be like this. I would have never…”

  She sat next to him, let quiet minutes rest between them, and then said, “What happened? What happened to us?”

  He looked at her. “Nothing. It all happened to me.”

  “But didn’t you know that anything happening to you was happening to me?”

  “It’s a lot clearer looking backward. But I just wasn’t happy,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I couldn’t make you happy.”

  “I told you before, I was happy with you. I wasn’t happy with me. I truly believed it would be better if I told you who I really was. I still think it was better…at least I did until all of this started happening with Chris…and with Tori.” He looked at her, and the confidence he’d worn when he walked through the door this morning had faded away. “Maybe I should have just…”

>   She waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. “You’re doubting this now?” she asked.

  “How could I not? I didn’t want my family to fall apart.”

  She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “What about the other side?”

  He frowned.

  “Are you sorry about”—she took a breath—“being with…Jett?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked that question, and his momentary silence told her he couldn’t believe it either.

  He looked straight at her. “I’m only sorry because it’s affected you.” He paused. “Do you believe me when I say I still love you?”

  She shook her head. “I have a hard time believing that you ever loved me.”

  “That makes me sad.”

  “How can you love someone for seventeen years and then one day just leave them?”

  “I can’t give you any scientific explanation. I can only tell you what’s in my heart.”

  She let his words settle between them for a few seconds before she asked, “Are you afraid?”

  He nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve lost Chris.” He paused. “And I’m afraid that soon I might lose Tori.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  Doubt was in his eyes.

  She paused for a moment. “What I was asking, though, was are you afraid…about God?”

  He frowned.

  “Are you afraid that you’ll never be forgiven for this?”

  He exhaled. “There’s nothing I need to be forgiven for.”

  His words made her shake. His words made her remember that she had to pray for him.

  He said, “For years I saw myself as a sinner because of this and I was tortured by that. But I’m free now. I’ve accepted that this is the way God made me.”

  “But what if you’re wrong, Quentin? What if it’s exactly the way the Bible says it is?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’ll be punished for the heart I was born with. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be this way. This is not my will.”

  This is your will. She wished she had the words to save him. She wanted to tell him to read the Bible. And then read it again. Read it as many times as it took.

  “I wish I could help you,” Sheridan said. “I wish there was something I could have done. I wish there was something I could do now.”

  He looked down at her hand, resting between them, and he covered hers with his. “If I couldn’t change my heart by praying to God every day for more than half my life, there’s certainly nothing you could have done. You’re where I used to be. Wanting, hoping, praying. My prayer now is that God will forgive me for hurting you.”

  Sheridan wanted to tell him there was much more he needed to be forgiven for. But she said nothing.

  “I talked to my lawyer about custody.”

  Slowly she moved her hand away from his.

  “But,” Quentin continued, “I don’t want to fight that way. I want us to work this out.”

  She stayed silent.

  “For now, Sheridan, I’ll see Tori the way you say, but…”

  He left his thought unfinished, and she was glad he did. She didn’t want to know his thinking, what his next steps would be; she just hoped he’d never want to finish whatever it was he was about to say.

  “I’m willing to give you some time,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She smiled, and tried to add warmth to her expression. She was relieved there wouldn’t be a fight—for now. They had too many battles they had to face together.

  “I need to go up and talk to Christopher. Let him know that he’s on punishment until he’s fifty.”

  They chuckled together, for a moment. “So, who are these new friends of Christopher’s?”

  “Some guys who live in the neighborhood. According to him, they’re enrolled at L.A. Community College. But no matter how much I insist, I haven’t met them yet. There’s always some excuse.” She paused. “And then there’s this girl…”

  Quentin raised his eyebrows. “So he’s really not seeing Nicole?”

  “Apparently not. And I’m not crazy about this new girl.” She raised her hand. “Before you say anything, I’m not one of those mothers who believes no girl will ever be good enough for her son.”

  “Why don’t you like her?”

  “She’s older.”

  “How much?”

  “She’s eighteen. Graduated from high school in June.”

  Quentin whistled. “So what does she want with a sixteen-year-old?”

  Sheridan jumped from the couch at that question. “I don’t know, but I have to do something.”

  “Telling him he can’t see her won’t work.”

  “I know.” She paused as if she had a sudden idea. “I think I’ll invite her to dinner. See what she’s all about.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Maybe I can scare her away, and maybe you should be here too.” A beat passed before they both shook their heads.

  “I had to make new friends…get around guys who didn’t know anything about me.”

  “I’ll come next time,” Quentin said.

  She nodded.

  He said, “Do you think I should try to talk to Chris again?”

  “No, he knows where we stand, but I’m going to punish him. What do you think about two weeks with no driving privileges, no going out?”

  Quentin nodded. “He’s never been punished for that long, so he’ll know we mean business.” He stood. “I don’t think we’ll have any more challenges with Chris. He said what he had to say, and now that he knows we’re watching, he’ll be more careful.”

  Sheridan nodded, although she didn’t agree. She had a feeling there were plenty of problems ahead. But she kept those thoughts to herself as she walked him to the door. “Thank you for coming, Quentin.”

  “There’s nothing to thank me for. This is where I…” He paused. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He picked up his jacket and reached for the doorknob. But a beat later he turned back to Sheridan and pulled her into his arms. Surprise kept her from stepping back. Inside his arms she felt love from the man she had once loved. Felt gentleness in the embrace from the man who wanted to be her friend.

  Quentin let her go and then walked through the door without looking back.

  She didn’t bother to knock on his door.

  Sheridan stepped inside Christopher’s room and stared at her son, who lay across his bed with his eyes closed.

  “Your father just left.”

  Still he didn’t open his eyes. She knew he wasn’t asleep, so she continued. “We decided you’ll be on punishment for two weeks—no driving privileges, no weekend dates, home during the week, right after school.”

  His eyes popped open, and he leapt from the bed. “Mom, I said I was sorry, but I had to take Déjà home.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You have a curfew. You didn’t call. You didn’t answer your cell.”

  “Because I knew you’d be mad.”

  “You were right about that.”

  “But next weekend is Déjà’s birthday, and I’m supposed to take her out.”

  “You should have thought about that before you began breaking the rules.”

  “This isn’t fair.”

  “You’re right, because if your father and I were being fair and took everything into consideration, your punishment would have been much longer.”

  “Mom—”

  She held up her hand. “This is a light sentence, and if you want to keep it that way, shut up now.”

  He bounced back on the bed, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.

  Slowly Sheridan walked to his bed and sat on the edge. “Christopher, I know you’re hurt by your father.”

  He stayed in place.

  “When your father first left, you told me you were going to be the man of the house. Well, I don’t need you to do that because you’re not a man yet. But you are a mature young man whom I’m very proud of. And I expect you to behave that way.”
She paused; when he still didn’t move, she added, “I won’t tolerate any more of this acting out, Christopher. No more tattoos, no more breaking curfews, no more being late to church, nothing.”

  She tapped his shoulder and he opened his eyes. “Sit up.” She waited as he moved as if he were ill, sliding his legs over the side of the bed. “Christopher, you’re a wonderful young man; that hasn’t changed. And the greatest tragedy would be if you did change.”

  She was surprised when he said, “I’m sorry about everything, Mom.”

  “I know you are. I just need you to help me by being the young man I know.”

  “I promise, nothing more is going to happen.”

  She hugged him, but still she felt as if she’d lost part of him, a part she had to get back. She said a quick prayer, asking God to keep her son from the trials ahead. But even her prayer didn’t end the stirring inside her soul.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  He may have been on punishment, but Christopher had been excited all week.

  “If Christopher can have friends over, and he’s on punishment, why can’t Joy and Lara come to dinner too?” Tori whined as she placed three plates on the table. It was her fiftieth request to have her friends join them, but all appeals had been denied. This was a dinner her children thought was for Christopher. But it was really for Sheridan.

  They’d completed the first week of Christopher’s punishment, but there hadn’t been the normal parental grief that came with having one of the children sentenced to weeks in his room. Christopher had been beyond pleasant from the moment last Sunday when Sheridan suggested he invite his new girlfriend to dinner.

  “I thought I was on punishment,” he’d said, as if Sheridan needed reminding.

  “You are, so don’t take this as a sign of anything. I just want to meet her. Do you think she’ll come to dinner?”

  “Will she?” Christopher grinned. “She’s been dying to meet you.”

  “Why haven’t you introduced us before?”

  “I didn’t think you’d like her. But now I know that you will.”

  No, I won’t, she’d thought at the time. But she’d only smiled.

  “Can she come on Saturday?” he asked. “It’s her birthday.”