Under the Peach Tree

by Charlay Marie

  I stared dumbfounded at Momma May as my anger dissolved. She was right. I had no reason to get angry because he felt bad about disrespecting Momma May and God. If anyone should’ve felt bad, it should’ve been me. I had figured it wasn’t a big deal, because Momma May and I had a conversation about it afterward. She didn’t sound upset then. Maybe it was because she started preaching to me. Either way, I was wrong. I didn’t think about how God would feel. I was so used to keeping Him at a distance, I hadn’t taken time to learn the things that He thought were sinful. I turned to Dante to apologize, but he was already pulling off.

  When evening came, I busied myself with cooking dinner and cleaning. Anything to keep my mind off of Dante. Momma May had given me a long lecture about my actions. Although very annoying, it was needed. I ended up feeling bad about the things I had said to Dante. I picked up the phone three times, attempting to call him, but my stubbornness won over. I ended up hanging up each time.

  The next day, I did what Momma May said. I sat up in my bed, feeling empty and angry, like most mornings. I took in a deep breath and began to pray. “Jesus, Momma May said I should start praying every morning to you, that it’s gonna help me get closer to you. She said I got a lot of anger on my heart that I need to let go. I don’t know how I’m gonna do that. I hate too many people, been hurt too many times. I think the only way I could forgive them is by pretending it never happened. But that’s wrong too, right? Why does it seem like everything I do is wrong? Well, I pray that you’ll help me to forgive . . . hopefully soon.”

  Dante’s car pulled up next to the curb and he jumped out with a new purpose and a smile on his face. Momma May had just taken a seat on the porch, which was where she spent most of her mornings. I stood right inside of the screen doors with my arms folded, putting up my usual defensive pose, waiting for his rejection.

  He skipped up the stairs with a soft smile and said hello to Momma May and then he stood before me. His goofy smile didn’t waiver. I felt my own lips twitch as I tried to hold my own smile in.

  “So . . .” He shifted awkwardly. “Want to learn how to drive?”

  My eyes widened as I looked past him to his car and then to Momma May. “I thought you was mad at me.”

  He shrugged. “So I guess you don’t want to drive then.” He turned halfway around before I stopped him.

  “Fine! I want to.”

  Ten minutes later we were at the beginning of a quiet street. The road looked about a mile long and had no major turns or intersections that would scare me. Dante parked the car on the side of the street and switched seats with me. Once I was behind the wheel, I felt invisible, free, like I had control over my life.

  Once I learned how to drive, I could use the money Momma May gave me to get a car and then I could begin working part time until I saved up enough money to move out of Momma May’s house. Before Dante could say anything, I slammed on the gas, jerking the car forward. Dante flew back in his seat.

  I could barely control the wheel, causing the car to sway from side to side. Dante grabbed a hold of the wheel and jerked it left, causing us to miss a trashcan.

  “Hit the brakes!” he yelled and I slammed on the brakes, causing him to jerk forward. Once the car was stopped, I heard nothing but his deep breaths. His chest was heaving dramatically. I felt my own adrenaline kick in.

  “Oh my God! That was so fun! Let’s do it again.”

  “No!” The word flew out of his mouth with a rush of breath. I waited for him to compose himself. “Hope, you’re crazy. Do you have a death wish? Why did you do that?”

  “You said I could drive.”

  “Not like that! You don’t drive like that. You put your foot on the gas very slowly, and the same with the brakes. And you don’t swerve! You try to keep the wheel straight!”

  “Well why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to!” He sighed. “Just try again . . . and please don’t kill me.”

  After multiple attempts at driving a straight line, I finally managed to do it decently, although Dante was still on edge until I was once again in the passenger seat. He pulled over on the side of the road, too anxious to drive due to the exciting events of my driving lesson. I took the silence as a way to gain access to his personal thoughts of me.

  “Dante, why ain’t you mad at me?”

  He looked over at me. “Pastor May told me to let it go, that you didn’t mean anything. Plus, the Bible teaches us that we should forgive those who wrong us.”

  I thought back to what Momma May was telling me about my past. How I should let it go, forgive. But how do you forgive the very thing that keeps you tossing and turning each night? The thing that makes you who you are, that shaped your thoughts? How do you forgive the person who should’ve loved you the way a mother should? It was a pain that would be carried until death and maybe even after. “Can you teach me how to forgive?”

  Dante frowned. “I don’t know how to do that. It’s something that begins within. Nobody can teach you that. You have to find it inside. But it’s somewhere in there.” He pointed at my heart. “Maybe you need to go back to the source that caused you the pain and face it. Sometimes knowing that you’re better than the situation helps.” Dante put the car in drive and pulled off. “I need to stop at the store before I take you back home.”

  Home.

  I once thought I knew the meaning of that word. I thought home was where the family was, where Momma and Faith lived. But I now realized that the place where Momma lived was nothing but a house. I now had a home, one that made me feel loved, one that taught me right from wrong, one that only encouraged me to be better than I was. I felt secure.

  Dante pulled up at a small store. We walked inside, joking and teasing each other. Dante went to the food section, looking over different meats and breads. He handed me a few items to put in the basket.

  “What’s this stuff for?”

  He turned to me with a wide smile. “Picnic.”

  I felt a surge of jealousy rush through me. Who was he going on a picnic with? He never told me about a girl. The thought made me feel weird. I was only ever jealous of Faith.

  “For who?”

  Dante laughed at my expression. “For us. Pastor May said we need to get out of the house, get some air. So I decided to do a picnic. Looks fun in the movies.”

  “Ain’t picnics for white people? Oh, wait.” I started laughing. Dante was the whitest black man I’d ever met. Even more so than John. John was just proper because of his workplace, but Dante grew up in a predominately white boys school. He had no hope of surviving in the hood.

  “Funny, let’s go,” I said, heading toward the cash register so that Dante could check out.

  As Dante drove to the park, I glared out of the window at the passing houses. I wondered what it meant to go on a picnic, if it qualified as a date or if it was simply us just having fun. I wanted to ask him his opinion on the picnic but decided against it. I was sure he didn’t intend for me to take it as him wanting to have a date. He did say it was Momma May’s idea and that he thought it looked fun in the movies. I was over-thinking things.

  Once he found a parking space at the park, I quickly got out and headed straight for the nature trail. I didn’t realize how fast I had taken off until Dante called out to me. I slowed, allowing him to catch up. He was barely managing to carry all of the picnic goods and so I took the blanket that looked as if it was about to fall. Dante caught my eyes; his expression was a mix between inquiry and amusement.

  “My bad,” I said, exhaling deeply. I closed my eyes, trying to change my thoughts, which somehow managed to go haywire on the way to the park. After I cleared away the thoughts about the “picnic date,” I started thinking about Momma and John.

  The last time I saw John, he mentioned how he and Momma was no longer together. I wondered if what happened between him and me eventually caused their relationship to fall apart. There was a time in my life where I would’ve laughed at the thou
ght, but I realized a new emotion, one more prominent. A feeling I had felt for a while but was just now accepting. Regret.

  I’d felt it when I talked on the phone with Faith, I’d felt it when I told Momma May everything I’d done, and I’d felt it when I walked away from John in the store.

  “Are you good?” Dante asked, putting his free hand on the back of my shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  The park was beautiful and full of nature trails and playgrounds. There was an area for events that had a stage for performances and concerts, and an area for family reunions and cookouts. Dante explained that on the east side of the park there was a large lake for canoeing and fishing, but he preferred a more desolate location. We headed off in that direction.

  After a few minutes of walking, Dante and I slowed and sat down at the edge of a small lake. A few ducks swam about, adding to the serene picture before me. The sun was high in the sky, casting warm rays of love, causing me to almost feel okay.

  Dante and I laid down the blanket and sorted the food, plastic plates, and cups. He had turkey meat, bread, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes for sandwiches, and pickles, soda, and chips for a snack.

  I took a seat facing the lake and felt Dante take a seat next to me. His shoulder brushed mine. He grabbed my hand and put it in his, gently caressing the length from my knuckles to my wrist. It was as if he knew I needed some sort of affection. Dante must’ve been able to tell because of how my shoulders had been tensed and how quiet I had been. His gesture caused my tears to pour. I was sure the ducks would’ve been pleased to swim in my sorrow.

  “It’s okay, Hope.”

  “You don’t know that,” I spat.

  “Ten minutes ago, you were fine. What happened between then and now?” he asked.

  “My thoughts happened,” I explained. “My past always haunts me, no matter how good my day is going.”

  “Sounds like you need to deal with your past,” Dante pointed out.

  “Naw, really?” I stated sarcastically. “I know what I need to do. I just don’t know how to do it.”

  “Pray and have faith in God. He promises us that—” Dante began, placing his hand on top of mine.

  “He promises a lot of stuff I ain’t seen.” I sighed, cutting him off. “He promised He wouldn’t put more on me than I can handle. Faith told me that. And guess what, I can’t handle it! It’s too much.”

  “If it was, you would be dead,” he simply said.

  I looked down at our hands touching and turned to Dante. “Do you care about me?”

  His light cheeks reddened but he didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Then why did the kiss make you spazz out?”

  He shifted, seemingly uncomfortable. “I never kissed a girl, for one.” I laughed but he kept talking. “And I don’t want to lust. It’s a sin.”

  “One that can be forgiven.”

  “It’s not right to play with God, to sin and think God will still forgive us. We need to try our hardest to not sin, truly repent . . . and I did. Plus, we disrespected Pastor May’s house.”

  “Okay, I get it, you’re by the book. You’re a one-ofa-kind black male.” I picked up a pickle and bit into it, thankful my tears were now gone. “So, do you ever think about losing your virginity, or is the thought a sin too?”

  He smiled. “Yes, lusting in your mind is a sin because it leads to fornication. And I’ll lose my virginity one day . . . when I’m married.”

  “What?” I was appalled. “What if you don’t ever get married?”

  He shrugged. “Then I’ll be a virgin for life.”

  “What if I took your virginity?” I watched his face redden as he registered what I said. I scooted closer, removing my hand from his to caress his shoulder. “I could seduce you. I’m good at that. And then God can only be mad at me.”

  He scooted away. “No, it doesn’t work like that.”

  I scooted closer to him and began placing kisses on his neck. I didn’t know what came over me. Maybe it was as simple as being a hormonal teenager. I was trying to seduce a second victim, and for what? My own personal enjoyment in making him a man? Pride? Loneliness? Maybe it was all of the above.

  But Dante was stronger than John, maybe because of Jesus. He gently pushed me away and stood up. The rejection angered me, reminded me of Momma’s rejection. I stood up, barely containing my anger.

  “Dang, Dante, you gay?”

  “No.” He almost laughed but it was obvious he was battling something inside. He looked conflicted the way his eyebrows furrowed.

  “Yeah, you is. Can’t no man resist me.”

  “A man strongly rooted in his religion can.” He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t even try to get mad, Hope.”

  “I can if I want to.” I folded my arms stubbornly.

  “You’re childish and selfish.”

  “So?”

  “It’s not attractive,” he stated.

  “Lames ain’t attractive either,” I said accusingly but Dante just shrugged.

  “If you’re not attracted to me and yet try to seduce me, that makes you desperate for love,” Dante said.

  His last words hit deep. I didn’t have a comeback. It was true. It was the reason I had seduced John in the first place. It was the reason I stole Faith’s dress. It was the reason I wanted to be close to Momma May and now the reason I tried to seduce Dante. I was desperate for love. I’d do anything for it.

  “Hope,” Dante began.

  “Don’t talk to me,” I said as he tried to console me. He knew his words hit something deep inside, causing me pain. I would’ve moved away from him, but I was stuck in a stupor.

  “If you really want love, and you’re desperate for it, try finding it in God. Redirect your passion unto Him. He will satisfy it. I thought you had a breakthrough that day you talked to Momma May and accepted Jesus.”

  “I did accept God, but that don’t mean all my problems went away.”

  “Hope, when you accepted Him, it means you have to begin to rely on Him. That’s why you need to read your Bible. It tells you how to handle situations. You need to pray so that God can help you.”

  “Why does everybody throw God in my face?”

  “To help you, but you keep rejecting it. How do you expect to get better if you aren’t taking your medicine?”

  I snorted. “My medicine?”

  “The Word. It satisfies you more than bread. It helps you stay focused on God. It—”

  “Ugh!” I groaned. “Stop preaching to me! I just . . . I just wanna go home. Take me home, Dante.”

  I started walking back in the direction we came from, making sure to keep a big gap between us. I didn’t want to hear his Jesus banter. I wanted to be alone.

  Twenty minutes later, Dante pulled up to the curb and I jumped out before the car completely stopped. I almost lost my balance but didn’t care. I stormed up to the house, noticing Momma May was inside. She’d probably fallen asleep on the couch. Dante followed slowly, keeping a good distance between us. I didn’t care. I just wanted to bury myself deep in my covers and sleep the rest of the day away.

  I opened the screen door and stepped through. Everything was normal. The TV was turned to the usual soap operas and Momma May was asleep on the couch. I smiled at the sight and went up to my room. I plopped down on my bed and closed my eyes.

  And embarrassment hit me.

  I threw myself at Dante. Dante, who was a nerd. Dante, who was a virgin. Dante, who was a Jesus freak. He rejected me. It did numbers to my ego. But did I even like him? I laughed at the thought. No, he just happened to be there. I was not attracted to him. Or was I? I did care what he thought of me. How he smiled when he saw me. I noticed the little things about him. He was caring, sweet, innocent, and ungrudging. He should have been everything that I wanted. And I threw myself at him, recklessly, ruining any chance I may have had. But did I even want a chance?

  I shook the thought out of my head.

  “Hope!”
Dante’s loud scream broke my reverie. I sat up, wondering if I had imagined it. “Hope! Help!”

  I jumped out of the bed and darted downstairs. I was greeted by the sight of Dante, checking Momma May’s pulse. He looked up at me standing frozen and unsure.

  “Is she . . .”

  “She’s breathing, but barely,” he said, although his voice was deceiving. “Call the ambulance, Hope!”

  I couldn’t move. My eyes were glued to Momma May’s seemingly lifeless figure. My heart ran rapid inside of my chest and my eyes watered, daring to explode with a river of tears. Dante looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed. “Call them! Now!”

  His angry voice brought life back into my limbs and I ran for the phone, calling the ambulance, praying that Momma May would live to see another day.

  Chapter 16

  I would explain the rush of paramedics who burst through the house and how they carried Momma May away. I would explain how Dante and I even got to the hospital, waiting room, all of the in-between emotions, but everything passed by in a blur. I was a walking zombie and my consciousness was far from me. I barely felt Dante’s assuring hands placed around my own. I only felt the cold of death as it tapped its vicious claws on my heart, reminding me that it was there and that I could do nothing to stop it.

  Dante must’ve heard the cry escape from my mouth because he pulled me closer to him, forcing all of the darkness back into the corners of my heart.

  “You okay?” he asked, caressing my shoulders. I shook my head in response. “Want anything to drink?” I shook my head again as I saw Norma burst into the waiting room. She took one nonchalant look at us before walking over to the nurse’s desk to demand answers.

  The doctor came out into the lobby and headed to Norma, who was still chastising the nurse for her ignorance. Dante guided me to where they stood, talking, and we both listened.