The Other Side of Dare

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

“You’re not going to do anything with your hair?” Tiffany asked Gabrielle.

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Oh, I want to see this,” Fatima said. “I’ve always wondered how you manage to keep your rods curly and not all flattened, squashed, and muffled up.”

  Gabrielle laughed, then got up and went to her bathroom. She came back out with four large bobby pins and a black satin bonnet.

  “Okay, so you wear a satin bonnet just like me,” Fatima said.

  Gabrielle grabbed a handful of the Shirley Temple–like curls in the back that rested on her shoulders and lifted them to the top of her head. She placed bobby pins in several places to hold the hair up.

  “Cute,” Tiffany said. “You know you really could wear your hair like that. That’s a style. It’s real dressy looking.”

  “I was just about to say that it would look good with an evening gown or a nice little cocktail dress,” Fatima said. “I like your hair that way, too. You should do that sometimes even if it’s not to a fancy event.”

  Gabrielle laughed. “Y’all are funny.” Gabrielle put the black satin bonnet on her head. “Voila!” She held her hands out, crossed her legs at the ankle, and sat down on the pallet with them.

  Fatima clapped. “So that’s how you do it. I always wondered. Now I know. And that’s why your rods don’t get smashed and come out so fresh looking.”

  “Yep. I think pulling my hair up like that, when I lay down, protects the curls because they’re up and out of the way. Otherwise, they would be flat,” Gabrielle said.

  “I thought you just slept with your head hanging off the bed or maybe slept on your arm and didn’t move,” Fatima said. “That’s why I wouldn’t ever get rods. I like a good night’s sleep too much to be worried about my hair. Not that these rollers are all that comfortable. I’m seriously thinking about letting my hair go natural. That’s the growing craze now. I could sport an Afro like my late mother did back in her day when she was growing up.” Fatima turned to Tiffany. “So, Tiffany, you don’t put anything on your head after you wrap it?”

  Tiffany got up and reached into her bag, pulling out a black hair wrap meshed scarf with Velcro, and placed it around her hair. She sat back down.

  “Do you think we should check on the girls?” Gabrielle asked. “They’re awfully quiet down there. I know they’re not asleep.”

  “Oh, they’re fine,” Tiffany said. “If they weren’t, they’d be calling for sure.”

  “Oh, wait. I have something special for us to drink. I’ll be right back.” Gabrielle got up and quietly went downstairs. She came back with three wine glasses and a bottle.

  Fatima started laughing. “Grape juice? You have wine glasses with a bottle of grape juice.”

  “It’s the real grape kind,” Gabrielle said, handing them each a glass. “But it’s like red wine.”

  “So what were the girls doing?” Tiffany said. “Because I know you sneaked and checked on them.”

  Gabrielle smiled. “They’re down there whispering. I suppose they’ll get sleepy and go to sleep at some point.”

  “Not after eating that cotton candy you made and gave them. Sugar, children, and bedtime don’t go together,” Tiffany said. “Now that Jade knows Jasmine has a little cotton candy machine, she’s going to be asking for one.”

  “Well, as long as they had fun,” Gabrielle said. “That’s what counts. And they definitely did have that.” She poured grape juice in each glass, then put the cap back on and set the bottle down next to her.

  Fatima raised her glass. “To sistership,” Fatima said.

  Gabrielle and Tiffany raised their glasses. “To sistership!”

  They drank their grape juice. Gabrielle set her glass down. “Let’s pray.”

  “Wow, I was just thinking the exact same thing,” Tiffany said.

  “I’d like to do it,” Fatima said.

  Setting their glasses down, they joined hands, and Fatima led them into prayer.

  Chapter 31

  As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou knowest not the works of God who maketh all.

  —Ecclesiastes 11:5

  “All right, my spiritual sisters,” Tiffany said. “Let’s be like girls at a real slumber party. I want Gabrielle to get the full slumber party effect.”

  “So far, I’ve had a really great time,” Gabrielle said. “Seeing the girls and how they were acting has been a blessing. Jasmine’s been grinning so big. It blessed my heart to see her so happy. She told me she’d never had a slumber party before.”

  “Well, part of the ritual of slumber parties is to sit in the dark, tell secrets, and talk about stuff you might not normally talk about in another setting,” Tiffany said. “If we were young girls, our conversation would likely be about boys. But since we’re all grown . . .” Tiffany hunched her shoulders.

  “We’re talking. And the lights are off, except for that small one I left on,” Gabrielle said.

  “Well, I have something I want to talk about,” Fatima said. “I think Trent wants us to have a baby.”

  Tiffany spoke up first. “That’s great!”

  “Oh, it is.” Fatima was trying to sound enthused; she wasn’t pulling it off very well.

  “But?” Gabrielle said. “I hear a but in there somewhere.”

  “It’s not so much as a but . . . but—”

  Gabrielle and Tiffany laughed. “I knew it,” Gabrielle said.

  “Don’t laugh, you two. I’m thirty-seven years old. I think I may have waited too long. What if my eggs are too old? What if I don’t have many eggs left to work with?”

  “Woman, please,” Tiffany said. “You’re at just the right age. But you need to go on and do it. You can’t be dillydallying around about it. And after the baby gets here, if you need a babysitter, I’m sure Gabrielle will be more than happy to step up.”

  Gabrielle laughed. “Oh, so you’re volunteering me, huh? I thought you were about to tell her you’d be there for her.”

  Fatima let out a loud sigh. “But I’m not sure that I want children. Is that selfish?”

  “If you don’t want any, I suppose it’s better to admit it than to bring a child into this world that you don’t want,” Tiffany said. “There’s nothing worse than people having children and mistreating them because they don’t want to be parents.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like children, because I do,” Fatima said. “I’m just scared. What if I really suck at being a mother? What if the baby cries and I don’t know what to do to make him or her stop? I don’t have my mother to turn to anymore for advice. What if I mess up? What if my baby doesn’t like me?”

  It was Gabrielle’s turn to laugh. “Your baby will like you. I’m sure about that. You’re going to be a great mother. You’ll know what to do when the time comes. You’ll hold her in your arms and you’ll feel such love for that child that you’ll know in your heart the right thing to do.”

  “How do you know? You’ve never had a baby before,” Fatima said to Gabrielle.

  Gabrielle became quiet.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that,” Fatima said. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  Gabrielle looked at Fatima. “It’s okay.”

  “Well, I’m sure you and Zachary will have lots of children after you get married,” Fatima said.

  “It’s okay, Fatima.”

  “Darius says he doesn’t want any more children,” Tiffany said. “I actually wanted one more. I would have loved to have another boy, although another girl would have been just as great. But he said three children were enough for him, so we decided to have my tubes tied.”

  “Why didn’t you make him get a vasectomy?” Fatima said. “He was the one who didn’t want any more children. I wouldn’t have closed my options. You never know; you might end up getting married again someday and wished you hadn’t done it.”

  “Why on earth would I ever marry again?” T
iffany said with a puzzled look. “Darius and I are planning to grow old together.”

  “Look at me: I’m just putting my foot all in my mouth tonight,” Fatima said. She turned to Gabrielle. “Are you sure that was only grape juice we had?” She laughed, then turned back to Tiffany. “Not saying it will be the case, but I was thinking about if something were to happen to your husband you might marry again and regret having done that.”

  “Well, I don’t envision myself ever remarrying. As I said: Darius and I plan to grow old together.”

  “That’s good,” Fatima said. “If you’re happy and everything is going well, then, hey, don’t mind me. I was just trying to decide what I’m going to do.” Fatima turned to Gabrielle. “What do you think, Gabrielle? If you were me, would you have a baby?”

  Gabrielle suddenly started to cry.

  “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Fatima leaned over and hugged Gabrielle. “Are you thinking about what’s going on with you right now? Is it something to do with Jasmine that you haven’t told us?”

  Gabrielle nodded. She was really losing it. She pulled away from Fatima’s embrace. “Yes. It’s hearing from my lawyer today about the adoption and all of the problems we’re still encountering. It’s Jasmine talking about having three mothers.”

  “It’s Jasmine wondering about her birth parents,” Tiffany said, now rubbing Gabrielle’s back. “That’s it, too, huh? She wants to know who her birth mother is and you’re worried that her birth mother might somehow possibly come back into her life and try to take her from you?” Tiffany got up and got the box of tissues off Gabrielle’s dresser. She yanked out a few pieces and handed some to Gabrielle as she sat back down and set the box next to Gabrielle.

  “Hey,” Fatima said, grabbing Gabrielle’s free hand. “You’re not supposed to be sad at a slumber party.” Fatima bent her head down to be able to look directly into Gabrielle’s eyes. She smiled. “Okay, enough talk about babies and children. Let’s talk about something else, something fun and exciting. Let’s talk about—”

  “No,” Gabrielle said, holding her head back as she dabbed her eyes. “I want to talk about this.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to talk about it.”

  “Okay, then,” Fatima said. “We can talk about it if you want to.”

  Gabrielle was down to only sniffles now. “If I tell you both something, will you promise not to tell anyone? I’m talking, not even tell your husbands.”

  “Sure. If that’s what you want,” Fatima said.

  “Of course,” Tiffany said. “That’s what sisterfriends are for.”

  “It’s about Jasmine.”

  “Okay,” Fatima said. “Take your time; we’re not going anywhere. We have all night.”

  Gabrielle nodded. She wiped her eyes. “It’s about Jasmine’s birth mother.”

  “Are you saying that you know who her birth mother is?” Tiffany asked. “Have you spoken with her?”

  Gabrielle nodded again. “Yes.” She rubbed her neck. Should she tell them? Other than her, the only people who presently knew the truth about Jasmine’s birth mother were Zachary, Johnnie Mae, Pastor Landris, Lawrence Simmons, and his right-hand man, William. She hadn’t even told her lawyer, Robert Shaw. She’d had no reason to disclose it to him yet. And as far as she knew, only Zachary, Lawrence, and William knew the entire truth: that Lawrence Simmons was Jasmine’s birth father. She saw no reason to disclose that information to anyone else, not at this point anyway.

  If she told Fatima and Tiffany the truth about her true relationship to Jasmine, could she really trust them to keep it? But after what Robert Shaw just told her earlier today on the phone, the truth was most likely going to have to come out. Her back was being forced against the wall by Paris. She would have no choice but to come out swinging with everything in her arsenal. Paris had hired a new lawyer. The lawyer had contacted Robert and informed him that her client was proceeding with her petition and custody objection and fight even more vigorously than before. It was pure nonsense for Paris to continue, Gabrielle’s word not Paris’s lawyer’s or Robert’s. Robert, in fact, was taking this newest threat very seriously. For the first time, he really sounded worried.

  Gabrielle took a deep breath and slowly released it. She looked at Fatima, then Tiffany. “I’m Jasmine’s birth mother. Jasmine is my daughter I gave up for adoption nine years ago.”

  There was dead silence.

  Chapter 32

  He is proud, knowing nothing, but doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings.

  —1 Timothy 6:4

  Andrew Holyfield was sitting in the conference room at his firm. He turned to Gabrielle, who was sitting in the chair right next to him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Are you sure?”

  Gabrielle nodded. “I prayed and God gave me such a peace in my spirit about it. I’m sure.”

  “As long as you’re sure now,” Andrew said. “Because if you can’t trust me, then you can’t feel comfortable that I’m truly working on your behalf.”

  Gabrielle chuckled. “And, of course, it doesn’t help that you’re the husband of the one bringing all of this misery and trouble to my doorstep.”

  “When my superior heard that, he ordered me to turn this case over to someone else. He feels this is a total conflict of interest,” Andrew said as he adjusted his notepad slightly. “I assured him everything was and would be aboveboard. I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to a lawyer having to be involved. I tried my hardest to convince Paris not to pursue this. She assured me she wasn’t. I guess her actions tell me otherwise and just another level of truth about my wife.”

  “So have you told her about us?”

  Andrew smiled. “What’s to tell?”

  “I’m sure she questioned you about whether you knew me or not, possibly slept with me at some point in your life. I know Paris. If nothing else, she’s consistent.”

  “She did ask me if I knew you, but I didn’t tell her anything,” Andrew said.

  Gabrielle shook her head. “I wish you would tell her. I don’t believe in lying. That’s why I told Zachary everything.”

  “I don’t consider what I’m doing as lying exactly. I just didn’t voluntarily disclose everything, like she has no idea that I offered to represent you in this case.”

  Gabrielle shook her head again. “I don’t like it. I’d rather you tell her everything. Something like this can come back and bite all of us. I don’t want to win this thing for it to later come back on appeal or something and be overturned or haunt me due to legal technicalities.”

  He touched her hand. “Withholding information is not the same as lying.”

  “It is in my book. I’d prefer you tell Paris everything,” Gabrielle said. “Tell her about our past. Tell her that you’re representing me. Tell her.”

  “It’s too late to tell her now. If I know my wife, and trust me: I know my wife; she’ll be worse than she is right now just because she wants to hurt you.”

  “So what do you think is motivating her to pursue this now?” Gabrielle said with a sneer. “It’s because she just wants to hurt me.”

  “Well, my first and only priority at this point is to make sure that your adoption of Jasmine goes through as her mother wished.” Andrew sat up straight in his seat. “But I need you to help me do that. So I need you to tell me everything you can. If I ask you a question, I need an honest answer. You’re completely covered by attorney-client privilege. If I don’t ask you something but you believe it’s relevant for me to know it, then I need you to tell me.”

  Gabrielle chuckled. “As opposed to what you say you’re doing with your wife?”

  “Can we please just stay focused on your case?”

  “I’m just pointing out that you aren’t exactly practicing what you preach. Personally, I think it’s a mistake for you not to tell Paris. If she knew you were my lawyer, I dare say she likely might drop this whole pursuit. I know if you were my hu
sband and you were siding with my enemy—”

  “You’re not the enemy.”

  Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. “In Paris’s eyes, believe me: I’m the enemy. If she didn’t believe you and I had something going on before, I assure you she will be convinced that we definitely are now, if this thing goes to court and she learns you’re the attorney representing my interest.”

  “I still wish I knew why she is so bent on taking this child from you,” Andrew said. “It baffles me. We’ve been trying to have a child of our own. I even consented to adopting a child if it comes to that, but not the one you have in your custody.” He shook his head.

  “But Paris wants this one, the one that’s in my heart . . . the one in my home. Well, if she wants a fight, then that’s what she’s going to get. Because she’s not taking my child from me. She’s not taking my little girl from me.”

  “The lawyer Paris has retained is a good one. I’m going to be honest with you, Gabrielle: There is a possibility we might lose this.” Andrew leaned in. “Your past profession will likely come into play.”

  “That’s in my past. I’m saved now. I’m a new creature in Christ. That old woman, along with her past, is gone. She died taking my past with her.”

  “That plays well in church. But if this stays on track, we’re going into a court of law. If Paris is contending that you’d be an unfit mother—”

  “But I’m not unfit.”

  “But Paris is going to say that you are. She’s going to advocate that you’re not the best parent for this child. Her intention is to prove she would be a better parent.”

  “Actually, she’s saying the two of you would be better for Jasmine—the married couple with a stable home—than me: the unmarried ex-stripper.” Gabrielle stood up and slowly walked around. “I hate this! I wish God would just make it all go away.” She stopped and looked at Andrew.

  Andrew was already looking her way. “Maybe I could get Paris to sit down and talk with you, woman to woman. If I could get you two in a room together like this, maybe the two of you can come to a civil resolution.”