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“Nooooo!” Peach was as stunned as I was.
“Yup. Just stuff like that,” I explained. “Now, I will say that shit with his name—me not knowing it all that time—still stings, and I think it’s because he told it to Josie off the rip. Like… She knew about his home…his money right away. Whereas my dumb, horny ass had to damn near fuck him in the projects, being tested or…gamed.”
“Well, come on,” Peach advised. “Let’s not act like you were a run-of-the-mill notch on his belt. This is Jas we’re talking about. The man who’s always honored you, even in parenting.”
“That’s true, Shi,” Becky inserted with a nod. “Crazy ass violent tendencies and all.”
“Yeah, the road has been bumpy, but Jas has been consistent in good character,” Peach declared with confidence. “I mean, it was a little awkward to see him smitten by Josie that day back in February.”
“What happened in February?” Becky wanted to know.
“I didn’t tell you?” Peach asked. “I was atRedeeming Souls, the church Jas is affiliated with. I ran into him, apparently, the day and the event when the first lady was hooking Jas up with the Josie girl.”
Becky gasped. “Get the fuck outta here!”
Peach nodded, and my blood turned acidic. I’d pieced that intel together at Jas’ birthday party a few months ago, but was so damn high, I was numb when I was learning about them. Remembering my state of mind that day—these past few months—instantly made me sad. I had so much emotional work to do to repair my heart fully. I had relationships to mend, too, which included my daughter and my sister.
“Well, damn when you put it that way, Peach,” was Corinne’s response.
“But it’s all good,” Peach argued, shaking her phone in the air. “This has been a much-needed and anticipated turning of the corner. The dawn of a new season.”
“Whatchu see, Peach?” Corinne’s face wrinkled.
Peach winked at me. “I woke up to Psalms eighty-six in my spirit last week. I see an undivided heart.”
“Awwwww!” Becky cooed as I turned back to my task at hand.
Then, from my suitcase, I pulled out a stark white men’s t-shirt. Slowly, I unraveled it until I saw the X-Large mark on the tag. I pulled it to my nose for a long sniff. My eyes closed with confirmation. Jas. His t-shirt had somehow gotten into my suitcase. Fully opening the cotton material, a hard yellowish stain tarnished its perfect coloring.
“Is that?” My head jerked up to find Becky’s eyes squinting.
“Dried up cum!” Corinne yelped as those damn butterflies erupted in my belly again.Please stop… “Oh, my fucking god! Just how much pelvis smacking did y’all do out there?”
Peach and Becky found that hilarious. I thought it was funny, too, but slightly embarrassing as well. Achy, too. For as much as this thing with Jas felt good, it was a lot on my heart. I felt so tender…vulnerable. Jas’ desires had been expressed and well-documented. He wanted marriage, and I just wanted…him. Marriage to me felt like a grandiose concept, a steep, intimidating mountain that would always be there to climb. It wasn’t going anywhere. So why rush to it?
Convincing Jas of that would be just as impossible as trying to move the damn mountain.
“Shit. It’s hot as fuck out this bitch,” he griped, small branches breaking beneath his feet. “My damn balls drippin’ and shit!”
Walking alongside him, I pushed the wheelchair Betty begged me to take in case he grew tired. Rose, back at the main house, guaranteed he could walk at least a mile today. She wanted him out of bed and the house to “wake his muscles up again.”
“And I’m suing the fuck outta that hospital, man. Bitches,” he mumbled. “I mean… How the fuck they gon’ discharge me with a fuckin’ collapsed lung? Yeah, I get what Ms. Rose and them said about the type I had, but fuck. A collapsed lung, my nigga?” he wheezed that last line.
I stopped. “We hit half a mile. You need to sit?”
Jug’s arm swung when he answered, “Fuck naw!” I tried not to laugh. “I mean, I ain’t a hun’ned percent yet. Still feel a little aches and pains, but…” He grabbed his chest. “…my shit feel lighter. Sound weird as fuck, but on this side, it feel light again.” Jug waved his hand. “I know it ‘on’t make no sense,” he mumbled. “Just like it ‘on’t make no sense that you brought my dead ass down here. You couldn’t take me toGeneral Hospital—” I cracked the hell up. “—or, or, or the one on Grey’s Anatomy—shit, you coulda dropped my dying ass off atArch&Pointup in Connecticut! Wet-Wet woulda worked on me!”
By now, I was curled over the empty wheelchair losing my shit. Jug was funny as hell.
“Shit…” He huffed then coughed a little.
“I told Ashira you was gonna have my ass about this.”
“Yeah, and ‘bout that…” He pointed toward the house. “…what the fuck is that Little House on the fuckin’ Prairie shit back there?” He looked around. “I ain’t never see no shit like this before. These little cottages…this fuckin’ village with the big ass plantation house sitting up fuckin’ tall and proud!”
I couldn’t stop laughing, which was why he kept going.
“Nah,” he eventually sighed, bringing his fists up to his small waist. The guy had lost so much weight over the past few weeks. Jug was not this small before I left for vacation. “These peoples alright with me. They do that loud ass praying and Indian chantin’ shit, but they saved a nigga’s life real bad!”
