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Nova

I didn’t want to jinx myself, but I couldn’t help feeling that today was one of the best days ever. We still had a lot of day left, so I tapped my knuckles against the wooden swing that I’d been sitting on for most of the day.

Lance and I had been on the front porch when Mama made it back from Ms. Cora’s.

He left shortly after Mama returned. He was waiting to get a package from her—something she needed him to take to Baton Rouge.

It turned out that was why he’d stopped by in the first place.

The funny thing was, I hadn’t even thought to ask why he was there so early.

I thought it was perfect timing, which, in a way, it was.

“You plan on sitting out here all day?” Mama asked through the screen door.

“Probably.” I smiled back at her.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mama said for the hundredth time that day.

I was excited about my walk with Lance and how great it felt to be out, but I think Mama’s excitement had mine beat.

I knew she hated seeing me cooped up in the house all day.

She was ready for us to start going out and doing things together.

I was ready for that too. I could see myself going to run errands or grocery shopping with, or for, Mama.

I could see me and Skye going out to eat or to the movies. The thought had me pumped.

I’d closed my eyes and was lost in my thoughts when the sound of a vehicle made me sit up. My body tensed. A reminder that I still had a long way to go.

Seeing Quinton didn’t help put to rest my desire to run inside and lock all the doors.

I hadn’t talked to him since finding out that he’d married my sister.

I wasn’t too surprised, though. Quinton never liked dealing with issues.

He’d rather avoid it or act like everything was okay.

I guessed that was why I was so upset that night in the hotel when he was angrier than I’d ever seen him before.

It was the one time I decided to avoid it instead of him.

In fact, I remember thinking that it wouldn’t be long before he would leave the room, so I wanted to beat him to it.

I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I wished he would’ve stormed out first.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see,” Quinton said, propping one foot on the step while the other stayed on the ground.

He was dressed in a beige plaid suit with a burnt-orange tie.

Quinton had always been one of the best-dressed men I knew.

In high school, when Nike would come out with a new pair of Jordans, Quinton had them before anyone else.

It was the same with name-brand clothes.

I was so jealous until I understood that sending clothes was his mom’s way of making up for not being there for him.

“What do you want?” I asked, glancing at him and then looking over his shoulder and toward the lawn, focusing my attention on anything except him.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” He stuck his hand in his pants pocket.

I turned back to him, but only long enough to say, “Well, you see. Now you can go.” I folded my arms.

“I’ll leave as soon as you hear me out.” He stepped closer to the porch.

“Why can’t you and your wife leave me alone?” I asked, glaring at him.

“Because we love you.”

“Love?” I laughed at the word. “I think the two of you have a different definition of love than I do.”

Quinton took another step, then another until he was standing on the porch. “I wish there was something I could say that would make this better.”

“You can’t, so don’t bother.”

Quinton exhaled, then sat in the rocking chair closest to me.

It faced the other side of the porch, where I saw Quinton staring with a faraway look in his eyes.

I may have been away from him for years, but I still felt like I knew him, and something told me that there was more to his visit than he was saying.

“Is that it, or is there something else you need?” I asked.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I know I’ve said that before, and you may not believe it, but it’s true. One day you said that you knew the minute we met that you wanted to be with me forever. You remember that?” He looked over at me.

“Of course I remember because it was true,” I answered.

“And I asked you how did you know? You said it was hard to answer that question, but it was just a feeling. Just something you knew.” He paused.

“That’s the only way I can describe what happened between Leah and me.

It wasn’t something we forced. It wasn’t something either one of us desired or wished to happen.

It just did. Honestly, I think we were more surprised than anyone when things changed. ”

I could tell he was trying to be careful with his words, but they still stung. They still poked at wounds that I wished I could numb. When I didn’t say anything, he continued.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could change things.”

My attention snapped in his direction. “Are you saying you wish you didn’t marry Leah?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but then he shook his head. “I’m saying I wish we weren’t the cause of your hurt. If I could take it away and carry it myself, believe me, I would in a heartbeat.”

“But you can’t, and knowing that the two of you are married does hurt, but I guess there’s nothing I can do about that except live with it.”

Quinton was quiet once again.

“Is that it?” Nova asked again.

“No, actually, there’s something else I want to talk with you about.”

The screen door opened. “Oh, hey, Quinton. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hey, Ms. Martha.” Quinton walked over and gave Mama a kiss on her cheek.

“How’s it going?” Mama asked, leaning against the door with a mason jar of sweet tea in her hand.

“I can’t complain,” Quinton said, going back to the rocking chair. “Something smells good in there.” He nodded toward the house where Mama had been working her magic in the kitchen as she’d done every day.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

He chuckled. “I may take you up on that.”

Quinton and Mama continued their small talk until Mama went back inside.

I was ready for her to leave so he could tell me the other reason he’d stopped by.

The sooner he said what he needed to say, the sooner I could tell him that he shouldn’t stay for dinner. I wasn’t ready to sit and eat with him.

“So, what were you saying?” I asked.

“Skye,” he said.

Her name caused me to perk up. It always did. “What about her?”

“She said something this morning that kind of bothered me, and I thought we should talk about it.”

“What did she say?”

I listened as Quinton told me about his conversation with Skye, which started with her wanting to go hang out at the lake, and him saying no, and ending with her telling him that I said no one should tell her what she could and couldn’t do with her body.

“Okay ... and?” I asked, wondering what was so wrong with that.

“I was curious about that statement. I agree that no one should tell her what she can and cannot do with her body, but were you telling her that about other people or about me?”

“It was about anyone who tried to tell her what to do with her body.” I leaned closer to him. “Which includes her hair.” I pointed to my hair.

“So that’s what the conversation was about? Her wanting to cut her hair?” he asked.

“Yes, and I told her she could.”

“You what?” His voice rose.

I flinched.

“I’m sorry. Why did you tell her she could cut her hair without talking with me first?”

“You sound like Mama. Did you talk with me when you told her she couldn’t?”

“No, because that conversation happened months ago, before you came back.” He loosened his tie.

“And what about this morning when she asked to go to the lake? Did you tell her you needed to speak with me first?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. Why would I say that when the answer was still going to be no.”

“Oh, I see.” I nodded slowly. “You don’t have to check with me, but I have to check with you. Is that how this works?”

“Right now, yes. You just got home, Nova. And I get that you’re Skye’s mom, and you want a relationship with her, but part of being a parent is being responsible.”

“Are you saying I’m not responsible?” I stood, unable to sit any longer.

He stood. “I’m saying you’ve never raised a teenager before, and it’s not all fun and games. Skye needs structure. She needs discipline. She doesn’t need a friend.”

“I’m not trying to be her friend,” I argued. “All I want is to be her mom.”

“You are her mom. You don’t have to try to be that,” he said, his voice a lot calmer than before.

“It’s hard to feel like her mom when I only get to see her every now and then.”

“That’s because it’s basketball season. Once it’s over, she’ll have more free time,” he said.

“Or if she lived here with me and Mama, I could see her every day like you do.”

He shook his head and smiled, but not a real smile. More like a what-are-you-talking-about kind of smile. “Live here?” he said, his finger pointing down.

“Yes, here,” I repeated.

“That’s not going to happen. Skye isn’t moving out of her home, Nova. Be for real.”

“I am being for real. You’ve had her all these years, Quinton. I want some time with her too. It’s not like she’ll be moving out of state. You can see her every day.”

“And so can you,” he said, rubbing his hand back and forth over his hair. I remember he did that when he was agitated. “Can this day get any worse?” he mumbled.

“I’m not trying to ruin your day,” I said.

“It was ruined before I got here.” He walked to the steps and then looked back. “I need to go, but I’ll talk with Skye and tell her to try and stop by more.”

I didn’t respond because he wasn’t getting it.

Or maybe he was and was too selfish to try and see where I was coming from.

I’d love to know how he’d feel if he’d missed fifteen years of our daughter’s life.

Would he be happy seeing her every now and then?

No, he wouldn’t. He’d want her all the time.

I didn’t care what Quinton said. It wasn’t his decision.

If Skye wanted to come and live here with me and Mama, then that was what she’d do.