Page 50 of Between Passion and Revenge, Part One (The Griot Chronicles #1)

SHAE

“ W hat’s wrong, baby girl?” Daddy’s voice has me sitting up straight.

It’s a few days before Valentine’s, and I’ve just finished assembling a hundred gift bags for the kids at Sunday School. Mama already enlisted me for delivery duty tomorrow, so I’m taking a much-needed break in front of the TV.

In the background, Girlfriends plays on the screen; it’s an episode I’ve seen before.

“I’m fine, Daddy,” I say. “Great, actually.” I paste on a bright smile and sit up, tucking my legs beneath me.

“That’s good, Ms.Harvard,” he says, and the grin on his face isn’t comforting.

“That’s weird, Dad. Don’t call me that.” I huff out a laugh to soften my words.

“But it’s true, ain’t it?” He eases down into his La-Z-Boy recliner with a little groan. “My baby’s gonna be up in Cambridge, running with all them fancy types.”

I don’t say anything right away. Just tuck the blanket tighter around my legs.

Eventually, I say, “Yeah.”

Daddy nods, as if I’ve just confirmed something for him.

“What’s going on, Shae? You’ve been troubled for these last few weeks. Is it something with that boy?”

I give a sideways grin.

“He has a name. It’s Storm.”

Daddy waves his hand in the air in response. When I don’t continue the conversation, he grunts and reaches for the remote, pausing the episode right as Traci Ellis Ross flounces across the screen.

“Opal!” Daddy shouts, leaning back in his chair to holler up the stairs.

Great. Just great. It’s a full-blown intervention now.

Mama hurries down the stairs in her bonnet and house dress, frowning.

“Reginald, what have I told you about yellin’ after me like that?”

“Sweet love,” he says, his tone gentling, “Shae is having an issue, and I think we all need to have a family meeting.”

Mama gives me a look up and down, squinting, but instead of rolling her eyes or siding with me, she slides into the loveseat opposite Daddy.

“What’s going on, baby?” Mama’s voice is soft, and it makes me want to cry. Like, big ol’ sobs.

“And don’t you lie to us, Shae Olivya. Whatever it is, we can figure it out.” His face goes a little slack. “You aren’t…you aren’t pregnant, are you?”

He looks so horrified, I rush to correct him.

“Dad, no!” I sit up straight, turning to look at both parents. “No, I’m not pregnant.”

“Then what is it?” Mom asks, giving me her full attention. With both their gazes assessing me as if I’m a puzzle, fiery fingers crawl up my chest, ringing my neck.

“It’s just that…” I suck in air through trembling lips, and Mom’s frown returns. “It’s just that…I-I’m not s-sure if I want to go to Harvard.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, it’s like all panic turns off like a light switch. I look at Mom, distracted by her sudden relieved smile, and take in a slow breath just to make sure I can.

“I’ve been thinking about it and?—”

“I…I beg your pardon?” Dad’s voice cuts through, heavy with incredulity. I almost don’t want to look at him, but it’s time I faced this.

It’s time I faced him.

“Dad, I know this seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I promise it’s not. I haven’t made a decision yet, but?—”

“You haven’t made a decision? What— You haven’t turned in your decision letter?”

“No,” I squeak, feeling about ten years old. “I still have a week and a half before the deadline.”

Daddy rocks back in his chair, the leather squeaking beneath his weight.

“Well, I guess thank the good Lord for you having some sense.”

“Reginald!” Mama breaks in. “Calm down and let’s hear what Shae has to say.”

Daddy opens his mouth, but Mama holds out her palm, silencing him with the movement and the deadly look in her gaze.

“Okay, baby. What’s got you on the fence? Are you scared you won’t do well there? Because I can tell you right now, I know you’ll do amazingly well.”

I smile, and those tears rush back to the surface.

“I know I can work hard, Mama. I know once I have my foot in the door, I can succeed. But it’s just that…

” I look back at the screen, Joan, Lynn, Maya, and Antoinette surround that iconic sofa, frozen in whatever huge drama is going on in their lives that will be sorted within the remaining twelve minutes of the episode.

“It’s just that, I don’t know if I want to work that hard. I want to be here, helping people. Making a difference.”

“You can make a difference and have a Harvard degree,” Mama says, her voice gentle.

“Yes, but what’s the point? Why would I do it? So I can say I went to Harvard? So you both can have something to brag about after church?”

“Watch yourself, Shae Olivya,” Daddy says, a drop of spit flying from his mouth. I hate putting him through this, but this…indecision is killing me.

I don’t know what to do.

“What I need is your counsel,” I say, placing my hands on my chest as if to control my racing heart. “What I’m saying is I don’t know what to do. I have so many thoughts and fears and considerations rolling around in my brain, and I don’t know what to choose. I need…I need your help.”

Not your judgment.

Mama and Daddy are silent for a long moment, but then my father breaks it.

“This is because of that boy, isn’t it? You weren’t thinking about nothing outside of going to school, getting your degree, and making something of yourself.

” There’s so much sadness, so much disappointment in his voice that I finally do cry, sniffing and tilting my head back to keep the tears from flowing.

“You had your whole life laid out since you were ten, and now you’re just…lost.”

With a sigh, Daddy rises from his recliner and takes slow steps up the stairs without saying another word.

Mama’s still after he disappears to the second floor, and I don’t break the silence. Instead, I let the tears fall, dropping my head onto the arm of the sofa.

“We’re going to talk about this more, just you and I,” Mama says, ushering me to sit up so she can slide onto the sofa. She resettles my head in her lap beneath a pillow.

“Just give your daddy a minute,” she says, running her palm over my head. “And if you remember one thing, remember this: Fear may be loud, but God will never lead you wrong. You just need to pray about it.”

I soak in her words, my tears finally slowing. I still have no idea what I’m going to do, but I know right now, with my Mama rubbing my head, I’m going to allow myself the gift of zoning out.

Mama reaches for the remote.

“What season is this?” she asks.

“Season four.”

She hums and restarts the show.

“I love this show too. I’m so angry they cancelled it so abruptly like that,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice faint.

Mama stills, and I can tell she’s looking at me from the side of my gaze. After a moment, she leans down and places a quick kiss on my hairline.

“Everything is all gonna work out, baby. All in God’s timing. Amen?”

I allow myself to fall back into the show, jealous that life isn’t like a sitcom, and big life decisions can’t be solved in twenty-two minutes.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Amen.”