Changing Stiles Read online

  Now, after knowing what I know about that last night, I’m not entirely sure that if anything was as it seemed.

  “Is she the one?” she presses after an awkward silence.

  Be honest. Why the hell not? “Yes. She is.”

  “Hmmm,” she murmurs thoughtfully then settles back into her seat.

  Deidra remained quiet on the ride back to my house. Once I reached Ford Rd., I realized that she had driven to my house and that I had to turn around so she could get her car. When we pulled up to my house, the silence continued.

  “Deidra,” I started but had no idea what I was going to finish with.

  She shook her head. “Don't, Carter. Just don't.” Her eyes were shielded, but I could tell my revelation had an effect on her. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her.

  And I imagine the last thing she wanted to do was be hurt. I didn't say a word or make a move to stop her as she quietly got out of the truck. I sat still for a moment, watching as she briskly walked to her car and got in.

  When she pulled off, I parked in the driveway, climbed out for the truck and slowly walked to the front door of my house.

  The sound of loud music booming from inside the house greeted me at the door. Shaking my head, I let myself in. Bug had set up a stage in front of the fireplace, and she and her two girlfriends were belting out Katy Perry’s Roar into karaoke microphones. She had turned the family room into a campground, fully furnished with tents and a projector that would display stars on the ceiling.

  Leaning against the wall, I watched them then applauded obnoxiously when they were done. “Great job, ladies!”

  She squinted her eyes at me. She'd taken her glasses off and had put on lip gloss and some sparkling glitter on her cheeks. Deidra had actually made them up before we left.

  Time sure passes quickly. Soon, my babygirl won’t be content with nights in with her girlfriends and karaoke. She’ll have some asshole sending her home in tears. And my glock will be cocked and ready.

  “Hey, Dad,” she greeted me as she comes over.

  “Hey Mr. Reed,” her two friends spoke.

  “D has the pizza?” she asked.

  Shit, I had forgotten all about it. I wince, trying to figure out how I am going to explain that Deidra had gone home.

  “You know what, Bug? I forgot the pizza. Something came up and Deidra had to go home. She said to tell you goodnight and that she was sorry.”

  “Oh, is everything okay?” she asked, her concern for Deidra apparent.

  When she asked those type of questions, I realized that she's also maturing. “She's fine.”

  At my reassurance, concern was quickly replaced with interrogation. “Did she end up getting the book she wanted? She said that the author was dope. Do you think I can read it?!” she excitedly questions.

  “You're getting big, Bug. But not that big.”

  She shrugged and laughed, dancing back over to her friends. She's fourteen now, and I know she's been exposed to shit far beyond my control. In the last couple of months, I've read a couple of Lieas' books, and there wasn’t anything for my baby girl in between those pages.

  Shaking my head, I cut that notion real quick. “That would be a no,” young lady.

  “Oh,” she replied and went back to whatever decision-making process they went through to select the next song.

  I went into the kitchen ordered their food then made a tropical green smoothie for myself before I grabbed a bottle of water and headed out. I figured I’d put in some time in the shop; I had to draw up plans for a full remodel of a restaurant in Lower Merion. But my mind kept going back to Alieas and how good she looked and how I wanted nothing more than to take out ten years worth of frustration out on her, long dick style.

  There was something nagging at me, reminding me that I had once loved the fuck out of this woman. Then reality set in and reminded me that I had been hesitant to act on my love due to our lengthy time apart and the fear that it had been entirely too long ago to do anything about it.

  The look in her eyes said something else altogether. It said that love never dies… My heart felt it.

  I peeked my head into the family room and called out to Mira, “I ordered the pizza and wings for delivery. Make sure you're up by nine. Your mom said she is going to take you to dance class.” I dug out money to pay the delivery guy and put it on the mail table.

  The years had been good, and the village had expanded to include Latoya and her entire family. It had taken some spiritual counseling to forgive her, but I’m fine knowing that however it had begun, she was here for her child now. Learning how to share Mira had initially been a struggle. Our parenting styles are different and sometimes, she and her ratchet ass family drive me crazy. Toya is more lenient than I am, I believe she thinks being her friend makes up for the time they were separated. For the most part, with time and patience, we had gotten through the years successfully. The most important thing was that Mira had benefited from it and finally discovered a mother's love.

  “Don't stay up too late,” I told her. “Night. Ladies.”

  Mira ran up to me and grabbed the money from the table and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Night, Dad. Love you.”

  Looking at my watch and seeing the date, I latently remember that today is Lieas' Birthday.

  Twenty-Three

  Alieas

  All of these women are married. I was a bridesmaid in all of their weddings. I was even present for the births of some of their children. I was a shoulder to cry on. While men were frequent but few stuck around, I was always there for these women—they were mine. My friends, my sisters, my mirrors.

  About a half hour ago, Bri, Nesha, Trina, Tiff, and Case surrounded me in a circle of prayer for continued success, blessings for another year of life, and a hope for love. Words can't explain the power of prayer. I can't begin to explain how important it is to have your people praying to whoever they worship, for you and never against you. Their best intentions, hearts full of hope, requesting what's best for you in the purest form of submission to the most high.

  All I want is love, feel it deep down in my soul… love.

  I laugh as they all whine about the latest antics of their children, husbands, and employees. The men are upstairs with all the kids, watching Sports Center recaps while my mom is probably already in the kitchen putting everything away.

  In their presence, I find myself at home. At certain moments, we're all eighteen or nineteen again, sprawled on the floor of my parents’ basement, dreaming of our future. Funny shit, all of them were dreaming about the men they are currently married to. Meanwhile, my ass sitting on the sideline dreaming about the past.

  What the fuck was I doing wrong?

  Being a hoe. Steve said you gotta make they ass wait ninety days.

  Not all of their roads to everlasting love had been easy, but once they reached their destination, they had settled in.

  I suck my teeth. “I love/hate y'all heffas,” I blurt out, pointing my fork at them accusingly. So instead of baking one herself, my mom had ordered a cake. It’s this massively round, three-layer chocolate cake with raspberry filling, covered with cream cheese frosting and chocolate chips all around the sides. She orders them from this baker lady in Jersey that is to die for. For the life of me, I never remember her name, but the cake is always so damn good. I’m going to have to get her number. Maybe I can order me something the next time I come up. I dug my fork into the cake for another taste.

  Bri smiles, laughs and ruffles my hair. “Don't hate, honey. And in any case, why would you?”

  My face says it all, but she continues. “I'm telling you His timing is perfection.”

  Of course, it is, I mentally agree. “Says the happily married with children squad.”

  She kisses my cheek.

  “What if he is still being worked on in preparation of receiving you. Or,” her eyes sparkle and she clears her throat, “if you need work. What you call it? Changing Stiles on ‘em?” Trina offers
.

  I guess I could use her as my example of God’s timing. Less than three years ago, she'd been stressed out and out of sorts, waiting for love to take root and grow. Now, she is married to Dave with two babies. My heart melts as she nurses her infant daughter Niayla. She so darn happy now. Ugh.

  Okay, I have to let go of this self-pity.

  “You are a lot to handle, Lieas,” Tiff chimes in. “And Mr. Right is going to have to come correct.”

  “Yes, child,” Nesha laughs. “Subhanahu Wa Ta'ala is working it for you, baby.”

  “Yes, Jesus is!” Bri adds.

  “I know. I saw Carter at Target right before I got here. How did I ever fuck that up?” I confess.

  “Aah-he,” one of them coughs.

  “How did that go?” Tiff inquires.

  I shrug. “He still the fuck mad. Still sexy as all hell. He was there with his girlfriend…”

  I then explain to them how it all went down.

  “Damn.”

  “We invited him to our anniversary party.” Bri confessed. “He still kick it with the guys sometimes. Maybe...”

  Shaking, my head, I decline. There's no point. He's with someone. I'm not trying to involve myself in any mess. I’m too old for that shit. And I won’t find my Mr. Right poaching someone else's. “I doubt if he comes. He ain't come to Case's or Trina's weddings.”

  “He also hasn't seen you in over ten years. You look great, boo,” Trina reminds me.

  I looked fucking fabulous the last time he saw me. Since then, I gained about fifteen pounds but the way I’m toned, no one would know. Not that it would matter; he used to love thick women.

  Bri disagrees. “He can't be that mad after all these years because he did ask Ty about you a while back. I remember him saying something about him having a girl and it being complicated, though,” she adds.

  I sat up, mind at full attention. “He asked about me and you ain’t tell me?”

  I can hear their laughter, but I curb my tongue as my mom calls, me making her way down the back steps.

  “Yes?”

  “Come up here, please?”

  We haven't had any real moments alone since I arrived. It’ll be just my luck that she wants to grill me on why Jermaine isn't with me. Reluctantly, I go up to meet her, and she resumes washing the dishes. I shake my head and almost laugh at her because she has on a full apron that reads, “Smile, I'm the best at what I do.”

  “How was the drive up?” she inquires.

  “It was cool. Traffic wasn’t that bad,” I shrug, leaning up against the counter. “Cute apron,” I tease.

  As expected, she turns her nose up. “Mitchell bought it for me.” Her new husband is wonderful to her. “ And I thought you were bringing company,” she eased in slyly.

  I huffed out, “It’s late, Mom,” as I jump on the counter.

  She rolls her eyes and turns to face me, “Girl, I'm not worried about your warnings and get your ass off my counter.”

  I laugh but I do as she commands. “I love you, Mom. I truly missed you.” Wrapping my arms around her and holding on, I breathe her in. She smells like peaches and cinnamon.

  “Well, of course. I miss you too, baby,” she coos.

  My heart swells. I can't say I've ever grown accustomed to not seeing her regularly. As much as she nags all my nerves, I love her with everything in me.

  The sharp brown eyes that, in my youth, scared me straight was replaced by a softer side that soothed my hurts.

  “You have that look. What’s wrong?”

  “I need for you to call your father.”

  The request is unexpected even though she is an advocate for our relationship and has begun a forgiveness campaign in his honor.

  I clear my throat. “Why?”

  “Because it’s time to. Past time to,” she amends.

  I let go of the breath I'm holding. “Not from where I'm sitting,” I stubbornly reply.

  “Still perched atop your pedestal, huh?” She pulls out a chair from the table. “Sit with me.”

  As she sits, I observe her and prepare myself for what feels like the end of the year heart-to-heart. Quietly, I sit beside her.

  “Baby, you've allowed what happened between your father and me to turn you off from love,” she begins.

  This assessment couldn’t be farther from the truth so naturally. I object, “I didn't.”

  She shakes her head, dismissing the notion before I can even speak it. “But you did. Look at you. You're so beautiful yet you're running from love.”

  Running from love? Neeegative. That shit is running from me, but I don't interrupt what she's saying to correct her.

  “You’re carrying around the weight of our mistake on your shoulders—”

  “Ma, please,” I interrupt.

  She’s still shaking her head. “Your father, he was far from perfect. But he was so handsome and strong. I felt so lucky that he chose me, especially after having been with Layla.”

  “Mom, you really don't have to—”

  But I could feel that she needed to say what has been in her heart for a while. This issue was serious in her eyes and at the mention of my aunt, I understand that she has some things to get off her chest.

  “I do. I do, sweetie. I had made up this beautiful façade of what our relationship was. How could anyone think different? I had loved him like a young girl with a crush when he dated Layla. It was only for a moment, but he loooooved her. He couldn't make her leave the streets alone, so he lost her. And then he loved me. And we were happy. So happy until we weren't. I’m not sure of the “when” or the “who’s”, but there had been many women over our twenty-something years of marriage. There was a part of him, deep down inside that I couldn't reach. He cut it off and reserved it only for her. He'd even slept with her while we were married. Don’t know exactly when. It came out later. She was so out of her mind, off her meds, on them drugs, and a piece of him always loved her. He thought that his love could save her. And blamed himself when he couldn't. I knew all of this, and I stayed anyway.”

  Tears were pouring from her eyes now. She wiped at them with the strap of her apron. She leaned back and crossed her long legs. If she still smoked, I could imagine her taking a long drag of her cigarette before continuing her testimony. “And we were happy for many years. But all the unspoken issues between us festered and spread. I tried to hold us together. When you were gone away to school, it was easier for him to cheat. We did the counseling thing, and it worked briefly. But I was tired of not being enough. Of not being able to fill the hole that a dead woman had left in him.”

  It sounded so sad that she'd even been trying. But who wouldn't try, for love?

  “How could you marry him knowing he still loved Aunt Layla?” It is a question I’d never allowed myself to ask. It goes against every girl code I'd ever established with any of my squad. I can’t even remember my aunt. I was four when she died. She was so beautiful and full of life until the schizophrenia and drugs gotten the best of her. Tyree missed her but couldn‘t really remember her either.

  She stretched long limbs. “I was so young. Barely eighteen. I loved him and he slept with me. Started a relationship with me, but he didn't love me. He married me because I was pregnant, and it was the right thing to do. He ended up loving me.” She laughed a pitiful chuckle.

  I'd never heard this side of things. My gram had let pieces out over the years but never told the entire tale. It’s crazy, the secrets that are kept amongst family members.

  “We all make mistakes, Lieas. Mine was allowing you to think that our relationship was perfect. That we were perfect. Having you think that you had to live up to that and have it all fall apart. I'm so sorry, baby.”

  “How did you forgive him?”

  “I let go. I took responsibility for my part in all of it, and I let it go.” The words were almost a whisper. The shrug made the statement seem indifferent, but the streaming tears made it sincere.

  Instantly, I'm disagreeing with eve
rything she’s just revealed. “You can’t be blaming yourself for him! Excusing his behavior!”

  “No. I’m saying I knew about the many affairs. Turned a blind eye to the indiscretions. Kept secrets. But after so many indiscretions, you're no longer the victim of, ‘How could he do this to you?. People start to look at you like, ‘Why do you allow this?’ That’s the look you were giving me when you found out. And I knew I deserved better but only if I was willing to take a step towards getting it.”

  I guess I’ve never looked at it that way.

  “I felt insane, willing to do the exact same thing for the umpteenth time, actually expecting a different result.”

  I laugh. It was a personalized definition of insanity.

  “In any case, that was between us, your father and me. I wouldn’t have wanted him to lose you and Gray over our problems, and that is exactly what happened. He's tried to make amends, but you're so stubborn.”

  “He lied to us, Ma.” I have no place for it in my life. Lies had cost me everything.

  She shrugged again. “Don't we all? A little white lie here, a bigger omission there?”

  It made sense. In some cases, lies were essential. But our tolerance for them is always based on who's doing the lying and who's on the receiving end.

  “Heal what you have with your father. It may heal your own heart a lil' bit. I think it's holding up my grandbabies and your happiness.”

  She takes my face between her hands, makes me stare her in the eyes. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Alieas.”

  Wasn't I secretly begging for the very same thing from Carter?

  I shrug and she kisses me on the nose then goes back to washing the dishes.

  Twenty-Four

  Saturday

  Alieas

  Thoughts of my conversation with my mom and her words lingered well into my book event. It stayed in the back of mind, lingering and nagging at my conscience. I figured I would call my dad once I wrapped this up and was back at my hotel room. We could meet up for lunch or breakfast before I drive back to D.C. tomorrow. I miss my family, so I may even stay an extra day.