“It does, but what about all the things we said? We still haven’t dealt with how this all started,” I say.
“Then you get to work. I know Bentley. He’s a good man. Did you know he calls me every Sunday to check in?”
“On game day?” I ask with my brows furrowed.
“Yes, no matter what’s going on, he makes that call. Has since your father died. He has a good heart, Zahirah. He just gets twisted and tangled up when it comes to you.
“We all say things when we’re passionate about something. The more passionate we are, the stronger our words can seem. Let me ask you something,” Mom says.
“Okay.”
“Did he say anything worth keeping his son away from him?”
“No.”
“Did his words really hurt you enough to close the door on a love you were once willing to do anything for?”
“No.”
“Did Bentley Coswell truly shatter all the trust you had in him?”
“No, but Mom?—”
“Zah, he hurt your feelings. However, that’s not enough to keep that adorable, brilliant little boy away from his father. What you’ve been doing to Fran has me so furious with you, but I understand. I get it now.
“I can tell you one thing. We’re all going to stop playing these little games today. Aaron will meet his father. You’re going to tell Fran to her face that baby is her grandson by blood and not just in her heart.
“He’s going to be one next month and I’m tired of this. I’m tired of seeing my baby hurt. It’s so nice of you to care about Mrs. Christen, but them folks ain’t my people.
“Fran, that’s my friend. Bentley is like a son. You can’t keep hurting people who love you for folks trying to manipulate you. I promise you, Gilbert is up to no good. I’m not entirely convinced his grandmother doesn’t know it either,” she says and rolls her eyes.
“Really? You think she knows?”
“Girl, please. Now hand me my clothes and go get Denzel to give you my discharge papers. I left Aaron with Tara. The boy will be full of sugar and swearing like a sailor if we don’t hurry up.”
“Oh my God. Tara, Mom, really?”
“Well, my options were limited since his father doesn’t know about him.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll get your paperwork.”
Bentley
I’m sittingin the waiting room with Erica. My knee bouncing as I send up a prayer that Mrs. Nickels is okay. I think of her words on our last Sunday call and smile.
“Bentley Coswell, it’s time to stop running. You are always welcome to come home. Maybe it’s time that’s exactly what you do. You never know what could be waiting here for you,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. You might be right.”
“Then what’s stopping you, honey?”
“Daddy told me while I was in college that I could always come home. You know, home would always be my place to reset. He’s not there anymore.
“I don’t know if his words still apply and I’m terrified of finding out they don’t. Coming home is my final play. At least that feels like what it is, ma’am,” I replied.
“Then do what you do best, baby. If this is the final play, you go for the touchdown, Bent. We’re here to cheer you on. I promise. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I do.”
