Page 25 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“The kids keeping you busy?”

“Life is keeping me busy. The kids are a blessing.”

“Amen,” he says.

I nod, wishing I could find him attractive and please my Mama. She deserves to have some peace. But, despite being a generally nice guy, Marcus is not my type.

“It was nice catching up. I should check on the kids,” I say.

He smiles. “See you next week?”

“Not if life has anything to do with it.” As I walk away, Mama catches up to me, beaming. “See? He’s a nice young man. Stable. Church-going. Exactly the kind of influence you and the children need.”

I rub the center of my chest. “He’s a good man… very focused on his work.”

Mama pats my arm. “That’s a good thing, baby. Reliability. He’s a provider. You need someone like that after everything we’ve been through.”

I nod because disagreeing would only hurt her, but inside my heart twists.

Reliability is what I’m supposed to want. Respectability, too.

But Marcus would never make my skin hum. He’d never pin me down and tell me I’m perfect while I fall apart. He’d never feed me in bed or hold me like I was something precious after wrecking me so beautifully. He’d never light me up from the inside out.

Two cowboys did, and the terrifying part is how badly I already miss them.

I gather Naomi and Elijah, smiling for the church ladies who compliment how sharp we all look, and try to ignore the appreciative glances from a few other men in the congregation, including Marcus, who waves enthusiastically as we leave.

On the way home Mama keeps chatting happily about “new possibilities,” while I stare out the window, with my heart painfully torn.

Church has been a second home for most of my life, and the community has been a rock through our losses, but more recently, the personal prayers I say in the quiet of my own bedroom bring me closer to my faith than church does.

The drive home seems longer than usual. Mama keeps chatting brightly about how nice it is to see the whole family together again and how Pastor Ellis’s sermon really spoke to her. I make the right noises, but my mind is miles away.

Back in that motel room.

Back where Bo and Jensen looked at me like I was the center of their world.

None of the men in that congregation could ever make me feel even a fraction of what those two cowboys did.

Looking around, I understand exactly what Mama sees when she imagines my future. A good Black man in a Sunday suit beside me. Somebody from this world who knows the hymns without opening the book, understands when Mama says she'll pray on something, and won't make anybody look twice when we walk into a room together.

There's comfort in that picture. Comfort in imagining my own wedding picture that resembles my parents joyful day.

There always has been.

The problem is, when I try to put myself inside it now, all I can see are two white cowboys in worn jeans and boots who wouldn't know what to do with Mama's church hat collection but somehow know exactly what to do with me.

There isn't a single man in that building I can imagine liking enough to marry without sacrificing things I need. The realization settles heavily in my stomach. Haven’t I sacrificed enough already?

Before we reach home, I make a quick decision. “Ice cream,” I announce to the kids. “My treat. Let’s celebrate thriving for another week.”

Naomi’s eyes light up. Elijah cheers so loud he nearly busts my eardrums. Even Mama smiles, though she reminds me not to let them have too much sugar.

The little ice cream shop on Main Street is busy with the after-church crowd. I hold Elijah’s hand while Naomi skips ahead, her yellow dress fluttering with her exuberance and the gentle breeze and her braids bouncing. The sun is warm on my skin, and for a moment I let myself enjoy the simple pleasure of an after-church stroll.

Work is for another day.

This is a small opportunity to be free and frivolous.