She was standing at a softly rumbling dryer, folding “mountain fresh” scented towels, when she heard the door opening behind her.
“Hello, Miss Glory.”
She continued folding, pretending not to hear.
“I said, hello, Miss Glory.”
She would not give that devil’s son the satisfaction of responding.
The door closed, and she hoped he’d gone, but then he was behind her… his arms around her waist… his lips touching her shoulder. “Remember the first time you let me kiss you? You said you’d be my wife.”
Glory shrugged off the kiss and tried to ignore him—tried not to notice his scent or relax in his arms. She tried not to respond to his voice… tried not to care.
His lips touched the back of her neck. “Remember the second time you let me kiss you? You said you’d be my girl.”
Glory deliberately brushed his kiss from her neck and moved to the washing machine, careful to keep her back to him.
“Oh… so it’s like that now, huh? No problem. I’ll just sit down and watch you work. I’ve got all night. And you know, I always did appreciate you from behind, too.”
Glory growled under her breath, taking her annoyance out on the wet towels she pulled from the washer. She heard him sigh loudly as he settled down on the old couch. She whispered a prayer for patience and strength.
“Know what?” he asked. “I feel like singing.”
Glory continued her work and tried to ignore him as he flubbed his way through “Ribbon in the Sky” and “Isn’t She Lovely,” but when he started singing “Brick House,” she threw down the towel she was folding and gripped the edge of the table.
“Josiah Jackson, you leave me alone. Right now!”
“Oh… so you’re talking to me now, huh? I win big. I get to hear your pretty voice and look at your fine a—”
“No!” Glory turned to face him, arms folded, seething, channeling every bit of hurt and anger into a glare that she wished would burn him to cinders. “No. I’m not talking to you. I’m asking the devil to leave me alone! I’m asking Satan himself to leave me alone and never speak to me again.”
“Well,” he said, standing and moving toward her. “Your prayer is gonna be answered. I’m leaving for the navy tomorrow.”
He smiled. He actually smiled. That no-good lying two-timing devil smiled his smug smile—that I’m the finest boy in the world, and I know you agree smile. That I win smile.
Glory hated that smile. And she loved that smile. And all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling out.
“How could you do that to me, JT?” she whispered. “How?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Glory.” He tried to take her hand, but she pushed him away. “I’m leaving in the morning and I need to make things right with you. Please, just listen to me. You don’t hafta talk to me. You don’t hafta forgive me. Just listen. Then if you still hate me, I swear I’ll never bother you again.”
Glory opened her eyes. The smug smile was gone—no mocking, no joking, only the slightest hint of a plea in his voice and in his eyes—the force of will that always made her trust him… or used to make her trust him.
Glory sat away from him on the couch, arms still folded, not looking at him. She listened to his tale of a weekend with his cousins and wine and reefa and the twenty-two-year-old next door and his not really remembering it until his aunt called his mother about a baby that looked like him. She tried to stay angry and to push him away when he knelt in front of her, begging forgiveness. She tried not to see the tears in his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Glory asked. “Why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did I hafta hear it whispered in church… from those stupid gossips who think you’re the devil?”
“I was scared. I didn’t want to hurt you. I knew you’d be mad, and I couldn’t fix it. I didn’t have a do-over for this.” He dropped his head and laughed a little. “I was outta Barbie shoes.” JT laid his head on her lap, and despite herself, Glory began stroking his hair.
“Why haven’t you been back to church? It’s been months. Your mother brings the baby with her. Why don’t you come? Are you ashamed?”
“No,” JT said, a bit of anger in his voice. “I just don’t believe in their God no more. I made mistakes—I always make mistakes, but my God forgives me. That church don’t. You said it yourself: they think I’m the devil. They want me to stand up there and apologize for having a son. Not happening. The only people I need to apologize to are my mama, you, and maybe my son. Everything else is between me and God.”
“I hate when you talk like that. How can you question God, Josiah?” Glory stood up, pushing him away.
“I’m not questioning God. I think I’m actually understanding God.” He followed her to a dryer, helping move the warm towels to the folding table. “Think about it. God made this big, beautiful world, and that church tells you that loving the life God gave you, or anything God made, is evil. I think that’s dissin’ everything God does right now—”
“What’s her name?” She would pray for him, but she couldn’t stand there and listen to him blaspheme. “The mother. What’s her name?”
“Um… it’s Michelle.” His voice wavered slightly when he spoke the name of his baby’s mother. He was all confident, challenging God, but not when he talked about his own sin. Good. He should be ashamed of himself.
“You could marry her. Give your son a proper fam—”
“Girl, are you crazy? God, no! She already got three kids. She don’t want no part of this baby, and… well… just no.” Before Glory could pick up another towel, JT pulled her into his arms, mischief shining in his eyes. “And besides… I’m already married, remember, Mrs. Glory?”
“Well, actually,” Glory said to that self-satisfied smiling face she loved and hated, “my daddy said that since you didn’t ask him first, and you didn’t have a job, we’re not really married.”
“But you let me kiss you, so we are.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. She didn’t pull away.
“But you tricked me, and we were five. So, we’re not.”
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