Back home

Later that morning Quisha was tired from worrying and trying to fall back to sleep. She called Heavenlee for advice.

“Girl, I hope you cussed his ass out,” Heavenlee said after Quisha told her what happened.

“I blanked out, but I’m sure I cussed him out. It’s a good thing he wasn’t in front of me. I would have slapped the hell out of him. What do you think I should do?” Quisha said.

“I might not be the best person to ask. My relationships never work out. If it were me, I would leave his ass. All of this happened so fast for you. People say you don’t know the real person until you have to live with them.”

“I think, I’m going to go back down south for a while,” Quisha said.

“You think so?” Heavenlee asked.

Quisha thought a moment. “I need to cool down. I promised my mother I would come visit. I just didn’t know it would be because I was mad at my husband.”

“Well, you guys are technically in the honeymoon stage, so this was bound to happen eventually,” Heavenlee said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Quisha said.

“I wish you the best,” Heavenlee said before they ended the call.

The marriage wasn’t supposed to happen and the pregnancy certainly wasn’t. If he wants his freedom, I will give it to him, Quisha thought.

She thought and then looked at the clock and decided she had enough time to run to her favorite upscale mall and use the credit card that Chad had set up for her and purchase expensive gifts for her mother and siblings—plus buy some clothes for herself.

She hoped that he wouldn’t be home when she got back an hour later. He wasn’t. She called Bridget.

“Hey, Bridget, do you mind if I leave my car at your house? Will it be safe there?”

Bridget was offended.

“Stop acting so bougie. You’re not so far removed from this neighborhood, so get off your damn high horse,” Bridget countered.

“I’m joking, Bridget. I didn’t mean it. I need to leave my car at your place. I’m going to visit Mama and I’m leaving Chad.”

“I thought you guys decided to make the sham real,” Bridget reminded her.

“Girl, so did I,” Quisha said and added, “the timing is off, but, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, no—yeah, now is not the time for that. What did he do for you to want to leave?” Quisha was about to answer when a call came in. It was Chad.

“It’s Chad, but I’m not switching over,” she said.

“Good,” Bridget said. “Go on and bring your car over here and I’ll take you to the airport.”

Quisha scribbled out a quick note to Chad and left it on the kitchen counter. She called her mother to tell her she would be coming later that day as she went to her car.

As Quisha drove off in the opposite direction, Chad was pulling up at home, missing her by mere seconds. He called her cell phone when he didn’t see her car in the driveway. No answer. As he walked into the empty house, his phone rang.

“Chad,” It was Jason. “We apprehended the suspect, Thaddeus White.”

“That’s great. How did you do it?” Chad asked somewhat absently, his mind was still on Quisha.

“Thankfully for us, he had run a red light and so we were able to take him in on a prior drug charge. Once we got him in the hot seat, it was pretty easy to coerce a confession out of him…”

“Chad, are you there?” Jason asked when Chad became quiet.

“Yes, yes. I just have a lot on my mind. Go on…” he said.

“Ok,” Jason said. “Well, we told him one of his friends came to us and confessed to his role in the Franklin Heights robberies and implicated Thaddeus in the process. Works every time,” the officer chuckled.

“Besides, we’ve had him under surveillance for a while—so we already knew the deal. He was responsible for a lot of the thefts in your area. We set the ball in motion and he filled in the blanks.”

“Cool.” Chad said. “Thanks for getting this under control, Man.” Was the last thing Chad said before hanging up. He called Quisha again to no avail.

* * *

On the way to the airport

“So much has happened since that day I first picked you up from the airport. And now here we are,” Bridget said looking at her stylishly-dressed cousin. It was a far cry from the cheap store they both loved to shop at.

“I know,” Quisha said, a little depressed. “Not the life I mapped out.”

“Is it ever?” Bridget said.

They pulled up in front of the airport.

“I’m going to miss you, Cousin,” Bridget said and embraced her. “I’ll be here for you when you come back.”

“Thank you,” Quisha said.

Six hours later, Quisha’s luggage and purchases were piled high in a cab and they were heading down the familiar roads she thought she would never miss.

Images of bygone times flooded her memory—running to the corner store with her friends for candy; the first boy she ever kissed.

She sighed and placed a hand subconsciously over the life that was growing within her. Her mother had moved a year earlier, but the neighborhood was still the same.

Quisha had grown accustomed to fine living and the area she was heading to was run down and depressing. The cab finally stopped at her mother’s new address.

One expensive five-inch heel stepped out of the cab, eliciting a ripple effect from nosy neighbors peering out their windows at the pretty woman getting out of the cab with a lot of luggage and packages.

A call to her mother from one of those neighbors brought her mother, brother and sisters outside. Quisha paid the cabby and embraced her mother, who looked at her daughter in awe for the first time in her life.

“Baby, is that you?” her mother asked and looked her up and down.

Quisha laughed. “Of course Mama.” Her brother and sisters excitedly hugged her and went straight for the packages that they assumed were for them.

“We better get this stuff inside; people are starting to gather,” her mother said cautiously knowing the neighborhood in which she lived. They lugged her things into the house where a man that she didn’t know stood up.

“You must be Quisha,” he said and extended a hand. It was her mother’s new man, Tony. She shook his hand and sat on the couch. Her mother couldn’t stop staring at her.

“What?” Quisha asked self-conscious.

“You just look so beautiful,” her mother said.

Upon hearing of her return, cousins and friends flooded the Jackson household. Her mother had already started cooking with the anticipation of the added guests. Fried chicken, greens, cornbread, sweet potatoes—all of the food Quisha missed from her mother.

* * *

In Michigan

Chad walked into his house and it was more quiet than usual even though his head was still pounding from the night before.

He put his hand to his head and recalled the last conversation with Quisha. He was trying to be funny but it came out the wrong way and now he couldn’t reach her—her words pregnant with your child echoed in his mind. Am I ready to be a father? He thought to himself.

His reckless, devil-may-care days were over. He ran from the idea of marriage, went as far as deceiving his mother and ended up falling hopelessly in love with Quisha and his soon-to-be child. As he was lost in thought his phone rang.

“Chad—” his sister said and was interrupted.”

“Gretchen, I don’t have time to talk—”

“Mom is gone,” she said.

“What?” he heard himself say. He was caught up in his own world; hearing that his mother had passed, he slumped into the nearest chair and took a deep sigh.

“Ok,” he said. “I’ll be over shortly.” He finished and hung up with his sister and tried to call Quisha again to tell her the news. Still no answer—he looked at his watch and went into the kitchen aimlessly.

He went for a drink to drown out the voices in his head and leaned against the counter. He needed Quisha now more than ever and she couldn’t be reached, but he only had himself to blame.

While Chad wallowed in self-pity, Gretchen hung up from him and got on the phone with Bryan.

“Do you think we should call Donte?” she asked.

Bryan gave an audible exasperated sigh.

“If we don’t, Chad will and he will be pissed with us if we don’t. Now is not the time to deal with pettiness,” he said.

“That’s rather ironic coming from you,” his sister said. Bryan ignored the dig and said. “We have to bury Mom—that is our priority.”

Gretchen nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I will tell Chad to call Donte. He bonded with him. They are the most like Mom anyway…” Bryan trailed off. He was still thinking about how their mother kept such a secret from them.