“Pax, you have a visitor,”Kameron stepped down into the den I’d been sitting in drawing all morning.
“Who is it?” I grumbled not at all in the mood to talk to anyone and I hoped it wasn’t my mother.
After our talk she stopped coming by Kameron’s house. My dad called and apologized for what his wife had said but it wasn’t his apology to make. My mother was standing in her truth and so was I. I meant every word I said. Maybe time would heal the space we were in but right now I was good on her for a while.
Hands hovering over my sketch and eyes bunched, I listened to my heartbeat thumping in my ears before it started ringing. Only one person’s charging energy had the power to affect me so. Quincey’s charging aura filled the room with his sovereignty. “Well, well well. If it isn’t the pigeon-toed superhero.” He grunted stepping around Kameron who walked out chuckling.
My head dropped to the middle of my chest as my shoulders shook from laughing. “Kam, I thought I told you to stop letting in stray animals. Look at this patch-headed leprechaun.” Standing, I stood in front of my brother mirroring his grim mug. We tried to remain serious for three seconds too long. “Big Bubba, it’s good to see you, man.” He and I hugged. I missed my brother. Missed him a lot.
We’ve always been close. Probably closer than the others. Kinda neck and neck with Quest. He served as the best man at my wedding and would’ve been my children's godfather had Heather and I had children.
Unprecedented and spiritually gifted, Quincey’s guidance kept me out of trouble while growing up. He never sugar-coated or acted better than anyone. He just kept it real and dared anyone to challenge him intellectually. In terms of our appearance, he and I were night and day. Growing up I was the lanky nerdy brother who kept to himself while Qu earned his nickname, Big Bubba, fair and square due to his size. This nigga came out of the womb solid and beefy. All of the men in our family stood tall with the shortest person being six foot. Add on two hundred and some odd pounds plus three more inches in height and you had Quincey Reid.
When Heather passed he was the first person I called after the realization of what happened became clear. Growing up with this man all my life I should've known the direction his sympathy came from…spiritual. I didn’t want that type of comfort, so I cut all communication. Well tried to. He’d still come over to my house and sit with me when I was drunk. Clean up and stock my fridge with groceries. When I’d yell and tell him to leave, he’d calmly say ‘fuck yo feelings’ and turn on the tv to watch sports center. He sat out a whole year from teaching to be by my side.
“What brought you to town?”
He sat across from me stretching out. “A business associate of mine had some business to take care of in the area. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. How have you been, Pax?” As much as I missed my brother, I knew based on the set of his eyes that this visit, this conversation, was long overdue and he was about to hit me deep. “I should feel offended that you’re weary of me being here, but I don’t.” I swore this man had a secret gift of reading minds or some shit. Looking into your eyes he could read your thoughts and I hated it.
Him and Quest were the only two spiritually gifted out of my parent’s kids. According to my grandfather, at least one male from each household had the gift. My dad damn sure didn’t have it. It skipped him and went straight to Quest and Quincey.
I changed the subject before it took a dive I wasn’t ready for. “How’s the job going? Still enjoy teaching those bad ass kids?”
He smiled with pride. Kids have always been his soft spot. Since he was a young kid he’d volunteered at shelters and centers for the youth. “Teaching with a seat on the school board.”
“Congrats man.”
“Thanks.”
“How long are you in town?”
“I’m leaving in a few hours.” Not surprising. Quincey came into town for whatever brought him here and left shortly after. “Meeting a friend for lunch and then dipping out.” His eyes shifted from me to the notepads of paper I had scattered all over the couch. Picking up one of the drawings I recently done his smile stretched. I hadn’t shown anyone what I’d been up to lately.
There was this offer presented to Monarch to demolish several blocks of downtown Charlotte. Rebuilding it with more modern and contemporary buildings, restaurants, shopping centers, and nightlife. Before I opened my mouth and asked to be a part of the development team, I wanted to sketch down my drawings of the idea that came to me in a dream of what each building and structure would look like. Prove that I was dedicated and ready to step back into the position that I’ve been passionate about since a child.
Within the last month my passion for everything I thought died along with my wife had been reborn.
“Did reconnecting with Jacolby relight a fire within you to create again?” Placing the notepad down he moved on to the next one while I sat there stuck.
Running my tongue over my teeth, I drifted back to when I bought my first notepad. The truth was right in my face, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to admit it. It was heavy. Dangerous. Jacolby indeed had sparked the fire for me to create again. Seeing her again, this longing in my soul awakened me to feel purposeful.
“Yes,” I mumbled slouching down.
That girl had a strong hold on me.
His knowing smile made me feel lighter. Of course he knew. God probably whispered all business to him.
Closing my eyes, I focused on what had ignited my passion. I focused on her. “I started praying again. Nothing big. Nothing major. A thank you here and there. After seeing her again I started to question everything in life. Wondering why God had looped her into my path. This urge to love her deeper than before became so strong that I often found myself almost dropping to my knees because our chemistry and connection is that strong.” Hmm. Surrender. “I prayed openly for God to give me clear clarity on if she was meant for me to love again and then I’m buying notepads and apologizing to her for the hurt I caused.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that I want Jacolby. I’ve mourned the loss of Heather. In that area, I’m healed but I know my heart is troubled about acceptance of everything else. I blame myself for the pain I caused Jacolby. I blame myself for becoming a drunk and almost losing everything I worked hard for. I blamed myself for a lot of things. I just needed to know how to release it all to fully move on.
“I’m going to drop some wisdom nuggets in your ear.” He sat back, eyes already seeing past my imperfections. “Jacolby and Heather came into your life for two different reasons. Jacolby came to open your heart to expand the purpose God has for you. She’s Ms. Numbers. Remember your freshman year when you got a C on your first math test and you wanted to switch majors. That quick you wanted to give up, but you met this vibrant soul whose patience and caring heart wouldn’t let you give up so easily. She became your tutor. Helped teach you everything you needed to not fail the next test. She continued to be your source of learning every year following, even after graduation she was still your source.”
Sitting up and resting my arms on my knees, I felt trapped. Like this force was squeezing my body tight. All I could do was take deep breaths and close my eyes so the room would stop spinning.
“Jacolby had become your helpmeet and you didn’t even know it. Helping you made her happy and you wanted to do everything to keep her happy. To make her see you and she did. Y’all’s love was consuming because that’s the way it’s supposed to be. No matter how much she helped you find the confidence and footing to walk in your purpose, she had the same tenacity to walk in hers. Nothing lacked. Your love birthed something that neither of you imagined. It birthed purpose – passion births purpose. Loving each other in the capacity that you did – in rawness and truth –awakened that passion that aligned with your purpose. However, it was just for a season.”
It felt like I was having a heart attack. My chest hurt so bad that I squeezed it falling back on the couch. The reality of his words hurt like hell.