Under the Peach Tree (14 page)

I turned around, burning holes in his eyes. “I opened up to you about everything! Things I ain't even told Momma May when she was conscious. But I told you! And what do you do? You comfort me the whole evening, making me feel special, and then in the morning, you take off running. I thought I did something wrong! I ignored the hurt I felt for three days!”

“Hope, it wasn't you.”

“Oh, I know now because I had to hear it from Momma May!” I continued shaking up the can of soda with fury. “She told me about your mom passing away. Well, why ain't you tell me yourself?”

“Because—”

“Wrong answer! Let me show you how I feel about you right now.” I faced the can of soda toward him and opened it. The drink sprayed all over his clothes, soaking him. He gasped, taking a step back.

I watched him, soaked and shocked. He didn't know what to do with himself and I couldn't hold the anger any longer. Seeing him standing there looking crazy, my anger quickly turned into laughter. I fell on the floor, laughing so hard my stomach knotted. Dante ended up following suit and collapsed beside me, laughing just as hard. Our laughter didn't subside for minutes.

“I'm sorry, Dante. I was so mad,” I said, pulling myself up to sit against the refrigerator.

“I should be angry right about now,” he said, licking soda off of his fingertips. “If I'm gonna be sticky, you will be too.”

Before I could fully register what he meant, he leaped at me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pushing himself against me so that I could get wet. I screamed, trying to pull away, but he had me locked. He was stronger than I thought.

And then he kissed me. His lips were soft against mine, causing butterflies to go crazy inside of my stomach. I thought about running my hands through his hair, pulling him closer and tasting more of him, but the kiss ended all too quickly as he rushed to his feet, backing away. “I'm sorry,” he said, blushing wildly. I stood up, walking up to him, shaking my head. “I'm so—”

And then my mouth was on his, tasting the soda on his lips, pulling him as close as he could get, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

“What's all the hollerin' for?”

Dante and I froze in our passionate kiss. Our eyes darted to Momma May, who stood just outside of the kitchen. I slowly pulled away from Dante, straightening my shirt. Momma May took a step in the kitchen, inches away from stepping in the soda.

“No!” I shouted. “Don't come into the kitchen! Dante spilled soda!”

“Me?” Dante whispered, amused that I'd throw him under the bus.

“I mean, I spilled it . . . on him. It's everywhere, like a murder scene.”

“Okay, clean it up,” Momma May said, walking away. “And stop kissing in my kitchen. I could hear you two smooching from the front porch!”

I turned to Dante, whose cheeks were rose red from the kiss. He opened the back door and stepped onto the back porch. He leaned against the railing, trying to get some air. I followed him outside, watching as he bent over the railing as if in pain.

“Lord, please forgive me,” he said.

I folded my arms, slightly offended for the apology to God and headed back inside. Why did he feel the need to apologize? It was a kiss! A simple, almost meaningless, caught-in-the-moment kiss! What was the big deal? It felt like a heap of cold, bitter rejection. I sighed and stormed back into the house.

Why did I care? It wasn't like I liked Dante in that way. If anything, I thought him to be weird and a little annoying. But to like him? No. I didn't. Not in that way. So then why was I trying to convince myself that I didn't?

I walked onto the front porch, took a seat next to Momma May, and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of nature all around me. Something about it soothed me, made me feel whole. But not today. I still had a case of anxiety. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, but nothing. I was still thinking about Dante. The kiss. How I really felt about it.

“Why you over there breathing all hard?” Momma May asked. “Probably because of all the kissing in my kitchen!”

“I'm sorry, Momma May.”

“Don't apologize.” She smiled. “Love doesn't need an apology.”

I sat up in my chair. “Love?” I laughed. “No, I don't love Dante. It was a mistake, a moment of . . .” I sighed. “It's weird talking to you about it.”

“If you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?” She was right. “How is your walk with Jesus coming along?”

Well, I hadn't really been walking with the Lord. That day after I felt His presence, I hadn't really given much thought to it again. I didn't know what to do. I was still my same self. “Not good,” I admitted.

“And why is that, baby?”

I sighed. “I don't know. I just ain't thought about it. I got too many things going on in my mind.”

“Do you want to be closer to God?”

“I guess.”

“Do you want to know Jesus personally?”

“Yes.”

“Jeremiah 4:3: ‘For thus saith the Lord to the men of Judah and Jerusalem, Break up your fallow ground, and sow not among thorns.' Do you know what that means? Well, it could mean different things to different people at different times. But in this case, the fallowed ground is your past hurt. How can we have a close relationship with God if our lives are being controlled by past pain and regret? How can we experience Him if we stay distant? First, you need to break up all of the negative and hurtful things keeping you from God. The root is damaged. Nothing can be fruitful if the root is dead. So you have to fix the underlying cause of what's keeping you away from God. Also, He says, ‘sow not among thorns.'

“Picture planting a garden around thorns. Once the flowers start to bloom, they get bruised by the nearby thorns and die. So once you dig up all of the pain and hurt that's keeping you from God, you have to move out of that place of thorns and into a clear, protected place. Do you understand?”

I thought about what she said. “Not really.”

“God wants you to fix the root of the problem and then move into a better position so that you can be fruitful and have a relationship with Him. You believe in Jesus now, you've repented, but you haven't changed. You can't change, either, not until you break up your fallow ground and sow not among thorns. Get rid of those negative thoughts, worldly pleasures, forgive those who hurt you, stay away from the things that tempt you to backslide, and begin building your relationship with God on better grounds.”

“And what if I can't?”

“You are already on better grounds,” she told me. “What you need to do now is pray.”

I was instantly frustrated. “Everyone says pray, but I don't understand why we have to pray. What good is it when nothing ever changes?”

“I've told you this before. Prayers never go unanswered. God knows what we need before we even begin praying. He's already made up His mind on how to answer. Tell me one thing you've prayed about that wasn't answered.”

“A pretty dress. Faith always used to get dresses, but I got nothing.”

“God could've been telling you not to pray for the dress, but pray for love. If your mother would've loved you, she would've automatically gotten you dresses. Sometimes we ask the wrong things in prayers, which can cause them to seem unanswered, but your prayers weren't. God's answer was simply ‘no' or ‘wait.' Hope, take time every morning when you wake up and pray to God. Pray for you to be able to break up the fallowed ground, forgive those who hurt you, and to grow closer to Him.”

“And what if I can't forgive?”

She smiled. “Pray for God to give you the strength to do so. Hope, prayer is the cure for everything.”

Just then Dante appeared from the side of the house and stood in the grass below us. He avoided eye contact with me as he spoke with Momma May. “I'm going home now, Pastor May.”

I stood up, fuming. “But you just got here.”

“I know.” He still avoided eye contact.

My anger grew like a wildfire, threatening to destroy everything in my path. I stomped down the porch steps with my hands on my hips and faced Dante, who seemed uncomfortable to have me so close.

“Oh, what's wrong now, Dante?” My voice took on a sarcastic edge that made him back away. “You was just kissing me a few minutes ago and now you acting brand new. I got cooties now?”

“We disrespected Pastor May's house . . . and Jesus.”

“You're worse than my sister! I'm tired of all you Bible-hugging Jesus freaks! You know what, Dante, you couldn't even have me if you tried. Or probably any woman for that matter! Why? Because you hide behind your Bible and use it as an excuse for why you shouldn't do normal things, like kiss! But deep down, you're just afraid of women. You ain't been around one your whole life. Your momma just gave you off. You probably feel like other women will give up on you too, so you run scared like a little bit—”

“
Enough!
” Momma May's voice broke through the air, silencing me immediately. I turned around, looking at the glorious woman leaning over the porch railing, looking larger than life. I felt small beneath her. “Dante is a fine young man who will make his wife proud one day. Who are you to demean him? Belittle him for his own beliefs that you now share? Not once has that boy said anything bad about you. But you want to get upset over childish things? He's right, y'all shouldn't be kissing in my house! He got enough sense to feel like he disrespected me. But you? Child, you got a long way to go. I thought our conversation helped you some but you just went right back to that bitter, angry, mad-at-the-world attitude! Don't take it out on Dante, take it out with Jesus. Only He can help you.”

I stared dumbfounded at Momma May as my anger dissolved. She was right. I had no reason to get angry because he felt bad about disrespecting Momma May and God. If anyone should've felt bad, it should've been me. I had figured it wasn't a big deal, because Momma May and I had a conversation about it afterward. She didn't sound upset then. Maybe it was because she started preaching to me. Either way, I was wrong. I didn't think about how God would feel. I was so used to keeping Him at a distance, I hadn't taken time to learn the things that He thought were sinful. I turned to Dante to apologize, but he was already pulling off.

When evening came, I busied myself with cooking dinner and cleaning. Anything to keep my mind off of Dante. Momma May had given me a long lecture about my actions. Although very annoying, it was needed. I ended up feeling bad about the things I had said to Dante. I picked up the phone three times, attempting to call him, but my stubbornness won over. I ended up hanging up each time.

The next day, I did what Momma May said. I sat up in my bed, feeling empty and angry, like most mornings. I took in a deep breath and began to pray. “Jesus, Momma May said I should start praying every morning to you, that it's gonna help me get closer to you. She said I got a lot of anger on my heart that I need to let go. I don't know how I'm gonna do that. I hate too many people, been hurt too many times. I think the only way I could forgive them is by pretending it never happened. But that's wrong too, right? Why does it seem like everything I do is wrong? Well, I pray that you'll help me to forgive . . . hopefully soon.”

 

 

Dante's car pulled up next to the curb and he jumped out with a new purpose and a smile on his face. Momma May had just taken a seat on the porch, which was where she spent most of her mornings. I stood right inside of the screen doors with my arms folded, putting up my usual defensive pose, waiting for his rejection.

He skipped up the stairs with a soft smile and said hello to Momma May and then he stood before me. His goofy smile didn't waiver. I felt my own lips twitch as I tried to hold my own smile in.

“So . . .” He shifted awkwardly. “Want to learn how to drive?”

My eyes widened as I looked past him to his car and then to Momma May. “I thought you was mad at me.”

He shrugged. “So I guess you don't want to drive then.” He turned halfway around before I stopped him.

“Fine! I want to.”

Ten minutes later we were at the beginning of a quiet street. The road looked about a mile long and had no major turns or intersections that would scare me. Dante parked the car on the side of the street and switched seats with me. Once I was behind the wheel, I felt invisible, free, like I had control over my life.

Once I learned how to drive, I could use the money Momma May gave me to get a car and then I could begin working part time until I saved up enough money to move out of Momma May's house. Before Dante could say anything, I slammed on the gas, jerking the car forward. Dante flew back in his seat.

I could barely control the wheel, causing the car to sway from side to side. Dante grabbed a hold of the wheel and jerked it left, causing us to miss a trashcan.

“Hit the brakes!” he yelled and I slammed on the brakes, causing him to jerk forward. Once the car was stopped, I heard nothing but his deep breaths. His chest was heaving dramatically. I felt my own adrenaline kick in.

“Oh my God! That was so fun! Let's do it again.”

“No!” The word flew out of his mouth with a rush of breath. I waited for him to compose himself. “Hope, you're crazy. Do you have a death wish? Why did you do that?”

“You said I could drive.”

“Not like that! You don't drive like that. You put your foot on the gas very slowly, and the same with the brakes. And you don't swerve! You try to keep the wheel straight!”

“Well why didn't you tell me that?”

“You didn't give me a chance to!” He sighed. “Just try again . . . and please don't kill me.”

After multiple attempts at driving a straight line, I finally managed to do it decently, although Dante was still on edge until I was once again in the passenger seat. He pulled over on the side of the road, too anxious to drive due to the exciting events of my driving lesson. I took the silence as a way to gain access to his personal thoughts of me.

“Dante, why ain't you mad at me?”

He looked over at me. “Pastor May told me to let it go, that you didn't mean anything. Plus, the Bible teaches us that we should forgive those who wrong us.”

I thought back to what Momma May was telling me about my past. How I should let it go, forgive. But how do you forgive the very thing that keeps you tossing and turning each night? The thing that makes you who you are, that shaped your thoughts? How do you forgive the person who should've loved you the way a mother should? It was a pain that would be carried until death and maybe even after. “Can you teach me how to forgive?”

Dante frowned. “I don't know how to do that. It's something that begins within. Nobody can teach you that. You have to find it inside. But it's somewhere in there.” He pointed at my heart. “Maybe you need to go back to the source that caused you the pain and face it. Sometimes knowing that you're better than the situation helps.” Dante put the car in drive and pulled off. “I need to stop at the store before I take you back home.”

Home.

I once thought I knew the meaning of that word. I thought home was where the family was, where Momma and Faith lived. But I now realized that the place where Momma lived was nothing but a house. I now had a home, one that made me feel loved, one that taught me right from wrong, one that only encouraged me to be better than I was. I felt secure.

Dante pulled up at a small store. We walked inside, joking and teasing each other. Dante went to the food section, looking over different meats and breads. He handed me a few items to put in the basket.

“What's this stuff for?”

He turned to me with a wide smile. “Picnic.”

I felt a surge of jealousy rush through me. Who was he going on a picnic with? He never told me about a girl. The thought made me feel weird. I was only ever jealous of Faith.

“For who?”

Dante laughed at my expression. “For us. Pastor May said we need to get out of the house, get some air. So I decided to do a picnic. Looks fun in the movies.”

“Ain't picnics for white people? Oh, wait.” I started laughing. Dante was the whitest black man I'd ever met. Even more so than John. John was just proper because of his workplace, but Dante grew up in a predominately white boys school. He had no hope of surviving in the hood.

“Funny, let's go,” I said, heading toward the cash register so that Dante could check out.

As Dante drove to the park, I glared out of the window at the passing houses. I wondered what it meant to go on a picnic, if it qualified as a date or if it was simply us just having fun. I wanted to ask him his opinion on the picnic but decided against it. I was sure he didn't intend for me to take it as him wanting to have a date. He did say it was Momma May's idea and that he thought it looked fun in the movies. I was over-thinking things.