Page 49 of Fumble Into the End Zone
It doesn’t matter, Stacie.
Stacie
Let him pin your feet behind your head.
Too late.
“Mia,” my mother said.
I snapped out of the image of Marcus handling me in the bed, flipping me over as if I was a pancake on a breakfast griddle.
“Yes, mom.”
“Did you hear me?” she said.
“Yes, you said a Robinson woman is not a woman to be held in a box,” I replied as I secured the electric cork opener over my bottle.
“Exactly, well I need to get dressed before your daddy gets upstairs. The USPN ratings were high today.”
I peered down at the phone and twisted my lips at the horror she implied.
“Bye, Mom. Love you more than designer bags and a fur coat,” I said.
“Love you more,” she said and hung up the phone.
I stuffed my phone in my back pocket to carry my glass and wine bottle. Passing the black-and-white photos of black women with red lipstick hanging on the wall, my phone vibrated. There was one person I wanted to talk to and the thought alone scared me. The pull and softness my heart developed for him had me in the danger zone. But I couldn’t go back down this road again. I need insurance this time around.
I sat my wine glass and bottle on the nightstand. Removing my phone, Marcus’s name appeared on the screen.
Marcus
Harley wants to talk to you.
Opening my phone, I called him on video. A little girl with a missing tooth answered.
“Ms. Mia, I heard you on the podcast today,” she said with wide eyes and a hair bonnet.
“How did I do?” I asked, and she covered her smile with her hand.
“I say you did good. Is this your job?” she asked.
“Yes and thank you for the card. It’s hanging on my fridge. I want everyone to see it when they come over.”
“I can make you more,” Harley said.
I sat on the side of the bed and smiled at the beautiful little girl beaming back at me. She could be Marcus’s twin with her features and skin tone.
“I would love it if you would, Harley,” I said, and she giggled with excitement.
“All right, let’s wish Mia good night and say our prayers,” Marcus said.
She frowned before passing the phone to him and we stared at each other.
“You hold, Mia Robinson,” he said and then sat the phone down, making the screen go black.
“Dear God, we want to thank you for our blessings, help Daddy to win the game, bless Ms. Mia, heal Granny’s knee and keep the devil at bay. Amen,” a small voice said.
I pulled in both lips as my emotions lingered in both softness and amusement. On the one hand, she prayed for me and in the same breath, prayed for her granny’s knee.
