Terrence claimed he didn’t know Brenda. He called her a crazy stalker and said there was nothing going on between them. But when Brenda posted a sonogram of their alleged unborn child on Instagram, that was the death knell of their marriage.
The media hounded Charisse, articles were printed with all sorts of tacky headlines about whether or not she could satisfy a man like T-Murder, and both she and the other woman’s images sat next to each other while people on social media made hurtful, unfair comparisons between them. One in particular crushed her spirits.I’m not saying he’s right, but I understand, the person posted.
Terrence finally admitted to having sex with Brenda but swore he used protection—as if that made the betrayal okay. Charisse filed for divorce. When the young woman retracted her statement—she wasn’t pregnant after all—and admitted she’d wanted to hurt Terrence the way he hurt her by dismissing their affair as nothing, Charisse plowed on.
Their marriage was broken. She was broken. She simply couldn’t stand to be with him anymore.
In the end, he was generous with support. He bought the house she wanted and gave her everything she asked for and more, claiming he did so because taking care of their kids was a full-time job. Making sure they ate well, checking their homework, getting them to school on time, and being an emotional support system for them while he was on the road was all valuable and worthy of decent pay. In reality, she suspected his generosity sprang from guilt, maybe shame, or a combination of the two.
It took them over two years to arrive at a place where they could actually be friendly and not cold to each other. After tonight, she wondered if that long-standing truce had somehow been broken.
5
“It’s nice here,” Terrence said to his grandmother over the phone as he walked the Morehouse College campus.
“How many schools have you visited so far?”
“This is the third one, but it’s my favorite.”
“You’re not the one going to college, dear heart.”
“I know. But if I were, I’d pick Morehouse.”
The staff arranged a private tour of the campus, which Terrence appreciated. As Charisse and Ennis strolled ahead of him with one of the school’s student ambassadors, he took stock of the students trudging to class, others laughing in groups, and the old buildings within whose walls young minds were being prepared for life in the “real world.”
He never attended college himself, but taking these trips with his son to visit the campuses made him think about what his life could have been like if he’d had the opportunity. He made a lot of money and took care of the people he loved, evidence that a college education was not the only way to be successful, but he couldn’t help but wonder what his day-to-day would look like if he’d gone college.
Especially a place like this, founded in 1867 to educate young black men otherwise shut out of the country’s institutions of higher learning. The first sentence of their mission statement alone impressed him.The mission of Morehouse College is to develop men with disciplined minds who will lead lives of leadership and service.
At least he could give his kid the opportunity to get a higher education. Being able to live vicariously through Ennis made him proud that he could provide this opportunity for all his kids. His son might attend one of the top HBCUs in the country, which graduated some of the most successful black academics and professionals. Famous alumni who’d attended included Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Samuel L. Jackson, Spike Lee, and former Atlanta mayor, Maynard Jackson. And maybe, one day, they would add Ennis Burrell to that list.
“It’s never too late to get an education. Adults go back to school all the time. Don’t rule it out, dear heart,” Grandma Esther said.
He smiled at her encouraging words. She never put limitations on his dreams, and for that he was thankful. “I’ll think about it. Who knows, maybe I’ll take a class or two—see how it feels. Anyway, I gotta go soon. We’re almost at the admissions building. How are you feeling?”
She had a stroke a few weeks ago but was back at home with a full-time caretaker, which she resented but Terrence would not take no for an answer.
“I’m fine. You worry too much.”
“There’s no such thing as worrying too much. You’re not giving Dana anymore trouble, are you?”
“No, I’m not. That girl has a strong constitution. I thought she’d quit by now, but she’s still here. She done wore me out. I’m plum tired being a you-know-what to her and she still here, just smiling and being patient and friendly. You must be paying her real nice.”
Terrence chuckled. “She’s used to ornery people like you. I’ma come see you next week, a’ight?”
She lived in Macon, where she raised him, and lived in the same house his grandfather purchased for her decades ago.
“All right, dear heart. Give my love to Ennis and Charisse. You take care.”
“You, too.”
Terrence hung up and focused on the three people ahead of him. While he enjoyed the tour of the campus, one thing did mar the experience. He and Charisse had barely spoken since they met up. She spoke to Ennis and the tour guide, he spoke to Ennis and the tour guide, but they said maybe five words to each other. He was still smarting from when he saw her last night with that Austin dude and wondered whether or not she’d slept with him.
She wore her hair in the same style she did then—straight and filled out with strategically placed tracks, letting it touch her shoulders, every now and again blowing around her face when a light breeze swept across the campus. She wore a silk blouse with three-quarter length sleeves and jeans that hugged her beautiful derrière, making it hard to keep his eyes off her. Charisse had always been a sexy woman without even trying. When he saw her last night though, she’d been trying. She looked hella good, and he didn’t doubt for one second that dude tried to get in her panties.
Did she let him?
He ground his teeth. He needed to know if they slept together. It was eating him alive.
