Page 18 of His Secure Embrace
“James, please.”
“I’m just saying.”
Mama chuckled. “I will say I’m glad you didn’t listen to me when I told you to give the girl a chance. The Lord knew not to bring that type of psycho into our family.”
“I never listen to any of y’all when y’all try to hook me up with someone.”
“Well, your track record ain’t the best. What ever happened to that last girl you were so in love with?”
Her question made me laugh. “She should have her baby soon.”
“Huh? I’ve got another grandbaby on the way?”
“Hell naw. She got knocked up and didn’t know who the father was. She tried to pin a pregnancy on me that didn’t fit the timeline. Ain’t no way she is four months pregnant, two months into us dating. I cut her off as soon as she tried to put another man’s baby on me.”
Mama shook her head. “Messy. Messy. Messy.”
“Yup. That’s why I was cool on dating for a long time.”
“Until?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“There felt like you were holding something back with that statement. You were cool on dating until . . .”
I scratched the back of my neck. “Until I met Brielle.”
“Oooh! Who’s Brielle?”
I pulled out my phone and opened the text thread between me and my lady. I went to the attachments and scrolled to one of my favorite pictures of Brielle. She was outside with the natural light beaming on her beautiful, makeup free face. She wore her favorite wig with a strapless dress. Her skin was breathtaking in the picture, and I was confident Mama would agree.
“Her.” I held the phone out. “But don’t swipe. You gon’ see some things you don’t need to see.”
“Lord . . .” She lifted the phone up to get a good look at the image. She examined it and smiled. “She’s pretty. What’s the story there?”
“I met her at that block party that got shot up last summer.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yeah. It was crazy. We headed to the food trucks together when a couple of gangbangers got into it. I protected her throughit all and stayed with her when she found out her best friend passed.” I explained the full extent of what we’d been through and how our paths crossed again a few weeks back at the club.
“You’re your father’s son, for sure.” Mama shook her head as we made our way to the checkout line.
“What do you mean?” I lifted all our items onto the conveyor belt.
“Your daddy was a love at first sight kind of guy too. He loved so intensely it was almost scary.”
“I didn’t know that. It makes sense though. This trait is built deep in my blood.”
“We met at Cassandra’s. He was a busser while I was out on a date. My date had spilled his glass of wine, and when your dad came to clean it up, he literally told the guy he’d pay the tab if he let him take his place at the table. We’d already eaten and were just chatting, but that nigga agreed. Your dad sat in that booth with me for hours. Telling me how much he loved everything about me, from my hair to my shoes. He made me feel special.”
No matter how many times she shared the story, I always listened like it was the first time she’d shared. They were the blueprint for how I loved and wanted to be loved. Society and social media made it seem like two parent, African American households were toxic and damaging to the Black community. They made it seem like Black men didn’t have good role models to look up to besides niggas who played sports or niggas in the music industry.
Jeremiah Hill was a caring, yet strict, father. He wasn’t afraid to love his family out loud. That came from being raised by Jeb Hill, a man who grew up during segregation and the height of racism in America. Seeing loved ones lynched and beaten for existing while Black made him affectionate toward his family.
A lot of men were taught to hide their emotions because they were a sign of weakness. My father and grandfather taughtme how to use my emotions to make the best decisions. A well balanced and loving home was what I strived to give my future kids.
With Brielle, God willing.
