Page 13 of Church Girl
Point is, I don’t have time to set up an appointment for a replacement.
Shit.
I quickly scroll to my Favorites and press the top name. After a couple of rings, my mother’s voice gives a scratchy but happy hello.
“Hey, Ma. Sorry to be calling so early and waking you up.”
“No problem, sweet pea,” she says, and I shake my head at the nickname she’s called me since I was a kid. I’m thirty-four years old, and she still hasn’t let it go. “What’s wrong?”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my braids. “The nanny is an hour late, and she’s not answering her phone. Gia’s school has an e-learning day, and I have no one to watch her. I have a client coming in, and since he’s from out of town, I can’t reschedule.” I blow out another breath, even more aggravated now that I’m saying it aloud. “I hate to impose, Ma, but do you think you could watch Gia today? This piece is going to go until the afternoon, but I’ll call the nanny agency as soon as I get to work.”
“Sweet pea, you know I’m always ready to jump at the chance to spend more time with my grandbaby. But I’m on call at the hospital. I agreed to take on an extra shift. I’m sorry.”
Ma has worked at Chicago’s Mass General for over a decade. When my sister and I were kids, Ma worked at the hospital in reception for the regular hours since Dad’s truck-driving job only had him home three or four days out of the week. But when I was fifteen and Leslie thirteen, and Ma deemed us old enough to not need as much supervision, she returned to school to pursue a nursing degree, the dream she’d put to the side years ago. She’s now an RN, and I might be biased, but one of the best Mass General ever hired. The hospital and her patients are lucky to have her.
But damn, as selfish as it is, I really wish they could do without her today.
“No need to apologize. This is my problem, not yours.”
“Now you know, in this family, that’s not true. If one of us has an issue, we all do. What about Sheree? She can’t take her for the day?”
I snort. “Yeah, right. She’s not answering, either. Probably because she sees it’s me.”
“That girl.” Ma tsks. “I just don’t get her. At all. I promise you, she better be glad I’m saved. But she don’t know, I’m from the south side of the kingdom. She can still get these hands if she don’t stop fucking with you.” She sucks her teeth. “The way she’s acting you’d think you hoe’d up one side of the East Coast and down the other. Given the dirt she’s done, no one would blame you if you did.”
Ma is the sweetest person until you mess with her kids. Just ’cause she’s a deaconess don’t mean she won’t kick some ass.
“Nah, Ma. You would blame me.”
“True.” She sighs. “Damn me for raising you with principles.”
I laugh, even though a hard knot tightens in my chest. I’m looking forward to the day when any mention of the shit show that was my marriage won’t leave me teetering between a panic attack and rage.
“Yeah, me not slinging dick on some get-back is your fault. I hope it weighs on you.”
Most mothers would be completely scandalized with my language. But not Jerusha Monae Howard. This is our relationship. Mother and son and best friends.
“Sweet pea, I really try not to think about your dick in any capacity. I’ll shoulder this guilt, though.” After her snickering dies down, she says, “Let me know what you work out for Gia. I’m going to worry until I hear from you.”
“All right, Ma, I will. Love you.”
“Love you the most,” she says, ending our call the way we have for as long as I can remember.
Sighing, I try Sheree again. After the fifth ring, I hang up. If this was anyone else, I would give them the benefit of the doubt; the ringer might be off. But I can’t extend my ex that courtesy. As long as I’ve known her, that phone ringer has never been turned down—not even in a movie theater or church. And she’s always been a light sleeper—hell, the flip of a bathroom switch could bring her out of REM. Sheree is ignoring me, and her childishness is just another thing to piss me off.
Dammit. What am I going to...
“Hold up,” I murmur to myself.
It’s a long shot, and if this works out, I’ll be eating a fuckload of crow, but I have to try. I don’t have any other choice. Switching over to my email app, I quickly locate the message that contains the information I’m looking for. Once I have the phone number, I dial it before I change my mind.
I literally can’t afford to change my mind.
She’s my last hope.
One ring. Two. Three. My lips roll in, and I’m about to end the call when the soft yet husky voice that has been following me into sleep echoes in my ear.
“Hello?”
