Page 6 of Hooked on Loving Him

“Ten. You?”

“I’m nine.”

“Mm. Well, buckle up, you’re ab?—”

“How’s it going in here? Do you like your room, Kayshon?” who I’m assuming is Humphrey asks, cutting off whatever Kyce had been about to say. Kyce backs out of the room without another word as my brows hike slightly. “So, do you like it? I’m Humphrey, by the way.”

“It’s great. Thanks,” I say, returning to Humphrey as an uneasy tinge spreads throughout my body that I cannot identify or pinpoint.

“Perfect. Well, I’ll let you get settled. We’ll have a family meeting once our last intake worker brings the last boy. Until then, get familiar with your room. If you need anything, let Kyce know, and he’ll assist you.” With that, Humphrey exits as my brows hike higher from his odd statements.

Family meeting? Let Kyce know? Where has the state of Ohio placed me?

“What I didn’t know was how many times I would ask that very question as days became years in this house. The one positive I can truly acknowledge is the brotherhood I gained from forming a bond with Kyce and Jawaan.As The World Turns, ain’t got nothing on the drama and shitshow within Rema and Humphrey Gardner’s house,” I say, recounting the first day that I arrived at the foster home I ended up growing up in.

“Okay. I think that’s all for today. How are you feeling?” Letitia asks.

“Baby, we haven’t scratched the surface, so I’m good.”

“Well, I’ll let you go for now. Set your appointment with my secretary, and I’ll see you soon.”

“Bet.”

“Though a host should encampagainst me, my heart shall not fear: Though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident. Psalm twenty-seven reminds us to trust God regardless of the battles you face. You can be confident that God is with you no matter your enemy. God will not only hide you but also fight for you. Trust him when you can’t trace him, saints.”

Listening to the replay of the message from Sunday that Pastor Reese delivered while sitting in my office at work has me fighting tears. I’m not a regular church attendee, despite Pastor Reese being my godfather. My parents, Ashanti and Jeffrey Weeks, aren’t Christians, but they often made me attend my godfather’s church while I was growing up. According to Mom, at least one of the Weeks should make it into Heaven, so it mightas well be me. Yet, I haven’t felt inclined to subscribe to Mom’s belief, despite occasionally gracing the doorsteps ofPursuing His Glory Ministries. Thankfully, Papa Ren, as I affectionately call Pastor Lorenzo Reese, doesn’t pressure me or make me feel like I’m going to hell because I haven’t given my life to God. He loves me and meets me where I am, which is why I’m comfortable enough to go to church when I do.

With loving kindness have I drawn thee.

Papa Ren’s words enter my mind, reminding me of the phrase he often says to me and anyone who questions him about me not being a member of his church.

“Today’s altar call is for those who feel like they’re in a battle and God is nowhere around. It’s for those whose backs are against the wall, and you feel like giving up. If you fall into either of those categories, meet me at this altar.”

Papa Ren’s declaration has my eyes returning to the screen as his voice bounces in my ear, causing my heart rate to accelerate. My body temperature increases as perspiration begins under my arms. My mouth dries as my tongue slowly glides along my lips while staring at the screen. I’m not in the room at the church, yet I feel compelled to be one of the attendees at the altar.

“Dang, I missed a good service and opportunity to get prayer,” I say as the live stream cuts off, and my eyes continue watching the screen where Papa Ren and the church’s information displays.

*ding*

PKeys:

When are you going to stop hiding and let me take your pretty ass out?

The instant message from my colleague, Paul, pops up, causing me to roll my eyes hard enough for them to get stuck in place. Before logging off, I closed out of the church’s Facebook group and locked my phone to return to work. Every Monday morning, I listen to Papa Ren’s message replay before I get into my workday. What grinds my gears is this instant message from Paul, which instantly removes the feelings I had after hearing a powerful sermon. Paul Keys has been trying to get me to go out with him for as long as he’s been working here. Telling him I’m not interested in becoming his fantasy hasn’t persuaded his pursuit. Paul believes that our color difference would only bond us more, despite telling me how he wants to tie me up and fuck me senseless.

Yet what Paul doesn’t understand is that if he were the last man standing in a sea of shark-infested waters, I would choose the shark over him. Hell, if I were interested in an interracial romance, Paul wouldn’t make the cut because he puts me in the mind of a redneck who hides underneath a white sheet. I’m cool on him and his mission to take me out.

PKeys:

I see your light on, so I know you’re in the office, Ms. Weeks.

“Ugh. Buy a vowel, motherfucker,” I say while closing out the instant message, ignoring Paul so I can get some work done.

“How was work today, baby girl?”

“It was good other than Paul continuing to ask me out,” I say, removing the pan from my oven while talking to Dad.

“Do I need to come up there and show that mothafucka why we’re no longer living in Dr. King’s era?”

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