Did he tell Stenton?
Then I saw familiar faces mixed with those that I was less acquainted with. Alton’s short frame came through with Tynisha in six-inch heels, and their children in tow. I saw Barry and Rob in the mix of people piling in, looking for seats. Then I saw an older gentleman whom I recognized as Stenton’s uncle. There were at least thirty people who arrived before Stenton’s tall frame entered through the doors. He wore the most perceptible scowl as he perused the room and eventually came up to the altar. I’m in trouble. I knew he was angry. Most people would sensibly think he was looking for his child. But I knew Stenton well enough, knew those eyes. Knew the way they roamed. And when they landed on me I felt even worse. My feet felt heavy. I couldn’t move to run.
Stenton, unlike his guests, gaited gracefully, straight up the aisle toward us just as natural as a member. I was granted a delicious and generous waft of his cologne that warmed my core—there at the altar. Jeez! It was as if he knew his place because he stood right across from me and threw the coldest regard to Bernard. I swallowed hard.
He extended his hand to Bernard. “Stenton Rogers…Jordan’s father. Are you a blood relative?”
Bernard looked as if he’d seen Christ himself as he shakily took Stenton’s big hand. I saw the yanking Stenton did when they touched. Bernard wasn’t prepared for that. His mouth hung open for a while before he could speak. Stenton was being passive-aggressive. He knew who Bernard was. Bernard knew who he was—they’d met. I had no idea why they both played this role. Perhaps because Bernard would’ve never imagined Stenton setting foot in our church. I don’t know, but this was weird for everyone. No one spoke. You could hear a feather drop.
“N-no,” Bernard sputtered. “I’m a friend of Zo’s.”
“Well, I appreciate your support today, but I don’t think it’s necessary for you to stand with Jordan’s blood relatives, do you?”
Holy mother of Joseph! Nooooooo!
An aghast Bernard looked over at me and when I couldn’t give him anything, his sights went to my parents, then to Pastor Whitaker. They couldn’t provide anything either. So, he paid Stenton one last parting gaze before backing away reticently.
I was mortified. The last thing I wanted was Bernard by my side, but Stenton had some gall running him off!
Stenton straightened his shoulders as he shifted into place. He greeted my parents, sister and pastor with a nod, but wouldn’t look at me. He did, however, gently take Jordan from my hold, raised him in the air reverently as he always did, and kissed him before placing him at the crux of his arms. Once that display of his doting was done, Pastor Whitaker continued the ceremony.
I felt like crap. I mean, like the gum stuck at the bottom of a runner’s shoe. During the prayer portion, I got a chance to take in Stenton’s countenance starting from his leather dress shoes, heather gray suit and up to his stark white dress shirt where the top two buttons were left undone, exposing the ink on his neck. That ink did things to me, tantalizing things. I observed his knuckles that were tatted as well. Stenton looked urbanely gritty and it turned me on…there at the altar, in front of a couple hundred people. Then my eyes roamed up to his lips. Those lips that were full, wide and shaped like a heart. They were perfect and so teasing that my pupils dilated at the sight of them.