Page 35 of Meet Me at the Altar

“Well, your energy is funky. If not for yourself, change your energy for your mom. She deserves better than this.”

He closed his eyes and grabbed my hands. We folded our hands together in a prayer position and held them between our chests. “Lord, strengthen Drè to see and love Your children as You do. Help him to look beyond their faults, extend grace where it’s needed, and find peace in the storm by lingering in Your presence. Amen.”

“Amen,” he muttered with an attitude.

“No, sir. You can’t be having an attitude when you’re talking to the Lord. You’d better fix your attitude now.”

“Sorry.” He apologized before he clasped my face and kissed my forehead. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“You’ve always been my peace.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Now stop procrastinating, and let’s go.”

Andrès knocked on the screen door to announce his presence. Leon called out, “Come in,” and Andrès hesitantly pulled the door open. We walked into his mother’s new home,and the loud talking and laughter ceased as three pairs of eyes turned our way.

A man and a woman, whom I didn’t recognize, sat on the couch opposite Andres’s stepdad. Leon looked the same; he had just gotten older with less hair on his head and more plumpness in his belly.

“Andrès?” Leon asked as if he didn’t recognize him.

I could feel Andrès struggling to be cool. “Hey, Leon. It’s been a minute.”

“We were expecting some other visitors to arrive, but I didn’t expect to see you here,” his stepdad stated.

“Hi, Mr. Leon,” I greeted cheerily, interrupting the negative energy.

“Kalliope, it’s been a minute. You’re looking good. How are you, girl?” Mr. Leon seemed more excited to see me than he was his own stepson. I had seen him as recently as six months ago at the mall last Christmas. He hadn’t seen Andrès in a decade, and he didn’t seem happy about his presence.

“I’m doing well. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m getting on fine. My arthritis acts up every now and again, but I can’t complain.”

“Is that your son?” the man on the couch asked.

Leon looked at the man and then at Andrès without acknowledging the man’s comment. “Drè, you remember Arnold Staten?”

“Yeah, I remember him.”

“I’m sure your memories of me aren’t that fond, son. You look good though,” Mr. Staten stated.

“Honestly, Arnold, I’m not hung up on that anymore. You firing me was the best thing that could have happened to me. It pushed me to move on and make some decisions that were in my best interest,” Andrès replied.

“I’m glad. Baby,” Mr. Staten stated, turning to his wife, “this is Andrès Jones. He used to work for us some years ago. About ten, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Andrès replied.

“Andrès, this is my wife, Jeannie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jeannie. This is?—”

Before he could finish the introduction, Mrs. Nicole Porter, Andrès’s mom, stepped into the room with a tray of drinks. She almost dropped them when she saw Andrès.

“Drè, you came!” she shouted, rushing to set the tray of drinks on a table so that she could hug her son.

I stood by with a large smile, happy for him and for her.

“I told you I would, Ma.”