Fierce Love by Dr. Jacqui Lewis

Author:Dr. Jacqui Lewis [Lewis, Jacqui]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harmony/Rodale
Published: 2021-11-09T00:00:00+00:00

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Denise is my soul sister. Her dad had been a cook in the army, and she grew up near West Point. She and my brother Ron began dating when he was a cadet; they were married at the Point when he graduated. Denise is about my height, and people say we look alike, except I am chocolate brown and she is honey-colored. We both have a wicked sense of humor, and when we’re together we speak in ridiculous accents, sort of Cuban meets Brooklyn, and we collapse in laughter as we dance, sing loudly, and regress to teenage-girl foolishness. Denise has that amazing combination of compassion, joy, intellect, and kindness that made her an excellent partner to Ron as they climbed the ranks to general together.

I took Denise to a bar around the corner from my apartment. We found seats at a booth and quickly downed two apple martinis—each! I was so very drunk when we finished. But still, we went to another place I love, and had one more martini, just to make sure I passed out when I got home.

I will never remember exactly what she said as we sipped martinis in those bars, but her encouraging words and support eased the pain more than the alcohol. I was ready to sleep off my hurt, and to face my angry father and my silent mother the next morning. When we got back to my apartment, I sacked out on the living room couch and Denise took the love seat.

Mom and Dad woke early. Their padding around, the smell of coffee and bacon, and the sunlight streaming into the living room woke us up. Denise excused herself and went to shower. I greeted my parents with a warm “good morning” to break the ice.

Dad said: “Listen, we need to talk about last night. I didn’t mean to make your friend leave.” With this, Mom ducked into the powder room, and closed the door.

“You didn’t make him leave, but he left because he was totally undone by how rude you were to him, Dad.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I saw those slippers, and I thought they were his.”

“Slippers! They were new slippers, Dad, for you. But what if that wasn’t true? I am grown, and this is my house. How is it that you felt you should be concerned about that?”

“He is an old white man,” Dad said. “What do you want with that?”

“John is my friend. He’s a minister, he’s a good person. He’s been a very good friend to me, and you don’t get to make him feel bad in my house!”

“I really didn’t mean to do that.”

I clearly had momentum; I reiterated my point. “Look, Dad, you’re my father, and I respect that. But this is my very special moment and you ruined it. You don’t get to behave like you did yesterday in my house, in my city, on my watch. You have to respect that I am a grown woman. I pastor a church, I run my life, and I’m doing a really great job of it.

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