Chapter 1 – What Remains…

            Warren turned into the cul-de-sac slowly, his heartbeat racing. The Philly skyline was beginning to go from orange to deep blue, as daylight slipped away. He rode slowly past the beautiful, single-family homes, trying to take in the unique architectural design of each one. He loved his neighborhood in the suburbs of Philly. It was far enough from the crazy city life, but close enough to hit up the hood that had the best food and nightlife. The closer he got to the house, his heart palpitated quicker. He pulled into the garage, taking his time turning off the engine. Waiting a few minutes, he finally got out and walked slowly into the home, shutting the door with what little energy he had left. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He could still smell her scent throughout the house whenever he entered. He hadn’t sold it because it just didn’t feel right to give up the home they worked so hard to build together. 

            As he fully entered the house, he took in the black and gold accents that flowed throughout the home. The crème and black dining room décor was one of her favorites. They’d picked out the matching artwork that was perched on the walls and the kitchen, which was one of her favorite spots to hangout. The kitchen still held memories of her famous French toast and chicken apple sausages that she made from scratch. His mouth watered at the thought of one of her morning meals that he’d wake up early for. Before he could continue reminiscing, reality set in as he threw his keys on the table by the front door.  

Today was one for the books. Between the back-to-back meetings discussing the upcoming NFL season and the changes his team wanted to implement, not to mention his daughter’s mother calling him about the pictures she was posting on Social Clique, Warren was drained. He grabbed the mail and walked back toward the kitchen. Before he could make it all the way into the kitchen, he heard her voice. 

“Warren, you promised,” Nadine said, her voice quivering. “Yet, here you are again, putting football first.”

            Warren flinched. “Really, Nadine? You always say that, but that’s never an issue when you’re shopping or buying your mother something new. Don’t complain about the life you prayed for.”

            When he heard her gasp, he knew he’d hit below the belt. He fell silent, as her breathing got heavier over the phone. 

            “I can’t believe you just said that to me,” she responded, her voice a few octaves higher than it was before. “I never needed your money.”

            He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to say anything else that he would regret. “Baby, listen. Let’s talk about this when you get home. We both need to cool down.”

            “Fine.”

Shaking the memory out of his head, Warren hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a salad out the fridge then sat down at his dining room table. Before he could pray over his food, his phone rang. He had no energy for a business call right now, but he wanted to be able to relax tonight without interruption. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he winced when he saw the name. Daylen? He answered quickly.

“Baby Girl,” he said, confusion in his voice. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Dad,” Daylen said. “I’m sorry again about the picture. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Warren pushed the salad back a little, then leaned forward on the table. “Baby, I’m not upset. I’m disappointed that you thought you had to post a picture like that to get some boy’s attention. What’s going on with you?”

There was silence for a few seconds. 

“I’m not trying to stress you out. You have enough on your plate.”

Warren swallowed, stuck on how to respond to that. He pulled the salad closer, fidgeting with the edge of the plate. He felt the weight of his tongue against his teeth. 

“What do you mean I have enough on my plate? Daylen, you know you come first.”

She sniffled. “I know, I just hate bothering you with stuff that’s not that important.”

“Whoa, whoa. Where is this coming from?”

“Since Nadine died, I just try not to bother you with little things. I figured Mom could handle the boy stuff. You know. So, you can stay out of jail.”

Warren forced a little smile at her attempt at a joke, but his heart returned to beating fast at her previous statement. “Daylen, you can call me if there’s a bug in your room, and I’ll come kill it for you. Don’t ever think you can’t talk to me because I have stuff going on.”

Silence. He heard her moving around. “I just know you miss her.”

Warren took a deep breath. He did. A lot, but he’d made it a point to make sure Daylen didn’t feel the sting of that. Maybe he wasn’t doing enough.

“Baby, do I make you feel like you can’t talk to me?” he asked. His heart was lodged in his throat as he waited for the answer. No, God. Please don’t let me fail her, too. 

“Not really, I think I’m frustrated because Mom and I are having issues and I don’t get to see you as much as I want to,” Daylen responded. 

Warren let out a sigh of relief. That, he could deal with. “Baby, listen, when we go out for our next daddy-daughter date, we can come up with a schedule that’s good for both of us. How’s that sound?”

“I’d love that, but…”

Her voice trailed off. “But what?” 

“Can we not make it sound like your job?”

Warren cringed inside. It was a habit for him to say ‘schedule’. It was a part of his everyday language, but he didn’t want his daughter to feel like she was something being penciled in.  

“Deal. But can you make me a promise?”

“Sure,” Daylen said, sounding like her upbeat self again. 

“Don’t ever let me off the hook. I better not ever hear you saying you thought something wasn’t important to me. Whether its bugs, boys or books, I’m here. You hear me?”

He heard her sniffle. “Deal. I got your back.”

“And I got yours. I love you, baby girl,” he said, trying to maintain his composure. “More than anything in this world.”

“Love you more, Dad,” she said. “I gotta finish my homework, but I promise, I’ll text you later.”

“You better. Be good.”

Warren choked back tears as he hung up the phone. He whispered a quick prayer then dug into his salad. When he bit into the first piece, a vision of the wrecked cars flashed across his mind. He remembered the tears stinging his eyes as he approached the scene. He remembered the smell of burnt tires and oil. Another bite—he saw the EMT’s pulling bodies out of the other cars as he frantically searched for his wife. One of the bodies they pulled out made him hurl on the side of a totaled vehicle. He had to build up the courage to continue to the vehicles up front. Another bite—he saw himself rushing to the hospital, only to be told that she was gone. When he didn’t see her at the scene of the accident, he thought that was a good sign. A sign that maybe she was in surgery, but he was too late. He placed the fork down and shook his head, as if clearing it. Looking down at the salad, he pushed it back gently, afraid of what another bite would bring. 

            This had been happening on and off for the last five years—he’d have random flashbacks of the accident and the aftermath. After it happened, he went to grief counseling for three sessions, then he moved on, considering his pastor’s counseling sessions as the only ones he needed. But now, he was stuck. He’d been feeling a nudge in his spirit for the last several months that he needed something else. It wasn’t just about the accident. It was about everything. He knew he was hiding behind football, and he knew that his pastor’s counseling had only helped him on the surface. His father, Gregory, was a therapist. He knew what he would need when he held Nadine’s hand in the hospital room for the final time but feared gripped his heart. In his mind, healing meant letting her go completely, and he wasn’t ready to do that. 

            Swallowing the phlegm that had begun to build in his mouth, Warren’s eyes traveled to the archway that led into his living room. The ornate, gold mantelpiece that sat above the fireplace caught his attention. The brass urn caught his eye first. Then the trophy. Frowning, he walked closer, biting his bottom lip as he reached out to touch the urn. How could his greatest loss sit next to his greatest win? He took a few deep breaths, touching the trophy with his other hand. Trying to force a smile, his eyes went back and forth, taking in both moments that had changed his life. 

            That conversation that continued to come back and haunt him was the last time he’d heard her voice. He looked at the trophy and urn again. He cringed as he thought about how he wished he could turn back the hands of time and change the entire conversation. Life wasn’t supposed to be this way. Losing his wife in a car accident just six months after his first Super Bowl win was devastating to say the least. It was his last year as a quarterback for the Philadelphia Lions and what he thought would be the time of his life, retiring and traveling with his wife, ended up being the biggest heartbreak he’d ever experienced. Instead, he spent the next year clearing out Nadine’s belongings and trying to survive the deep cuts of grief every time a holiday or her birthday came and went. Even Daylen, his sixteen-year-old daughter, couldn’t provide the joy he once knew just taking a glance at her face. 

            Now, as he stood looking at the vessel that held her remains and the trophy that held his heart, he knew he had a decision to make. Taking one last look, he turned and headed back to the dining room. He’d been wrestling with the decision for over a year now, but he knew what he had to do. He knew he could no longer hide behind the sport he’d become one with. He was one of the highest paid football coaches in the league and while he’d help take the Lions to the Super Bowl several more times, he had to be honest with himself. 

            His relationships were suffering and so was his heart. That’s why he knew he had to walk away from football. For good. It was the only way to truly let God give him the fresh start he so desperately needed. Grabbing the salad, he dumped the rest down the garbage disposal and headed upstairs to his office. The letter had been written for months. He just had to print it. The longer he put it off, the longer the pain would constrict at his heart. The thing he loved the most since he was six was now pulling on parts of him that he wasn’t willing to give to anyone, except God. He had to keep his soul intact. 

            Sitting down at his desk, he went to open the file folder where the letter was saved. His mind drifted again. There was something else gnawing at him. It was something Daylen asked him when they first talked earlier that day about the picture. She asked him if he would ever get married again. While he hadn’t thought about it much, he realized that there was a part of him that yearned to feel a woman’s touch again. He was only thirty-seven, so there was still a chance. He knew it would take some time, and it was certainly not something he cared to think about now, but lying next to emptiness for the last five years had been tough. It wasn’t even about sex for him – it was about the intimacy he missed sharing with a woman. Late night pillow talks, cuddling while watching cheesy romcoms and being able to share his heart in a safe space. That’s what he missed. 

            Taking a deep breath as he opened the word document, he read it over one more time, then hit print. As the printer worked, he looked at the picture of Nadine that sat on his desk. It was a picture from their first date after he proposed. He couldn’t imagine loving like that again, just to have it snatched away. Tears welled up in his eyes as he grabbed the letter off the printer, then placed it on the keyboard. He would turn it in by the end of the month. Grabbing the photo, he moved his thumb along the frame. When he looked back down, the first line of the letter made his heart skip a beat. 

            Dear Coach Samson, 

            It is with deep sorrow that I announce my official retirement from my position as Quarterback Coach for the Philadelphia Lions. This time, I’m sad to say that I’m leaving football for good…

            Khadijah finished her last mile on the treadmill then hit the cool down setting. As she slowed down, she grabbed her water and took a few sips. Once the five-minute cool down was over, she hopped off, then headed upstairs. She closed the basement door and headed to the kitchen to make a smoothie. Placing the ingredients in the blender, once the mix was to her liking, she poured a cup then walked toward the living room. Sipping on the smoothie, she allowed the pineapple and mango flavors to swirl around in her mouth before swallowing. She was still in love with the beautiful orange, brown and yellow décor of her three-bedroom townhome in Manayunk. She knew when she moved back to Philly that this was where she wanted to settle down. Sitting on her floor, she turned the worship music up on her phone. 

She’d been jamming to a new Christian hip hop artist she discovered a few weeks ago. It made her work outs powerful and kept her from going back to the trap music that she usually worked out to. She still listened to secular music, but she had cut back quite a bit. Halfway through her smoothie, she looked over at her entertainment center. The corner of a book sticking out caught her eye. It was her childhood photo album. Crawling over to it, she grabbed it, then sat back against the couch. As she flipped it open, the first picture caused a lump to lodge in her throat. 

            Swallowing slowly, she kept turning the pages, breezing past photos of her late grandmother. She stopped when she came across a photo of her grandmother and mother. Both were long gone, and this picture made her long for them even more. She didn’t remember much about her mother, other than her sweet smell whenever she would pick her up. Her grandmother had been the one that reared her, and she recalled more about her than anyone in her family. Her mother was killed when she was three and she’d never known her father, Ivan Lewis. All she knew was that he was a military man with another family who decided she wasn’t worth anything more than the few nights he had spent with her mother. 

            When she was about to close the album, another photo caught her attention. She didn’t even remember adding it to the album. As she looked at the eight pairs of eyes staring back at her, her hand reached for the tattoo on her right forearm. A chill ran up her spine as she reminisced on the times they had shared. The Renaissance was etched on her skin for life, but she left that part of her past behind when she first moved to Savannah, Georgia. While she’d been back in Philadelphia for the last seven years, she still wanted to forget that part of her past. 

She went to therapy just to be able to do so. While she knew God had given her a fresh start and her healing, growth and businesses were evidence of that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow this part of her life would always try to wreak havoc on her future. She knew she could remove the tattoo, but the pain she’d caused so many families would never be able to be erased. She was the bait girl, and they were the guys who grabbed the money from the rich men she had lured into dating her. Thinking about it made her sick to her stomach and she could feel the smoothie trying to make its way back up. 

She slammed the photo album shut, pushing it away from her. Grabbing the smoothie, she jumped up and headed back into the kitchen. She rinsed the rest of it down the drain, then placed the glass in the dishwasher. As she leaned against the counter, she stared out the kitchen window at her pool. She imagined herself jumping in it and coming back out the water, free of everything that weighed her down. When she got baptized ten years ago, that’s how she felt – like everything had been washed away.          

Somehow, the residue from her days running with her former squad kept returning—whenever she walked through a new door of opportunity, or whenever she spoke to the youth here in the city. It was like the spirit of the people she used to run with, and her actions stayed with her, no matter how much she had turned over a new leaf. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she wondered if it would ever end. She’d already experienced great levels of pain—losing her mother and grandmother, not knowing her father, and getting arrested a few times. She was mentally tired and just wanted to enjoy her new life without restrictions. While she was able to move about physically, it was the emotional and mental prison she couldn’t seem to escape. 

            Khadijah walked over to the African History section of her bookstore and added the new books that just came in. Hailey, her assistant, had already scanned them into the system, making it easier for her to handle the new inventory once she arrived. Finishing up, she noticed some dust on the shelves. Walking over to the register, she grabbed the duster that was behind the counter, then went back to clean the shelf. She was particular about things being in order and staying clean. She was still shocked that she owned a bookstore, a childhood dream of hers that had come true almost a year ago. 

            Even with Radiant Hughes, her nail polish brand, being a seven-figure company and recently signing a deal with Melrose Retail for distribution, her bookstore had been a dream that she never thought would happen. It brought her a joy she couldn’t describe. It was the same joy that would meet her whenever she opened a new book or her late grandmother took her to the library. Fresh books meant a fresh place to escape. She would imagine the characters in the book being her own family, especially the mother and father. Now, she could escape whenever she wanted, only now, she wouldn’t have to return the books. 

            “Hailey, I think I’m going to head out early today,” she said, after the customer Hailey was ringing up left. “We only have a few weeks left before the one-year anniversary party, and I have quite a bit to finalize before the big day. Will you be okay?”

            Hailey smiled, then flagged her off. “I got this. Can you please stop being so dismissive about your accomplishments? You’re celebrating the one-year anniversary and your new deal with Melrose Retail for the nail polish. Enjoy your moment. Take a bow. All that good stuff.”

            Khadijah chuckled. She was ecstatic. Very. Sometimes she showed it and other times, she just basked in the reality that her life was going well, and she didn’t have to worry about someone snatching this away from her. 

            “I am. Trust me. We’re going to have a blast, and I will definitely be showing off.” She held her hands out to Hailey. “This color hasn’t even been put on the shelves yet. Trust me, I’m coming in swinging.”

            They both squealed as Hailey admired the beautiful light green color with the blue iridescent glow. 

“Are you bringing a date to the event?” Hailey asked. 

Khadijah raised an eyebrow as she looked at Hailey. They had never talked about her personal life. “What made you ask me that?”

Hailey shrugged. “I mean, this is a big moment. I know you’re private, but I had to ask. My plus one is a man.”

Khadijah softened her facial expression. “No, it’s okay. I’m just surprised because we don’t talk much about dating. You can ask. There just ain’t much to tell on my end.” She looked at Hailey quizzically. “As for you, do you like said man?”

Hailey smiled. “I do. A lot,” she said, grinning. “And as for you, maybe you’ll meet somebody there.”

Khadijah scoffed. “It’s a bookstore event. I doubt I’ll find somebody that’s my type.” She squinted at Hailey. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Hailey laughed. “No, no. I don’t know. I guess I’ve watched you work so hard and put so much into your businesses and even mentoring me. You deserve love, too.”

Khadijah could appreciate that she didn’t say, “you deserve happiness, too,” which people often equated to finding love. She was shocked at the direction the conversation had taken, but she certainly wasn’t upset. She hadn’t dated much since she’d been back in Philly, mainly because she wanted to stay focused on her healing and her business. Now that Hailey had brought it up, she realized just how dry her love life was. 

They chatted a bit more about the event, then Khadijah left. Hopping in her car, she rested her head against the headrest before starting the engine. She breathed in the scent of Clean Linen and cinnamon. As she melted into her dark brown, leather seats she thought about her life over the last twelve years. How she’d gone from living a nightmare to living the life of her dreams. She asked God to get her out the life she was living, and she promised Him she would get it right. She started the car and smiled. Turning on the radio, she chuckled as Tori Kelly’s Dear No One came blasting through the speakers. What were the odds Hailey would mention love and the minute Khadijah stepped into her car, one of her favorite artists would be singing a love song? Maybe God was up to something in her love life after all. As she adjusted her mirror, she started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. If He was, she hoped this time, it would be a love just like Tori Kelly was describing.