Low Love, Low Fidelity

LOW LOVE, LOW FIDELITY LOVE BELVIN MKT Publishing, LLC Copyright © 2023 by Love Belvin All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are fictitious and a product of the author’s imagination. ISBN: 978-1-950014-62-0 (Paperback) ISBN: 978-1-950014-61-3 (eBook) MKT Publishing, LLC First print edition 2023 in U.S.A Cover design by Visual Luxe Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Epilogue Visual ~Love Acknowledges ~Other Books by Love Belvin ~Extra Chapter One Staring at the two suitcases splayed out over my bed, almost filled, I sighed. With my fists burrowed into my hips, I turned to my closet. Something was missing, and I didn’t have the time to forget or to have lingering thoughts on anything. I needed to be headed to the airport soon. The big coat, a needed accessory for possible low Jersey temperatures in late October, took up much of the space in the larger suitcase. But something was missing. Then it dawned on me. I paid myself an inspective gander from my ankles all the way up to my shorts. My pajamas. I needed to pack the ones I wore. Oh! I turned for the bathroom and pulled out the pre-packed bag from a drawer. Then I carried it to the larger suitcase. Immediately, a sense of still calmed me. I think that’s it… Soft raps at the door startled me. Peering over my shoulder, I saw Scott craning his neck inside my master bedroom. His golden skin was blemished with mild acne, distracting from gorgeous, orangey freckles, and I could tell he hadn’t washed his hair recently. But the teenager was handsome, resembling his uncle in his heyday. “Yes, honey?” “I fixed MeMaw’s breakfast,” his southern, nasal intonation never failed to tickle me. “She said you want me to wait in the car?” Rubbing my lips together, I nodded, glancing down at the suitcases on the bed, then my pajamas. “I’ll be right out.” Scott’s eyes fell for a few seconds before he nodded with palpable melancholy. Then he backed out of the doorjamb. “Hey,” I called out to him. When those hazel-green irises appeared again, I saw the looming sadness. “This is just for a few days. Remember?” I smiled his way for comfort. Scott nodded then sniffled, followed by a gauche swiping of his nose. “Yeah. You go every year.” “And every year, I return.” His gaze lobbed around the room. “Yeah, but this year…” His eyes swiped over my face for just a millisecond before continuing to whip around the room as he thought hard, long, and cautiously. “Since…” Scott shook his head, causing his long, greased, blond tresses to sway. “Fine. I’ll be in the car.” As he dashed out of my line of sight, my heart thundered in my chest. Fully dressed and carefully strutting in heels, I pulled my luggage behind me as I entered the living room of my home. The sounds of flesh violently hitting flesh, along with spirited shouts, had my attention flying over to the mounted plasma television. Two Black, effeminate men were going to blows; arms swinging, and heads down as they windmilled each other. Zeus Network… I turned in the opposite direction. There, on my sofa was Kelly-Ann. Her strawberry-blonde hair was wet from a recent shower. The ringlets close to her scalp fell just at her shoulders as she held the plate of boiled eggs and waffles, narrow jaw collapsed as her eyes oscillated from the television to me. Internally, I shook my head. A white woman fixated on Black reality television was a dangerous thing. She watched them all: “Real Housewives of Atlanta,” “Love & HipHop,” “Growing Up HipHop”—the whole gamut. She’d even watch reruns of the reality shows no longer in production. But this Zeus Network was a new charge to my account. I paid for it all, even the couch she sat on, and the roof over her head. “You comin’ back?” her southern drawl was less eloquent than her grandson’s. Supplying a smile, I advised, “I live here. Why wouldn’t I be?” Kelly-Ann’s eyes faltered like her grandson’s earlier. “I’m just sayin’.” Pulling in a quick, tempered breath, I reminded myself of the flight I had to make. “Kelly-Ann, I want to remind you I will not be accessible the rest of this week, into the weekend. For the next four days, starting when I pull off in my car, any emergencies will have to be addressed by the adults they involve. Do you understand?” “Yeap.” She was motionless when she followed with, “You told us that.” She tossed her chin toward the front door. “I don’t know what that meant for him.” I took off, pulling my suitcases toward the door. “Well, for the next few days, he’ll be with his other grandmother. If she reaches out to you with an issue, you both have enough living experiences between the two of you to come up with a solution.” I couldn’t get to my car fast enough, but halted at the sight of the mangled BMW taking up half of my driveway. Its mere appearance propelled my motivation for a needed break. We pulled up to Scott’s grandmother’s home in Knightdale. After paying the two-story home a full gander, I observed Scott. “We’re good?” He nodded. “Yeah.” The kid wouldn’t even look me in the face. “Scott, you’ll be fine. Sunday will be here before you know it; and on Monday, I’ll be fussing behind you to get out of the house for school on time.” One side of his mouth lifted, telling