{Last time on Suds, Lique found Terrance sleeping in her bed. Well, other stuff happened first, but pinkies up and straight to the tea. 🫖🍵🧋☕️

Lique shared her innermost thoughts with Terrance while he appeared to be sleeping. But he stopped pretending when he heard her soul crushing confession. Where could our favorite quasi couple possibly go in this tragic love affair???

Sniffles and tears 🥲
Ready, Set, Say it with me... Suds!!}

~

Her body tingled when she woke up the next morning. LIQUE smiled and squeezed her eyes shut, giddy from the potent memories of him.

She hugged her pillow, wishing it was him and dozed off again.

A thick, gooey liquid smeared across her jaw. She wiped her cheek, caking her fingers in the inky substance and gasped at the tar gluing her fingers together.

Distraught, she threw the pillow aside. It dropped like a rock, smashing into twigs before rolling into nearby shrubs.

Lique swiped her hand on the bed just as it transformed into a jagged rock. Her palm slit and blood gushed from the deep wound.

She shook her head in disbelief as the shabby chic bedroom morphed into a wooded area, dotted with massive trees and the deafening serial shrieks of cicadas.

Her voice trembled. "It's not real."

The night air thickened in her throat, blocking her airway, and she scrambled toward the nearest tree. Her feet wobbled as she spun around, keeping her back pressed against a massive oak.

"It's not real," she repeated.

Darkness cloaked her sight as she stared into the pitch black night. Wheezing out strained breaths, her frantic eyes darted from tree to tree, chasing the sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves.

"It's not real," she said again.

Then a faceless shadow form appeared. Her blood iced and she sucked in a yelp, breathing out the word in shaky breaths.

"The blood of Jesus," she whimpered, remembering her sister's wild claims about power in the word of God.

Her body trembled and she slammed her eyes shut.

"The blood of Jesus," she repeated, fumbling through her mind to remember the entire scripture.

She blanched and her throat tightened, cutting off air. Lique shrank in defeat, covering her face to hide from the approaching mass.

Then a sudden rush of words surfaced in her heart and tumbled off her tongue.

"My refuge and my fortress.
My God in whom I trust."

The shadow disappeared and the forest faded as the word she breathed manifested into a swirling ribbon of truth, bringing the scripture to life.

Pure wonder flushed her spirit and she forgot about the monster in the forest. Her starved lungs filled with a crisp wind. And her heart thumped, beating new life into her chest.

The word swirled around, sprouting her into the sky as it formed a mighty golden fortress high above the world.

"My refuge," she whispered, touching the solid stone wall, the color of sand. Awe filled, she stared and the massive winding wall, reminiscent of a road wide enough to fit a four lane highway. "It's a fortress." She gasped, taken aback by its magnitude.

The scripture she read over and over on her grandmother's bed was alive.

Glistening inside the wall, like threads woven together to create brilliant tapestries, were the words she was barely able to breathe.

My refuge and my fortress.
My God in whom I trust.

Over and over, the scripture from the thin pages of her Bible repeated, forming the mighty fortress that shielded her from her worst nightmare. The word of God burrowed into her heart, awakening the truth.

"It's real," she breathed.

Her Heavenly Father, her Abba, her refuge and her fortress. He was the place she could run to when she was afraid and the mighty fortress that dwarfed all her fears.

Lique stared out at the most amazing view of God's word as it supported her bare feet. She closed her eyes and exhaled. "Thank you, Abba."

When she opened her eyes, a sheer white canopy draped from the posts of her bed, cascading down over the headboard.

She checked her palm.
Healed.
Only the vacant memory of the dull,  throbbing pain remained.

Her eyes readjusted to the quaint room and she grinned.
"Thank you, Abba."
Rays of sunlight snuck into her room and tickled her cheek. She laughed, reaching for her Bible.

Lique opened to Psalm 91 and read her grandmother's favorite passage.

The unimaginable fortress filled the pages of her mind. She grabbed her phone and thumbed through the contacts until she found Dr. Jennifer's number.

Her finger hovered over the call button. Then she dropped the phone and nibbled on her nails.

"It's Sunday morning." She reasoned. "I'll call her tomorrow."

She leaned back against the headboard. The feeling of her bare feet walking along the temperate fortress wall came back to mind.

A text alert chimed.

"You were on my heart.
So I wanted to reach out.
Love, Dr. Jennifer."

Her heart skipped a beat and Lique called her therapist.

~

TERRANCE rolled lips lips together and sat at the kitchen island, waiting for his mother.

Mrs. Holt flipped a banana pancake, ladled grits into a mini soufflé dish, then poured a glass of orange juice.

Terrance knocked on the island.
"How long you gon ignore me, momma?

"Depends," she said, placing a plate of pancakes with scrambled eggs in front of him. "How long you plan on dating two women?"

Mrs. Holt grabbed the glass of juice and the bowl of grits and put them near his plate.

"Thanks," he said, gathering his utensils. "I'm only dating Lique," he said, shoveling pancakes into his mouth.

Her smile formed and quickly disappeared, though she deflated, letting out a sigh of relief.
"When you gon break it off with the other one?"

Terrance shrugged. "When I see her."
His mother crossed her arms and pursed her lips together.

He continued between mouthfuls.
"It's not something I can do over the phone."

She stared at him a long while. "I suppose you're right."

Mrs. Holt smoothed her fingers along the handle of a porcelain coffee mug. "Them people don't seem like they take rejection well."

His spoon stopped at his mouth.

Mrs. Holt scrutinized his pause and sighed. "I'm off to church. Look like you gon need a lot of prayer and blessed oil."

Terrance forced the spoonful of grits into his mouth.
"I can handle it," he said, sounding less certain than he intended.

~

JEANETTE applied her passion fruit pink lipstick, ignoring the naked man appraising her from his bed.

Garrett rubbed his chest, watching as she topped the tiny tube and dropped it in her clutch. "I feel used, Princess."

"What goes around."
"I wouldn't mind if you came around more often."

She searched her call history. No messages from Terrance. Her eyes watered. She blinked the frustration away and applied another coat of waterproof mascara.

"Looks like I might be coming around more often." Jeanette dropped the mascara in her bag.

Garrett rubbed his jaw. "Quite heroic how he busted into the restaurant looking for her. Didn't relax until he was holding her. And man, that kiss." He shook his head. "I got up out of there after that. They've got a strong bond."

She scoffed. "Terrance and I have a strong bond."
Garrett shook his head. "There's more to them though. Like she's afraid of something that he protects her from."

Jeanette sat on the bed next to Garrett.
"Something like what?"
Garrett shrugged. "Beats me."

Jeanette stared at the glossy, black sculpture, rising from the sitting area across his large master bedroom.
"I could dig into her past to find out."

Garrett pulled her into his arms, rolled her onto the bed, and pinned her beneath him.

"Stop." She complained. "You're wrinkling my clothes."
"I'll buy you new ones," he said, staring into her eyes. "Nette."

His somber tone captured her attention. "What?"

He studied her a moment, stroking her hair before continuing. "Maybe you should walk away from this one."

She sighed. "Daddy wants him."
Garrett rolled off her onto his pillow. "There are other ways to bring Terrance into the fold without you having to marry him."

Jeanette stared at the slow whirling ceiling fan above his bed. "Daddy wants him," she said again. "He's got that look in his eyes." Jeanette quieted, turning her head to look a the tension forming in her first love's jaw. "Besides," she continued. "I want him."

Garrett scoffed, shaking his head.
"Do you?"
She nodded, baiting him.
"Does that make you angry?"

Garrett smirked, peeling off her clothes. "I always get what I want."
She stopped his hand. "We're not doing this when I'm married."

Fire blazed in his eyes, stirring her delight as satisfaction danced inside her chest.

Jeanette grinned.
"You see that? You only want me when I'm gone."

Garrett reached for her hand and place a dawdling kiss beside her engagement ring, avoiding her eyes when he answered.
"And you only want me when your dad isn't watching."

They both laid there, waiting for the other to make a move. Then Garrett rubbed his hand around her torso.
"I can't help with your plan to get rid of your fiancé's girl."
She balked. "Why?"

He climbed off the bed and hopped into his pajama pants. "I'm making a move on her friend. Shantel Frazier."

Jeanette pursed her lips together, following him into the bathroom. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Her mother's been trying to set us up, and her father doesn't run her life."
Jeanette crossed her arms.

Garrett chuckled, rinsing his toothbrush before he squeezed on toothpaste.
"Does that make you angry?"

"I hate you," Jeanette said and stormed out of his condo.

{Stay tuned: More bubbles popping soon.}

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