Not speaking with Rihanna was draining, but life had to go on. I had to teach my students. I had to raise my daughter. I had to be available to my family.
And I definitely couldn't let Carter think something was wrong. I'd waited so long for us to get married, and our wedding was just a few weeks away. There wasn't any way I was going to give him the impression that I was having second thoughts, even if it was possible that I was.
Though all of the invites were already sent out, I decided to make another trip down south to personally see if I could get a specific guest to come to my wedding. She'd responded to the invite-by-mail by saying her health wasn't the best, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to attend.
Even if she wasn't going to be able to come, I thought it was important for me to go and see her face to face. She'd been a very instrumental woman in my life. Helping me to understand my femininity, sexuality, and sense of self. She was a role model if I'd ever known one, and if her health was in the dumps, I needed to make sure I saw her at least one last time, before it was too late.
I was invited into Professor Pounder's home by her partner, a heavyset lady with short hair, light brown skin, large boobs, and little freckles around her nose. She was soft spoken, and pleasant, though reserved, as she didn't offer much personality into our greeting. She led me to Pounders bedroom, and closed the door behind me.
Pounder was laying down in bed, getting oxygen from a tank, but smiling when she saw me. I hadn't seen her in person since homecoming a few years ago. She was in good spirits and seemingly good health then, which added to the surprise when she told me a month ago that she was sick. I gave her a big hug and sat with her. The first subject, the obvious subject, was the wedding.
"I can't believe you two are finally going to tie the knot," she said.
"Yeah. It still hasn't sank in yet. Carter has been so awesome this past year. I really feel like it's going to work out."
"It better. After a three course wedding and everything," she joked.
"You think it's a bit frivolous?"
"Well," she smiled. "It's not something I would ever be down for. But I think it fits you."
I laughed. "What does THAT mean?"
"Miss Knowles. You came into my classroom every single day, dressed like you were on your way to a Vogue photo shoot. You are high class, high maintenance."
"I resent that. I didn't start off that way."
"Oh I know. Mr. Carter molded you to be that way. But still. I think it fits now. The grand gesture of it all. I wouldn't be surprised if he hired God to officially announce to the universe that you are husband and wife."
"No, Professor Pounder, not God," I teased. "Maybe James Earl Jones Though."
We shared laughter until she started coughing. I was ready to turn the conversation serious, weary of causing her to have another coughing fit. But she seemed cheery and ready to continue the playful banter. Or maybe that was her way to open up about things a bit more serious.
"Interesting that this engagement has went further than your last one," she snickered.
"Damn P. So we going there?"
She laughed a bit, but then grew serious. She looked me over before she spoke.
"Twice in a year, Beyonce. Twice you have sent me invitations, telling me that you were getting married. I have to ask. Are you sure this time?"
"I was sure the first time," I told her. "Things just didn't work out."
"But are you sure, right now? 100 percent?"
