Two things shoot to the forefront of my mind. One, she has some nerve trying to blame Jacoby for her insensitivity. Two, I don’t need my girlfriend of a year-and-a-half telling me that I’ve mishandled my friend of eight years. Ignoring her will piss her off more than disputing her. So, instead of delighting her with an argument, I start the car and drive away.
The problem with ignoring Deidra for twenty minutes is the quiet time. It gives us time to reconsider our words and actions— time to level her head, time to soothe my temper. By the time we pull into the garage I need to apologize. We can’t go inside and treat each other like strangers in the home we share.
“Look, Deidra… you’re right. I should’ve demanded that he stay in his lane a while ago.”
“Well, I only say certain things to him because he’ll take the bait and completely disregard you. But there were times I had to defend myself. You can’t fault me for those times.”
“I know. I don’t think we’ll have this problem anymore.” I reach for her hand and she rolls her eyes. “What?”
“You’re talking like it’s over. Like his feelings for you have magically disappeared.”
“Why do you have to go there?”
“I’m not going to just sit here and overlook the fact that he mistreats the woman I love just because he’s jealously in love with her.”
“He’s not in love with me. He acts like that out of… I don’t know… he’s protective.”
“I agree. His exterior is messy, immature, and deplorable. But when you peel back the layers, his core is simple. He’s simply protecting the woman he loves. Baby, I’m not asking you not to be friends with him. I would never do that. I have no problem sealing my lips and letting him steal the show because I’m not invested in his cheap theatrics. But he’s important to you. That means he should care enough to change. Tonight, you drew a line in the sand. Plenty of people witnessed that. So now, he’s responsible for his change. From this day forward, you have to hold him accountable.”
40
I KNOW SOME PEOPLE that refuse to answer unknown or private phone numbers. “If it’s important they’ll text or leave a voicemail,” they say. I wish I were more like them. Instead, I answer unfamiliar numbers sometimes without thought and other times out of curiosity— like today.
“Hey you.”
My brain stalls a second before identifying the caller’s voice. I drop the phone from my ear and immediately end the call.
Seconds later, my phone buzzes and the same number as before appears on the screen. This time around, I answer to stop the unwarranted contact. I’m in the bed in my favorite pajamas watching my favorite sitcom. I don’t have time for this. “What is it, Kayla?”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Why the hell are you calling me?”
I expect her to match my snappy tone except she pleasantly replies, “I’m calling to invite you to lunch. I just want to talk. Are you free on Saturday?”
“Talk about what?”
“I’m trying to right a wrong.”
A remorseful Kayla? That’s an oxymoron. Intrigued, I consider the reasons I should probably lend her a few minutes of my time. A quick conversation could ensure she no longer aims to single Deidra out or that her family isn’t huddled somewhere scheming another legal attack. And sometimes, it’s safer to abide by the ‘keep your enemies close’ rule.
“Why wait?” I ask. If she’s seriously apologetic, we can talk now. “I’m listening.”
“If it’s not too much to ask, I’d prefer in-person. Just food and light conversation, an hour tops.”
I hesitate, unsure whether I should accept. Deidra has to attend an annual expo this Saturday, so I’ll have most of the day to myself. I don’t want to hide anything from her. But I also don’t want to bother her with someone like Kayla.
“What restaurant do you have in mind?” I ask.
~ * ~
Come Saturday morning, Deidra rises early and I stay in bed until whiffs of breakfast tickle my nose. I fight sleepiness and roll out of bed, shuffling my feet to the bathroom for my morning pee. Deidra has a habit of calling my phone now instead of walking upstairs. I head to the kitchen before my phone rings. She’s lifting bacon from a sizzling cast iron skillet when I step in the kitchen.
I sit at the table and notice all she’s prepared as she loads our plates. She’s pairing thick cut bacon with an omelet, hash browns, baked apples, biscuits, and gravy. She opens the microwave and removes a plate of pancakes.
“Deidra, this is too much.”
“I want you to have a good breakfast. I feel like I’m neglecting you.”
We’ve reached the edge of summer and her job continues to rob us of couple’s time. Her weekends are spent at festivals, conventions, and other largely attended public events. I appreciate her thoughtfulness and the big breakfasts, but if I keep eating like this love handles will surely surface.
I hold my peace and treat my taste buds to the morning feast. And the feast is heavenly. Deidra cooks with the knack of a woman twice her age. “Your cooking is almost on par with my mom’s,” I say.
She grins. “And you almost complimented me.”
I offer to clean up the kitchen. Deidra has a spare hour and I don’t want her to spend any of it on dishes. She decides to spend the extra hour visiting Shannon. Once she’s gone, I look at the leftovers and dirty dishes and figure that for a Saturday morning with a stuffed stomach it’s only fitting to retreat to the bedroom and fall asleep again with the TV as a lullaby.
Fifteen minutes past noon, I drive to a café in Midtown to meet Kayla. To my surprise, she’s at the hostess station waiting for me. When I approach, she steps forward like I’ll accept a hug. Is she crazy? I dodge the hug by turning my head toward the parking lot like something or someone else stole my attention. After we’re escorted through the cozy café to a two-seater table, Kayla asks about my week.
“It was good.” I’m determined to keep my words brief. I’m not here for jovial conversation. Kayla does her usual by pairing my one sentence with forty.
I barely listen as she complains about the family business and some other particulars I didn’t catch. My eyes wander between her and other patrons. On one landing, I’m reminded that Kayla spares no expense on her appearance. Her sculptured eyebrows, stiletto nails, and diamond-sweep earrings embellish her denim jumpsuit. She has a keen eye for chic flare that rests between trendy and excessive. I don’t like hair weaves anymore, but extensions are cute on her nonetheless. As a whole, she’s undeniably sexy— a perk I never overlooked or undervalued. The physical was never an issue for us. Our chemistry was effortless. Chemical reactions, however, ruined us.
“You know what you want to order?” she asks, breaking into my thoughts.
I’m not hungry due to breakfast. But, I need a dish to keep me occupied for the duration of this lunch. I scan the menu for something light and inexpensive and settle on the house salad. Kayla pauses her rambling to order a Panini. With the orders placed, she rambles on again. “We’re shooting a TV commercial next week.”
“Are you starring in it?”
“God, no.”
“Why not? This commercial could finally launch your modeling career.”
She smiles. “You got jokes.”
Her smile forces my memory to the brief time we were happy; when we first moved in together and cared about nothing but spontaneous sex and splurging; a time when I believed that maybe, just maybe, I had found “the one.” How shallow of me.
“I think it’s a waste of money,” she says.
“I’m sure you won’t complain if the commercial boosts profits and lands in your pocket.”
She smirks and changes the subject by asking about my family. When I respond, I realize that much hasn’t changed. My mom still finds solace in cooking. My dad still roams the streets. My brother still hopes he’ll be released from prison soon. Shonda still calls near the end of every month to borrow money for whatever bills she di
dn’t pay the previous month.
“Okay… and how is Deidra?”
I eat cucumber rather than answering.
“Does she know you’re with me?”
There’s only one answer. “Of course.”
“That shit wouldn’t fly with me.”
“That’s why I’m not with you.”
She rolls her eyes. “So, how are things going?”
“She’s amazing, but I’m not talking about our relationship with you.”
“You got something to hide?”
“Why do you care? You decided we aren’t worth vindication? Since the day you threatened me, I’ve been waiting on the almighty, unforgiving Kayla to swoop in and wreak havoc.”
“Damn, is that how you feel about me?”
Duh! I lean back in my chair and stare at her.
Kayla’s disappointed but quickly clears her pouty face. “You know how I get in the heat of the moment,” she says. “I say things I don’t mean.”
“Since when?”
She takes several bites before replying. “I’m trying a different approach. Some people say kill ’em with kindness works.”
“Works to gain what?” It’s time to find out why I’m here.
“To gain closure on a number of things.”
“Like?”
“You and me for one. And—”
“Wait, wait,” I say with a raised hand. “We closed things a while ago. I dealt with my shit, recognized my wrongs, and moved on. And I was woman enough to accept the consequences. I bit the bullet and lived with my parents while I got my money in order and detoxed from the fucked-up relationship you dragged me through. Your hang-ups don’t have anything to do with me.”
She looks around. “Well… there should be some closure around Pat’s estate.”
A string of profanity races through my head. “I’m not going there with you.”
“Hear me out. It’s been almost a year. I’ve tried to give you and her some space, but enough is enough. We need to deal with this. She needs to do something with the estate. Is that too much to ask? It’s like she’s torturing us.”
“Torturing you?”
“Yes! Have you forgot how it feels to lose someone you actually love?”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“The difference between me and you— you and us— is that we haven’t been able to truly move on because of the bullshit called Deidra. If Deidra would grow up, deal with her mommy issues, and stop holding the estate over our heads, we could all move on. It’s time for her to make some decisions.”
I motion for the waiter so he can expedite my check and I can move on from lunch. This conversation is officially over. As soon as I reach for my wallet, Kayla says, “All I’m asking you to do is talk to her. Apparently, you care about her so I assume she cares about you.”
I ignore the attitude and pull a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet. My ticket is $8.51 but I only have the twenty. I leave the bill on the table and warn, “Don’t ever call me again.”
I can’t believe that Kayla and her family still thirst for Pat’s money. Old news has once again become a thorn in my side.
41
MONDAY ARRIVES SWIFTLY and is uncompromising as usual. In the last hour of my shift, I’m asked to stay at work for two hours of overtime. In the last thirty minutes of it, a patient vomits on my arm. I doubt she did it accidentally. After scrubbing my arm, I toss my uniform top and head home, hoping that after a shower, Deidra will grace me with a home-cooked meal and one of her sensual back massages.
I’m relieved when I walk into the living room to see her beautiful face. She’s sitting on the couch in my direction waiting for me, but something is wrong. Her eyes are cold. Does she have a bone to pick with me, or is she irritated that I’ve interrupted her during the news?
Whichever the case, I don’t sit next to her yet. I stall by placing my purse on the loveseat and kicking off my shoes. “Hey, baby,” I say to sense her mood. Her eyes stay on me as she picks up the remote. The TV screen goes black. At least ten minutes of the news broadcast remains. Something is definitely wrong.
“Why did you go behind my back and get together with Kayla to discuss Pat’s estate?”
Shit. I can’t let a guilty look to wash over my face. Like any couple, our relationship isn’t perfect. We have our battles and commemorative scars, but we champion our commitment and cherish this relationship. She knows my expectations and boundaries, and I’m well aware of hers. Anything Carter related is a violation. I won’t lie, but I have to say something to lessen the blow. I sit on the arm of the loveseat to keep space between us.
“That’s not exactly true. I had lunch with her, but I didn’t go because of the estate. I just… I knew you’d stop me if I told you that she wanted to me.”
“I sure would because food is spiritual. Food is a measure of good faith. Food goes hand-in-hand with camaraderie and can signify the extent you care about someone’s wellbeing. So why in the world would you meet-up and eat with her? You know I wouldn’t even want you at her funeral. I’m in this relationship partially because you assured me that her being your ex was a nonfactor. You know I don’t give two-shits about the kinship. Therefore, she has no business in our lives.”
Though my intentions were good, I knew the dangers of meeting with Kayla. So, instead of trying to plead my case, I let her lead this conversation.
“It’s messed up to get a call from someone who despises me and have her throw information in my face that should’ve come from the woman that claims she loves me.”
“I know you’re mad, but don’t question my love for you.”
She drops her head.
“What did she say?” I ask.
“That both of you agreed enough time had passed and I should reconsider signing over the property; that I’m selfish for not doing the right thing; that you were with them when they met with a probate lawyer. Why would you consult a lawyer and then beg me to stand my ground with the estate? I don’t understand why you can’t be upfront with me. If you want something, say it!”
Shit. I don’t know what to say. I should have known Kayla would do this. I should have finished my salad and amicably parted ways with her instead of fleeing the scene. I should have remembered that if I didn’t play nice she would retaliate and resort to the vengeful person she’s always been. I need to clear the air with Deidra, but I hate to backpedal for the sake of convincing her of my loyalties.
“Deidra,” I say, low and even-toned, “Kayla twisted the truth. I was at that meeting with the lawyer, but not for that reason. And no, I don’t want anything from you.”
“Then why’d you meet with her? Because you wanted to?”
So far, we’ve avoided an argument, so I keep my mouth shut and reflect on the past year. I’ve waited for Kayla to rain hell through slashed tires and broken windows, or something sinister like interfering in Shannon’s affairs. I expected fire and brimstone, but all Kayla did to fuck me over is make two phone calls. I guess she wasn’t lying when she said ‘I’m trying a different approach.’
Kayla is clearly wrong, but I am, too. Nothing I say will justify my actions. And regardless of the bullshit reasons I came up with on Wednesday to convince myself to have lunch with her on Saturday, ultimately, I had lunch with her because I wanted to. I wanted Kayla to see how much better I am without her.
Deidra slides to the edge of the couch and stares at me with troubled eyes. “I gave too many years of my life to a man who only wanted to me to stay home, raise our child, and look nice for him. A man who felt it was his God-given prerogative to sleep with any woman he damn well pleased. And when he made me feel low enough…” Tears glimmer in her eyes. She inhales to control the emotion. “…I slept around because it was the only way to get his attention. I degraded myself because of his selfishness, because of his I-wanted-to attitude. So please don’t tell me you wanted to.”
I consider lying, but two wrongs won’t make this right. “Deidra…�
� My words fall short. “I’m sorry.” That’s all I can say.
She shakes her head and stands from the couch. As she walks past me, I grab her hand. “Dee,” I plead, looking up into her tired eyes before standing to meet her face to face. “Kayla called out the blue and I needed to know what she was up to. She’s a snake in the grass. Seeing her was a way to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? I’m not scared of her. Her family doesn’t threaten me. There are only two people in this world who can hurt me, and I can’t stand to look at one of them right now.” She drops her head. I pray tears won’t follow. “I don’t want to be around you right now.” Her weak, sorrowful voice is heartbreaking. I’ve broken the stronghold that roots our love in trust.
I let go of her hand. I can’t force my will and make her stay. She proceeds upstairs. I hope she won’t come back down and leave me alone tonight. I sit on the loveseat and strain my ears to follow her movements. The house is quiet until footsteps scurry down the steps.
“I need some time to myself,” she says, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll call you later.”
I nod. I can’t force forgiveness.
She walks into the kitchen carrying her purse and a matching duffel bag. After she slams the door closed, I hear the garage door open. Then she pulls out the driveway, leaving me until who knows when.
42
I’M WOUNDED, but I try my best to give Deidra the space to forgive me. She’s been gone since yesterday and I’m already tired of her absence. I need to hear her voice. I want to get out of bed, drive to her sister’s house and bring her home, except I don’t want to cause a scene. I’m sure Juanita would show sisterly solidarity just to act a fool with me. I call Deidra and she doesn’t answer, but when I text she replies within seconds.
The Dawn of Nia Page 20
