What the Heart Wants

by Tiana Laveen

  “Beautiful.” Mama clapped enthusiastically when Emily returned to her seat. Tears streamed down both of their faces, though Emily bore a smile. “Brooke loved Minnie Riperton. That was one of her favorite songs.”

  “I didn’t tell her that.” Cameron reached over and grasped Emily’s hand, squeezing as he smiled at her.

  “I believe you. That right there was from the heart,” Mama said, looking elated.

  Time passed, and there was abundant laughter, second slices of pie, hot coffee, and sweet cocoa with tiny marshmallows. They talked and talked, sharing stories of yesteryear. Mama eventually pulled out an old photo album and showed them pictures of Brooke. They looked at faded pictures of her as a baby with her brother in the first pages, then of her growing up, until several months before her death. Before they knew it, it was late into the night, though it felt like only a few minutes had passed since they’d arrived.

  “Mama, I don’t want to leave, but I have to get Emily home. She has an important meeting in the morning.”

  “Oh my goodness, of course. Look at the time.” She seemed truly shocked as she glanced at an old clock in the dining room that showed 1:32 a.m. on the display. “I’ve had such a nice time meeting and speaking with you, Emily.” They all got up from their seats.

  “Me too, Mrs. Coleman. Do you mind if we kept in touch?”

  “Of course not. I’d love that. Cameron, make sure you give her my number.” Mama followed her out of the dining room to the small closet where their coats hung. Cameron reached for the older woman and enveloped her in a big hug once again, this one just as long and needy as the first. Emily followed suit and a three-person embrace ensued, but then, just as suddenly, she pulled away. Mama let loose of Cameron and Emily held on to the woman’s arms as she looked into her eyes.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Mama asked, her lips hanging open, apprehension in her gaze. Tears streamed down Emily’s face, as if her eyes were pipes on a sink that had burst wide open.

  “Brooke wants you to know that last night, when you were on your knees, on the floor of your bedroom saying your prayers, she appreciated what you said about her, her father, and her brother. She wants you to know that they’re all together. She said it helped her when you said you needed her to know you’re okay. You said that she doesn’t have to keep looking after you, that she can go on, stop worrying. Well, she heard you. She knows you can smell her Egyptian musk perfume and feel her energy. She loves you. She’s had a bit of a hard time keeping away from this house, but now, maybe she can.”

  “Lord.” Mama began to shake like a leaf. Bringing her hands to her mouth, she broke into a heart-wrenching sob. Cameron held her and rocked her, keeping her head close to his chest.

  “I don’t know how I do this, Mrs. Coleman. It just comes to me all of a sudden. No warning or easy way to explain it. I just know these things as she delivers the information. I wouldn’t call me psychic, because it’s unpredictable and not frequent, and it only has to do with Brooke, but I can feel her emotions all the time.” Cameron released Mama, but Emily slid right in his place and put Mama’s hand on her chest, in the middle. “She told me you’ve been wanting to do this but thought it might be rude to ask. Go on, feel your daughter’s heartbeat.”

  As they stood there quietly, Emily and Mama cried while Cameron fought the urge to do the same.

  “That’s my baby’s heart. That’s Brooke.” She fell apart then, crying like a newborn.

  “See, people think the heart is on the left side of our chest. Actually, it’s in the center and leans over a little to the left. You feel that? What a strong heart she has. She’ll always be physically alive, Mrs. Coleman, through me. I promise to take your advice and to always show gratitude for the gift your daughter gave me. And I’m so grateful to be alive. Through a weak heart, I died, but through Brooke, I’ve been born again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Something From the Heart

  Several weeks later

  Of all the self-deprecating things I could do, this had to have been the worst.

  The sun was setting, but Emily had no plans of leaving her office just yet. A chill took over the room despite the heat she’d turned up an hour prior. Something about feeling a little bit uncomfortable helped her work more efficiently at times. She looked out the window she’d opened for this purpose and rested her chin in her palm. Hints of spring were trying to burst through the crevices of concrete, outside and within her mind. New notions formed into abstract shapes and absurd art, tiny sprigs of foliage and new considerations she’d concocted. Simply put, life was going on.

  There basically was no stopping it.

  Her phone lit up when a text message came in.

  Cameron: Calling you in a bit. Busy? You said you had a big meeting. Did it go okay?

  She quickly typed: Went very well. Always busy, but will make time for you.

  Emily slid the phone to the side and stared back out the window.

  It’s a nice evening. Maybe I’ll take Opium for a walk when I get to Cam’s house tonight. He won’t be in until later. I could start dinner, too.

  She had a copy of his key, and he had one to her place as well. Not surprisingly, a new doorman now worked at her building, too. Cameron must have called someone because he’d told her he’d be following up with the situation, but he’d never given her details as he didn’t want her to get involved. Being a man of his word, in less than a week from the day of the incident between the two men, Dennis was gone.

  The cell phone rang, shaking her out of her thoughts.

  “Hi, baby,” she said. “Nice to hear from you.”

  “I was talking to Jeff about the new television monitors in the bar, so I couldn’t call you earlier today. Glad the meeting went well. What’s up?”

  “Nothing much, sweetie.”

  “Cool, cool. Well, I didn’t want anything. Just seein’ how you’re doing. Oh, shit. I almost forgot. My mother asked me to ask you if you wanted to go to a concert? She has two tickets for Candy Dulfer for next Thursday night. She and my dad can’t go and neither can I. You know I’ll be in New Jersey that week for the promo, but maybe you and a friend can go and—”

  “Hell yes, I want them.” Emily guffawed. “Do you know how hard it is to get those tickets? How much do I owe her?”

  “Baby, stop. You know she’s gifting them to you, especially after you did all that work for my parents’ portfolio free of charge.”

  “Well, that’s awfully sweet of her.”

  Cameron got into the details of his day. She reflected for a moment about how things had changed over the course of time. She’d finally met Cameron’s parents—delightful people who offered pleasant conversation. Both were well-spoken and appeared rather reserved, and yet she sensed a bit of a vigilante spirit in Cameron’s father. The man had shared stories of his college days, allowing her to understand that the apple never fell too far from the tree.

  Yeah, but the tree I come from is dying and brittle. Am I rotten fruit?

  She swallowed as she rolled it over in her mind, still listening to her boyfriend.

  “And then that was pretty much it. I’ll see you later, all right? Are you still sliding through?”

  “Yes, I’ll be over. Do you have food at the house so I can make some spaghetti?”

  “No turkey, no beef, no nothin’, right?” He sighed, sounding defeated. All she could do was chuckle.

  “I tell you what, I’ll make you some with turkey meatballs, but mine will be meatless. You’re disgusting.” She cackled.

  “You love me anyway.” She could hear the smile in his words. “You don’t complain when I eat the kitty.” Her face warmed with a blush. “All right, bet. Yeah, everything should be there that you need. I have a bag of salad in the crisper, too. I’ll pick up some garlic bread on the way home.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I love you and I’ll see you later.”

  “Love you too, baby.”

  Emily disconnected the ca
ll and turned back to what she was doing before she’d fallen headfirst into a daydream.

  One after another, she deleted various files from her computer.

  I should have done this last week. He’s hopeless. I have integrity. I am not going to praise someone I no longer respect.

  Her father was to be presented with a very prestigious award later that month and she’d made several drafts of a speech that had been in the works for over a year. This was no small feat, nothing to ignore. She’d been asked to deliver a speech at the special ceremony and dinner, which she’d graciously accepted, but now, things were different. Much different.

  They’d barely spoken since she’d confronted him about his sordid, despicable past, and his behavior in regard to Ms. Samantha Tabar, which he still hadn’t admitted to. But now, things were down to the wire. She’d be expected to stand before a room filled with hundreds of people, many of them in her family’s elite circle of financial giants from the city of New York.

  I won’t be attending this ceremony. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I’d rather be slathered in butter and forced to run naked in a forest full of starving bears.

  After she completed ridding herself of all relevant documents, she opened up her email account to draft a fake narrative to the chairman about why she suddenly could not present her father’s award.

  Perhaps a sudden business trip would be the excuse? Either way, they’d have to get someone else.

  As she began to type the professionally written lie, there was a soft tap on her door, followed by a much harder one. Seeing as her office walls were clear and she didn’t have the partition blinds pulled, she recognized her visitor—a man who’d afforded her half of her DNA, the one in the trash basket on her computer.

  “Come in.” She turned back toward her computer to continue her task, not willing to be deterred.

  “Hello, Emily.” Her door slowly opened then closed.

  “I’m surprised to see you here.” She looked back at him.

  “Why’s that?” He drew closer, unbuttoning his suit jacket. The towering man stood there impeccable as always, with not a hair out of place on his head.

  “I was told that you were in the Bay Area, wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

  She kept on typing as he spoke, trying with all of her might to find an excuse to be rid of the unwelcomed guest as soon as possible.

  “The final convention was canceled, decided to come home a bit early.” He pointed to the chair before her desk. “May I sit down?”

  “It’s your company. You can do as you wish, but I don’t want to discuss anything with you that is not business related.” Soon, she heard the blinds being pulled closed, and moments later, her father was sitting before her with his dark burgundy suit jacket flopping open, revealing a crisp, cream shirt and a black and maroon tie. Her heart raced.

  “Great work on the White report. You did a fine job.”

  “What a fitting choice of words. White. Like White privilege? Taking advantage of someone with less money and status as you is amazing?”

  “I thought you didn’t wish to discuss anything that wasn’t business related?” She hated the smirk on his face. “Hmmm, I’m the scum of the earth to you now? After all of these years of watching over you, encouraging you, raising you, being with you every step of the way during and after your operation, you throw me to the wolves at the first sign of a problem. I suppose you’re prone to nosebleeds up there on that high horse, huh?” He gave a stilted chuckle and crossed his legs. He ran his hand along his ankle, tugging gently at his sock.

  She ignored the piranha in her presence and continued to type her email.

  “Emily, we can’t carry on like this. We need to talk, okay?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “So am I, and yet I’m here anyway.”

  “I only wish to discuss nonbusiness related matters with you if they are truthful, including an honest confession. I am no longer going to be captive to your delusions, the lies you tell yourself to sleep at night and any other sordid coping mechanisms you may utilize in order to see yourself as anything other than what you are.”

  “Harsh.” He smiled, showing his teeth. “Well, I suppose I deserve that. Okay, let’s talk on your terms.” He tossed up his hands.

  “Why the change of heart?”

  “Some things have to take priority. Like family.”

  After a slight hesitation, she gently pushed her laptop away, sat back in her seat, and crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him through hooded eyes. Every bone in her body felt heavy, as if she were sinking in her skin. A hatred had been born within her, one built on the twisted back of a dashed dream. An almost angelic image of her father had come crashing down; he never existed, and now, she was lost.

  “Well? Talk.”

  After a few moments of silence, he leaned forward, his forehead wrinkled as he looked off into the corner of the room, avoiding eye contact.

  “Unfortunately, my dear, you are almost exactly like me.” He smiled sadly as he turned back in her direction. “You look very much like your mother, but personality wise? I’m written all over you, Emily. Stubborn. Goal driven. Logical. Dogmatic. Punitive. Pragmatic.” He glanced at his Rolex.

  “Oh, am I keeping you from going someplace you need to be?” she jabbed. “Perhaps in Hell.”

  “No.” He didn’t react to the viciousness of her tone, his face sullen. “Just making sure that I stay on task here. Don’t want to waste your time.”

  “Good. The sooner you are gone, the better.”

  “Very well. First of all, I wish to apologize for the precarious position I put you in regarding your childhood friend, Sasha. If I had known that you were as hellbent on finding her as you obviously were, I would have arranged to speak to you about this sooner. Let me start from the beginning, how this all came to be. As I’ve already admitted to, I was not faithful to your mother. Was she aware of it? Yes. It was a different time period. Men such as myself were not punished, if you will, for being unfaithful. As long as we took care of our families then it was overlooked, even more so in my father’s generation. He did the same to my mother.” Emily opened her lower desk drawer, pulled a bottle of water, and took a swig. “Was your mother also unfaithful to me? Yes.

  “But that still didn’t make it right. A tit for tat game in which there are never any winners.” He ran his thumb along his palm. “As I also already stated, instead of us seeking marital counseling, which honestly probably would’ve alleviated many of our issues, we made poor choices. Marital counseling was also looked at as taboo in my family, but that’s another topic for another day.” He shrugged. “We ran into the arms of others. Your mother and I, well, we had a peculiar relationship, Emily. She was with me before I had become a success, but she couldn’t really handle the dynamics of my lifestyle. It was new to her—the demands of it, being a new wife. She didn’t have good role models, either. Her family was dysfunctional.”

  “We’re not doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I would prefer we not make this about my mother,” she stated dryly. “Don’t try to blame her for the fact you didn’t have enough self-respect to not run around on her. And don’t blame your father for also being a philanderer. Funny how you didn’t mention that he was apparently a bad role model as well.” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “You’re speaking of a woman who can’t talk. I cannot ask my mother if what you are saying about her is true or not. That’s unfair. She can’t defend herself from these accusations, and as you’ve already proven several times, you take no issue with lying to me, straight to my face, so why should I trust anything you say right now?”

  “Because at this point, I have nothing to gain by lying.” Their eyes locked on one another. “Look, Emily, it’s like this. Your mother is not the main focus of what I am trying to talk to you about tonight; however, she plays a key role. I won’t get into every single detail. I imagine some are unnecessary to disclose, and I kn
ow how much you loved your mother and how close you two were, but she is part of the story so I must include her.”

  She huffed in frustration, but decided to hear him out.

  “Anyway, I am aware that you know a few of the traumas your mother suffered. She’d admitted this freely. As you also know, my family didn’t wish for me to marry her. They saw her as troubled. My father, your grandfather, was well established, as was his own father, but it was imperative that we prove ourselves to him, not simply ride on his coattails. My two brothers and I did just that. We worked hard in school and at our jobs. When the time came, it was expected that I would marry someone with a similar background as my own—from an ethics or religious standpoint, similar socioeconomics, things like that. I saw your mother and some of that went out the window.” He smiled and blinked several times.

  “Mom was White. She was Christian and her family wasn’t poor so from your perspective, since we never really delved into this much, what was the issue? Was it Mom’s eccentricity? You said she was troubled, but she didn’t seem troubled to me. What are you referring to?”

  “Okay, let’s take this bit by bit.” He sat a bit straighter. “Her family wasn’t poor, you’re right. They were successful in their own right. Her father owned two very successful chocolatier shops, but her parents were divorced, as you know, and there was a drinking problem with both of them, which unfortunately, your mother had also taken on.”

  Emily glanced at her computer for a spell. Yes, Mom’s drinking at one point in time had been an issue. It seemed to almost show up overnight and then, less than a few years later, the problem vanished, as if it had never been an issue at all.

  “In any case,” he sighed and placed his hands on his thighs, “your mother and I met by literally running into each other on the street. It was like something from a movie. I knocked her groceries out of her hand, then helped her pick everything up. We exchanged numbers and the rest was history. Let me be clear though,” he said. “Your mother arrived to me with baggage, emotional baggage that is, but none of that could stop me from falling in love with her.”