Always Wrong

by Xyla Turner

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I cut her off. “You’re not hearing me. I said he and I were coming together to have a baby. That’s it. There’s no relationship or anything like that. Just fucking and a baby.”

  That was a bit harsher than I intended, but it stopped her right in those tracks of honeymoons and other things that did not pertain to me. Jacquez and I were a business deal and nothing more.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Tell me more.”

  This was her tone. Instead of judging, she inquired, which I usually appreciated, but having to explain that I was fucking this man and hoping to have a baby where we would live and cohabitate together sounded just as stupid out loud as it did in my head. I guess I wanted to dream a bit and live there, but I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew it was a foolhardy plan, which is why I kept fighting it.

  Despite my knowing, I explained it, and it was when I shared that he wanted us to buy a house in the States and London, I knew that I was, indeed, a silly girl. Maxine continued to listen as I went through the past months, the miscarriage, and his and my trips to the US and London. When I was done, she nodded once and said, “It sounds like you don’t want this.”

  “I do want the child. I mean, I never thought I wanted one, but I do want the child. All of this other stuff is…I guess is extra and unnecessary.”

  My face felt hot, and for a moment I felt foolish. This was one reason why I never allowed myself to get close or have attachments. I had and was always the fool when it came to this type of shit. I’d rather not have any attachments. Just fuck these folks and be on my way. They didn’t stay long; I didn’t want to get to know them. I just wanted to feel good for one gotdamn moment and get the inevitable out of the way. Me looking like a fucking fool.

  Before I realized it, I stood up and began to leave.

  “Sheryl,” Maxine called. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

  I turned back, threw some cash on the table, and then left. She was hot on my heels, but I kept going. Where, I didn’t even know. The emotions were overwhelming me to a point of no return. It could have also been my makeup was getting in my eyes. That was the only reason that I could explain the sloppy tear coming down my face. That was it.

  “Sheryl South,” Maxine called. “Stop!”

  With one big huff, I stopped walking on the busy sidewalk and moved toward an alcove.

  “What?” I snapped. “Just leave me alone, okay, Maxine? I don’t want to burden you with my shit. Okay? You just got married, and you don’t need this right now.”

  “Girl, there’s been something off with you ever since before the wedding. I’m your friend,” she snapped back and then got in my face. “Your best friend, need I remind you. What is going on with you? This is not like you. At all. I mean, what the fuck?”

  She looked around toward the busy crowd and then back at me.

  “I’m dealing with some things,” I replied to her. “I told you I had a miscarriage. It can make you emotional.”

  “Yeah, girl. I hear that, but it’s something else. What happened before we left. What…” She stopped mid-sentence and then narrowed her eyes on me.

  “You went to go see your mom.” She pointed to me. “You’ve been messed up before even the wedding. When did you find out about the baby with Jacquez?”

  Well, the woman definitely got points for being my best friend. She was closer than she knew.

  I let out an audible and heavy sigh before answering her question.

  “After that.”

  “What happened?” She crossed her arms. “What did she do? Was she lucid? Drunk? What happened? I told you not to go there alone. What happened?”

  “She told me that the deadbeat father I thought I had was probably not my father. She said that I should probably get him to get tested, but she thought it was time that I knew.”

  I’d finally said the words out loud. I’d refused to even share them with myself because I felt like it would make them real. It’s a weird thing to always feel like you did not belong. We all want to belong. Be a part of a unit. Maxine had that now. We’d always be friends, but her husband, well, he would take priority. Who did I have? My mom was not functional most of the time. I had a bunch of employees and people paid to do what I said, but I didn’t have anyone. Shit, I didn’t even have the deadbeat of a father that I thought I had.

  Tears began to pour down my face, and for a moment, I began to forget about all of my issues, Jacquez and even the baby. I began to mourn the little girl that everyone called Shirley. The one that was sitting on the steps waiting for my father to pick me up, but remained alone, because Mom was passed out from self-medication and the man never showed up.

  There was always something off, I was different. It seemed that everything was crashing down on me at the same time. The knowledge that I could have a different father. Getting pregnant and losing the baby and now this proposal that I went along with despite my best judgment. It was something that I wanted. Maybe even more than anything, Jacquez probably saw that I was a desperate fool and wanted more than anything to a part of something. He’d played me. None of this was real.

  My heart ached more and more as I began to think about it, but it was Maxine’s question that pulled me out of the trance. “Did you tell Jacquez?”

  Shaking my head, I sniffed one time and tried to compose myself. “No.”

  Maxine nodded her head as understanding began to morph across her features from my unspoken words. “Okay.” She rubbed my arms. “Okay. So we go and get a paternity test.”

  I blinked back tears as I also understood her meaning of we. She planned to go with me. It almost caused me to laugh, and I dared not insult her to tell her she didn’t have to. She knew she didn’t, but she was my friend.

  “Then you and Jacquez will have that baby, so I can have someone to spoil,” she added.

  My head began to shake in the negative.

  “No,” I told her. “I’m not sure about that. I think it was just a vulnerable time for me. I’m a fucking mess, and I damn sure don’t need to bring a baby into that shit.”

  “That’s not true,” she corrected. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. We all have our emotional days and shit, but Sheryl South is not a mess. She don’t take a lot of mess, but she definitely isn’t one.”

  “Maxine, I agreed to having a baby, buy a house, get dual citizenship in another country and move in with a man that I don’t even fucking know. He impregnated me. I am a gotdamn mess.”

  At that statement, Maxine began to laugh. “Well, if you ask me, which you didn’t,” she began, “I think it’s more there than you’re saying, but what do I know?”

  “More?” I questioned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “What I said.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “What man wants to have a whole baby with a woman, move in with her, just to raise a child? Then he wants to make sure that you have dual citizenship in the country where he lives, and buy a house over there? You know who? Men that want something more. I’m going through the citizenship process right now. Want to know why? Because I am married to a man who has demonstrated that he wants this to work out. You and Jacquez are trying to literally have your cake and eat it too. That’s only going to last for so long. So y’all can keep fooling yourselves all you want. I just want someone to spoil. I have nine months to prepare, right?”

  Her words sat on my chest like a ton of bricks. This was not the nonjudgmental Maxine. This was the analyzer in her, the master reviewer. She’d support me either way, but she was calling a spade a spade. What I did note, but did not address internally or out loud, was that she didn’t think he was trying to use me. She felt like we were both just kidding ourselves. This further meant that I had some things to think about.

  We ended our sidewalk counseling session. It was a rare thing for me, to be honest, as I keep a tight lid on my emotions, which means they sometimes sneak out. On the sidewalk in the streets of Philadelphia.

  Maxine was wrong about one thin
g.

  I was a mess.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jacquez Costa

  Sheryl had gone quiet after my last visit. She answered my calls, but said she had a meeting shortly after. None of these were scheduled on her calendar, which I could see. Then she would try to engage in text conversations, which annoyed the fuck out of me. I wanted to talk to her, and she kept texting me. I had heard her loud and clear about this notion of trying to alpha her into doing what I want. It was true, but that is just who I was. What I was not was someone that was going to allow her to keep texting me when I wanted to talk.

  Me: You’re avoiding me again

  I finally said after a week and a half.

  Sheryl: No, just busy

  Me: Remember, no games Sheryl. I won’t have it.

  Sheryl: I’m going through some things, Jacquez, and I don’t want to talk.

  Me: I’m not okay with that.

  Sheryl: That’s not my problem.

  Me: Pick up the bloody phone

  Sheryl: I already told you how I felt. Be patient for once in your life. When I get it together, I will reach out. Until then, do not surprise me, do not come. Just let me get myself together

  That was a long text, and I felt every word of it. She was upset, hurt, frustrated, and reflecting. Why wouldn’t she include me in that? What the fuck happened between the last time I saw her and now?

  I didn’t text her anymore or call. Something was happening, so I called my pilot. It was my flight over there, that I kept reading her text and decided that she was right. I would not go and see her. Instead, I’d go to see my mother.

  When I arrived at my mom’s, she was sitting in the backyard away from the sun with Elsbeth drinking coffee and eating beignets. This was one of her favorite things to make after her New Orleans housekeeper taught her how.

  The home was a small cottage-style structure with land all around in the White Plains area. She had a small fence that was accessible to the back yard, on the side of the house. Knowing that she was in the back, because that is her routine, unless it’s raining, I went straight there.

  “Ahh, there he is, Mr. Costa,” Elsbeth announced when she first saw me. “What a nice surprise!”

  This caused my mom to turn around, and then she was up on her feet and coming toward me faster than I thought she could move.

  “Oh, Jacquez.” She threw her arms around me. “You’ve come to see your mother, eh? It’s only been a month, right?”

  The little woman was still talking, but I never went too long without seeing her. Wrinkles lined her fair face, but they were not deep, just wise. Her eyes had a sparkle in them as she kissed my cheeks. Her hair was pulled up in a neat white bun with her slender hands holding on to my wrist like she always did.

  “Hey, Mom.” I pulled her small frame into my large one. “You look good.”

  “So do you.” She pulled away to get a good look at me. “So handsome. Always handsome.” This never ceased to make me smile. I resembled her a little. We had the same eyes and nose, but my other features had to be from my father.

  “Come and take a load off,” Mom instructed, going into mama mode. “I’ll get you some coffee and beignets.”

  “You take a load off, Mom,” I told her. “I’ll get my own food.”

  “Nonsense,” she huffed. “Sit down, boy. I’ll be back.”

  There was little argument there, because she left without any further discussion on the matter. I sat down and looked at Elsbeth, who decided it was best for her to go do some work. Which was what I thought was wise on her part. When Mom returned, she patted my face and said, “How’s my son doing?”

  “I’m good, Mom,” I replied. “How are you?”

  “Living my life the best way I know how,” she always answered. “What’s troubling you?”

  I swear mothers have a special power when it comes to knowing something is wrong. She always did when it came to me. I remember having the hard decision of moving permanently to London. I had been so troubled, but she came right out and said, “Don’t you worry about me, Jacquez. I didn’t raise you to worry about me. I’m a big girl. You live your life, and I’m going to live mine.”

  It was what I needed to hear from her, that my life was not indebted to hers. I would always make sure that she was good, her house was paid for and she had anything else she needed, but she was good. She was always good, and if she wasn’t then she handled it or let me know. We didn’t talk about Mateo, but his pictures were everywhere in the house. And I think she often wanted to make sure I wasn’t fashioning my life after a ghost or her. We honored him on the day of his birth and his death, but after therapy, Mom had been better. She said she’d grieved for him once, now he’d want her to live. To suffer two tragedies between our father and brother was more than enough in a lifetime.

  “Nothing,” I told her.

  “There’s something.” She looked at me over her glasses. “Maybe someone?”

  “Never,” I answered automatically.

  “Oh, son. The things you miss out on. You think you going to be a bachelor forever. How will I have grandkids?” She put her fingers together and did the Italian universal signal that meant everything. “I want to be a grandmother.”

  “I’ve got that covered,” I told her. “You might have one within a year’s time.”

  “Oh, you met someone?” she gushed and stood up. “What’s her name? Do you have any pictures? Does she live in London?”

  “I haven’t met someone, Mom,” I said with irritation laced in my voice. “I am having a baby with someone.”

  “Wait, what?” She sat back down and looked at me with both of her salt and pepper lashes pushed together.

  I explained the basics of it to her, and midway through the part where I said that we would get a house, she held up her hand.

  “Jacquez.” She shook her head. “Now I know I raised you better than that. You are trying to tie down a woman to have your child, but lock up her life, so only you have access to her? Not my son.”

  The woman was holding her chest and everything.

  “Mom, I’m not locking up her life,” I told her. “We have an agreement. It’s something we both want.”

  She chuckled and patted my knee.

  “I know you, son, and I love you, but you are like your father. It’s like a blast from the past.” She crossed her leg and sat back in her chair. “Your father told me that he and I were not compatible mates. Therefore we could only be friends. I nodded and would always come out when he picked me up, which was daily. Then he held my hand and I grabbed his back. Then he kissed me one night, and I kissed him back and on our wedding night, I toasted, To friends. The man had to laugh, because he was so clueless. We were so exclusive, everyone around knew it but him. Hell, I even knew it. That man would be my husband, and he was going around acting like we were just friends. Let me be the first to tell you. You don’t move in with a future baby mama. You don’t have her get dual citizenship. You don’t spend quality time with her. That’s an investment, Jacquez. Y’all may be having fun now, but when that baby come along, it’s going to be more than the fun. It’s going to be real, and I promise, you want a committed partner on a life quest like that. Not some agreement that can be broken because one of y’all is having a bad day. Having a child is a life quest, Jacquez. You of all people should know that.”

  Fuck me.

  She was referring to Mateo. Alive or not, it was something permanent. A child was not a toy or a puppy to sell or give away when things didn’t work out between the owners. They were little people to be nurtured, guided, and loved. This all started because of that triggering moment of watching Sheryl mourn for a child she never saw. It reminded me of my mother weeping for a child she’d lost to senseless violence.

  Maybe I’d never mourned for him either.

  Standing up, I asked, “Mom, are you good? I need to get somewhere.”

  “I’m good.” She waved at me with a knowing smile. “Just bring
her over here so I can meet her, okay? I need to see this woman who has caused my Jacquez to make this shift. Be careful, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom,” I replied and leaned down to kiss her head. “I’ll come by to get you for dinner.”

  “See you, son.”

  Without a destination or even a place to go, I found myself being let into the gated community of my best mate’s house. He didn’t even know I was in town, but I had to have a chat. Instead of knocking on the door, I called him and told him I was outside. We went back and forth about why I wouldn’t come inside, until I hung up and he came outside.

  “Bloody hell, what is your issue?” Noah threw up both of his hands in the air when he came down the steps of his multi-million dollar mansion.

  I had not seen him since he came back from his honeymoon, and the man was almost as tanned as me. My Italian roots and my father’s dark tone were dominant in my genes and my brother’s. Mom was mostly fair-skinned, like Noah. However, on that day, we could have passed for brothers.

  “Married life is treating you well?” I greeted him as I stood with my arms on the hood of my rental, but I had my door open.

  “Yes, it is, mate.” He smiled. “Yes, it is. Now what the bloody hell is wrong with ya?”

  “Going through some shite right now,” I heard my London accent coming out when talking with a fellow Londoner. “Need a mate.”

  Noah sobered, gave me a weird look, and said, “Well, you got one.”

  “Step into my office.” I hit the top of my car.

  Without any protest, he got in. I followed, and he sat there and waited for me to begin.

  “I want a child,” I started to say, as my mind began to think and formulate what I really wanted and not the shit I’d been telling myself. “I want a legacy, mate. I want a son. I want more.”