Dream Girl Awakened

by Stacy Campbell

  “ . . . there is no competition. Tyler is Tyler and I’m me. There’s room at the table for anyone willing to work hard and get used to the word ‘no.’ I’ve had more nos than yeses,” said Maria Jones, interrupting Tawatha’s train of thought.

  “But how many black women in Hollywood are on your level? Your name carries the box office. Your last film grossed one hundred million dollars the first weekend,” said Barbara.

  That’s where Tawatha remembered her face. Maria was equally elusive and generous. She was short on words, but long on giving, rarely giving interviews, but always lending a helping hand to those in need. A number of soup kitchens, shelters, and youth organizations received support from her foundation. The most consistent bit of information tabloids reported about her was childhood abandonment.

  “Not many have my bankability. I still say, though, there’s room at the table.”

  “You can say that again,” Dayton chimed in. “The rule of thumb applies in every aspect of our lives. So many people don’t have what they want because they harbor a lack mentality.”

  “Lack mentality?” asked Zenobia Wells.

  “Thinking that everything is on the verge of running out. Jobs, men, houses. I think if people were clear about their purpose and desires, they would have the life they dream of.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. Everyone doesn’t have a Mr. Abernathy like you,” Tawatha whispered to Lasheera.

  Lasheera kicked Tawatha’s leg under the table. “Stop whispering,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Tawatha swigged her lemon water. It amazed Tawatha how much women like Dayton took their abundance lightly. Mr. Harold Abernathy was a man touted in the media for his solo feat of turning around the failing Dressed to the Nines clothing company. His background in finance and public relations was the reason the CEO of Dressed wooed him. Add that to the fact their daughter, Lotus, a Brown alum, recently had joined the Today Show, broadcasting special reports. Hell yes, she could chide others about having a lack mentality because she had so much. Tawatha wondered what kind of influence these women were having on Sheer. It began with this new circle of women. Then it escalated to that Jesus business. There was a time when they chatted nonstop at dinner, even when others were present. What was happening to her friend?

  Dayton caught the attention of the waitress. “Naomi, I’m ready to place my drink order. The drinks are on me tonight.”

  “The first round, or all night?”

  “All night. Please run a tab for me.”

  “Certainly, Dr. Abernathy.”

  “Call me ‘Day.’ ”

  “What are you drinking, Day?”

  “I’ll have a Waiting to Exhale.”

  “We don’t serve that one.”

  “I know.” Dayton pulled a New York Times clipping from her purse containing the drink recipe and handed it to Naomi. “This is served at Sylvia’s. It really is a sneak attack. Two or three of these and I’m out for the night. When Maxine gets here, I’ll make her the designated driver.”

  Everyone placed their drink orders. Lasheera’s phone vibrated and she read Bria’s text: SHE’S HERE!!!!

  “Everyone, Aruba’s here. Let’s stand so we can greet her when she snakes her way back here.”

  Bria jabbered a mile a minute with Aruba. Aruba hung on her every word, not paying attention to the crowd.

  “Surprise!”

  “Gotcha,” said Bria.

  “Bria, how could you?” Aruba playfully jabbed Bria’s shoulder. She scanned the faces of the women before her and was beyond excited. “How did you pull this off?” Aruba managed before a few tears fell from her eyes.

  “I had a little help from your ace.”

  “Lasheera, you kept this secret from me? You wait ’til we get back to the office.”

  Aruba walked around the table to greet everyone. Amidst hugs and “happy birthday” wishes, she noticed everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there except the woman standing next to Lasheera. The crowd may have been out of her element. She wondered if Dayton and Maria had overwhelmed everyone with their sage wisdom and success stories. Aruba assumed Shock Face was Tawatha. Lasheera had shown her photos of Jamilah a couple of weeks ago. She was pulled into a meeting just before Tawatha’s image flashed during the digital camera slide show.

  “Aruba, you look wonderful! Happy Birthday!” said Victoria. They hugged and kissed each other on the cheek.

  It can’t be. The world isn’t that small and my luck can’t be that bad. Tawatha gave Lasheera the stank eye, but quickly fixed her face. How could Lasheera have known this was James’s wife? This was the woman who’d been in her home, taken her kids out to dinner, and according to Lasheera, asked about purchasing artwork from Aunjanue. Could fate be that cruel? Tawatha looked at Aruba and was happy she’d found a nice wig. For a cancer patient, she looks good. People say you have a glow during the last days.

  “Aruba, this is my girlfriend, Tawatha. Tawatha, this is Aruba.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” said Tawatha. She shook Aruba’s hand instead of hugging her. Memories of James making love to her caused her to snatch her hand from Aruba’s. Everyone watched the exchange with raised eyebrows.

  “Your hand shocked me. Sorry.”

  “It must be static from my outfit. Please forgive me. By the way, your daughter Aunjanue is such a talented artist. Art is her calling. I think she’ll go far.”

  “Thanks for the compliment. I’m so proud of her.”

  They eyed each other, both unsure of what to say next. Maxine sliced through the moment of awkward silence.

  “I know my granddaughter didn’t beat me to the party!”

  “Grandma Maxie, where have you been?”

  Maxine hugged Aruba, passed her gargantuan gift bag to Bria, and blew air kisses to all the ladies before commanding everyone to take a seat.

  “Sugar, is this seat taken?”

  “No, ma’am,” said Tawatha.

  “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, honey. I’m old enough to be your big sister, but that’s about it. Call me ‘Maxie.’ ”

  “Have a seat, Maxie.”

  Maxine had to take a seat next to her childhood friend, Dayton, before answering Aruba’s question.

  “You know your momma and daddy are practically joined at the hip. Lance is still hobbling around after his foot surgery, so Darnella stayed behind to help him. I spent the last thirty odd minutes in the parking lot, talking my daughter through changing gauzes and treating infection. Your daddy should be up and about soon enough, thanks to me!”

  “I spoke with them earlier today. They said you were bringing their gift. I kinda hoped they were joking with me.”

  “I got that gift. It’s in my bag over there.”

  “I told them it wasn’t necessary, but you know how they are.”

  “They probably want to make sure she’s comfortable her last days,” Tawatha whispered to Lasheera.

  “What are you talking about now?” Lasheera hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m not telling you to be quiet again!”

  “Come with me to the bathroom—now!” Tawatha shot back. “That water went straight through me.” Tawatha stood and announced this news to no one in particular. “Lasheera, come with me to the restroom a minute.”

  “If the water went through you, I don’t know what you’ll do when you get a real drink later,” said Dayton.

  Tawatha shrugged her shoulders, smiled at Dayton, and grabbed her purse, Lasheera in tow.

  “This better be good. You know I won’t be here long and you’re creating drama. Was I wrong for inviting you? I know this isn’t our normal crew, but these are really nice ladies. I just wanted to get you out—”

  Tawatha pulled Lasheera into one of the stalls. “Aruba is James’s wife, Sheer. The man I’m in love with and plan to marry, that’s his wife. Did you know that? Have you been playing both sides of the fence with us?”

  Lasheera touched Tawatha’s forehead. “Watha, are you okay? I though
t you were just drinking water.”

  “Don’t patronize me. What have you said to her about me?”

  “Calm down. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  “Aruba. She has cancer. She isn’t supposed to be alive. I thought she would have been dead by now with the way James described her illness.”

  “Tawatha, Aruba is fine. She’s never had cancer as far as I know. She’s healthy, fun-loving, and by the ton of roses she gets in her office, her husband seems to love her a great deal. Are you sure you’re talking about the same woman?”

  “Describe her husband to me, Sheer.”

  “From the photos in her office, he’s tall, has dreads, could be a male model ’cause he’s drop-dead gorgeous. You know I don’t do light brights, but he’s handsome. Really handsome.”

  “That’s him! That’s James.”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’ve been misled. She hasn’t discussed getting a divorce, and she isn’t sick. She hasn’t even had a cold since I’ve been in the office. I’m sorry, honey.” Lasheera hugged Tawatha, sad her girl had been bitten again by the love bug.

  “You’re mistaken. She probably didn’t tell you because she didn’t want office pity. But she has cancer. That night I was in their house—”

  “Their house? You slept with him in their house?”

  “There you go judging me again. I was with him the night of the accident. She had gone out with one of her friends to a support group meeting, then to shop for wigs. I bet that isn’t even her real hair!”

  “It is. I braided it for her a few months ago for girls’ night out with Bria and some of their friends. Not a strand got wrapped underneath my nails,” said Lasheera, flicking her hands front to back as proof.

  Tawatha leaned against the stall, crestfallen, hopeless. How could she be duped so easily—again? She loved James with all that was within her. Perhaps Lasheera misunderstood. Perhaps James didn’t want her to know how well Aruba responded to chemo. That’s how noble he was. She’d even purchased the T-shirt she’d wear on their honeymoon, with the words, MORE THAN JUST A GOOD D**K AND SOME MONEY, rhinestoned across her chest with a finger pointed toward a photo of James to show the world she’d endured the storm with him and came out as Mrs. Dixon.

  “Look, I can text Lake and tell him to cancel our date. I’m a little afraid of what might happen if I leave you here alone.”

  “Don’t cancel your date. I can pull myself together. I can make it through this. What, you don’t think I’m as refined as those hoity-toity broads out there?”

  “Well, you do look like someone just stole your red Flyer. The one we used to haul dolls and comic books around in as kids,” said Lasheera. Her heart warmed when Tawatha smiled.

  “I’m going back in there and enjoy the night. Shoot, I might even order Pink Panties. I’ll sort it all out tomorrow.”

  They performed the secret handshake they had invented as girls in Jamilah’s backyard. As they stepped out the bathroom, Lake was waiting for Lasheera in the lobby and greeted her with a kiss.

  “Here are the keys to my car. Call me if you need anything, Watha. Anything.”

  “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  [37]

  It’s the Thought that Counts

  “The tradition is we all read our cards, then the birthday girl opens the gift. Since we’re a tad pressed for time because the birthday girl’s man has a bigger surprise for her, we’ll let Aruba open her gift from each of us as we read our cards. Instead of our personal dreams, Lasheera suggested we all tell Aruba what we dream or wish for her,” said Bria.

  Bria gathered the gifts together and whipped out her notepad to jot down the names of the givers. She prided herself on making sure the handwritten, thank-you notes were mailed out promptly after the party. She felt modern etiquette had gone to the dogs and she refused to be associated with email thank-yous.

  “What happened to your friend?” Maxie asked Tawatha.

  “Oh, her dude, I mean, her boyfriend, took her out for a night on the town. That’s why she was drinking so light. I have the honor of reading her card,” said Tawatha as she took a drag of the Pink Panties she had ordered.

  “Do you have a designated driver for the night? I don’t want anything to happen to you on the way home.” Maxie was concerned about Tawatha’s demeanor since her return from the restroom.

  “I’m good. I’ve got too much on my mind to have messed-up vision.”

  Bria picked up Lasheera’s gift first. “Tawatha, this is Lasheera’s gift. Are you ready?”

  Aruba delicately pulled tissue from the gift bag, honored that Lasheera had chosen such a thoughtful gift. Aruba displayed the ring, earrings, and necklace packaged together. Everyone oohed and ahhed at the intricate detail and crafty design of the set. As if on cue, Tawatha stood and read the words:

  “Aruba, you’re the best boss a girl could ever have. You’re patient, kind, unafraid to share your knowledge with me, and you’re so encouraging. You poked, prodded, and made me realize my lost love of making jewelry. My dream for you is to keep being an encourager to those of us who need to smile and remember why we’re here.”

  Aruba blinked back tears, unaware that she’d influenced Lasheera in such a powerful way. She merely complimented her from time to time and told her to celebrate her sobriety and drug-free state.

  “Thank you, Tawatha. Be sure to tell Lasheera she’s forgiven for pulling this prank.”

  Tawatha smirked, took her seat.

  “If you start that crying, we’ll be here all night,” said Maxie. “Dayton and I have more running around to do. Open my gift, honey.”

  Bria heaved Maxie’s big bag near the center of the table. It contained a Burberry purse, Coach shades, a Teddy Pendergrass album, an envelope, and a glass beverage dispenser.

  “I understand some of these gifts, but the Teddy Pendergrass album?” asked Aruba.

  “Don’t make me tell everybody at this party how Teddy Pendergrass, or as your paternal grandmother, Ella, called him, Teddy Pendergraff, was the first grown man you had a crush on.”

  “Please don’t,” said Aruba, blushing.

  “Tell us,” chimed Victoria. “I bet there’s so much about Aruba we don’t know.”

  “Honey, Aruba was always a drama queen. Aruba’s aunts, Kinsey and Mayella, always found some men to take them to the Kool Jazz Festivals in Atlanta and the Teddy Pendergrass concerts back in the day. They’d always bring Aruba back program books, albums, souvenirs, anything they thought was appropriate for a six-year-old. Well, they caught her singing Teddy’s songs more than any of the other songs they gave her. The night ABC announced Teddy had been stricken in that accident, Aruba took to her bed and never got over the fact that he’d been paralyzed. At first we thought she was joking, but she really wanted to go to Philly to look after him. That’s right up there with her delusions that she was Flip Wilson’s daughter, and was the stalking target of Spiro T. Agnew. I’m telling you, she’s a dream girl.”

  “Thanks for spilling my secrets, Maxie. So what, I have an active imagination.”

  “Be grateful I didn’t tell ’em about your staged sermons and funerals.”

  “Will you read your card, Grandma?”

  “You know how much I hate the word ‘grandma,’ so here goes. Aruba, I dream the greatest latter years for you that only God can give. You deserve it!”

  “All that tattling for latter years’ wishes? Okay, I feel you,” said Aruba. She blew Maxie a big kiss.

  “We have a big envelope here from . . .” Bria turned the envelope over.

  “That one’s from me,” said Dayton, smiling. “I hope you get a kick out of it. It’s a little something from Harold, Lotus, and me.”

  Aruba opened the envelope. Aruba’s eyes widened at the sight of the vacation package to Rio and Turks and Caicos. “Day!”

  “I think you, James, and Jeremiah deserve some quiet time. Sun and sand always give the body a new perspective. My dream for you is
that you have peace, life, and longevity. Cheers!” Dayton lifted her Exhale to Aruba.

  “Thank you so much. I know we’ll enjoy ourselves.”

  Bria was on to the next gift before Aruba could breathe. “Next, we have blue! Whose responsible for the Tiffany box?”

  “That would be my gift,” said Victoria. “Everything was selected with you in mind.”

  A twinge of guilt rose in Aruba as she opened the box. How had she allowed things to go so far? She’d served James with divorce papers, yet he insisted they meet tonight before he signed them. Victoria had been encouraging her to work things out with James, to see if counseling might mend their relationship. Aruba found it difficult to look in Victoria’s eyes because she pretended she wanted counseling. Aruba opened the box and eyed the contents with confusion. Inside were three keys. “Keys? Are these to the cabin?”

  “Aruba, those are the keys to my life. Since you want to live it so badly, I decided to bow out, let you take the reins.” Victoria read from her card. “My wish for you is that you make my husband happy, since you’ve been having an affair with him. The large key is to my house. Winston allows a generous decorating budget, so feel free to make it your own.” A collective gasp, then silence enveloped the table. “The gold key is to my Mercedes, the car you and I rode around in sharing jokes, laughter. Wow, what a wonderful friend you are.”

  “Victoria, can we step outside a minute?” Aruba stood, her hands trembling with the weight of being exposed.

  Ignoring her, Victoria continued, “The oval key is to Winston’s practice. Up until I hired a private investigator a month ago to follow him going to your place, this is where I thought he was spending his time away from home.”

  Tawatha perked up now, her second Pink Panties taking effect. This is better than Venus and Serena at Wimbledon. I knew something would clear the way for me and James.

  “It’s been nice meeting you, ladies, but I have to leave now. I have an early morning appointment with my divorce attorney,” said Victoria. She snatched her purse and whizzed past Aruba who was fast on her heels. The women looked on in shock, neither daring to utter a word. Outside, Victoria struggled to open her door.