by Kim Shaw
At Bret’s insistence, he drove her back to her parents’ house that evening. During the ride they laughed and joked about old times.
“How long are you going to be in town?” he wanted to know.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Kennedy informed him. “Why?”
“I’d like to see you again. Any chance you can stick around a little bit longer?” he asked.
Kennedy considered it for a moment, but that moment was fleeting. Thoughts of Malik came crashing back into her mind.
“No, I need to get home,” she said without offering further explanation.
“I understand. You know, I’m going to be spending some time in D.C. in a couple of weeks. I’ve got an arbitration coming up. Maybe I’ll give you a call when I get up there.”
“That’d be nice, Bret,” Kennedy responded.
Bret’s kiss was not unexpected, nor was it unwelcomed. His lips felt strangely comfortable against hers. She remembered their lovemaking with fondness, but also knew that it lacked the untamed passion she shared with Malik. Malik had ruined her for other men. The mere touch of his hand caused her skin to erupt and there was no comparison to that feeling.
A few days later, thoughts of Bret still lingered on Kennedy’s mind. There was something so attractive about the lack of conflict that could be found with a man like Bret. As the days passed, she felt Malik moving further away from her like an inevitable and natural progression. The words they shared were short and usually marked by tension. Early one morning, as Kennedy showered, the ringing telephone sparked yet another argument.
“Malik, would you get that, please,” Kennedy called from the shower.
The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar. Malik, who was seated on the sofa reading the instructions for the computer screen reader Kennedy had just purchased, glanced at the caller identification device, which provided no information as to who was calling.
“It’s a blocked number,” he called.
“Pick it up, please. It’s probably Skyy calling from Italy. I’ll be right out,” Kennedy responded, turning the shower controller to the off position.
As she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a thick, fuzzy towel around her body, she heard Malik slam the phone receiver down onto its cradle. She came out of the bathroom.
“Who was it?” she asked.
Malik did not respond immediately.
“Malik?” she called as she moved toward the living room.
“It was your mother,” he said.
There was no mistaking the hostility in his voice.
“What’d she say to you?”
“Do you mean after she asked who this was answering her daughter’s phone? Oh, then she said she’d call back when and if I was out earning my own money, if that day ever came.”
Kennedy’s shoulders drooped and her head sagged as she realized that her hopes for a pleasant day with Malik, devoid of the tension and discord, had just been blown into a million pieces.
“I’m sorry, Malik,” she said.
“Sorry for what? You didn’t say it,” he said tightly.
“I’m going to call her back,” Kennedy said.
“For what? It’s not going to change anything, Kennedy. Not one bit,” Malik said.
He tossed the instruction manual he’d been reading down onto the sofa. He ran his hand through his hair, his frustration clear in his every movement.
“Kennedy, I don’t want to do this. Not today. I don’t want to go through all of this again. I’m tired of it, Kennedy.”
“Are you tired of me?” she asked.
Malik did not respond. He couldn’t find the words to tell her how torn apart he was inside. He loved her yet the past few weeks had eaten at his heart and soul. He didn’t know how much more he could take. The room became confining, as if suddenly transformed into a prison from which there was no pardon and no possibility of escape. He was in a cell in which it did not matter whether he was guilty or innocent, good or evil, honorable or immoral. He had been tried and convicted on the basis of social class.
Malik trained his eyes on Kennedy, the face and body of a woman who had stolen his heart without even trying. She was in so much pain and turmoil, and he could not shake the guilt he felt over that. She had been trying so hard to do what everyone wanted her to do. She was caught in the middle of a war not of her making, and she was the main casualty.
Malik’s next words were out of his mouth before his brain had calculated the implications of them, but once they were said, there was no turning back.
“We need to take a break for a while, Kennedy…some time apart, just to sort some things out for ourselves,” Malik said.
Kennedy’s face changed, growing darker and more strained.
“What are you saying, Malik?” she asked.
“I’m going to go back to my place for a few days.”
The air was charged with tension and Kennedy warred with her thoughts and emotions. Part of her wanted to beg him to stay, but there was another part of her that was tired. It was that part that won out.
“Fine, Malik,” Kennedy said after a quiet moment.
She walked away from Malik, counting her steps to her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Kennedy willed herself not to cry. She had shed enough tears over the past few months, and she was determined not to let another fall from her eyes. However, after several long minutes had passed, and she heard the front door shut and lock, the tears began to fall and she could no longer hold her emotions in check.
It was almost three o’clock in the morning when Kennedy turned the key in the lock of her apartment door. She stepped inside and stood in the entryway for a moment. Muppet remained by her side, waiting anxiously for some command from her.
“Malik,” she said softly, not asking but simply acknowledging that he was there.
He wouldn’t allow himself to be amazed that she had sensed his presence. He didn’t feel the need to respond, either. Kennedy moved farther in the apartment, shutting the door behind her. She made her way into the living room, feeling a profound sense of darkness around her. It was a strange sensation since she had been unable to see virtually anything for months, yet tonight seemed unusually dark to her.
“Are you sitting in the dark?” she asked.
“Yes,” Malik answered.
It was the first sign of life he’d offered.
“Why?”
Malik turned on the lamp next to the sofa.
“Is that better?”
Kennedy moved to the sofa and sat down beside him. It had been almost four days since they’d had their last argument, when Malik had announced that he was going back to his apartment for a while. They had not spoken, yet both of them had thought of nothing else. Kennedy knew that the moment would come when they’d have to get things out into the open and discuss what was happening between them. She just didn’t know that that moment would happen in the middle of the night.
“How long have you been sitting here in the dark?” she asked.
Malik ignored her question. He couldn’t bring himself to face her.
“Who is he?” he asked simply.
“Malik—” Kennedy began.
“No, just answer me,” he snapped.
“He’s nobody.”
“Nobody, huh? Ha.” He laughed. “That’s pretty funny to me. How is it that you’d hang out until three o’clock in the morning with nobody. He sure didn’t look like nobody.”
“What are you talking about, Malik?”
“I saw you, Kennedy. I saw you leave with him…hours ago. I saw the way you let him wrap his arm around your waist. I saw you get into his car. I saw you.”
Kennedy replayed the moments when she met Bret downstairs that evening. He’d been standing beside the door when she and Muppet came out. He had put his arm around her waist and walked her to his car. He’d also leaned down and kissed her lips. It was a short kiss, but she had not objected to it. She’d kissed him back. The meaning
in Malik’s pained tone was clear to her.
“Malik, let me explain.”
“What’s there to explain, Kennedy?”
“It’s really not what you think. Bret and I used to be together before you and I ever met. He’s in town on business and he just stopped in to check up on me. We’re friends, Malik.”
“Yep, that’s exactly what it looked like to me,” he said sarcastically.
Kennedy reached out, aiming for where she thought Malik’s face was. She wanted to touch him as she had been longing to do for the past four days. However, he intercepted her hand, pushing it away harshly.
“Bret is an old friend, but that was a long time ago. There is nothing between us anymore,” Kennedy explained.
She was telling the truth. Over dinner back at Bret’s hotel, she had made that much clear to him.
Bret had accepted her rejection graciously and they’d even sat around for a long time continuing to talk about the past, and their respective futures. When he brought her home, they parted as friends. She was confident in her decision that she did not desire to resume a relationship with Bret, despite the fact that Elmira was pushing for it. Her heart belonged to Malik and even if things did not work out between them as she hoped, she knew that Bret was not the man of her dreams.
“Malik, don’t act like this,” Kennedy chided when Malik scoffed at her statement.
“Like what, Kennedy? Oh, I get it. I shouldn’t act like the jealous boyfriend because I’m not your boyfriend, right? What am I, then, Kennedy? Why don’t you tell me what I am to you? And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me how I should act? You seem to know everything about how I feel so tell me what you want me to do.”
“Damn it, Malik, I don’t know anything anymore. Everything is so messed up right now with you, with my parents. I don’t know anything,” Kennedy said, unable to stop the waterworks from forming again.
“You used to know me and you used to know that you loved me. What happened to that, Kennedy?” Malik said.
His voice, too, was choked with emotion. She reached out and found his face.
“I do love you, Malik. That is the one thing that I do know.”
“But it’s not enough, is it, Kennedy? It will never be enough. I will never be enough for you. I don’t have a shiny new Porsche like old boy or a membership to anyone’s country club,” Malik said, pulling Kennedy’s hands roughly away from his face.
“I don’t care about those things, Malik, and you know that.”
“Do I? Just like you, I don’t know anything anymore, either. No, let me correct that. I knew from the beginning that we were wrong for each other, but I tricked myself into believing that none of that mattered.”
“Malik, don’t say that.”
“It’s true, Kennedy, and you know it. You know that no matter what, your family will never accept me. To them I will never be good enough. I was good enough to read to you, to help you bathe, to serve you but that’s all I’ll ever be good enough for and deep down inside, Kennedy, you are just like them, aren’t you?”
“How dare you say that to me, Malik? How dare you talk to me this way?” Kennedy shouted.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Daniels. I must have forgotten my place for a moment. It won’t happen again,” Malik shouted back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“So is this what it is now, Malik. Are you mocking me? Are you throwing where I come from into my face now? Okay, fine. If this is really what you think of me, I guess I should just pay you now for all of your time and service. Is that what you want?”
Malik began to laugh, a harsh sound escaping his throat.
“See what I mean? You people think that because you have money, you’re all that.”
“You people? Exactly who in the hell is you people, Malik?”
“You, your father, your mother; all of you educated, social-climbing black folks who think your pedigree and your old money makes you less black than the rest of us,” Malik spewed, his anger causing his blood to boil and his head to spin.
“You know what, Malik? You can just get out. I don’t need you, Malik. Do you hear me? I don’t need you. Get out!”
Kennedy jumped to her feet, her body shaking with anger.
“Is that what you want, Kennedy?”
Malik sprung to his feet, as well, grabbing Kennedy’s shoulders and drawing her closer to him.
“Is that really what you want?” he whispered.
Kennedy was crying now, her tear-soaked face distorted with anger and pain. She took a step back, slapping the palms of her hands against Malik’s chest. She wobbled, nearly losing her balance, but regained control.
“Get out,” she screamed again.
“I’m gone,” Malik said.
He made his way to the door, without looking back. He knew that if he turned around, he would not be able to walk away from her. With each step, his heart seemed to be tearing into two. He didn’t stop moving. It was time. Part of him had always known that this moment would come, despite how he’d tried to convince himself otherwise. Malik tossed the keys to Kennedy’s home on the small table situated just inside the entryway. This time, when he closed the apartment door behind him, he had no intentions of coming back.
Chapter 20
Malik scratched his unshaven face, stumbling to the door of his apartment as quickly as he could make it in order to stop whoever it was from beating the door down. He’d been drinking much of the day, after having called in sick to work, and had polished off a pint of Hennessey by himself. He knew that drinking himself into oblivion was not going to make him feel any better, but for once, he just didn’t want to have to think. He’d fallen asleep fully clothed across his bed a few hours ago and the sound at the apartment door had dragged him reluctantly from his slumber. He snatched it open roughly.
“What do you want?” he snapped.
“Mr. Crawford, I think you know what I want. May I come in?”
Malik’s jaw muscles clenched and unclenched tightly as he weighed his options. He did not feel like dealing with Kennedy’s father. It was obvious that she had gone running to Daddy to tell how the big, bad hospital worker had broken her heart. Part of him wanted to just spit in this man’s face and be done with the whole thing. Yet another part of him could not be disrespectful to Kennedy’s father no matter how much he despised the man and all that he stood for. That was the part of him that would be in love with Kennedy for the rest of his life.
He stepped aside and allowed Joseph Daniels to enter his apartment.
“Mr. Crawford, I think that you and I got off on the wrong foot and I’m here to correct that.”
Malik just stared at him without responding, eager for him to get to his point and then leave.
“I do not hold any ill will toward you personally, young man, and I want to make that clear from the start. I don’t blame you one bit for the attraction you have toward my daughter. She is a magnificent young woman, and any healthy young man would be captivated by her. What you don’t understand is that as a father, it is my duty to protect and nurture her. I and I only bear the responsibility of making sure that my daughters’ lives are steered in the proper direction.”
“With all due respect, sir, would you please get to the point.”
“Yes, well, the point is that while you may think that you have my daughter’s best interests at heart, there is no way on earth that you and she could work. It is criminal for you to continue with this farce of a relationship one minute longer and I am here to demand that it stops, right here and right now.”
It was at that moment that Malik realized that Joseph Daniels had no idea that he and Kennedy had parted ways. Malik almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of this man and he would have if the entire situation wasn’t so sad. He wavered between telling the man that he no longer had anything to worry about and letting him continue to talk, opening his mouth wider and wider to make room for the foot he’d later have to insert. Before Malik could reach a deci
sion either way, the door to the spare bedroom opened and out stepped Malcolm, who appeared to have gotten an earful.
“Malik, what’s going on here?” he asked with the authority of an older brother.
“Nothing, man. This is Mr. Daniels, and he just stopped by to talk about his daughter, Kennedy.”
“Sounds like he’s here doing more threatening than he is talking,” Malcolm surmised.
He raked his eyes coldly over Joseph, from head to toe, forming an opinion in one instant.
“Look, gentlemen, I didn’t come here to make trouble. However, I have to stand by my principles. My daughter is off-limits to you, Malik. Period.”
Malcolm laughed out loud.
“Check this dude out. You’ve got some big balls, I’ll tell you that much, man. You walk into a grown man’s home and proceed to tell him what he’s not going to do? Boy, I’d like to be you when I grow up…ain’t that right, Malik?”
“Mr. Daniels, it’s time for you to leave,” Malik said.
He sensed that with Malcolm’s presence, this situation was going to go from bad to worse. Malcolm was hotheaded and he would not stand for someone attacking his manhood. A result of being raked over the coals by his babies’ mommas and being reamed by the court system, he was a man who had reached his limits. On top of that, Malcolm had always been fiercely protective of his siblings.
“I’m not leaving until this matter is settled, for once and for all,” Joseph said.
Malcolm stepped farther into the room, his face a mask of irritation and impatience. Malik moved quickly until he was standing in front of his brother, blocking his advance. He kept his back to Joseph Daniels while he locked eyes with his brother.
