Unholy Matrimony

by Brenda Barrett

  Tanya grinned. “That shouldn't be a problem; she'll soon be marrying Ezekiel anyway.”

  Phoebe shrugged. “I prayed about it earnestly and I kept coming back to this decision…”

  “What is it?” Erica and Tanya asked in unison.

  A stray wind whipped Phoebe's hair across her forehead and she pulled it back gently. “I have decided that I...”

  Caleb came onto the verandah at the same time, with drinks. “Okay here we go, ladies: callaloo juice, made with lemon and a dash of ginger.”

  “What's your decision?” Erica asked impatiently.

  Caleb straightened up after placing the tray on the table, and sat down beside an impatient Erica.

  Phoebe shrugged, “I have decided that...”

  “This juice is extremely green,” Tanya said interrupting Phoebe. “Is it naturally green or does it have coloring?”

  Erica bristled. “Will the two of you stop talking? Phoebe is about to do the big reveal.”

  Tanya and Caleb grinned.

  Phoebe sighed, “none of them.”

  “None of them!” the three of them echoed.

  Phoebe laughed. “Here’s the thing: when you seek God first, you kind of leave the decision making to him. So I’m cutting all ties with both Charles and Ezekiel. I leave it to God and time.”

  “Ridiculous,” Erica snapped. “Your decision can't be that you are not making a decision.”

  “Can I be kindly introduced to Charles?” Tanya asked excitedly, “I have liked him for a while now.”

  Phoebe nodded. “Sure, why not?”

  Caleb hugged Erica to himself. “She's right you know: God and time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Phoebe packed up the wardrobe that Ezekiel bought for her and carried the bags to the car one by one. She would deliver them and the car to Ezekiel's place. She hoped that she could get a ride back after she told him that she was refusing his proposal. She had already packed up her clothes and dumped them in the hall at Kelly's house. Her mother had sat and watched her stoned faced as she moved out.

  “You are a stupid girl,” Nishta sniffled, from the settee. She was suffering from a sinusitis attack and Phoebe was not sure if she was crying or if her eyes were streaming from sneezing. Nishta was looking miserable; her long gray streaked hair was plaited in two and she was in a washed out sari, which looked like it was once purple.

  “After all the things I taught you.” She sneezed and then blew her nose loudly.

  Phoebe stood in front of her mother. “Mama, you are not too old to go and get yourself a job. You sit down day after day and watch your Hindi films and plot ways for me to win a rich husband—that's not healthy.”

  Nishta looked up at Phoebe. Nishta’s eyes and nose tip were red. “Who will hire me, tell me that? I have a high school education and I have never worked before.”

  Phoebe kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t worry about it, I'll find a job for you. Take care. I will drop by on Sunday; hopefully Tanya can take me here because I won't have a car.”

  “Do you have to give back the car too?” Nishta asked incredulously. “It was a gift. It's an insult to give back a gift.”

  Phoebe laughed. “I am breaking up with the man. Keeping his gift wouldn’t be classy. I'll buy myself a car someday. Stop worrying.”

  “You have really changed,” Nishta said bitterly, “and I don't like it.”

  Phoebe grinned. “I am glad you see the changes too, Mama, but I have a far way to go, but I like it.”

  When she left the house, she drove out of Flatbush Housing Scheme slowly. Charles' car was not in the driveway and she guessed he had either gone to school, to work, or was playing at a gig.

  The new and upcoming Charles was so busy these last three days that she didn't even get the chance to tell him that they were no longer going to be neighbors. She would try to call him tonight. Her concentration was now fixed on the confrontation she was going to have with Ezekiel and she was dreading it; she had told him that she was coming to visit him today. He sounded so delighted that she was coming by that Phoebe felt a pinch of guilt that she was going to turn down his proposal.

  When she drove up to the security booth at his gate, the serious looking head of security grinned at her and opened the gate.

  “Good to see you, Miss Bridge.”

  “Nice to see you too, Bryan.” Phoebe smiled sweetly at him and drove through the front gate.

  Maybe this was her last time going through the gates. She remembered how impressed she had been the first time she went through them. She was still impressed, but this time she resolved that she would not be so overwhelmed by the trappings of wealth that she could not tell Ezekiel goodbye.

  She was striking out on her own. She wanted to be as beautiful on the inside as she knew she was on the outside, and if she accepted Ezekiel's proposal now she would never be truly comfortable in her own skin.

  She admired him and she liked him a lot but she hadn't reached the love stage yet and though it was tempting to justify getting married to him because he ‘loved her enough for both of them,’ she was not going to do that. She wasn't going to settle for material things and hope to be happy.

  She wanted more than money or things. She wanted a man she could be comfortable with, laugh with, and have fun with, just like what Erica had with Caleb. She parked beside a BMW that looked suspiciously like Sonia's and walked through a flower garden heading to the main house.

  When she reached the main entrance the door was opened and Ezekiel's butler was there conferring with Sonia Beaumont. She was giving him some instruction or the other.

  “Oh hello, Phoebe!” Sonia gave her a fake smile. “How nice of you to drop by.”

  Phoebe smiled at her. “I came to see Ezekiel, not you.”

  “Oh he's in the study, madam. He’s expecting you,” the butler said to Phoebe, his eyes flicking over her appreciatively.

  Phoebe passed the two of them and headed to Ezekiel's study, which was on the left wing of the house. She remembered feeling like she would need a map the first time she entered the house; now she knew where the study was, and was treated as if she belonged. She almost laughed out loud at the irony.

  She was giving all of this up for what?

  She ran the reasons through her mind again. If she vowed to love, honor and cherish Ezekiel, she'd be lying. Until she could stare any man in the face and mean those three things she wouldn’t be getting married.

  Ezekiel was standing at the window overlooking the pool area when she entered; from behind he had such a nice profile; he looked so handsome, tall and muscular.

  He was dressed in jeans and a black polo shirt and even then he exuded an air of dominance. Phoebe wondered, idly, if one had to be born with money to have that air or if it was just a result of Ezekiel's personality. He was not attractive in face but he was the most self-confident person she knew.

  He turned and smiled at her when she entered.

  She smiled back at him. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he said softly, his eyes traveled slowly over her outfit. She was wearing khaki shorts and a black singlet top with sneakers; she had her hair in a messy ponytail.

  She had no idea if she was going to have to walk all the way down from Bluffs Head after she told him her answer to his proposal was no, so she dressed for a walk.

  “You look about seventeen,” he said then he walked over to her and gave her a small peck on her cheek. “I really missed you these last three days. Where have you been?”

  Phoebe eased herself out of his arms and started to pace. “Ezekiel, I like you.”

  Ezekiel looked concerned at her frantic pacing and said dryly, “Nothing good ever comes from a statement that is preceded by 'I like you', especially when it comes from the woman you love.”

  Phoebe stopped pacing and looked at him. He had his hands thrust in his pocket and he looked as if he was bracing for bad news.

  “I can't marry you.” Phoebe sighed and sat in the
chair across from his desk. “My friend Erica says it would be like an unholy matrimony. I thought about it long and hard and I think she's right.”

  Ezekiel inhaled, sharply. A rush of pain had hit him somewhere in the region of his heart, and he could feel it spreading. He couldn’t speak for a long while, and he leaned against the wall trying to get his composure.

  I had expected this, he told himself. In the past few days he had even anticipated it, but he still felt stunned at the delivery.

  “May I ask why?” His voice was hoarse, and his hands trembled a little. He was surprised that his voice was steady.

  “Because,” Phoebe looked around at him, “If I marry you now, I would be using you for this lifestyle. And when it starts to get stale, and I am tired of the amusements, I'd be unhappy. I'd want my freedom; I'd make you unhappy. Remember you told me that all you really want is somebody to love you for you?”

  Ezekiel nodded. “I did say that, but I think I can handle it if you don't love me. Many relationships have been built on less.”

  “I know,” Phoebe nodded, “at one time I even thought that I could do it. This may sound corny, but I want what my friend, Erica, has. I want mutual love and respect, friendship, just the ease of being with somebody I can laugh and have fun with—love for richer or poorer.”

  Ezekiel sighed long and deep, a dark cloud enveloping his head. “And you only have those things with Charles Black?”

  Phoebe closed her eyes and swallowed. “I don't know if Charles is right for me either. He is fun to be around, and I like him a lot, but I don't love him either.”

  “You don't love him?” Ezekiel came to sit on the desk right in front of her. “But when we were in Cayman, you were crying over him.”

  Phoebe shook her head. “I think I was crying because I was so uneasy with myself and the decisions I was making. Charles is a great guy and there was this one song that I imagined he would sing to me…thinking back at it now, it seems ridiculous.”

  She reached into her shorts pocket and removed the car keys. “I brought back the clothes and the car.”

  Ezekiel frowned. “Phoebe believe me when I say the car was really nothing for me to purchase. They are gifts to you—keep them.”

  “No,” Phoebe looked him in the eyes. “I just won't be happy keeping them. I am turning over a new leaf. I am going the independence route; carving out my own destiny; not depending on anybody's wealth to validate myself.”

  Ezekiel looked at her with a soft look in his eye. “So let me get this straight. You are not refusing my proposal because you are taking up with Charles?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “No.”

  “You are returning the car I gave you as a gift because you want to be independent?”

  Phoebe nodded. “I do not want even the whisper of the word gold-digger near my name again. I have even moved out of my parents’ house so that I can avoid my mother harassing me about marrying for money.”

  Ezekiel grinned. “So where are you living now?

  Phoebe looked at him puzzled. “I am breaking up with you…it shouldn't matter.”

  Ezekiel shrugged. “I know, but humor me. I can't switch off my love for you. You may have to give me some time to stop caring.”

  “Well,” Phoebe worked her lips between her teeth. “I am staying at Kelly's house; her sister, Erica, moved out. I am the new house sitter.”

  “Oh,” Ezekiel's eyes gleamed, “can I call you sometime?”

  “Well...er...sure,” Phoebe said mistrusting his relaxed stance. “Can I get a lift back to Kelly's? I want to start unpacking my stuff.”

  “Sure, I'll ask George to drop you.” Ezekiel walked her to the front door where Sonia was still conferring with the butler. “Bye, Phoebe.”

  “Bye, Ezekiel,” Phoebe said, heading to the car. “I am sorry about all of this.”

  Ezekiel kissed her on her cheek. “It's okay. I’m happy that you are happy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sonia followed a grinning Ezekiel back to his study.

  “That was a short visit,” she said, looking at him with a question in her eyes.

  “She came to break up with me—refused my marriage proposal,” Ezekiel laughed, “took, back the car and the clothes.”

  Sonia gasped. “What? That's lovely...I mean, I am sorry. So why are you laughing?”

  “Because I think I love her even more,” Ezekiel said. “Phoebe has integrity. And now I really, really want her to be my wife, and to be the mother of my children.”

  Sonia sighed in defeat. “I must admit I am surprised at her. When I offered her money to leave you alone, she refused.”

  “You did, what?” Ezekiel asked surprised. “She did?” His mouth curved in a smile. “How much did you offer?”

  “Her mother named the price my dear,” Sonia said a thoughtful look in her eyes. “I think the last figure was fifteen million.”

  Ezekiel hit the table in mirth. “Her mother sounds like a trip.”

  “She is,” Sonia said seriously, “but what does this mean for us? You are still acting all moon-eyed over Phoebe.”

  “This means,” Ezekiel said, “that I am going to do something that I have always vowed I would never do.”

  “What?” Sonia asked eagerly.

  “I am going to call Dr. Neville Tate, the top cosmetic surgeon this side of the hemisphere and get my face redone. It's time for the beast to look special for his beauty.”

  “But...you swore you would never do cosmetic surgery,” Sonia exclaimed aghast. “You said people have to accept you the way you are or don't accept you at all.”

  “I finally found a cause stronger than my need for surgery,” Ezekiel said. “Phoebe gave up riches beyond her wildest dreams so that she can fix the issues she has inside. Well, I am going to give up my long held prejudices so that I can fix my outside issues.”

  “Can I borrow your butler for a party I am holding tomorrow evening,” Sonia demanded realizing that she had no place in Ezekiel's love life. He was well and truly focused on Phoebe. “And when Little Miss Pretty waltzes in here as mistress of the house, I will not lift a finger to help her in your world.”

  Ezekiel shrugged. “Sonia you don't love me; you are on the rebound. I was a good candidate for you: lonely and pathetically grateful for your friendship when I am here. Be happy for me, why don’t you; like the good friend I know you are.”

  Sonia subsided in her chair. “Well, I did like to take care of you and it was a nice distraction after the divorce. Okay,” she sighed, “I guess I owe Phoebe one, since she managed to get you to do surgery.”

  Ezekiel grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

  *****

  Ezekiel wasn't grinning when Sonia left his study. He was thinking about his past; how pathetically afraid he was of hospitals and surgery. When he was a boy of seventeen, he had allowed his fear to override the reasonable reassurances of his doctors that they could get his face back to its original look. He had resisted the very thought of surgery and it was this fear that had him looking at the phone reluctantly.

  Tate would be overjoyed to hear from him. He had been hounding him for years to get his nose fixed and his scars removed. At a cocktail party a few years ago he had even told him that it would not take longer than six months for him to look normal again. “Your issues are easy to fix. I wish I could get my hands on you.”

  Ezekiel had laughed him off, but as he had said to Sonia just now, he was going to get it done for Phoebe. Her reasons for not marrying him had nothing to do with his looks or even about another man.

  Her reason was that she needed self-improvement and a whole new way to view life, he could make that choice too and meet her half way. He picked up the phone and dialed Tate's private number.

  *****

  Phoebe was on the back patio, hardly daring to believe that she had moved out of Flatbush Scheme. Here, there was no pig scent or unsightly ceilings. Here was a simple elegance and she even heard birds chirping. She
closed her eyes and propped up her foot on the balcony rail.

  She had packed out her meager possessions in the back room. It was the room Erica said was the coolest, and the one she had been living in up until recently. Phoebe had promptly headed for it. Her old bedroom could fit in there at least three times; there was something to be said for living comfortably.

  She leaned back in the lounge chair. The volume on the portable radio was turned down low and she was humming to the songs. Her phone rang and she glanced at the screen—Charles. How fitting she was just thinking about him.

  “Phoebe, what does your mother mean by 'you've moved out'?”

  Phoebe grinned. “Hello to you too. Yes I moved out.”

  “Are you living with your rich guy?” Charles asked, panicking. “I just need a couple of years, Phoebe. I can provide for you.”

  Phoebe laughed, “Charles Black, I am not living with anybody. I am house sitting at Kelly's house, the same place we had dinner with Erica and Caleb.”

  “Oh,” Charles said, relieved. “So who am I to play Scrabble with tonight, now that you are gone?”

  Phoebe laughed. “You are cordially invited to my new place to play Scrabble tonight.” She gave him directions.

  “Okay, see you later.” Charles hung up the phone and Phoebe went back to her music. She liked Charles a lot and he was a fabulous kisser, but did she want to spend the rest of her life with him? Her mind was telling her no.

  As much as Charles was fun to be around, she was not really the outgoing social butterfly type. She was more like Ezekiel in personality, she knew somebody who would be perfect for Charles, though.

  She dialed Tanya's number.

  “Charles is coming to play Scrabble with me tonight. You want to meet him?”

  “Oh yes,” Tanya said eagerly. “What should I bring?”

  “Yourself.” Phoebe laughed.

  *****

  Phoebe heard Charles coming from all the way down the end of the road; his car made a spluttering sound then stopped. She turned on the outside lights and peered outside the window. Charles was with his sister, Pinky.