The Other Side

by Trice Hickman

“Something a bit more expressive and slightly less abrasive.”

  Tess laughed through the phone. “I wouldn’t be me if I was any other way. Besides, my charming personality brings excitement to your life, which you know you need.”

  Bernadette had to admit that Tess was right. Her cousin’s wildly creative and free-spirited character was a stark contrast to Bernadette’s button-up, play-by-the-rules personality. “Yes, I guess you’re right, dear cousin. And by the way, happy birthday to you, too!” Bernadette said, trying to sound much more cheerful than the gloomy mood she was trying to keep at bay. “How does it feel to be the big 4-0?”

  “Girl, stop!” Tess playfully scolded. “I’m not going to be forty for another ten years.”

  “How do you figure that? We were born on the same day, exactly ten years apart, which is one reason why I’ll never forget your birthday or your age, even if you do,” Bernadette said as she playfully laughed.

  Bernadette had always considered Tess more like her sister than her cousin, and their blood bond transcended them into being best friends. Their mothers were sisters who were each other’s best friend as well, and they talked on the phone every single day. Bernadette’s mother, Rosa, was several years younger than her sister, Anna, who along with her husband had waited until later in life to have children. But even with their two daughters’ significant age difference, the two sisters had made sure that their girls, who were each only children, had grown up to be just as close as Rosa and Anna had. They had been born at the same hospital, on the same day, at the same hour, exactly ten years apart, and their bond was unbreakable.

  “Yeah, I know, and how could I forget? Our mothers remind us all the time,” Tess said. “And for the record, if my mom tells me one more time about how people from her old neighborhood still use our birthdays to play the numbers to this day, I might just jump off a building.”

  Bernadette shook her head and chuckled. “Our mothers are definitely sisters because my mom does the same thing, and as a matter of fact she just reminded me of that this morning.”

  “I believe it because my mom did, too.”

  Bernadette pressed the button on her Keurig and watched the caffeinated brown liquid fill her cup. She looked out of her kitchen window and saw that clouds were beginning to form. “I’m not sure if I can get used to this North Carolina weather,” she said as she stirred her coffee. “Just five minutes ago it was bright and sunny, and now it looks like it’s going to snow, and that’s the last thing I want on my birthday.”

  “Remember last year when it snowed on our birthday?” Tess asked.

  “How could I forget? I thought I was gonna have to get bail money and a good lawyer that day.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Whew, thank goodness I didn’t,” Bernadette said. They were referring to the terrible incident that happened when Tess found out that her boyfriend of two years, whom she’d thought was the one, had cheated on her. At the time, Bernadette could only chalk up her cousin’s actions to a rage of fury. Tess had vandalized the man’s home and then threatened to kill him when she had finally answered his happy birthday phone call later that evening.

  Bernadette could still remember the hurt and pain she’d heard in Tess’s voice as she’d recounted what she’d done and what had driven her to that point of rage. Bernadette had wanted to be the big-sister voice of reason, but she’d known there hadn’t been much she could have said because just a few years prior to Tess’s outburst, Bernadette had beaten her own ex-fiancé to a pulp after catching him in unscrupulous lies on top of deceit and fraud.

  Tess sighed. “To this day I still don’t understand why Antwan didn’t have me arrested. I even threatened to kill his lyin’ ass, but he didn’t take the bait.”

  “Unlike that scumbag Walter, Antwan wasn’t a bad person. He was just immature and misguided. The bottom line was that he simply wasn’t ready to settle down.”

  “Then he should’ve told me that instead of stringing me along.”

  In so many ways he did, Bernadette thought, but didn’t say. “I think he probably felt really guilty about what he did.”

  “You’re giving him entirely too much credit,” Tess huffed, “I think he didn’t want folks in his business. You know how paranoid he was about keeping his private life under wraps.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. But maybe he also felt remorseful.”

  “Last time I checked, the devil didn’t have feelings of guilt or remorse.”

  Bernadette could hear the bitter hurt that still rested in Tess’s voice, and every now and then whenever Antwan’s name would come up in conversation, Tess would become emotional. Bernadette didn’t want this to turn into a man-bashing party, so she decided to change the subject. “Tell me what kind of exciting plans you have for today. Celebrating twenty-five years of life is a milestone,” she teased. “I know you’re gonna party until the wee hours of the morning, so do tell.”

  “Actually, I’m not doing a thing.”

  “Come again?”

  “I don’t have any plans.”

  Bernadette shook her head. “Um, are you sure you’re Testimony Sinclair? The beautiful, fun-loving life of the party who always does it big on her birthday doesn’t have any plans?”

  “I’m serious, Bernadette. It’s as cold as Antarctica outside, I’m tired, and I have no desire to get dressed up and fight crazy crowds on a Friday night just to hang out with a bunch of people who’re gonna get drunk, tell me how good I look to be so old, and then talk about me behind my back. I don’t have the patience for bullshit anymore . . . especially seeing that I’m middle age and everything.”

  “Since when is twenty-five middle age?”

  “Since someone very wise told me the truth about that ‘forty is the new twenty-five’ bullshit.”

  The two women burst into shared laughter again.

  “I’m serious,” Tess said, shifting her tone. “I don’t know about you, Bernadette, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, about what I really want and what my future holds. Things are different, life is different, and I’m different. The things that used to satisfy me now make me nervous as hell. The truth is . . . I’m scared, Bernadette. I’m a forty-year-old woman with no man, no children, a big lonely house, and an empty bed.”

  Bernadette let out a loud sigh. “Tess, you’re also a New York Times best-selling author with thousands of adoring readers across the country and overseas. You live in a beautiful house that is completely paid for, you’re healthy and in your right mind, and to top it all off, you’re gorgeous. Concentrate on that!”

  Even though Bernadette had just rattled off her cousin’s glowing good points—which were completely true—she fully understood and deeply felt every word that Tess had said because they were things that Bernadette thought about her own life. She took a small sip of her coffee and looked out the window at the dark clouds covering the sky. “Tess, can I confess something to you?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Ever since I moved here to Bourbon, I’ve been looking at life differently, and for the first time in a very long time I want companionship. I want a man.”

  The line was silent.

  “Are you there?” Bernadette asked.

  “I’m here,” Tess answered. “I’m just thinking about what you said, and, cuzzo, I’m here to tell you that there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I thought that my career and material success could ease some of the loneliness that I feel. But it doesn’t.”

  “I completely understand. I go out on dates and when I need a sexual release there are a few guys I can call. But I don’t have a man, I mean a real man, and honestly, I’d like one, too.”

  Bernadette nodded. “Right now I’d give up my next paycheck if I thought it would get me a good man.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Girl, there ain’t that much dick in the world!” Tess scoffed.

  “I’m not talking about just any ol’ guy, I�
��m talking about a man. Someone who’s honest, kind, thoughtful, respectful, mature, and has his life together.”

  “That’s a very, and I mean very, tall order.”

  “Why do you think I’m still single?” Bernadette left her kitchen, strolled down her long hallway to her spacious walk-in closet, and searched for a pair of leggings. She wanted to get in an early morning workout, and because it was cold outside, she’d decided to work out in her home gym downstairs in her basement. “But like I said,” she continued, “ever since I moved here to Bourbon, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to be in a loving relationship with a real man. I don’t know if it’s because of the fact that I’m in a new town with new people and I just want someone to spend time with, or if it’s my age kicking in? I’m not sure. But what I do know is that I’m tired of coming home to a big, empty house with no one here to fill up the space but me and my thoughts.”

  “Same here,” Tess agreed. “It’s probably a combination of both, Bernadette. Honestly, it’s tiring having to shoulder everything by yourself and walk through this world alone. Antwan did me wrong for sure, but it wasn’t all bad. There were times that were great and nearly blissful. I still remember how safe, loved, and at ease I used to feel at the thought that I knew that no matter what had gone on throughout the course of my day, I had someone I could lean on and I didn’t have to go through all the bullshit alone.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Bernadette responded as she slipped out of her bathrobe and nightgown and into her workout top and bottom. She looked at her body in the mirror and felt proud of the fact that at fifty years old she had the shape and tone of a woman who was much younger. “Even though I know that all the sweet things Walter did had been a lie, the feeling I used to have was incredible. I want that feeling again, only this time I want it to be real . . . and lasting.”

  The line was silent as Bernadette and Tess both reflected on the truths they had each shared. Finally, Tess broke the quiet. “I told you my plans for today, so how about you? Are you going to do the usual?”

  Bernadette always celebrated her birthday by treating herself to a delicious meal at a five-star restaurant. There was a time when eating alone didn’t bother Bernadette, even on special days like this. But just like many things, this was something she no longer found appealing. However, since she didn’t have better options, she decided she might as well have a good meal in her attempt to curb her other hunger.

  “Yes,” Bernadette responded. “I’m going to have my annual birthday dinner and then come home and cuddle up with my pillow. Somehow it just doesn’t sound as satisfying as it used to.”

  “If I’d been thinking, I should’ve booked a flight to come there and we could celebrate together,” Tess offered. “We haven’t done that in ages.”

  “That would’ve been nice. I miss you, Tess.”

  “I miss you too, cuzzo. I’m in my writing cave right now—which is another good reason for me to stay in tonight—but as soon as I finish this book I’m working on, I’m gonna take a flight down there so I can see what kind of Green Acres situation you’re living in.”

  Bernadette laughed. “Actually, and I know you’ll be surprised to hear this, but Bourbon isn’t that bad.” She startled herself with her words. “I kind of like it here.”

  “Get outta here.”

  “I’m serious. I didn’t ever think I’d enjoy living in a town like this, but I do. The cost of living is low, the people are friendly, the neighborhoods and streets are safe and clean. Girl, people down here are so polite it’s scary. They speak and wave even if they don’t know you!”

  “That’s called Southern hospitality.”

  Bernadette nodded on the other end as she pulled her leggings over her thighs. “I’m still trying to get used to strangers speaking and grinning at me.”

  “Isn’t it crazy? I remember for that brief period of time when I lived in North Carolina during my college days, I constantly gave folks the serious side-eye because every time I walked down the street I met someone new. I thought it was a setup.”

  “Me too! One day I was like, do they have a decoy waiting behind the building to jump me and take my money?”

  The two sister-cousins enjoyed a good laugh as they continued to talk about the surprising virtues of the South.

  A half hour later Bernadette was breathing at a steady pace as she jogged on her treadmill. Her thoughts were racing just as fast as her feet were moving, still digesting the revealing conversation she’d had with Tess. Bernadette didn’t want to feel sorry for herself, because as she’d reminded herself that morning, she had a lot to be thankful for. But at the same time she couldn’t help but feel the very human emotion of longing that until now she had been able to push to a quiet place in her mind and out of her heart.

  After Bernadette’s workout, she took a long, relaxing shower, changed into a cozy pink chenille lounge set, and curled up on her couch with a cup of tea and one of Tess’s books that she enjoyed rereading because it was one of her favorites. As she prepared to get lost in the pages a strange sensation overtook her. She couldn’t explain why, but for some reason she had a feeling that she was headed for a life-changing experience. Normally, an unexplained feeling like this would have worried Bernadette because she was so cautious and pragmatic. But instead, she felt calm, and she welcomed the new experience.

  “I’m ready for whatever’s ahead,” Bernadette whispered.

  Chapter 5

  TESS

  “Just a minute,” Tess yelled from down the hall. She was on her way to the door to retrieve her pizza from the delivery guy. She looked through the peephole and then opened the door to feel the rush of cold air whip around her slim body. “That was quick,” she said, “and not a moment too soon because I’m starving.”

  “Oh my goodness!” the excited young man shouted. “You’re Tess Sinclair, the author! My mother reads all your books . . . that’s how I recognized you.”

  Tess was always startled whenever someone knew who she was, especially if the person happened to be a man, because the overwhelming majority of her readers were women. But ever since she’d sold the movie rights to one of her novels last year and had appeared on Good Morning America alongside actress Gabrielle Union, who’d been cast to play the lead role, she’d been “almost famous,” as she liked to call it. “You’ll have to thank your mother for me. I appreciate her support.” Tess reached out to take the pizza, which she’d already paid for when she placed the order, but the delivery guy continued to hold on to the large, square box.

  “My mom’s not going to believe that I delivered a pizza to Tess Sinclair.” He grinned.

  Tess nodded and smiled. “Yep, that’s me. And again, please tell her I said thanks a million for her support.”

  “There must be a lot of other famous people in this neighborhood, being that it’s so fancy and all.”

  “Um, can I have my pizza now? It’s getting kind of cold standing in this doorway.”

  “Oh, my bad. Sorry about that, Ms. Sinclair.”

  The young man still didn’t let go of the box, and Tess’s patience was beginning to wear thin. “I really need to get back to work. I already paid online and I included your tip.” Tess took the pizza box out of the delivery guy’s hand, stepped back, and was about to close the door when the young man stopped her with a request.

  “Ms. Sinclair, can I take a picture with you? I want to send it to my mom and let her know that I met her favorite author!”

  Tess had hoped the young man wouldn’t ask her to take a picture with him because she had no intention of engaging in the simple exercise. She’d taken that position not because her face was bare of makeup, or because her wild curls were fighting to maintain their shape in her three-day-old bun, or because she was wearing a misshapen, oversized sweatshirt that was still nursing a stain from the spaghetti she’d spilled on it yesterday. She didn’t want to take a picture with the young man because she knew that immediately aft
er he snapped the photo it would make its rounds on social media before he reached his car parked in her long driveway, and Tess didn’t want that to happen on today of all days.

  Today was her birthday, and instead of celebrating in some grand fashion, the world would see that the renowned Tess Sinclair was spending her special day holed up in her house with an extra-large veggie thin crust from Sophia’s Pizzeria. How pathetic am I? Tess thought to herself.

  She once again quickly explained to the delivery guy that she was in a rush to get back to work, but that she would see to it that extra money would be added on to his tip. That seemed to satisfy the guy, and within a few seconds he was gone.

  “It’s a shame, but everything comes down to the dollar,” Tess said.

  She walked into her gourmet cook’s kitchen that she’d never prepared a single meal in, and put two slices of pizza on a plastic disposable plate. “What kind of wine do I want?” she questioned aloud, wishing the silence in her house could somehow answer her. The reality of her thoughts made Tess pause and drew her back to the conversation she’d had with her cousin that morning.

  Even though they were ten years apart in age, they shared many things in common. Both were educated, highly successful, independent single women with no children. And after Tess’s conversation with Bernadette, she’d learned that they were both at a crossroads in their lives when it came to their romantic relationships.

  Tess walked over to the butler’s pantry off the kitchen and dining room and selected a vintage red wine. She reached into the cabinet above and retrieved the largest wineglass she could find. “I need an Olivia Pope–size drink tonight.” Tess sighed, referencing the fictional character who she wished could magically appear and handle her fledgling love life the way Olivia had handled her clients on the once wildly popular TV drama Scandal.

  Tess balanced the pizza, wineglass, and unopened bottle in her arms and carefully negotiated each step up the grand staircase leading to her home office. “Back to the writing cave,” she said, trying to muster up the desire, focus, and energy to write. She placed her food and drink on the small table in the corner that she’d designated as her eating section of the room. Because working on a novel required hours upon hours, days upon days, and months upon months of quiet, uninterrupted time, Tess had outfitted her office to comfortably accommodate the endless hours she spent in the space. She had one section set up with a desk, chair, computer, and lamps for writing. Another section was outfitted with a soft and luxurious sofa bed, plush pillows, and cozy throws so she could lie down and relax when she grew tired. And the section she was sitting in now was designated for meals and was equipped with a dinette set, a mini fridge, microwave, and an armoire turned snack station.