Our Muted Recklessness (Muted Hopelessness Book 2)

by Love Belvin

  Ashton needed his shoulders—and legs—as a quarterback. If I were still pregnant, I was sure I would have cried. I wanted to ask how he’s been, but didn’t think NormaJean was the appropriate person to ask. She hated me like Aivery did.

  “Anyway.” She sighed. “So much has happened, like a domino fall, since I let my temper get the best of me last May in Ashton’s apartment.”

  “Yeah. You told Aivery.”

  She nodded, eyes sinking away again. “Yeah, I did. And it’s something I wish I could do over. I’ve lost my best friend…” Her head bobbed and eyes rimmed with tears. “and my health.” NormaJean’s eyes returned to me when she realized I was speechless. I had nothing to give. “My breast cancer has returned—not sure if he told you anything about it. But it’s in recurrence for the third time, and this time it’s metastasized. So, I’m back on chemo, which I fucking hate.”

  I had no idea what that meant, but understood it to be bad.

  “Can I see him?” she asked so softly, but with a sliver of vulnerability I didn’t think a bombshell like her was capable of.

  I took my time considering it. I even asked a bogus question to delay my decision. “Who?”

  NormaJean scoffed, then sniffled. “Your baby, silly.” Of course, she knew. Ashton’s people, including Jimmy, were a different breed, hiring private investigators, and shit. “I promise to leave after. I don’t even have to hold him.”

  After thinking a few seconds more, I left to get Bobby. When I brought him back out, NormaJean’s tears fell again.

  “Whoa, my god! He’s beautiful!” she whispered excitedly, mindful of him sleeping. “He’s what? Four months now?”

  “Almost,” I answered, admiring his beauty, too.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Robert,” I answered, hesitantly. “Robert McNabb.”

  NormaJean’s voice deepened when she observed, “You named him after his father? I mean… His grandfather.”

  I wouldn’t look at her. She didn’t deserve to know my reason for doing it.

  “Okay. I promised I wouldn’t stay. And it’s clear to me you’ve moved on, something I wasn’t expecting.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged, rubbing her palms back and forth over her thighs as though she was cold. “Because when we small-town girls encounter a god-like Ashton Spencer, we do desperate shit to stick around.”

  “You wanted him?”

  “Still do. My plan was to let him have his fun with Aivery until he matured to see he didn’t belong with a child. He was ready for a real woman. One who had taken him in young, and taught him how to physically satisfy a woman. A seasoned woman, because he knows how to pleasure her in every other way.” Another tear fell from her ivory face. “He bailed on my birthday two days after Christmas, spending it with you. It hurt. That’s when I knew for sure, he’d fallen for you. I hated it. I popped up on him to introduce myself to you on Valentine’s Day instead of going straight to visit my sick mother. I knew, I knew, I knew…” Her tiny fists banged her thin thighs each time she said that. “…he’d lost himself to you, another woman relatively his age.”

  And there it was. The pathetic truth that turned my life upside down. I listened to NormaJean’s truths for the next ten minutes while rocking Bobby against my breasts. True to her word, she stood to leave, but not before handing me another check. This one was already made out to me.

  “I don’t want your pity or your monetary apology.” I refused it.

  “Good. It’s not for you anyway. It’s for him. I’ve deprived his father the first few months of his life—or however long it will take for you to tell Ashton about him.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t tell him. You know the last thing Ashton needs now is me weighing him down. I’ll be fine—I’ve been fine.”

  She lay the check on the table, just as she’d done eleven months ago in Ashton’s BSU apartment. “Again, this isn’t for you.” NormaJean walked to the door carrying less swag than she once had.

  “Are you going to run your mouth and tell Ashton…about?” I jerked my chin toward Bobby.

  “I’d have to be able to reach him to tell him. But the answer is no.” My lungs emptied in relief. “He wouldn’t believe me if I told him anyway.” She winked, letting herself out.

  A few weeks had passed in my “winning” streak in life. I was able to retire my mother’s hooptie for a better one. I bought a used Jeep Cherokee. It had great room for Bobby’s car seat and my mother’s walking aid. I didn’t hear from NormaJean—or Ashton—but Jimmy did mail down a few words of hello two weeks after NormaJean left. I guess pen-palling was his thing. I took my time responding.

  Then the bad season hit, transforming my life from its peaceful state I’d single-handedly built. One Saturday, after taking Treesha to Philly to drop off NeNe to her father’s, I came home to a quiet house and bad news. After getting my coat off and slowly unzipping Bobby’s Bundleme covering while he slept, I went to check in on my mother. She hadn’t called in a couple of hours, making me believe she was asleep, too. Only she wasn’t. When I walked into her room, my mother was in her favorite chair, slumped to the side with her tongue hanging from her mouth.

  She’d had a heart attack and died. Months later, when I received the autopsy, the coroner said he believed she was asleep when it happened and she didn’t suffer much at all.

  Renata was upset she couldn’t be released to come home, but I understood. She was a member of the Armed Forces now with a job to do. Ragee told me for weeks how proud of me he was at my handling of my mother’s death. He was right by my side as much as he could be, and even attended her funeral. I was surprised to see Uppercut with him on that sunny afternoon. I was even more shocked to see Uppercut so playful with Bobby, although he’d barely said more than five words to me. A strange human, he was. I didn’t care, only happy to see him.

  My aunt, Sonya, helped me plan the repast. But only I paid for everything, other than some of the food people made. I had to cut into my savings for it, but my mother was worth every penny. We never discussed Paul again, but I felt her acknowledgment and apology for him in those few months we’d become mother and daughter for the first time.

  The apartment didn’t feel the same again, even with Treesha and NeNe now staying with me. They were a great distraction and help with Bobby when Treesha wasn’t off drinking with the homies and smoking weed in the back of my unit. I got reported once and threatened to beat the shit out of her if she did it again.

  In the mornings, I’d be up first to get Bobby and NeNe fed before Ms. Thompson arrived. Then I’d get myself together for work and finally wake Treesha up to get NeNe to the bus stop for preschool. It annoyed me that she slept so hard in spite of the house being live and loud. But I was being patient with my cousin. It took some people longer to grow up than others.

  This one particular morning, I went to use the bathroom before waking Bobby up. When I came back, singing a goofy good morning song I made up as a corny mom, he didn’t stir. I went to massage him awake, continuing to sing the song. Bobby didn’t move. In fact, he was cold and dark. My whole body chilled. I yanked my baby out of his crib and realized how limp his body was. His lips were dark and eyes rolled to the back of his head. He wouldn’t move and wasn’t breathing. His heart was as still as a baby doll’s.

  Bobby was dead.

  A painful wail ripped from the bottom of my belly and I bawled so hard, it felt like I’d ripped my cords. Treesha was at my side, out of nowhere. She tried to take Bobby from my arms, but there was no way I was about to separate from him. All my hopes and dreams I gave up leaving school had been transferred to this little being. I no longer wanted good shit to happen for me. It was all supposed to happen to him. It was what kept me going since the first day I learned of his existence. This was not right. No way my baby could die while I slept next to him in the same room.

  How?

  I couldn’t stop crying, sobbing hard. I could hear Treesha yelling help in
to the phone, but couldn’t see her. I could see nothing but black grief.

  A little over a year later, I was home alone. I had no roommates, no other signs of life but mine. Treesha moved in with a guy who said he was going to marry her. They got an apartment in Bridgeton six months ago. I couldn’t say I was lonely, but I did feel the hole in my heart. Raj advised that I move into a new apartment, seeing this one had such bad memories. But I wasn’t ready.

  I quit the job at the diner, no longer killing myself with long days unnecessarily. I no longer needed the extra cash for Ms. Thompson. But for the first time since returning from Blakewood, I felt stuck and…hopeless. I had nothing to look forward to, and I’d put on more weight than I ever imagined. I was restless.

  Sitting in the rocker in Bobby’s old nursery that I had not changed a bit since he left me, I picked up an old book. “Up In Black Arms.” It was given to me by the author himself, who I’d now seen on television on a couple of news shows. As I examined the book in my hands, I recalled his sage advice.

  “I, personally, would recommend the route you’re taking. There isn’t much industry in some of those southern counties. Lots of culture, but you can find that just about anywhere. Leaving Cumberland County and courting the world at large is probably the biggest investment you’ll ever make for yourself. Your hands may have written the check, but it was your mind that cashed it. Never prioritize your gift over your ability to think. Your mind is the most valuable asset at your disposal.”

  Meditating on his energy, I decided to take Raj’s advice. I called up Uppercut, begging for his training again first. When he agreed, I packed up my apartment and left Cumberland County, swearing to never return again.

  I had the whole world to court.

  -NOW-

  “Is that one in the middle Tori?”

  I glance up from my iPad to see Keyonna peering out of the window of the plane at the group of people quickly promenading to the jet, trying to endure the rain. Several of them are with umbrellas, covering their faces at this elevated view, but my attention goes to the woman wearing the red, pointy-toe heels. She’s holding a makeup case in one hand, Birkin hanging in the fold of her other arm.

  I chuckle. “Looks like it.”

  She’s a far cry from the tomboy with the busted ass weave I remembered the last semester of my undergraduate career. Tori’s now a diva, something I recall being antsy about when buying her designer shit back at BSU.

  “Wow,” she breathes, eyes turning timid as they blink successively. “She looks smaller than she does on television. I wonder if it’s because we’re so high on the plane. I can’t wait to see her—meet her.” She rolls her gorgeous chestnut irises, fingering out her long, bone-straight ponytail. I like the new look and hope I’ve told her. “God, I hope she’s not like that Gabrielle. She deserves a damn Oscar for how well she puts on for the public. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bigger bitch. You think Tori’s a snob?” she whispers. “You met her a few weeks back to talk about this trip.”

  All humor drains from my face as it tightens. “You don’t remember Tori?”

  Keyonna shakes her head. “Why would I?”

  I guess thirteen years is a lifetime for everyone…but me and KaToria.

  Exhaling and rearranging myself in the chair, I answer, “I guess that’s fair. But I believe you once told Aivery she was the biggest bitch God ever created.” I wink.

  Keyonna drops her face into her palm. “And now I feel like shit. Thanks for the reminder.”

  I find that hilarious. “My bad.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question about Tori McNabb,” she whispers, understanding we’re sitting on a long-range jet paid for by KaToria McNabb to travel with her to the exclusive island of Kamigu for her training.

  I think for a second before answering, “The Tori McNabb you’re about to meet will likely be vastly different from the woman she may possibly be.”

  Her chin dips and eyes narrow. “Please don’t go scholar-Spencer on me right now. I’m about to meet the Tori McNabb. Be real, sir.”

  I chuckle as the McNabb party begins to board the aircraft. “That, you are.”

  Those gorgeous eyes roll again. “Here. Let me readjust that.” Keyonna reaches over and turns the cooling pad on my shoulder. “I have the TENS machine here if you need it.”

  We don’t know where I’ll need the relief, because the pain in my shoulder and legs is random. Sometimes, I go months without an ache; then there are bouts where I’m in pain for days. My therapist tells me there’s no rhyme or reason for it. Today, it’s simply a matter of the rainy weather.

  Several members of her team have already been seated like we have. I’m assuming those boarding now are the last, as we’re due to take off at exactly seven-forty this morning. We’re sitting closer to the front of the plane, where assigned. So as the group is boarding, they say hello. I can hear Keyonna, who’s leaning over the table separating us to adjust my pad, return greetings.

  “Good morning!” Keyonna bids after someone speaks.

  “Hi…” When her voice turns extra soprano, my whole body goes tense.

  Or maybe because her presence, after all these years, still fucks with me. Keyonna retracts, sitting back down in her chair, bringing into view a tall, femininely curved woman in an ivory cropped blazer, white silk blouse, gray pencil skirt exposing her tailored waistline, and red pointy-toe pumps. KaToria still rocks a natural ponytail, wild and beautifully fro-like to the back of her head. Her face is contoured, cheeks highlighted, eyes well defined, and full lips matching her shoes.

  “Ashton.” She takes in a deep breath, both hands full. “Good morning.”

  “A good morning it is, McNabb. May I introduce you to Keyonna Lee, my assistant for the duration of my time in Kamigu? Keyonna, please meet the incomparable, Tori McNabb.”

  Nervous, Keyonna beams as her head bobs. Tori manages a smile to return to her, but I’m sure her brain is running a mile a minute with confusion.

  “Nice to meet you, Keyonna.” Tori’s attention returns to me. “I’m glad you’re able to join us on this trip.”

  “Yes,” I perk up. “Speaking of this trip. It’s a twenty-two-hour flight to Indonesia. Correct?”

  Slowly, Tori nods. “A few minutes less, but yes.”

  “Okay.” I lean closer to her and lower my voice slightly. “Your formal wear and tastefully made-up face don’t give away ‘traveling’ vibes. Just wanted to be sure you knew about the journey ahead.”

  Tori’s face turns blank. She glances over to Keyonna, who looks to be shitting her pants right about now. Then her spicy regard returns to me and Tori lifts her hand with the makeup case to point toward the front of the plane.

  “This will be a long flight, indeed, which is why I made sure you sat in a convenient seat for the restroom.” She points toward the back of the plane as I grin with great pleasure at her discomfort. “I, on the other hand, will be all the way in the back. Be sure we don’t see each other until we touch down on the other side of the globe.”

  I place my elbows on the table and swing my head. “Or what?”

  Again, her regard brushes over Keyonna, then slams into me. “Or I’ll kick your ass and have you nursing more injuries than the one on your shoulder.” She gestures to my cooling pad. “Enjoy your flight, Keyonna.”

  Tori doesn’t wait for a response. She takes off down the aisle.

  “You’re an asshole!” Keyonna whispers through gritted teeth.

  I wince at a flash of pain in my shoulder. “Her favorite once upon a time.”

  As I trek toward the back of the jet, Treesha’s waiting on me, salacious wonderment all in her beam, I roll my eyes as I approach her.

  “Yoooo, that nigga is fione! Better looking than I remember!” Her pink and black gums are exposed around her pearly whites.

  “Yeah,” I exhale. “If ‘I’ll fuck you and gut your heart and mind all over again’ was a person...” I mumble.

  That speci
men I just left was beyond fine. Even with his girlfriend sitting across from him, he was able to speak to me in a way that exposed my weakness. If that wisecrack had come from any other journalist, including his mentor, Tyler Thomas, he would have been escorted from my jet. But because I’m not about to do that, one thing’s perfectly clear.

  I’ll never survive a second round with Ashton Spencer.

  ~Next

  To be continued in…

  THIS WINTER

  #PenningWithoutParameters

  #ImGonnaMakeYouLoveMe

  www.LoveBelvin.com

  ~Bonus

  See visuals from the series here on my website – http://www.lovebelvin.com/MutedHopelessness

  ~Love Acknowledges

  Visuals: 365 Photography – Brooklyn! I worked your nerves for this one, and I can’t promise I won’t for the next, but what I do know is that our art does a beautiful dance together. Thanks so much for lending your creativity to bring my vision to life! Fierce Faces – Kaydene, you kicked me to the curb this time, but it was needed! BK knows all of my colors by now. I’m so fortunate to have your awesome talent to collaborate with. Thanks for your artistry and patience (I didn’t get cussed out this time). DJ & Corrye, thanks so much for serving as visuals for our Ashton and Tori. Thanks for allowing me to be a part of your successful journeys. My best to you in all your endeavors!

  Researcher: Shumethia S. — Thanks for your availability and wonderful energy. You’re an amazing human.

  Beta Reader: — Yorubia, thanks so much for your enthusiasm for my imagination. I wonder how attentive you’d be if it didn’t earn money from it. Hmmmm…