by Hannovah
Brandon did not need my help, just my moral support. When he was doing repairs and renovations, I only functioned as his sounding block or his go-for. I suspected that he was sometimes lonely, so tired or not, I always answered the same: “No-no. I’ll go with you.” In addition, I didn’t want to risk someone else keeping him company, if you know what I mean.
I slipped into sweat shirt and jeans and, grabbing my laptop, I said, “Ready when you are.”
While Brandon did his thing with the plumbing, I sat on the carpeted floor of the apartment, tapping out my life on the keys of my computer. I vented about my predicament at DSU, and commented on the wild episodes of the two crazy young people who had settled in our guesthouse. It felt really good to get all that stuff off my chest, even though the computer offered no words of comfort, and the best thing about it was that Brandon would not be burdened with my issues and feel like he had to intervene.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I will be a fool to get back with that girl.”
That was the third time since Ashley’s last departure that I heard Joshua make that statement. He told us that she had been calling him begging for reconciliation, and he kept telling her ‘hell no!’ In fact, he had filed for divorce and mailed her the papers.
Then he roughed her up in our presence one afternoon when she called. He threatened to cut her cell phone and repossess her truck, if she did not sign the divorce papers and mail them immediately. I felt so sorry for poor Ashley. I thought the Tracker had belonged to her, but Joshua explained to me that she could not get credit because of her criminal background. So she owned nothing but her name and her clothes, however skimpy the latter were.
Joshua’s threats worked because, within days, he received the signed documents from her in the mail.
“Maybe it’s a good thing that he is breaking from Ashley,” Brandon said to me one night as we got ready for bed.
“Maybe,” I sort of agreed. “She is a real mental case and she could be a danger.”
Thanksgiving was approaching and as usual we called all our boys to determine their plans. Again, that was another holiday that Stephen was not going to spend with us because of his tour, but Maxwell and Lia promised to come by.
Joshua said that he planned to make it too, and of course, without his wife. The night before Turkey Day, Brandon decided to help out in the kitchen. That’s the biggest thing with gourmet cooking: the preparation. You have to season your meats and let them marinate overnight, and that way the taste goes down to the bone, and everyone will be asking for more and enquiring about the recipe. That’s the secret to great cooking.
As we were seasoning the turkey, I began to wonder if this whole Thanksgiving thing was not designed to put money into someone’s pocket: namely, the turkey farmers.
“Ray,” I thought out loud, “if on that first Thanksgiving the forefathers had chosen to eat chicken instead, I guess turkey would get no play at all.”
“Ah-hah,” he said, nodding. “We’d all be eating chicken.”
Then I thought about it some more and realized that no matter what meat was chosen, somebody was bound to make money anyway.
Brandon froze from chopping the seasoning herbs, and looked up at the ceiling, his mind working on something. “I could only imagine what would happen if the choice was cats,” he said with a giggle.
“Cats??” I frowned at him like if he was nuts.
“Ah-hah,” he said smiling. “We’d all be eating pussy.”
If I had not already invested so much seasoning on this turkey, I would have beaten him down with it. I just shook my head and smiled.
The phone rang. It was Joshua, but we were both hands deep in seasoning sauce. Brandon cleaned one of his fingers with a paper towel and pressed the speaker button on the phone.
“What’s up Josh?”
“Ray, I’ll have to miss this holiday with y’all.”
“Okay. No problem.”
“I’m going out of town, but I have to work on Saturday, so I’ll be back sometime Friday.”
“Well, come by for an after-Thanksgiving dinner on Friday night, then.”
“Sounds good.”
When he hung up, I could not help wondering if he was hooking up with another girl just like the last time when he missed our party.
Thanksgiving Day is a nice time for family and friends to get together and everything, you know, just another excuse for a hang-out.
My school teacher cousin, Cynthia, still single, drove in from Ft. Meyers to celebrate with us and she brought a deep fryer with her – over the years, fried turkey had become her specialty. Maxwell and Lia, armed with drinks, joined us, and our next door neighbor, Yvette, baked her specialty sweet potato pudding and brought it over too.
We all ate too much, and next month we will be in the same predicament again for Christmas. See, herein lies the problem of weight gain; these two eating holidays are too close together. I can guarantee anyone that it’s mostly at the end of the year that they put on the most weight.
After the feast, the party moved next door to Yvette’s where we spent the rest of the evening playing board games. I figured since she was still living alone, we should go over and make some noise in the place, just to liven it up and change the vibration in there. You never know what effects it may have on her down the road. Call me superstitious, but I believe what I believe. And Yvette was very appreciative of what we did.
On returning to our home, everyone headed for the kitchen to eat some more, and Maxwell and Lia took half of the turkey as they left. After a good night’s sleep, Cynthia drove out ’fore day morning to Ft. Meyers, carrying with her most of the sweet potato pudding.
There was a knock at our back door that Friday evening, and I anticipated it was Joshua returning from out of town as he said he would. I opened up the door and before I could react to what I thought I saw, someone jumped me and hugged me tightly.
“Hi Miss Edna!”
“Ashley?”
She let me go and I saw pure bliss in her innocent azure eyes. She probably noticed the shock in mine, and rightly expected it as she stepped back into the arms of a half-smiling, dreadlocks-sporting Joshua. I couldn’t help remembering Joshua’s recent words: I would be a fool to get back with her? But here he was – right back with her. Fool indeed.
“So nice to see you Ashley,” I eventually managed. “Come on in. Both of you.”
Brandon appeared with a newspaper in hand. “Hey,” he said, stopping in his tracks. Before he could process the sight before him, Ashley had bounded into his personal space and bear-hugged him.
“Hi Ray, how are you?” she greeted him.
“Fine, Ashley,” he said with a smile. “Always a pleasure to see you, girl.”
We gathered around the dinner table to have what was left of the leftovers, and I pried as to how this reconciliation took place.
Ashley indulged us with the saga.
“As you know I have been staying in Orlando and sometimes in Daytona with my mom and I have been very depressed without this man.” She leaned over and kissed her husband.
“Well on Thanksgiving morning my mom sent me to the Greyhound Station to pick up my cousin I walked throughout the station looking for her but could not see her anywhere then all of a sudden I thought I saw Josh coming out of the bus I did a double take to make sure that it was really him I tell you that was the happiest moment of my life I couldn’t believe it was him I stood dead in my tracks so he came over to me smiled said hey and gave me a hug I asked him what he was doing here and he said that he came to see me I had no idea that he was going to ask for us to get back together I thought it was to do with the divorce but he said he was missing me and longing to be with me I hugged him again held his hand and foolishly continued to look for my cousin.”
“Foolishly?” I asked.
“There was no cousin coming my mom just made that up to get me to the station to meet Josh.”
“I had spoken to her mom earlier,
” Joshua enlightened us while playing with his new hairstyle. “I told her I wanted to surprise Ashley, so she put the whole cousin thing together.”
“Nice! That was real nice.” I hoped I sounded genuine.
“I am sooo happy to be back with Josh I know it will work this time I will be going to school too.”
“What are you planning to study?” I asked.
“Nursing I always wanted to be a nurse and me being in school will help our relationship we will be going to church getting counseling and stopping all partying and drinking I am trying to quit smoking I bought the smokers gum and if that does not work I will try the patch my cousin used the patch and it worked but most people tell me that the patch does not work if I have to go to the doctor to get help I will because. . . .”
As she rambled on, I thought that I should be optimistic for the young ones, but I was not. This is heading for more drama. I should really write a book.
“I never filed the signed divorce papers,” Joshua announced as we finished up at the table. “And Ashley asked me if she could tear them up, and that’s what we’ll do later tonight.”
“So the lovebirds are back in paradise?” Brandon asked.
“Yes and no,” Ashley said. “We are back together but not totally because I have to return to Daytona on Sunday.”
“Why?”
“I must get permission from my parole officer to move back to Miami I’m really not supposed to be here now see when I thought that Josh was not making up with me I had them make the change back to Orlando so now I need them to make the change back to Miami . . .” She rambled on while caressing Joshua’s hands and hair.
During all the chitchats, I kept admiring Joshua’s new hairstyle and finally, I asked, “Josh, I see that you got dreadlocks. It looks good. When did you have it done?”
“Ashley did it yesterday.”
“I always wanted to put dreads in his hair,” Ashley proudly informed us. “But we never had enough free time together until yesterday.”
“Looks like a professional job,” Brandon commented.
“Thanks I am now officially his hairdresser.” She kissed Joshua.
“How long did the entire process take?” I asked.
“I started and stopped a few times because my hands hurt they are always hurting but all together it took about six hours Joshua’s hair is straight and gives lots of trouble to stay locked I had to use plenty of wax and I had to re-do some a few times before they could lock but I think he looks cute with it.”
As an older woman, with no clue how to begin dreading hair, I felt embarrassed for myself, but I was impressed that a young white girl had perfected that skill so quickly.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My last day of the semester was a casual one.
So casual that, instead of wearing my usual pants suit and ponytail, I threw on sneakers, jeans and a sweater, and left my curls down, hanging loose. Today, we, all of us faculty, would be in our offices tying up loose ends. Although administrators and staff were also present, the campus itself was very quiet with just a few students milling lazily around because their final examinations were over. I came in today to encode grades online and to clean up my lab.
Around ten thirty in the morning while typing away at my computer, I felt a presence at my door and I just knew that it was Yvette’s brother.
“Come in Tre . . .” I stopped mid-word because as I turned, it was not Trevor. “Oh, I’m sorry. Good morning, Dr. Joseph.” I stood as usual, and he immediately jerked one step backwards which shook my nerves. But there was nothing to be nervous about; he just wanted a better view of me.
He scanned me from head to toe and then his admiring eyes lingered on my hips. Nodding, he said, “Different look . . . but nice, real nice.”
I look damn good in a pair of jeans became it holds all my loose parts together and makes me look tight and tort and shapely. But how this dean was soaking me in, almost drooling, made me self-conscious, so I brushed my uncouth hair away from my unmade-up face and sat right back down. Pointing to the other chair in my office, I played the courteous game, “Come in. Please have a seat.”
The way that I had ditched him at the restaurant last month, I never thought that he’d come by anymore – I hadn’t seen him since then. But now here he was, again. Hopefully, he’s making his rounds to check on his flock before they leave for the holidays, I thought.
“So, are you done with your grades?” he asked as soon as he took a seat. He made himself comfortable, with his hands gripping his right ankle that he had brought up over his left knee. His shiny brown shoe tip pointed right at me.
I swiveled my chair to face him. “Oh yes. I’m entering my last class and then I’m going to help my assistant straighten up the lab.”
“Good.” His beautiful eyes searched my face for I don’t know what, and he asked, “So has it been an okay semester for you? Are you happy here?”
“Yes-yes.”
“I’m certain you made the right choice.” And there was that wink again.
It might be a twitch, I assumed. Maybe it’s done involuntarily.
He patted his thighs, got up and moved to the door. Just before leaving, he turned to me and asked, “Have you purchased your ticket for the Christmas dinner tomorrow night? I can get you one if you haven’t yet.”
“Thanks, but I got my tickets since last week.”
“Tickets” he stressed, with a tilt of his head. “I guess your husband would be accompanying you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a pity,” he said in a loud whisper. Winking, he walked off.
For the first time, I paid attention to his footsteps along the unusually quiet hallway, to hear if he stopped at any other professor’s office. But they continued non-stop until they faded away through the glass exit doors. He was checking on me, only.
I completed all my work and headed home, and I wasn’t worried about the dean trying anything with me at the dinner tomorrow since Brandon was going to be there also.
Usually, I disregarded these socials that our university held from time to time. I don’t see why I should fork out good money to hang out with the boring people that I see every day. But being new to this campus, I thought it best to attend, at least for the first time.
The next morning, I visited my hairdresser who cut, colored, and curled my hair, and arched my eyebrows, in preparation for DSU’s dinner. Returning home, I wiggled myself into a red, plunging V-neck, halter dress to see if it still fit.
“Whoa! I see you’ll be wearing the weapon-of-mass-destruction tonight?” Brandon teased with a slap to my butt.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I will proudly escort you to the dinner in that.” With the right under-garments, the dress was a definite head-turner.
“Okay, then,” I said and changed back into home clothes, leaving the dress laid out on the bed like a decorative piece.
The dinner was at seven, and my always-on-time husband accosted me at six in the evening to help him choose the right outfit. It was not a difficult thing to do seeing that he only had a few suits hanging in his closet. Then just as we were settling on the best one, the phone rang.
Brandon answered casually, “Yes.” Then his tone became serious and urgent. “Oh no . . . okay . . . I’ll be right there. Do you remember where the shut-offs are? Look for number four and shut it off. I’ll be right there.”
Brandon ended the call and while changing into working clothes, he informed me that a bathroom ceiling in one of our downstairs apartment had just caved in. It seemed that water was leaking down from the unit above and had caused the collapse.
My heart collapsed too. There was no way he could go to the units, clean up the mess downstairs, and still make it to the dinner on time. And Brandon did not believe in ‘better late than never’.
He hoisted his large, heavy toolbox onto the bed of his truck, and kissing me goodbye, said, “Eddie, sorry about the dinner, but have fun
.”
It was not going to be fun without him, but I had to go. I took my time getting dressed, but instead of the red, dangerous, evening gown, I opted for something modest: a long-sleeved, high-neck, green sweater-dress.
The dinner was catered in the grand banquet hall of the Shores Hotel on North Miami Beach, and I got there shorty after seven, planning to slip inconspicuously into a seat at a back table. But they had not started yet. The lobby of the hotel was abuzz with faculty and staff from both campuses indulging in finger foods and drinks. I waved to a few familiar faces from North while chatting with old colleagues from South, aware the whole time that someone was watching me. I looked around, and sure enough, over a few heads, I found the vigilant eyes of Dr. Jamus Joseph. We exchanged smiles and nods, and I think he winked at me. He didn’t circulate much, remaining on one spot, near the snack table, drink in hand, with many persons gravitating towards him. Not me. I’m not going over there. Uncomfortable with his stares, I moved around and mingled with the gatherers, but no matter where I went, his rich ocean greens found me.
I decide to search for Jennifer Alvarez. I wanted to see how she was adjusting to the pressure and perhaps offer her some words of encouragement. Not finding her, I asked Vickie, the dean’s secretary, and she informed me that Jennifer had called in sick and was not in attendance.
Eventually, the doors of the banquet hall opened. We took sight of a beautifully decorated room with many circular tables draped in green and red, while the tempting aroma of fried and baked foods floated out to greet us. Gigantic silver paper bells and gold plastic stars hung from the majestic white ceiling, and traditional Christmas carols softly graced our ears from a string quartet in a corner at the front.
I thought I was well hidden in the flow of the two hundred plus people strolling towards the banquet entrance when I smelled an invigorating and familiar fragrance. Then I heard in my left ear, “Hello, Edna.”
