by Hannovah
“Aahh. It could be, but I don’t think it’s mainly that. He’s a very social person and needs companionship. Remember that while he appears normal to people, he is self-medicating for PTSD. One of his ways of dealing with it is to avoid being alone. Loneliness is a hell of a thing, you know Eddie; it could make you act like dogs – and return to your vomit.”
As planned, Joshua spent the night. And from our master bedroom, we heard him on the phone all night with his wife who, apparently, had calmed down.
The next morning, I saw a note on the kitchen table:
Don’t make any breakfast or lunch for me. We are going out to brunch on the beach. We made up.
Love, Joshua.
I rolled my eyes and showed the paper to Brandon. He only sighed.
It was around three p.m. when the Brownings returned and knocked on our door. I let the happy couple in, and although Ashley’s left arm was in a sling, it hardly took any attention away from her sexy shorts.
Joshua asked, “Ray, can I borrow your truck? I want to go to the hardware to buy the replacement door.”
“Sure.” Brandon went for the key and passing it to Joshua, he asked, “You need me to go with you to pick one out?”
“That would be great because Ashley will be staying at home to rest her shoulder.”
Brandon was supposed to break the coconuts so I could make the ice-cream, but it could wait: business before pleasure. Since I did not have anything else on my agenda, I decided to go along with them for the ride. Also, I didn’t want Ashley to come over here and blabber non-stop to me.
On the way to the hardware, Joshua informed us that his wife had gotten over-the-counter medicine for her shoulder, and that the pharmacist recommended that she keep her arm in the sling. He also said that because he was footing the bill for the door, he would not be paying off Ashley’s car debt. And she was cool with that.
At the store, the men picked out an attractive replacement, and I was very pleased with their choice.
Then, to our surprise, when we returned and drove up into our driveway, Ashley, arm in the sling, was sitting on our porch bench with a packed suitcase next to her feet. She got up and approached the truck.
“Where are you going, babe?” Joshua asked when we got out.
“To Tampa my girlfriend just told me an agent called and said that they are recruiting tonight for a Girl’s Gone Wild Expo in Vegas and wants to include me they’ll be flying out soon.”
Joshua all but collapsed to his knees. “Just like that?” He queried with his arms outstretched begging her for some rationality. “You didn’t even discuss it with me? You decided to leave just like that???”
She looked up earnestly into his eyes, “I called you but your cell phone is in the house so I waited till you came home.”
Brandon leaned on the truck, and I leaned on him, and we listened.
“When are you leaving for Vegas?” Joshua asked.
“Um, I don’t know.”
“What airline are you traveling on?”
“Gee, I don’t know.”
“Where are you staying in Vegas?”
“Ah, I don’t know.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“What is the name of the agent who is organizing this?”
“I don’t know gosh why so many questions?”
“Have you contacted your parole officer?”
“Fuck you!” She picked up her suitcase and stormed off to the villa.
Joshua thought out loud, “I not very responsible myself, but good Lord, she should have some measure.” Then while Brandon assisted him in untying the rope that had secured the door to the tray of the truck, he shook his head in frustration and said, “I’ll have to have a good talk with her.”
Brandon and Joshua began offloading the door from the truck when Ashley and her suitcase reappeared.
At the sight of her, Joshua stopped, and they automatically rested the door gently back into the tray.
Joshua, almost grieving, asked, “You’re still going?”
“Yes you don’t understand how the business works if I get to Vegas and make it big I could triple the money that I’m making now I’m not going to let this opportunity pass I’d be a fool not to take my career up a notch so many girls live for this opportunity I’m fortunate . . .”
“So what about our marriage?”
“What about it?”
“You know what?” Joshua waved his hands angrily, “Go! Just go!”
Ashley dropped her suitcase and tip-toed up to him. “Bye honey.” Then she endeavored to kiss him.
Joshua jerked his face away, “Just fucking go.”
She retorted, “Why do you have to be like that?” Then, frowning, she picked up her suitcase, went into her vehicle, and drove away.
“I’m done with her, Ray.” Joshua announced. “I’m done.”
“She’ll be back,” Brandon said confidently.
With that, the men picked up the heavy door, and I went ahead of them to open the back gate and the front door to the villa. They began the replacement right away, and while they worked, it seemed to me that Joshua was not bothered in the least that his wife had gone off to seek her fortune.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brandon was right.
Two days later, Ashley’s Tracker was back, and parked in its usual spot out at the curb. The Vegas dream had evaporated. Then, in less than a week, the club girl was back at work and so it appeared that her shoulder was healed too. But best of all, the guesthouse remained quiet; so quiet I thought it was empty.
Sunday, I decided to make the coconut ice-cream that had been postponed from two weekends ago. I got the mixture together and Brandon summoned Joshua (along with Ashley) for the strenuous task of manually churning the ice-cream in our old-fashioned wooden pail. Yes, we had an electric ice-cream maker, but it cannot bring the mixture to the hard consistency like the original one can. And Brandon likes his ice-cream firm, and the whole event would be nostalgic for us.
All four of residents were under D Luv Joint, and Ashley was very excited to witness the process for the first time. Brandon iced-up and salted the tub, and Ashley volunteered to be the first turner, and she churned for quite a while, longer than I could have; her arms were deceptively strong. Now that I thought about it, I knew why: climbing those poles. Then Brandon did his part and when it became too tough for him, he passed the job onto Joshua, the muscleman, to complete it.
Fetching bowls and spoons, I served everyone and we sat in the shade of the hut, to enjoy the fruits of our labor.
“Mmmm. Edna this is the best, ever,” Joshua moaned, savoring his first spoonful.
“Oh, thank you, Josh.” I always love a compliment.
“Coconut is my favorite,” Brandon said, “and no one can make it like Eddie. Yvette taught her, but . . .” he lowered his voice to say “my wife makes it much better. That’s why I keep her around.” He smiled at me.
Then Ashley chimed in, “Oh yes Miss Edna it is delicious I never had homemade before and didn’t think I would like it but it is so much nicer than the commercial thing from the store I don’t think I will ever go back to store-bought you will need to teach me and Josh how to . . .” Her phone rang. Thank God.
Placing her bowl to the side, Ashley brought her legs up and crossed them in Buddha-fashion to take her call.
“Yes I would be needing that costume for tonight . . . no I don’t work there anymore I’m now at Secrets.”
Joshua’s head swung in the direction of his wife. Ashley automatically cupped a hand over her mouth, and her blue eyes darted left and right on her reddening face.
Something’s up. Brandon and I stopped eating, and traded eyebrow raises.
“I have to go,” Ashley quickly said to her caller, and hung up.
Joshua’s mouth was open in silent pain as Ashley, with both hands pressing her cell phone to her chest, ran straight to the guesthouse and closed the d
oor behind her.
Joshua put his bowl aside and leaned back in his chair, looking skyward with eyes filled with hurt.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked him.
He answered, “Secrets is a full-nude club.”
“Oh.” Brandon glanced at me, as we both remembered that Ashley was supposed to only dance at partial-nude clubs. Brandon dug back into his ice-cream like, that’s your problem, son.
Weakened, Joshua got up and went dejectedly over to his villa. He tried opening the door, but it was locked. Then he knocked on it, but Ashley did not open up.
Wise Brandon, not wanting to replace another door or perhaps a window, called out to Joshua and signaled him to return to the bench.
“Give her time to think this through,” Brandon advised while scraping up the remnants of ice-cream in his bowl.
Joshua took a seat and thought out loud, “I wonder how long she’s been dancing fully nude.”
We did not answer. I suspected that it may have been longer than he thought since he no longer transported her to and from work, or assisted in the alterations of her costumes. He only found out because care-free, blabber-mouth Ashley could not keep anything on the down-low for long.
Joshua slouched in his seat, and his eyes fogged up.
Brandon, unperturbed, served himself some more ice-cream and I sensed, in him, that right now he did not give a damn about that couple. But he asked a question anyway. “So, what do you plan to do?”
Joshua fidgeted with his hands as he responded, “I can’t tolerate this.” He rocked from side to side on the bench. “My head’s giddy right now.”
Brandon said nothing, and I knew it was only because he had nothing good to say at the moment; he was fed-up with all the drama. So I intervened, “I believe she’s trying to make more money . . . to pay her bills and her fines, you know.”
But there was another selfish reason for my intervention: the Brownings had been unnoticeable for an entire week and for Yvette’s sake, I was hoping that the quietness lasted. I continued my pitch, “Brandon’s right. Give her as much time as she needs to sort herself out. If you aggravate her right now she might start cussing and throwing stuff.”
Joshua griped, “She might be packing up to leave.”
“Or she might not,” I chirped. “You all might be able to work it out.”
I had never seen Joshua so distraught. He was beside himself, rocking back and forth on the bench like old folks do, and folding and unfolding his arms. I figured that he was imagining his naked wife doing acrobatics in front of all those strange men in the club, and it was driving him nuts. The poor guy was taking long, deep breaths.
Brandon, now done with his ice-cream, leaned back on the bench and cut his eyes at Joshua. I began to feel uneasy, because this was how Brandon behaved when he was about to discipline our boys.
But Joshua, deep in his own woes, did not sense what was brewing. “I can’t take it, Ray,” he lamented. “I just can’t take it.” He put a hand to his forehead and squinted like if he was having a migraine.
Brandon tossed his head at me, signaling me to leave. I pretended to obey and began collecting the dirty bowls and spoons that lay on the benches. But I went nowhere. I felt him looking at me but I never made any eye-contact. I had to hear what he was going to say.
He turned to the young man. “Listen, boy,” he began. “I had enough of your shit. Your friggin’ life is a blasted mess because you let it. You bounced your fucking head with this girl. When I was trying to tell you not to marry the ho, you shut me up. Well pay the friggin’ price and shut the fuck up!”
Joshua looked at my husband like he had seen a ghost. I myself was shocked; Brandon did not put any water in his mouth this time.
“I don’t appreciate you complaining all the time, man. Grow some balls! If you’re with the woman – find a way to deal with her shit; else, move on!” Disgusted, Brandon sucked his teeth and got up to walk away, but he turned back to Joshua and continued, “And another thing – I don’t understand why her latest behavior bothers you so damn much. You of all people know that she is a free spirit who will do what the hell she wants. When you met her, didn’t she tell you that she acted in porn movies . . . men fucking her left, right, and center? And you even considered doing some with her! So why the fuck does her dancing naked trouble you?” Brandon waved his hands in the air, “Gosh, man! You’re behaving like a mother fucking asshole!”
Wow. I had no idea. Joshua may have shared this porn info with Brandon in confidence; I was sure that I was not supposed to know. Note to self: Leave when Brandon tells you to.
Joshua was looking down sheepishly at the concrete floor, and I felt sorry for him. I said to Brandon, “Ray, you didn’t have to be that crude.”
Brandon ignored me.
“I’m sorry, Ray.” Joshua sniffled. “Sorry for not taking your advice back in August. And I need to say thanks for putting up with us. I know it’s not easy. All that you said is true, but I still can’t deal with it.”
Brandon nodded. Then, grabbing up the ice-cream pail, he led me inside to give Joshua a private moment, and after a while the distraught young man came into the house and stretched out on the recliner in the den. “I have a headache. Let me lie down here for a moment.”
“You need some medicine?” I asked.
“No thanks. It will pass.”
I went to the kitchen and started washing the dishes and the ice-cream bucket while an aggravated Brandon went into his office, totally passing on watching his Sunday football games.
When I was done, I placed half of the left over treat into the freezer and then quickly dropped off the rest to Yvette. When I returned, I went to check on Joshua and as I approached him, I saw that he had fallen asleep on the recliner. I tiptoed back into the kitchen, and then went to check on Brandon who was still a little upset. I let him be. Taking my laptop, I sat at the kitchen table and jotted down a few notes about the Brownings.
About an hour later, there was a knock at our backdoor, and I knew that the only person out there was Ashley, so I allowed Joshua to open up for her.
“Can we talk?” she asked him, crying a little.
“Yeah, okay.” Then he turned to me and said, “Edna thanks for listening. Tell Ray I said thanks.”
“No problem. Will do.”
Brandon, still in a foul mood, came out of seclusion shortly afterwards and joined me in the kitchen. He said, “It would break Harris’ heart to know the kind of mess that his son found himself in. Every time he asks me how is Joshua doing? I have to lie and say, ‘just fine.’ I really need to say – ‘well, he’s married a crazy-ass stripper, you know how that is’ – but I can’t, because I’m sure Harris doesn’t know the true profession of his daughter-in-law. Instead, I have to be the one hearing all of this drama. Damn it! I had enough!” He slapped the back of a chair. “My own flesh and blood don’t put me through this crap.”
“I’m sorry, and you’re right – it is crap. But you know, since Josh was born, he took to you as a father. He jokingly tells everybody that you are his cool dad. I don’t understand why he admires you so much, and feels the need to be near you and to confide in you . . . but I’m sure God has a reason. You’re living in Miami, so he’s here too. I’m sure that if you were in Atlanta, he would’ve been there too. I’m saying this to encourage you to have some patience with him. He’s young and confused and needs guidance.”
“I’ve been very patient until now. Don’t get me wrong, I love Josh too, he’s like a son to me, but he needs to grow a brain and do the right thing – get rid of her once and for all. The only reason I keep put up with all this nonsense is because I know that he has no other family here for support.”
Brandon left me in the kitchen to again take up solitude in his office and I returned to my typing.
As the evening subsided, so did his ire, and by nightfall, I had my peaceful and affectionate husband once again. I lay on the sofa, and Brandon massaged my shoulder and
apologized, “Eddie, I didn’t really want to talk that way in front of you . . . earlier, but I was vexed.”
“That’s alright.” I pulled one of his hands towards me and I kissed it. “I understand.”
Early the next morning, Joshua came by to apologize again, and Brandon, the man, hugged him and apologized also.
They were back on track!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
We were already into the third week of the semester.
I had just finished up my last class for the day, and was toting my heavy box of supplies back to my office when Trevor happened by and kindly relieved me of my burden. We were walking along the hallway and chatting when we saw Dean Joseph coming toward us. Drat. As he drew closer, he rolled up his long sleeves and loosened his tie.
“Hey y’all,” he said when we met, his avocado-green eyes winking at me.
“Hey Dean,” Trevor responded.
I only gave a slight nod. I was not interested in speaking to this man whose principles were only as deep as the water on a duck’s back.
“I’ll take those,” he said, relieving Trevor of his load.
Trevor went his way, but I felt his snooping eyes following us.
Dean Joseph said, “I’ll get Vickie to order a cart for you. Do remind me.”
I did not reply; I just kept on walking. When we got to my door, I searched through my briefcase for my key, and unlocking the office, I walked in and dropped my files on my desk.
Dean Joseph strolled in, his scent gradually refreshing the tiny room and me. “Where do I put these?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders without looking at him.
He pushed the door shut with his heel and, dropping the boxes in a corner, he asked, “You’re mad at me? You stood me up at the Christmas dinner and you’re mad at me?”
