by Terra Little
“Would that bother you?” Aaron asks Beige, and I hold my breath.
“I guess not. You need to make an honest woman out of my mom. But don’t think I’m putting up with a bunch of screaming brothers and sisters, because I’m too old for that.” She gestures in my direction. “And you are too, Mom. You are sooo past your prime.”
“Forty isn’t old,” I say. Aaron lays his head back and hollers with laughter. “And I’m not even forty yet, so watch yourself. There’s nothing wrong with my uterus. I can have as many babies as I want.”
“At least one more,” Aaron mumbles under his breath.
Before I can demand clarification from him, Beige starts up again. “Mom, give it up, okay? What about a cell phone? The one I have is old, and I only get a hundred peak minutes a month. I need a new plan with more minutes, just in case something happens and I need to reach one of you guys.”
Aaron reads her like a book, even though she schemes with a blank face and a coy smile. “We can discuss a new phone,” he says after a minute.
“And if I’m going to be emailing my friends, I might need a laptop too.”
“Oh yeah, and what about this: Don’t push it,” he says and then goes into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him with a definite click.
Beige and I consider each other for long seconds. I wait for her to pick up where she left off, to give me fifty more reasons why the move will be the ruination of her life as she knows it. She scratches the side of her head and shifts from one foot to the other, purses her lips and thinks about something that I can only guess at. She scratches a spot on her arm and giggles, and then she sinks down to the futon and folds her legs yoga style. Hums under her breath and nods slowly.
“I like dogs,” she finally says and reminds me of the little girl I love so much.
Vicky orders a mocha latte for herself and a shot of espresso for me, and gives a man sitting at the opposite end of the counter a shy smile. He’s been staring at her since we walked into the coffee bar ten minutes ago, and until now, she’s pretended not to see his wide-eyed, interested gaze. I see it, though, and it is not the look of a complete stranger wanting to make her acquaintance. He knows her, and the blush creeping up her neck tells me that she knows him too.
“What’s the story?” I ask, sliding into a chair across from her at a little wooden table that is too small to be anything but cute and useless. I shoot a glance at the mysterious man, see that he is still staring, and smile into my cup. “You know him?”
“He works at the hospital in pathology,” she says. “Do you think he’s cute?”
She could do worse, I think. Mystery man is like my espresso, dark and full of impact. Perfectly shaped bald head, nice lips and capable-looking hands.
“Definite eye candy appeal,” I say. “Have you been seeing him behind my back, or is he on the prowl?”
“On the prowl.” Together, we angle our heads and check him out one more time. He sees our inspection and laughs, raises his mug and salutes us cheerfully. “I can’t decide if I should go out with him or not. He’s asked four times already, and I keep putting him off for one reason or another.”
“Why? He’s hot, Vicky.” She blushes even more and stares into her coffee with more concentration than the drink calls for. I reach across the table and touch her hand. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of him. Oh my God, you are. What the hell? Why?”
“Look at him, Leenie. He’s gorgeous.” She takes a sip of coffee and glances over her shoulder like she thinks he might be standing there listening. “Plus, he’s five or six years younger than I am. I think he’s got kids, too.”
“So?”
“So he probably just wants to have sex.”
“And he has problems finding someone to help him out with that?” I am incredulous and I think not. “Vicky, please, the man obviously sees something he likes and he wants to take a closer look. You should go over there and say hi or something. Quit playing hard to get. That gets old after a while.”
“I’m not. It’s just . . .” Vicky is frustrated, can’t find the words in her extensive vocabulary to express what she wants to say. I see fifty different emotions cross her face, and I can identify with every one of them. But I make myself wait for her to tell me what she feels, instead of telling her that I already know, the way I usually do. “It’s been a long time since I’ve dealt with a man, Leenie. A looong time.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” I hear myself say and smile. “You just get on and start pedaling. And don’t look down to see how far you might fall.”
“That’s it? That’s your sisterly advice? Get on him and ride until I fall off?”
“I said nothing about getting on the man, so get your mind out of the gutter. I’m saying take it slow, but definitely take it somewhere. See what happens. You deserve it.”
“Too much baggage.”
“He has?”
Vicky looks at me for a second, then she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She thinks I’m not following her where she wants to lead me. She slaps a hand to her chest and falls back in her chair. “Me, Leenie. My baggage. All my secrets. If he finds out who and what I really am, he’ll be gone so fast it’ll be like he was a dream.”
“How is he going to find out?” I say. “And what is there to find out? You’re not the one with the sordid past; I am. Don’t make my shit your tragedy, Vicky. That part of our lives is over and done with. What you are is a successful nurse practitioner, an attractive single woman, and up for grabs. Let him grab you.”
“Part of your shit is my tragedy, Leenie, and you know it. I played a part too.”
“Kimmick says I should start trying to reframe what happened to me. He says I should consider myself a survivor instead of a victim. I think you should do the same. It makes everything so much easier to look back on.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.” We search each other’s faces, and for once, I am the first to look away. “Not exactly, anyway. Kimmick knows everything?”
“Everything he needs to know.”
“He knows about me too? That I was there and that I—”
I cut off her flow, wave a hand and dismiss what she is about to say next. “That you were there,” I say and catch her eyes. “And that’s all. It’s about getting on with our lives, Vicky, not living in the past and rehashing it every chance we get.”
“Does Aaron know?” Her voice is quiet. “I mean, about . . .”
“He knows,” I say. “He says he has a newfound respect for the medical field. If he calls you Louise by mistake one day, just act like you don’t know what he’s talking about. His sense of humor can be a little over the top sometimes.”
“He didn’t run away.” She looks hopeful.
“He didn’t.”
“Do you love him?”
“I do. So much I can’t believe it. It’s like I didn’t know I was looking for him until I found him, and now I don’t ever want to be without him. I thought I was through with men for good.”
“Lord knows you have reason to feel like that. You and me both. Can he be trusted with what he knows, Leenie? I mean, I like him and I think he’s a great guy, but—”
“I love him, Vicky, and you know that’s not something I do easily. I couldn’t feel like that about him if I didn’t trust him with my life. I’m telling you, don’t worry about it. I’ll go serve another eight years if the subject ever comes up again, okay? I’ve got you.”
She pushes her mug away and balls her fist against her lips. Looks at me for a long time and talks with her eyes. “You’ve always had me, when it should’ve been the other way around. You should’ve been the oldest and I should’ve been the scared little baby.”
“There’s nothing valiant about what I did. Look at everything I lost because of it. You tried to tell me she wasn’t worth it, but I wasn’t listening. Sometimes I wish I would’ve.”
“I missed you so much, Leenie,” she says and tears up. I see her tears and throw my hand
s up dramatically. That makes her laugh and swipe them away. “We’ve been through a lot together, me and you. I owe you so damn much that I don’t even know where to begin paying you back.”
“You don’t owe me shit.”
Mystery man is still looking in our direction, and I lock eyes with him. I refuse to let him look away from me until I see what I need to see in his face. He wants my sister and he wants her badly. His lip is almost dragging the floor and his eyes are begging me to be his wingman, to say something to her that will make her give him the time of day. He senses me, knows that I have the power to make it happen for him. He knows that Vicky and I are one and the same, closer than mere sisters can ever be, and my opinion matters.
It is not about wielding power though. My love for my sister is the first true love that I ever knew, and that makes me just as submissive to her as she is to me. The secrets we have between us make me her slave just as much as she is mine. There is no doubt in my mind that she will drive to the nearest body of water and jump in, if I ask her to. No doubt in my mind that I will dive in right behind her, because if she goes down, I go with her. I cannot stand by and watch her be destroyed and not reach for and take my share of the misery.
We have parts to play in life, Vicky and me, and we play them. Prison would have demolished her because she is weak, soft and malleable. She wants to please too many people for my tastes. She sees good in others where sometimes there is none, and she is a natural caregiver. She has scars on her soul that need tending, that need healing and a patient hand.
Me, I am the stronger of the two of us and I always have been. Doesn’t mean I am better, just different. Yet, we are still one and the same. Two sides of one coin that has much value. One side without the other means nothing and is worth nothing. The scars on my soul make me harder than she is, able to withstand and to take more. I step in when soft is not what is called for, when good does not exist, and when pleasing others is not an option. We cannot be divided, no matter how much time passes or who comes onto the scene.
I stare at mystery man and size him up. I know Vicky, what she needs and what she does not need. And I know what I will not stand for her to have. In his eyes, I am looking for patience and understanding, tolerance and compassion. Something more than lust and sexual desire. She already knows about lust and sexual desire, and it is the something more that I want for her. I want her to find what I have found and to let the discovery heal her, the way it is healing me.
Thinking about everything chokes me up a little, so I sit with myself for a while and people-watch. Vicky does the same, and we laugh at a busy toddler and his harried mother, to keep from talking about our own stuff. We sneak more peeks at mystery man and giggle like teenagers, to keep from crying. And then we catch each other’s eyes and end up back where we started.
“You did what I needed you to do, Vicky. You played your part.” I am done swimming in mystery man’s pool, and I take my eyes away from him and put them on my better half. “You took my baby and you cared for her the same way I would’ve. No second-best crap and no half-stepping with her. Somebody had to do that, and I wouldn’t have wanted anybody to do it but you. Knowing she was with you helped me make it through. It was one less thing I had to worry about, so I think maybe I might owe you.”
I reach across the table and wipe a tear from her eye and she smiles sadly. Misery and sorrow aren’t the only things that we have shared. We have also shared motherhood, and somehow it feels like that was part of our destiny. I stop feeling resentful about my daughter’s affection for her aunt and start feeling grateful for her aunt’s affection for me. Grateful that I could be the one to give Vicky something that I know she wants but will never have, even if it was only for a little while.
“You were so good to her,” I say. My words are thick with emotion and unshed tears. “I’m so grateful to you, Vicky. I owe you—”
“You don’t owe me shit.” She steals my words and gives them back to me. “I dropped the ball a little bit, but I tried to have you like you had me, as much as I knew how. I tried . . .” Her voice trails off, she shakes her head, and I can see that she still doesn’t believe that she did enough.
“Do you love me?”
Vicky pulls in a long breath through her nostrils and they flare from the effort. She releases it out of her mouth and gives me a watery smile, then reaches for my hands and squeezes them so tightly they hurt. “Like life, Leenie. More than life.”
“Then forget about it, okay? Work our stuff around in your mind some kind of way that helps you deal with it, and then store it away. Let this be the end of our tragedy and the beginning of the rest of our lives. Come with me as I walk away from all of it and don’t look back. Can you do that? I hope so, because it doesn’t feel right without you with me.”
She sniffles and clears her throat. “Damn, this Kimmick man is really helping you, huh?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. You should think about talking to somebody too.”
“I might just do that.”
“One thing though. What we . . . our . . .” I search for the words and eventually find them, take my hands from Vicky’s and flatten them on the useless tabletop. Then I put my thumb and index finger together and drag them across the seam of my lips as if I’m closing a zipper. “The end, Vicky. What happened at the end, that’s what I need you to do with it. Let me have it and you let it go, okay?”
“Aren’t you tired of carrying it around? Of carrying me around?”
“I’m tired of talking about it and I’m tired of you feeling guilty about what happened. Things went down exactly like they were supposed to. We carried each other.”
She is on her lunch break, and we are pushing it by lingering in the coffee bar. After a few more minutes, I remind her of the time and we get up to leave. She has fifteen minutes left to make her way across the intersection and back up to the seventh floor of the hospital, and I have just as long to make my way back to my apartment to meet Aaron. We are doing one last walkthrough of our house this afternoon, and we still have a few errands to run before we pick up Beige from school and get on the road.
My face changes when I think of Aaron; something shifts and gives my thoughts away, and Vicky can read me just as well as Sula can. She slings her purse over her shoulder and touches my arm softly. “Did you ever think you’d meet someone like him, Leenie?”
“No.” I shake my head and feel my lips tremble. “I never thought I deserved to meet someone like him.”
“You do. You deserve the best.”
I am standing at the door, and I should open it and step out onto the sidewalk. Vicky comes up behind me and waits for me to do just that. Three more people are behind her and a line is forming. They all want to leave, but I am blocking the only exit, staring through the glass at congested traffic and people marching up and down the sidewalk, going about their business and living their lives. My eyes bounce from one person to another as they pass the shop, and I wonder how many of them have their own personal tragedies, how many of them manage to find their way over and around them, and go on with their lives in a way that fulfills them. I think there must be too many to count because there are a lot of people in the world.
I take Vicky’s arm and pull her away from the door. “You remember what Mama used to say all the time when we were kids? Sometimes God doesn’t send you what you want but what you need?” I nod in mystery man’s direction. “What if God sent him for you?”
She looks at me like she doesn’t recognize me. “You don’t even believe in God.”
“There you go again, thinking everything to death. Go over there and talk to the man, Vicky.”
“And say what?”
“How about, where should I meet you tonight for dinner? Or, pick me up at eight? Hell, he’s a little too fine to be missing out on the possibilities. If some other sista comes along and turns his head, your shit is over.”
“Possibilities, huh?” She looks at him and he smiles his encourage
ment. His eyes tell her to come along, and I think I feel her body gravitating in his direction.
“Infinite,” I say. “Go on and handle your business.”
She damn near skips across the coffee shop. Is almost there when she has a thought and comes skipping back to me. “Stay right here, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”
“Don’t I always stay with you?” She skips off again, and I smile with my whole face. She knows I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-three
Aaron rolls over in bed and finds me gone. Then he comes to me in the same condition that I am in—naked, skin sticky with dried sweat and good loving. He presses into me from behind and wraps his arms around me. I welcome his touch and sink back into his body like it is an extension of mine, fit my head under his and give his chin a place to rest. We stand at the window in his apartment and look out over the park across the street.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Not without you,” he says. “What’s on your mind?”
“Thinking about when I first moved in. My head was really messed up. Scary to think about how messed up. You think there’s somebody over there in the park somewhere looking at my tits?”
He laughs and rearranges his arms so that my tits are covered. “There’s no lights on in here and it’s dark. You want somebody to be looking at your tits?”
“Nobody but you, baby. Nobody but you.” A kiss lands on my shoulder and then on the side of my face. I lean into his mouth and slide my arm up and around his neck. I love the feel of his heat.
“It’s your world, Lena. I just need to be in it with you. I was thinking about you today, when I was finishing up the manuscript. Thinking about how proud I am of you. Thinking to myself that I’m glad you picked this building to move into.” He curls an arm around my neck and closes his fingers on the ball of my shoulder. I cannot move even if I want to, which I don’t. “I was waiting for you.”
“I told Vicky that I never want to be away from you,” I say. “I can’t imagine it.”
