Cheesecake and Teardrops

by Faye Thompson

  As good as it was, Tangie could barely finish what was on her plate. After a few bites she put her fork down. She had no appetite.

  “Don’t force yourself, honey,” Della said, gazing into her daughter’s eyes.

  “It’s delicious, Dad. Really,” Tangie insisted.

  “It’s okay, honey. You’re old man has a thick skin.” Ted laughed it off. He looked across the table at Della. “Should we tell her?” he asked.

  “Tell me what?” Tangie asked, looking from one to another.

  Della finally spoke. “Your father and I are back together.”

  Tangie’s jaw dropped. “What? When did all this happen?”

  “Last month,” Della said.

  “What about Blanche?” Tangie asked, referring to the stepmother from hell.

  “I’ve filed for divorce. I thought you’d be happy,” Ted said.

  “I am.” Tangie laughed. “I just don’t believe it. You guys really caught me off guard. So you’re getting married again?”

  “Maybe. We’re living together for now,” Ted admitted, grinning.

  “Here?” Tangie glanced at her mother.

  Della nodded.

  Tangie jumped up and hugged both her parents before sitting back down. “Wow, you two are full of surprises. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

  “You two are not going to believe this,” Tangie told Heather and Charisma as they lounged around Heather’s living room. “The woman who was shot the other night in the club in Manhattan is Tony’s friend.”

  “What?” Heather said.

  “And they were aiming for Tony.”

  “Oh my God,” Charisma exclaimed.

  “They never mentioned the man’s name. Not even in the papers. Are you sure it’s him?” Heather asked.

  “But they splattered her picture all over the news. Remember I told you Tony introduced us after the concert?” Tangie reminded them.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Charisma said.

  “They were out celebrating and you know his birthday was the other day,” Tangie said.

  Heather didn’t want to believe it. “Not necessarily. Maybe—”

  “No, Heather, no maybe, nothing. It’s him. Trust me. The only reason they haven’t identified him is because they don’t want to blow his cover.” Tangie had tears in her eyes.

  “And do you know the real reason why he broke it off?” she continued. “After he proposed he and my father made an agreement that he would break off the engagement before he let any harm come my way. So apparently when things got too close for comfort, he had to let me go.” Tangie wiped away a fresh batch of tears.

  “Whew, that’s deep,” Charisma said.

  “I’ve never been loved like that,” Heather admitted.

  “Maybe not by a man, but what about your birth mother? She loved you enough to let you go,” Charisma reminded her.

  “Maybe,” Heather said, not entirely convinced.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. It hurts like hell.” Tangie wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  “But consider the alternative, sweetie.” Charisma gently stroked her hair. “We need you around. It’s too soon to break up Howard’s Angels.”

  Tangie tried to smile, recalling their college nicknames. She brightened suddenly. “But I have some good news too. You’re not going to believe this. My parents are back together.”

  “Say what?” Heather asked, caught off guard.

  “You heard me,” Tangie said.

  “Guess it was a hot summer in more ways than one,” Heather said, grinning.

  “Apparently so,” Tangie admitted.

  “I’m glad somebody’s having a happy ending. Something tells me I may never see Tony again. Life’s funny. I remember him telling me that one day I’d understand completely why we weren’t meant to be. And now that I do, I may never get the chance to thank him,” Tangie sighed.

  “He know’s your grateful, Tangie. He knows,” Heather reassured her.

  Tangie was at home crying her eyes out and listening to Chaka Khan’s “The End of a Love Affair.” She was still in love with Tony. It hadn’t gotten any easier. They say old lovers make the best friends, but she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again.

  Olivia was gone. It could just have easily been Tangie lying cold in the ground, but God was merciful. Ironically, the breakup saved her life. She finally got it. Rejection is protection against anything that was not for her highest good, and the surest way to lose something is to crave it too intensely. She wiped more tears away.

  The doorbell rang. She smoothed her ponytail and answered the door, not expecting anyone. It was Tony.

  “Hi,” he said simply.

  “Hi,” she said, pausing. “Come on in. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  They sat in silence for a moment on the sofa. “You’ve been crying.” He took her hands in his.

  “I’ll be away on assignment indefinintely. I came to say good-bye.”

  “I see.”

  “The past two weeks have been crazy.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I had to see you. I came by to tell you that you are a quality person, and I’ll always have a special place in my heart for you, Tangela.”

  “But not in your bed, right?”

  “Tangela, don’t be like that,” he said softly. “Don’t you know that I will always love you. Always. I will do anything to protect you, even if that means letting you go. But I will find a way to let you know that I am always with you.”

  He got up and headed for her CDs. He thumbed through them until he found what he was looking for: Tony Bennett and Juanes’s duet of “The Shadow of Your Smile.”

  “Dance with me, Tangela.” He pulled her to her feet.

  “I’m a mess,” she said.

  “You’re beautiful.” He freed her ponytail.

  She eased into his arms and closed her eyes as the tears welled up again. It was such a beautiful song. They danced in silence, and she tried to capture and hold that moment in her heart—the feel of his body against hers, his scent, the warmth of his touch. She took it all in, wishing it would last forever. They continued dancing even after the song ended.

  Finally Tony kissed Tangie on the cheek, but with a slight turn of her neck, his lips found hers. They kissed slowly. He slid his tongue into her mouth, holding her so tightly that for a moment he nearly took her breath away.

  She felt like a flame leading him into her bedroom. They undressed quietly in the dark, both realizing that they were making love for the last time.

  “Let’s make tonight special,” he said.

  She lay back on the bed. He moved on top of her, kissing her neck and breasts. She closed her eyes as orgasms washed over her body in waves of ecstasy before he even entered her. She grabbed him and gently pulled his head back up to hers. She loved the feel of his fresh-shaved head in her hands and on her lips. The tears began to flow as she wished they could have a lifetime together.

  “No more tears.” He kissed them away, only to see them return.

  “I love you,” she cried.

  “I know. I love you too.” He cupped her jaws in his hands. “You will never perish from my thoughts,” he whispered softly.

  He entered her gently, and they spent the rest of the night pleasing one another. Tangie prayed that the sun would never come up. Finally, they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

  As the first rays of dawn chased away the night, Tangie awoke to life’s harsh realities. She was back in the real world. She looked over her shoulder at Tony, burning his image in her psyche. He was beautiful. Perhaps, sensing her preoccupation, he stirred and opened his eyes.

  Tony stood and threw on his jeans and sweatshirt, momentarily fumbling for his sneakers and socks in the dark. “I guess this is it, Tangela.” He pulled her out of bed, and they walked to the door.

  “Let me fix breakfast before you leave,” she suggested.

  “I’m lat
e already.” He rubbed her arms and shoulders.

  “This is the day I say thank-you. And not just for all those beautiful lime roses. Thank you for my life.” She choked back tears.

  “It was all my pleasure. All of it. Come here.” He took her in his arms. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Love me.”

  “Always.” He kissed her on the forehead.

  34

  Heather

  Heather arrived home and checked her messages. All five of them. There were two from Tangie, one from Charisma, and two from Jamal. What did he want? She couldn’t imagine. The last time he spoke, he all but called her a baldfaced liar for incriminating Paula and her brother in the pill deal. Now what did he want? She listened to his messages. He wanted her to call him ASAP. Well, he could just wait, she decided as she plopped down on the sofa.

  Heather was still angry with herself for losing her parents’ picture and the letter. Now she’d just have to use her semi-photographic memory to make them last an entire lifetime. She wiped away a tear, thinking how she’d come so close, but was now so far. It wasn’t fair. Life rarely was.

  Her phone rang again. She wasn’t in the mood for Jamal.

  It was her mother. “I made lasagna,” she told Heather. “How does that sound?”

  “It sounds great.”

  “Good. I’ll heat some up for you in the microwave and bring it right down to you.”

  “I’m famished. Why don’t you join me?” Heather asked.

  “I’d love to. Why don’t you take a shower and relax. Dinner’ll be ready before you know it.”

  Heather got up, took a nice, hot shower, changed into a nightshirt, and headed for the kitchen. Her mother had set the table and brought down a pan of lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. Heather ate everything on her plate, loving every bit of it.

  “Are you finished already?” Leola asked.

  “I guess my stomach really has shrunk,” she told her mother.

  “After forty pounds, I guess so. Heather, promise me you’re through with those pills.”

  “I promise. It wasn’t worth it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I keep thinking about the letter and the picture of my birth parents. I know it’s not your fault, but why couldn’t you wait until after I had gotten home to give them to me?”

  “I was just trying to cheer you up, Heather. Don’t blame me for that.”

  “I know it’s not your fault. I’m not saying it’s your fault. I just wish you had waited, Ma. That’s all,” she snapped.

  “Well, forgive me for trying to put a smile on your face.” She pushed her chair back from the table and threw her napkin onto the plate. “I’m going upstairs. Good night. Mothers get blamed for everything.”

  Heather ran the water for the dishes, slamming them in the sink. In the process, she cut her finger on a broken glass, drawing blood.

  “Damn,” she said as she sucked on her injured finger pad. Things had gone from bad to worse. She fought back tears as she covered the pan of lasagna with aluminum foil and put it in the fridge.

  She owed her mother an apology. Sometimes it was hard for her to say she was sorry. It never came easy for her. Forgiving others was difficult. Forgiving herself was nearly impossible.

  Her phone began to ring as she finished up in the kitchen. It was Jamal.

  “Hey, Heather. How’s it going?” he asked.

  “I’m okay now, but I was in the hospital for a couple of days.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was run-down. I was losing too much weight too soon, and it took its toll on me.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Heather. That’s kinda why I’m calling. I owe you an apology.”

  She listened.

  “I should have believed you when you told me about Paula and her brother.”

  “What made you change your mind?” she asked.

  “Well,” he laughed sheepishly. “I saw a little snippet in the Daily News the other day about him being busted and out on bail for selling illegal drugs.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “And I felt so bad for the things I said to you.”

  “Jamal, I accept your apology.”

  “Thank you, Heather. I feel much better now. I’ll let you get some rest. Talk to you later. Okay, Heather?”

  “Okay, Jamal.”

  Heather took two additional days off before returning to the library. Her boss and coworkers were pleased to see her back. Unfortunately, after a couple of hours, she felt like she had never left.

  For lunch she stopped by Patty World for the brown stewed chicken special. All the tables were occupied so she ordered take-out.

  “Heather, over here,” a familiar voice said. It was Ava.

  Heather picked up her order and sat down. “So how’s it going?” Heather asked her.

  “I’m good. You look tired.”

  “Girl, I have been through the ringer.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I just got out of the hospital last week.”

  “No,” she exclaimed. “What happened?” She bit into a plantain.

  “Those damn Z3Ks. I see why they’re illegal. My mother had to rush me to the emergency room.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as a root canal.”

  “Wow, I feel for you. I hope you stopped taking them.”

  “I flushed them bad boys right down the toilet,” Heather admitted.

  “So you’re back to work?”

  “Uh-huh. Today’s my first day back,” she said as she slid a forkful of chicken into her mouth.

  “So how’s it going?”

  “So-so. I’m still a little tired.”

  “You should come by my house for dinner. My back rubs are legendary.” Ava looked deeply into Heather’s eyes so there would be no misunderstanding.

  After a long pause, Heather finally spoke. “Maybe one of these days I’ll take you up on that.”

  Heather knew what had to be done. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in close to a week. That wasn’t like either of them. When she came home from work that evening, Leola was in the living room, watering plants. She barely acknowledged Heather when she entered the house.

  Heather cleared her throat and spoke. “Ma, we need to talk.”

  Leola continued with the watering.

  “Can we talk for a second?” Heather asked.

  Leola stopped what she was doing. “I’m listening.”

  “Let’s sit down,” Heather said on her way to the love seat.

  Her mother sat on the sofa.

  “Okay.”

  “Ma, I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day. I apologize. I know there’s no excuse, but all my life I could only imagine what my birth parents looked like, and what their story was. You came along with all the missing pieces to the puzzle for me. It was like a dream come true. Then I let it slip through my fingers, carelessly. I was angry at myself, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry, boobie.”

  Leola stood without saying one word. She went into her bedroom and returned moments later with a plastic sandwich bag. This time she joined her daughter on the love seat.

  “This is yours.” She handed Heather the bag.

  Puzzled, Heather took the bag, examining its contents through the plastic. She reached in and removed the small brown paper bag inside. Inside that bag was a familiar two-page letter neatly folded on plain white stationery. The photo was there too.

  Heather’s eyes filled with tears. She grabbed her mother with both arms as the tears flowed down both their cheeks.

  “But how?”

  “Boobie, there’s an old saying. God’s favor ain’t fair. It just is.”

  Heather realized that there was no sense in tempting fate a second time. She stopped by the Staples on the Van Wyck Expressway to make laminated copies of her mother’s letter and of her parents’ picture.

  Heather practically begged the sales associate to be careful. He look
ed at the photo closely.

  “Is this your mother? You look like her, especially your nose.” He was young.

  “Yeah, they’re my birth parents.” Heather surprised herself.

  “You’re mixed,” he said simply.

  “Mixed with love,” she added, smiling.

  “Me too,” he said, smiling at her.

  Heather checked her watch. She had an appointment next door with Dr. Taylor at Jamaica Hospital. The doctor was very busy and Heather appreciated her clearing a few moments from her tight schedule to see her. She rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, thankful that she was no longer a patient. She sat in the waiting area for a few moments before Dr. Taylor’s nurse whisked her inside.

  Dr. Taylor looked like she should be doing a spread for a fashion magazine. She motioned for Heather to have a seat in her office.

  “Thanks for stopping by and catching me up on your progress. How are you?” she asked Heather.

  “Much better.” Heather smiled.

  “I can tell. It’s like night and day since the last time I saw you. I take it you’re off the Z3K?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Good. It’s been in the news a lot lately.”

  “Whew, I couldn’t believe all the malpractice suits and wrongful-death suits pending,” Heather admitted.

  “It’s truly a blessing that yours wasn’t one of them.”

  Heather’s face registered the impact of her statement.

  “So have you learned anything about life?”

  “I’ve learned a priceless lesson. Favor ain’t fair. It just is.”

  “I couldn’t have said it more perfectly myself. Let me ask you another question. How do you feel about therapy? I think you’d be an excellent candidate. Would you consider it?”

  “Absolutely. If it’s good enough for Tony Soprano, it’s good enough for me.” They both laughed.