“Adan!” Zola cheered, bulleting past Zena and jumping into Adan’s arms, as if he was a big brother returned home from the war.
Lisa looked on, smiling, but Zena could feel her mother’s eyes somehow focusing on her.
In fact, Zena felt as if everyone’s eyes were on her at that moment—the assistants’, Madame Lucille’s, even God in heaven who’d stopped time so everyone in the shop could also hear her heart beating, her throat closing and her spinning thoughts: the shop suddenly smelled like the cologne Adan wore in college; his eyes were the same; his smile was so big. He looked happy. Why hadn’t he gotten married? Why was he there? He was too handsome. How’d he get to be so handsome? He really wasn’t married? There was no wedding band on his ring finger.
Zena pursed her lips tightly as if these thoughts were in danger of being spoken aloud. And though she’d relaxed a little and admitted that neither her mother nor Madame Lucille and her assistants were looking at her, there was no denying where Adan had set his eyes. They were on Zena.
“Z, I’ve been looking for you,” he said really casually.
“Guess you found me,” Zena replied, mocking his tone.
“The groom?” Madame Lucille asked, stepping between them and sort of grinning at Adan.
“No. I’m the best man.” Adan shook Madame Lucille’s hand. “I’m Adan Douglass. We actually spoke on the phone earlier.”
Madame Lucille smiled. “Oh, yes. The financier. My favorite person in the room.”
“That’s me,” Adan confirmed. “I just wanted to stop by to make sure everything was satisfactory with the payment.”
“Everything is fine, Mr. Douglass,” Madame Lucille said. “I just need your signature on a few things and we’re all set.”
Zena watched as Adan followed Madame Lucille to the register just a few feet away.
“He’s paying for this?” Zena asked Zola.
“Yes. My wedding gift. Isn’t that great?”
“No. It’s not.”
“Why?” Zola asked.
Zena watched Adan chatting and joking with Madame Lucille at the register as if he must be up to something sinister. “Because I don’t want him paying for my dress. I can pay for my own dress. I can pay for your dress, too!”
Zola looked confused, but Lisa stood there glowering at Zena for her petty resistance.
“Really? But I thought you didn’t want to pay for anything,” Zola said.
“I never said that,” Zena countered.
“Yes, you did,” Zola argued.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did!”
“No, I—”
“Girls!” Lisa jumped in just as Adan had made his way back to their circle, stuffing his credit card into his wallet.
The assistants had gone about their work in the shop, and Madame Lucille was on the telephone.
“All clear,” Adan announced.
“That’s wonderful,” Lisa said. “And thank you so much for supporting Alton and Zola. I know how much they appreciate you.”
“Of course. I’ve been watching those two fall in love since—” Adan paused. “I guess 1999 when you all moved to Atlanta.”
“You remember the actual year?” Lisa asked, smiling with surprise.
“I’ll never forget it,” he replied before looking at Zena. “Changed everything.”
Adan escorted the women out of the shop. Zena followed behind, watching everyone walk and listening to them talk with a frown on her face. She scanned Adan’s body. He was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a fitted white T-shirt that showed off his chest. His arms were muscular and smooth.
“So, what’s going on with the case you were telling me about—the one with the little boy from Brooklyn who was abused by his foster parents?” Zena heard her mother ask Adan. She squinted and rolled her eyes at Lisa.
“We got him some help,” Adan answered.
“Help? I don’t care about that. Did you win? Did you sue the state?” Lisa prodded.
Adan laughed and added, “We did, Mrs. Shaw. I didn’t want to put it like that, but we did. He’s on a long, tough road to recovery mentally, but financially, he’s secure for the rest of his life.”
“That’s amazing. We need more good lawyers out there like you, doing what you do. Every time you call and tell me you’ve won a case, I cheer because I know you’re on the right side of things,” Lisa said.
Zena read into her mother’s words and concluded that Lisa and Adan chatted regularly. This was news to Zena. It was also interesting that Lisa knew what Adan was doing in his career. The last she’d heard, he’d followed his dream of working in civil rights but also took on some smaller pro bono community cases. His firm was small but successful. He was in the headlines, but Zena struggled not to catch any of them. Apparently, Lisa wasn’t doing the same. She sounded as if Adan was her long-lost son.
“Thank you for saying that. I need to hear it every once in a while,” Adan said to Lisa. “Things get hectic working in the community. I mean, it pays well in the heart, but it stresses the head and wallet.” Adan looked at Zena. “I’m sure you understand, Zena.”
Before Zena could respond, Lisa answered for her, saying, “Please, Zena works with rich people. Her clients are trying to add millions to their millions.”
“Not true, Mommy,” Zena said. “I take on some pro bono work, too.”
“Really?” Zola looked at Zena as if this was a stretch.
Zena snapped back, “Yes, really.”
“See, I knew you’d work with the people,” Adan said, catching Zena’s eye and locking in. “That was your dream. It was our dream. Remember?”
Zena didn’t say anything. She was silent until the lull in the conversation was deafening.
Lisa announced that she had to get going. She was working the night shift at the airport. Adan volunteered to walk Lisa to her car, but she wouldn’t have it.
Zena tried to follow Lisa and Zola into the parking lot without saying goodbye to Adan, but he stopped her.
“Zena, hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked.
The question split the air. All three of the women stopped. Zola and Lisa looked at Zena, anticipating her response with nervous excitement.
“Me?” Zena looked as if maybe she’d heard him incorrectly or maybe there was another Zena within a hundred-mile radius.
“Yeah. You.”
Zena looked at Adan discerningly, but she didn’t respond.
After a few seconds of silence, Lisa said, “Of course you can, Adan,” while reaching out for Zena. “But first, let me chat with her and Zola. I just need to make sure the girls are ready for our family dinner party.”
“Dinner party?” Zola asked as Lisa pulled her and Zena to the side and forced them into a huddle.
“What dinner party, Mommy?” Zola repeated.
“Shut up, child. There ain’t no damn dinner party,” Lisa said bluntly. “I pulled you two here because I wanted to say something to you girls and I want to make sure I say it before I leave here. Now, I know I haven’t been the best mother—the best role model. I never really got over your daddy cheating on me and that divorce. But I don’t want you two to use that as a way to limit yourselves. Love is a beautiful thing. And you can’t be afraid of it. I haven’t found anyone. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”
Lisa looked at Zola and said, “It doesn’t mean you can’t get married.” Lisa looked at Zena and said, “And it doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love.” She closed her eyes, and a tear rolled down each cheek. “I want you girls to support each other in love. To make sure you both find it. And keep it. And protect it. Even if I can’t help you, I can tell you the truth.” Lisa kissed Zola on the forehead, and then she went to kiss Zena, but before she did, she said sternly, �
��Don’t mess this up. That man loves you.”
“Mommy—” Zena started, but Lisa stopped her.
“No excuses! Just listen to me,” Lisa ordered.
When Zola and Lisa left, Zena stood there facing the parking lot, watching them pull out in their cars, afraid to turn around to face Adan. She felt as if maybe he wasn’t really there. Maybe this wasn’t real. She’d imagined him walking into the shop. Imagined him walking out.
“I’m still here,” Adan said as if he had been reading her mind. “Right over here.” He waved jokingly.
At once, Zena felt Adan behind her. She could smell him. See his shadow above hers on the concrete. This only made it harder to turn around.
“You going to walk away or something?” Adan asked softly, and it might have been a joke but he sounded as if it was plausible.
Zena turned swiftly, ready for battle or confrontation. “No, Adan,” she said. “I’m not going to walk away—not yet. So what did you want to talk about?”
“Are you free? Maybe we could go somewhere to get a drink.”
“Why? What do you need to say to me over a drink that you can’t say right here?” Zena asked harshly.
“Dang, girl,” Adan said, responding to her gruffness. “I was just suggesting we go somewhere to get out of this heat. But I guess I do remember that you like being outside in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Look, I don’t have time for a drink. I need to get back to my office. I have work to do.”
“I thought Malak said your day was clear,” Adan said.
“Really? She told you that? I guess she’s also the person who told you I’d be here.”
“No. I didn’t expect to see you here. I was just stopping by to make sure Zola was all right.”
“Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you paying for her dress?” Zena asked.
“It’s a gift. And why not?” Adan answered.
“Because.” Zena slid her hand onto her hip and furrowed her brow to bring the past into the discussion.
“Because we haven’t spoken?” Adan asked.
“That’s the understatement of the century.”
“But this is about Alton and Zola. I want to support them. I thought we both should. That’s why I want to talk to you—to find out where your head is on Bali and everything.”
“Oh. That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?” Zena asked. Just then, the heat had gotten to her. She felt sweat rolling down her back, her underarms moisten. The anxiety in her gut was bubbling up. She wanted to scream at Adan. Did he really think he was going to show up and just talk about Zola’s wedding? Without talking about what he did? Without talking about how he left her apartment in Florida that day just two weeks before her graduation?
“Yes, I want to talk about the wedding,” Adan confirmed. “What else would I want to talk to you about?”
Zena rolled her eyes.
“Look, what about the wedding? What do you want to talk about? That it’s stupid? That these two have no grounds to get married? That they’ll be divorced in two years? That you’re wasting your money on this dress and God only knows why?” Zena listed. “Because if those aren’t the key points of your conversation, I don’t know what else there is for us to say to each other.”
“Why shouldn’t they get married?”
“Because we’re a mess. Because we’re not ready.”
“We?”
“What?” Zena was confused.
“You said, ‘we,’” Adan pointed out.
“I said they.”
“Well, I disagree. I think they’re ready. As a matter of fact, I was the one who told Alton to propose.”
“You’ve got to be joking. You planted this seed?” Zena snarled.
“Yes. I think it will be good for Alton. Give him a little motivation. He loves Zola. He’ll do anything for her—you know that. Maybe having a family will help him focus on his dreams,” Adan explained.
“Focus? What about Zola’s focus? What about her dreams? She’s not ready for a family. She was just about to take the Bar. Do you know she’s not taking it now? Not taking it because of this wedding?” Zena asked. “Wait! Was that your idea, too?”
“She can take it next year when they get settled,” Adan said.
“She’ll be pregnant by next year. And did you wait a year to take the Bar? No. You were focused. Right, Adan?” Zena charged. “You kept your ‘eyes on the prize.’”
“Where’d that come from?” Adan looked as if he hardly remembered saying that to Zena.
“It came from you. How could you possibly forget?” Tears gathering in her eyes, Zena turned and walked quickly to her car.
Chapter 4
A little after 6:00 p.m. and Zena was laying in the center of her bed, praying for sunset and sleep. She wanted nothing else to do with this day. Too many hours had been spent living in the past, and she’d convinced herself that the future would be better. Though she hadn’t been to church in over a year, she was humming notes of Yolanda Adams’s rendition of “This Too Shall Pass” while forcing her eyes closed and imagining her new day at sunrise. Then, she’d run five miles and meet the sun at the top of Stone Mountain. She’d get home in time to watch the news, answer all emails and voice mails, and indulge in her two-hour beautification regime before leaving the house in a perfectly tailored black suit that captured the correct ardor and acumen of her business style. She’d zip through traffic to work in her sparkling, freshly waxed Porsche—she would’ve stopped by the car wash on the way home from her run—to find her designated parking spot empty at the office. Malak would have anticipated her arrival and had all necessary files and information needed to have the perfect day stacked in a neat little pile ready for Zena’s entry. There would be no Zola and Alton, no Mommy and no damn Adan. Everything would be back to normal, back to perfection in the morning—if only she could get there.
The bright sun outside her bedroom window sure wasn’t helping. The loud rush-hour traffic buzzing past her building didn’t help the situation. Neither was her praying and gospel singing. Not even the four shots of whiskey she’d downed like Kool-Aid. Nothing, in fact, was working. And the biggest setback of all: Zena’s own heart. It just refused to cooperate. While her mind had the plot and plan to return to business as usual, her heart was a mess of business unfinished. And what was that? So many emotions she’d convinced herself to toss aside or bury deep down inside. So many complicated emotions she’d successfully hidden away that were now springing forth like those blooming perennials in her mother’s garden. The worst thing about emotions springing forth from unfinished business of the heart was that the more Zena tried to take control, the stronger these emotions became, the louder they became, the freer, the wilder.
It was Adan’s scent. How it had interrupted everything inside Lucille’s Lace and had whispered something to Zena she couldn’t understand or recall? And it wasn’t his cologne or his aftershave. It was his real scent. The actual scent of him. The one she knew. The one she’d inhaled through so many nights and woken up to on so many mornings. It was his aura. His entire being collected in free aromatic notes set for olfactory seduction. And that was it. Straight seduction. After all these years, Adan had walked into Lucille’s Lace and seduced her with his scent. How could she have been so stupid? Have fallen for this trick? It was a trick, right? Why hadn’t she covered her nose? Held her breath? Pulled one of those gas masks soldiers wore in those World War II movies out of her purse and run for cover the moment Adan walked into the store?
But, no, it wasn’t seduction. Seduction would mean she’d been seduced. That she’d fallen for the trick. That Zena wanted Adan. That Zena wanted anything from Adan. And she didn’t. Right?
Zena denied response to this internal debate, but it reminded her of her first big blowup with Adan, the one
that nearly tore them apart. The two were still head over heels and happily living in the land of puppy love. But, still, Zena had been feeling as if there was a change in her first real boyfriend. They’d been together five months and kept a pretty regular schedule: any waking moment when they weren’t otherwise busy, they were with each other. Their relationship was equally a close friendship and a romance, and so hours together were heartwarming and sweet but also easy and comfortable. When she was with Adan, Zena felt as complete as she could possibly be. It was as if Adan was a part of her, a gateway into her conscious, her thoughts and feelings.
That was why when Adan canceled four hang-out dates in a row, Zena became suspicious. Well, her feelings didn’t begin with suspicion. First she was simply off put by his announcement that he wouldn’t be able to take her to their normal Saturday-morning matinee movie when Zena’s mother was home from work and she didn’t have to watch Zola. They’d been going to see movies each Saturday morning for eight weeks, so it was different but not unimaginable that Adan wanted to miss one day. It gave Zena pause, but she kept it inside and stayed in bed that Saturday.
The next weekend, Adan canceled the movie date and backed out of the roller-skating rink with Zena and the rest of their friends from school. Zena went alone but felt so lonely without Adan, she sat quietly throughout most of the night and went home early. When Malak and her boyfriend dropped Zena off, she stopped at the top of the walkway to her house and looked down at Adan’s house with sad eyes. Forlorn and a little curious, Zena thought to run to Adan’s house and bang on the door, ordering that he tell her what was going on. After all, he didn’t even have a reason for canceling all of these times. He kept saying he was tired or studying. But that was all. Zena decided against running down the street and cornering Adan. She didn’t want to seem like some jealous and insecure girlfriend who couldn’t ever leave her boyfriend alone even to study or sleep.
But then the last straw was a week before her sixteenth birthday. Everyone was heading to the Civic Center downtown to see Goodie Mob, Adan’s all-time favorite group in the world. The day before the show, though, Adan announced that yet again, he couldn’t go, because he had to study. Standing beside Adan’s locker as he got his books together for his next class, Zena scoffed and turned to stomp away from Adan in disgust.
Under the Bali Moon Page 7
