His Last Wife

by Grace Octavia

  By the time the meeting with Baba Seti was over, the lobby in the front of the center was empty and the visitors’ parking lot only had two parked cars remaining. The security team had informed them that they had no evidence that police or investigators were looking for Val and Kerry, but they also couldn’t find any information about the bodies they’d said they’d seen in the basement at the house in north Georgia.

  As Kerry kept saying, Baba Seti promised that he was going to take her to see Jamison in Cuba. He said Jamison was at one of the Fihankra Centers there, working in a community where men, women, and children from around the world had come for refuge, escape, and protection. He’d been handpicked to go there to help the community get stronger, to organize. Soon, all of the centers would connect and they would begin phase three of their plan.

  When Kerry asked what that was, Baba Seti put a fist in the air and said, “Revolution.”

  Val listened to his many proclamations and promises and tried to figure out if Baba Seti was lying or just crazy, but really, after she’d heard everything he had to say, she couldn’t confirm either of those things. Of everyone she’d come in contact with who claimed they could help her since Jamison’s death, his ideas were the most far-fetched, but also seemed somehow to have the most explanations. Then there was the name of the center—Fihankra—how she’d felt when she saw the sign out front, all of that money Jamison had given the center: five million dollars in insurance money and 20 percent of his dividends from Rake it Up. This couldn’t be coincidence. Why would Jamison give them all that money if the things Baba Seti was saying weren’t true?

  “I want you to come with me,” Kerry posed to Val in the car outside of Thirjane’s house after the meeting at the Fihankra Center. “Come with me to Cuba to find him.”

  “I don’t think I should go th—”

  Kerry cut Val off. “I have to go. I have to find out.”

  “Fine. Go. Fly to Cuba with Baba Seti and find Jamison. Why do I have to go?” Val asked.

  “Because I want you with me. I need you with me,” Kerry revealed. In the office she’d told Baba Seti she wanted to go to the Cuban Fihankra Center as soon as possible. She had some money and she’d charter a private jet so they could fly directly and not have to worry about times or being tracked.

  “I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, Kerry,” Val said.

  “So, you don’t believe him? You don’t believe what Baba Seti was saying?”

  “I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is that it’s been a long few days and there’s so much going on right now. I just need to go somewhere and sit down and think.” Val looked at Kerry and realized she’d spent the entire day with her. Kerry’s eyes were red. She looked so tired. “Maybe you need some time too.”

  Kerry let out a sad laugh. “Time. I wish I had more of it. Had more time to take time.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that you shouldn’t just rush into this. If Jamison faked jumping off some roof so he could escape being killed and go help some hippie compound in Cuba, let him stay there. Getting there tomorrow or next week won’t change that. Like, why does this Baba Seti want you to go right now? What’s that gonna do?”

  Kerry looked out the window at the house and got quiet as she had so many times that day. Val could feel her tears.

  “I’m not trying to be mean. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m just—I don’t know. I want to make sure you think everything through. Who knows what’s in Cuba? Even if what Baba Seti said was true, who knows?” Val said contemplatively.

  “I need to tell you something else,” Kerry said, struggling to find her voice through her crying. She wiped her cheeks and dried her hands on her lap. “It’s about why I was with Jamison the night he died.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Val said. “I already get it. You two were at the hotel. I know what happens there.”

  “No. I told you we didn’t sleep together. But we did talk. And he told me—” Kerry paused and let out a little sigh before continuing. “Before he left to go up on that roof, he told me that he wanted to marry me again. And I said yes.” Kerry giggled softly through more tears. “I’d be his third wife . . . well, once he divorced you.”

  What should’ve hurt or sounded like fighting words to a woman who’d been married to the man who’d proposed marriage to another woman just sounded like the truth to Val.

  “That’s why I have to go see him. I need to ask him why he did that. How he could do that: Ask me to marry him again and it was all a hoax?”

  “If it was a hoax,” Val noted.

  “I don’t think I can just move on without at least having the opportunity to ask him—face-to-face—how he could hurt me like that. How he could leave me.” Kerry crumbled into an ugly cry. One to which Val had to respond with a shoulder to lean on. And a stroke of her new friend’s hair.

  Val was rocking and stroking, soothing Kerry’s broken heart and then she was crying herself. Not because of the comforting Kerry needed. Val cried because of the comfort she was giving. That it felt good. And she wondered why she’d never given it to anyone else.

  Val and Kerry separated and began to wipe their tears.

  “Uggh! That was ugly,” Val said lightly. “Got me crying and such! Like a big old baby.”

  Kerry laughed as she picked up her purse to get out of the car and go into the house.

  “Hey, since we’re telling secrets, how about I let one loose on you,” Val asked, with her voice turning serious.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Remember that ten thousand dollars I requested?” Val asked.

  “Yes. What about it?”

  “It was for Coreen. I’ve been trying to keep up Jamison’s payments with her, but I can’t afford it and she just won’t stop. I didn’t know what else to do. She’s been threatening taking her story to the media and I didn’t want that to happen. I know that will have a horrible impact on Rake it Up,” Val revealed.

  Kerry nodded and opened the car door without a peep.

  Val looked at her, confused, until she’d gotten completely out of the car.

  “What? You’re not going to say anything?” Val asked.

  “I knew,” Kerry admitted simply. “I figured that was what was going on. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she came back around. Look, don’t worry about Rake it Up. Let her go to the media if she wants. Let her go on a full media tour, telling everyone about how she was extorting money from Jamison and that she intended on extorting money from Rake it Up. We’ll see how everyone takes that.” Kerry smiled and after stepping from the car, she added, “I don’t remember a lot of what my father told me before he died, but one thing I’ll always remember, one thing that’s always stayed with me. My father said: The truth will always come out. Sounds simple, but it’s true and easy to forget. You can pay that woman as much money as you want, but one day, the truth is just going to come out anyway. Why not now? I bet she’ll change her tune anyway. If she’s successful and the company does go under because of it, won’t she be losing out too?”

  Kerry said good night and started walking toward the house.

  “You going to be okay in there?” Val said just loud enough for Kerry to hear her.

  Kerry nodded and kept walking, up her mother’s front steps and through the front door.

  Tyrian sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes sleepily. He’d been pulled from his sleep by a noise and opened his eyes to see the light on in his closet. The door was open. The noise was coming from inside. Being seven years old and half asleep due to the late-evening hour that had the sky outside his window pitch-black, Tyrian’s mind went straight to all of those scary movies his mother had told him not to watch. Was there a ghost inside? A demon? A zombie? His little imagination was about to have him hollering.

  Just when he was going to scream and wet his bed, the night ghost in the closet emerged. It was his mother. She had his suitcases in her hands.

  “Mama?” he called to her
.

  “Yes, baby. It’s just me,” Kerry said, dropping the bag on the floor and going toward the dresser to get more of her son’s things. “Did I scare you?”

  “Yes,” Tyrian admitted. “What are you doing?”

  “Just getting our things together,” Kerry said.

  “Why?” Tyrian asked.

  “So we can go home.”

  Tyrian popped out of the bed like it was the middle of the afternoon. “We’re going home?” he repeated joyously to be sure it was true.

  “Yes.” Kerry smiled at his excitement.

  “Right now?”

  Kerry hadn’t decided that, really. She was still trying to figure out what she was going to say to her mother. How she was going to say it. Still, seeing her son look so happy, she decided there was nothing wrong with leaving Thirjane’s house that night.

  “Sure,” she said, throwing a pair of pants and a fall jacket to Tyrian. “Put those on.”

  “Really?” Tyrian smiled. “Why are we leaving now? Is it because Grandma Janie is getting married to her boyfriend?”

  “What?” Kerry asked.

  “Her boyfriend. The white man with the black hat from the park,” Tyrian explained. With everything happening after Kerry got home, he hadn’t told his mother about the park or his investigation. He’d forgotten all about the recordings on his iPad. Until right then.

  “Grandma Janie doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Kerry said.

  “Yes, she does. He comes to the park. They talk. She gives him money.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Tyrian had already climbed out of bed and was getting the iPad from the dresser. He handed it to his mother. He told her to press play.

  Kerry listened in horror as recording after recording played on. Tyrian had taped three of Thirjane’s drunken nighttime breakdowns. Four of her meetings with the man in the park, who sounded like her hit man. She’d given him money even after Kerry had been released from jail.

  Once Tyrian was dressed and Kerry had called for a car to come and get them, she took his hand and started leading him out of the house.

  With all of the noise in the house, Thirjane showed up in her doorway with her bathrobe on right when the car pulled up outside and Kerry and Tyrian were about to descend the steps to leave the house.

  “What’s going on out here?” Thirjane asked.

  “We’re going home, Mama,” Kerry said.

  “Tonight? You can’t take that boy out of this house in the middle of the night. He’ll catch cold.”

  Tyrian hid behind his mother.

  “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m his mother. It’s my decision,” Kerry said.

  Thirjane noticed that Kerry had been crying. She could see the trail of old tears on her cheeks and the wetness still in her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked. “You—are you okay? Why do you all have to leave now?”

  Thirjane stepped out of the room. She already knew what this was. That the time would come. It wouldn’t take long. She’d wanted to tell Kerry herself, but how do you come up with those words?

  All she could say was, “I can explain everything.”

  Kerry was unmoved by this proposal. “Tyrian. Go downstairs and wait by the door.”

  “No! Wait! Don’t send my grandchild away from me. He’s all I’ve got,” Thirjane cried.

  Kerry pointed downstairs and Tyrian waved his little hand good-bye to his grandmother before following his mother’s orders.

  “Anything you say will only make this worse,” Kerry said when she knew Tyrian was no longer in earshot. “I need to tell you that you have been the biggest problem in my life. The biggest pain. The biggest issue. I don’t think you have the capacity to be a mother. You never did. And all I ever did was make excuses for you.”

  “I tried to—”

  “Shut up and listen to me! I made excuses. Do you hear me? I made excuses for why you were so horrible to me. I let you come between me and Jamison. I let you belittle him. I let you ruin my marriage. I let you believe you could kill him and get away with it.”

  “He was never good enough for you. Can’t you see that, Kerry? He wasn’t ever good enough for you,” Thirjane said.

  “No, you weren’t good enough for me. That’s what I see. That’s what I know.” Kerry went to go down the steps, but Thirjane grabbed her arm. “You touch me and I’ll go straight to the police. I’ll turn your ass in and you won’t ever see your grandchild again.”

  “No,” Thirjane cried out, pulling her hand back from Kerry’s stiff arm. “Please don’t.”

  Kerry walked out of the house without saying good-bye.

  It was probably the first fight she’d ever really won against Thirjane. It should’ve felt good.

  It didn’t.

  Part 3

  Chapter 14

  Sandwiched between a chatty Baba Seti and fidgeting Tyrian, Kerry was sitting in an uncomfortable upright chair at the DeKalb-Peachtree Airport. It took her a few days to organize the private flight that would require two stops before her party would be allowed entry into Cuba, but through all of the paperwork, she got it done and was sitting there, still wondering if she’d made the right decision. She’d called Val every day, begging her to come along, and though Val kept saying she’d think about it, but didn’t sound like she would, she’d purchased Val two tickets and left them at the check-in counter.

  Baba Seti must’ve sensed her hesitation, because he kept calling her “sister” and assured her that she was doing the right thing, but this little action, expensive and bold, was nothing like Kerry. She felt like a fish who’d flopped out of the sea and was lying on the sand. Something wonderful could happen. But her gut was telling her it wouldn’t be the case.

  She’d only told Tyrian they were going on a vacation. She wasn’t sure about what was waiting in Cuba, but she’d promised him she’d never leave him alone again and she intended to keep that promise.

  “Is there a beach there?” Tyrian asked, clicking through his apps and games on his iPad between watching planes take off from the gate where they’d been waiting for their pilot to arrive.

  “Yes. Lots of beaches,” Kerry assured him.

  “Will there be other kids?” he followed up with what had to be his hundredth question.

  “I’m sure there are. Little kids just like you,” Kerry confirmed distractedly.

  DeKalb-Peachtree Airport was the smaller airport in the Atlanta area. It hosted private flights and connections for rich and famous residents who lived nearby. Those wanting to avoid the behemoth on the other side of the perimeter of the city that was Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. Still, the gate areas were packed and busy that fall afternoon, just a few days before Halloween. Cobwebs and other festive decorations had been applied to the many check-in stations and service counters at each gate. Women with wrists heavy with diamonds chased toddlers. Old couples sat reading matching bestsellers. Everyone looked at their watches every so often.

  Baba Seti was dressed in another kufi and matching long shirt. He arrived at the airport with one shoulder bag that looked like a doctor’s old attaché case. “This is all I’ll need,” he’d said to Kerry after bowing again, like she was royalty. “The community will provide the rest.”

  Kerry told him not to bring up Jamison in front of Tyrian. She wanted to wait to tell him about his father once they were there and she knew they were to be reunited. This was a boy who believed and was just getting used to the idea that his father was dead.

  When the pilot Kerry had hired walked up and waved at them, Kerry told Tyrian to get his things together and stood to look down the long lobby hallway to see if Val was coming.

  There was nothing.

  An attendant came over to gather their bags and Kerry took Tyrian’s hand. While he’d been on several planes before, he’d been much younger and hardly remembered. She reminded him of how long they’d be in the air and that his ears would pop and had some chewing gum stashed in her pocket just in cas
e he complained about it hurting.

  “It is time,” Baba Seti said like they were about to set off on some valiant mission.

  Kerry smiled and remembered Jamison’s face in the picture she’d had hanging over her bed at jail. Her heart warmed and she assured herself again that she was doing the right thing.

  The party began to walk toward the gate to board the small plane they’d take to hop to several destinations en route to the Cuban airport in Havana.

  Just when they got to the door, Kerry heard Val’s voice.

  “Hold up! Wait for us!”

  Kerry felt nerves ease and the tension melt away just with the sound of that voice.

  “I’m here! Val Long!”

  Kerry let go of Tyrian’s hand and turned with tears already welling up.

  Val was a few steps away, walking in front of a big brown man with big brown arms that seemed appropriate for all of the bags he was carrying.

  Val was waving their tickets and running toward Kerry.

  “You came,” Kerry said.

  “Yes. Change of heart at the last minute. Couldn’t let you do this alone.” Val hugged Kerry and pinched Tyrian’s cheek. She turned to her bag carrier. “And he wouldn’t let me do this without him.” She pointed to her companion. “Kerry, this is Ernest. Ernest, this is Kerry.”

  Kerry shook Ernest’s hand and hugged Val like she was her sister. “Thank you,” she said to Val.

  “Of course.”

  Preparing to land in Havana, Kerry looked out of the window, thinking of how the city looked nothing like she’d expected. From all of the talk about poor people and dilapidated towns in Cuba, she thought it would be some kind of tent city or village of shacks with nothing but mud piles and children running barefoot to be seen from the sky. But this vision was nothing like that. From the little circular window on the jet, this part of Cuba looked like any other metropolis. It was nightfall and the lights from skyscrapers and downtown streets twinkled a happy hello. The city was packed in with concrete buildings and cars on the road. On the outskirts, there were suburban communities with tennis courts and swimming pools. It could remind her of Atlanta if it wasn’t for the stunning blue sea rolling up on the shore.