by H.H. Fowler
“My dear girl,” he said finally. “I have heard of many tragedies, but your story has touched me in a way I cannot explain. How soon can you get to Brighton? I want to do everything I possibly can to help you.”
The bashfulness returned to Marcia’s voice. She did not want to tell him that money was a huge issue for her. She had recently lost her job as a social worker and the little that the government provided was only enough to meet her basic needs. How did she explain to Doctor Barr that she was hoping that the hospital would consider her condition a special case? She had heard that several blind persons had been selected to undergo ‘new’ procedures performed by well-trained specialists. Some of the patients were not required to come up with a dime. If there was any place she would choose to be ‘experimented’ upon – it would be the Sussex Eye Clinic.
“England is pretty far away from Florida,” Marcia said. “I’m not sure I can make it there before the month is out.”
“I understand,” Clyde said, but he was so overwhelmed by Marcia’s story that he did not want to give space to procrastination. “But in the interim, I want to send you some information about a procedure that I believe will have a respectable chance of success. Do you have software installed that allows you to check your email? Or, if you prefer, I can have the audio version arranged.”
“Yes, I will be able to check it. I also have a friend who helps me a lot. So, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Okay, Miss Gippings,” Clyde concluded, “I will stay in contact with you over the coming days.”
Marcia placed a hand over her bosom, as a level of peace began to settle over her. “Thank you, Doctor Barr,” she said. “I am more hopeful than I have been in years.”
“My pleasure, my dear girl, my pleasure.”
Marcia ended the call and sat still for a few minutes. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have her sight restored after fourteen years. The world as she had known it at the age of thirteen had definitely changed, especially from the last image she had seen of it before going blind. Actually, the last image she had seen was nothing beautiful at all, but the ugly stitch of her father’s grin. It would taunt her soul sore, but one thought of Brian or just the thought of sitting in his presence would quiet those restless demons. She had never experienced such peace with any other man – that was how she knew that Brian had been tailored-made for her life.
Marcia reached behind her and grabbed her tactile watch from the shelf, which helped her keep track of Brian’s mornings. She impatiently brushed her fingers against the dots and got a feel for which dot the hour hand was pointing to. She then did the same with the minute hand. Marcia had opted against purchasing a talking watch – simply because she wanted to utilize her remaining senses as much as possible. She could not imagine being both deaf and blind at the same time. It was hard enough getting around without her sight. She found pleasure in doing things that people said were impossible to do. A prime example would be that one day she would be able to see again, despite the grim prognosis of her previous assessments.
Marcia’s tactile watch told her that it was 8:43 a.m. – about fifteen minutes left of Brian’s morning devotions. He had told her of his routine when they first started talking, which included two vital things: Prayer and Bible study – anywhere between the hours of 6 a.m. and 9 a.m. Doctor Barr’s call had been unexpected, but necessary.
Brian’s mornings had become exceedingly important to her, in that she believed that a wife should join her husband during such spiritual impartation. Well, she wasn’t Brian’s wife – yet, but nonetheless, she slid to her knees and began to offer words of thanks to God for the man of her destiny.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Saturday 11:15 a.m.
Brian drew his crimson-colored tie snuggly between the flaps of his white shirt. He stepped back and admired how his choice of apparel complimented his agenda. The mirror did not lie. With a face and a body built with good genes, it did not take much effort for him to pull off the ‘presidential’ look. The look was important if he wanted to impress Karl Benton. It would show that he was ready to step into the realm of greatness and perhaps at the same time, he hoped to smash Karl’s negative opinion of his work ethics. A preacher, Brian had once argued with Karl, labored just as hard as many white or blue collar workers.
Karl did not factor in the late nights that preachers stayed up in prayer, studying and preparing for their sermons. In addition, preachers counseled scores of people with various degrees of needs and psychological problems, all of which could be quite tiresome. Karl had dismissed Brian with a wave of the hand, and told him that preachers were nothing but a bunch of money-loving phonies in his book.
Of course, that conversation did not end well between them. Now, as Brian looked back in retrospect, he realized that Karl simply did not have a clue about what being a Christian was all about. He could not entirely blame Karl for his twisted mind. The fact remained that some Christians did not walk worthy of their vocation, which gave sinners the ‘right’ to mock and complain.
Brian’s bedroom had been ravished by the scent of his favorite cologne – Black Soul, another one of Ted Lapidus’ musky concoctions. It was added ammunition in his mission to adjust Karl’s limited view of his potential. A man’s fragrance said a lot about his taste and style. The scent, Brian hoped, would convince Karl that he was serious and ready to take the real estate world by storm. Although, he knew he would have to put up with Karl’s sarcastic remarks about his faith, Brian felt that this shift in his life was the right one. Obviously, his father, Paul would not agree, but in time, all would be healed. His father would have to understand that he was a man with a desire to execute his own vision.
Without fail, Brian soon heard the obnoxious pitch of Doreen’s voice and was sharply reminded that he would have to drop her at the airport before continuing on to Karl’s office. Well, Karl’s office would be his final destination, as he had made plans, along with two other groomsmen, to meet Wynton at his apartment. Wynton’s wedding was in about three weeks and he wanted to make sure that everyone was on the same page. With the wedding so close, Brian had mixed emotions about sending Wynton’s fiancée to the Bahamas with Doreen, but it was too late in the game to nurse any feelings of regret. His mother was adamant about going and surprisingly, so was Tara.
However, Brian was not convinced that the women were willing to spend time together just because they had a change of heart. There was something brewing beneath the surface and Brian was certain that it had been shrewdly inspired by the devil himself. The only thing he could do now was to pray for the blood of Jesus to cover them while they were on the island of the Bahamas. He drew his bedroom door open and stepped out into the middle of what seemed to be an intense disagreement between his parents.
“…Oh no, you are not coming along with me on this trip! Get that senseless idea out of your head!”
“You don’t have the power to stop me, Doreen,” Paul said. He plunged in the sofa and began shoving his feet into his brown loafers. “I am going, whether you like it not! Tara does not know what she’s getting herself into.”
Doreen slashed her hands in the air and gave Paul a full dose of her wrath. “This is a bloody women’s retreat! No place for boring, old men! You will ruin it for everyone.”
“I don’t care what you say; I am going…”
“No, you are not! You devil of a man!” Doreen’s head shot up in disgust. She noticed Brian making his way toward them, and with one final scowl at her husband, she violently swiped her handbag from the table. Before Brian even opened his mouth to speak, Doreen fired off a string of instructions. “My luggage is in the hallway; bring it and follow me. Don’t dally around because I want to get a good seat on the aircraft!” She pointed her finger at Paul. “If this old man makes one step behind you, you had better stand up to him and be the man I taught you to be! You are stronger and certainly much quicker. He cannot overpower you. He’s nothing but an old, w
eak white fool.”
Doreen disappeared like a wind, leaving the two men in silence. Brian could not take his eyes off his father, who was slouched in the sofa with his head hung. The embarrassment of the moment was evident in his posture. It was a pathetic scene that Brian had seen one time too many. He did not like it when his mother browbeat his father, but he detested the way his father responded with such attitude of defeat. He could not believe that his father did not have the courage to follow through with his intentions. His father’s shoes were on his feet, his attire was appropriate, but his father refused to break out of the cocoon that Doreen had placed him in.
All Paul needed to do was pick up his overnight bag and follow Brian to the car. What could Doreen do but throw a tantrum? She would get over it and eventually learn to respect her husband’s authority, but Paul needed to show Doreen that he wasn’t afraid of her. That was the way Brian saw it, but who was he to sit and counsel his father about his marriage?
“Do as your mother says,” Paul told his son. “She wants to have her way, so let it be.”
“You can still catch a later flight,” Brian tried.
“I pray God’s covering over my wife. You know well enough not to keep your mother waiting.”
Slowly, Brian began to walk away, but he paused and turned toward his father. He could not suppress the ball of anger he felt burning in his chest. He asked quietly, “Why do you let her talk to you like that?”
Paul kept his head hung, refusing to add another word to his humiliation. Brian, however, could think of a dozen ways to tell his father how to ‘rule’ a woman. But what did he know? The only woman ready to obey every word of his command was a blind woman he had met over the Internet.
“Anyway, I will be out for a while,” Brian said as he turned to leave again. “You know how to reach me – if you need me.”
****
Tampa International Airport
Wynton drew Tara in for another kiss. He did not mind that they were standing in the loading zone, blocking traffic. He just needed some Tara before she left for the Bahamas. He could not imagine not being able to caress her chocolate mounds for four, whole days. It felt like torture just thinking about it. The blaring car horns behind them let Tara know that they were becoming a nuisance.
She pulled away from Wynton’s lips and giggled, “Babe, I have to go. We are creating a scene.”
“Please, just a little longer,” Wynton begged. “All we did last night was talk. My body needs this.”
“No, your body needs to cool off until I get back,” Tara said. “Channel all of this energy into your music. So, by the time I’m in your arms again, your album will be complete.”
“Whose crazy idea was this anyway?”
“Yours…”
“Well, actually it was Brian’s –”
“And it turned out to be a good one,” Tara concluded. She began walking backward toward the terminal, blowing kisses at Wynton as if she would never see him again. “Trust me, your mother and I will be the best of friends when we return from the Bahamas.”
The horns were really blasting now as Wynton watched his woman vanish through the automatic doors. He meditated on the words that he had just spoken – not more than a minute ago, what am I going to do without you for four days, Tara? My bed is going to be so cold…
“Boss,” Tiger shouted. “Get in! She’s gone.”
Wynton slowly climbed back into the limo and then relaxed his head against the seat. Rod Temperton’s, Always and Forever began to play softly from the speakers above him. Wynton’s emotions began to embarrass him. The more the song went on, the more he felt his heart giving in to his tears. As the lids of his eyes closed, his thoughts dragged him back into a conversation he’d had when he was sixteen. Scattered images began to formulate and before Wynton knew it, he was in Karl and Sharon Benton’s bedroom.
“I would be stupid to believe that I was the first girl that you had ever been with.”
“Would that bug you if I had been with someone else?”
“Not in the least,” Jasmine said. “I won’t care if it is your first time or not. I just need to know that I’m the only one that you’re sleeping with now.”
“My Daddy didn’t raise me to be no player. Now if you gonna waste the next ten minutes trying to check out my stats, let me warn you, I’m losing interest already…”
Jasmine smacked Wynton’s chest playfully. “You obnoxious white boy!”
“It’s one of the reasons you chased after me,” Wynton quipped. “I’m something that you’ve never had…”
The limo jerked forward and knocked Wynton back to the present. He sat up and peered out at the line of traffic crawling toward I-75. It was congested and Wynton was afraid that he would not get back to his apartment in time for his appointment, where he planned to join his groomsmen in a brief meeting. Including Brian, there were only three men that Wynton had chosen to stand with him, and he was sure that the boys would understand him being a little late. However, when Wynton set a time to do something, he tried his best to stick to it.
“Sorry about that, Boss,” Tiger said through a small window up front. “That silly car cut across me into the other lane.”
Wynton nodded and rested his head against the seat once more. His eyes were closed, but his thoughts were tripping over the invasion of Jasmine Benton. Why on earth was he thinking about her now? His fiancée’s plane hadn’t even lifted into the air and this was how he was going to disrespect her? By focusing on another woman? Wynton wanted to tell Tiger to turn the limo around and head back to the airport. He felt deeply that he did not need this separation from Tara. He did not trust being around other females while Tara was gone, because Wynton realized a long time ago that love sometimes wasn’t enough to tame his fleshly desires. He pulled out his HTC Incredible and punched in Tara’s cell number.
“Hi, Babe, your mother and I are about to board the plane,” she answered. “What’s up?”
“I miss you already,” Wynton said quietly. “You don’t have to get on that plane if you don’t want to.”
“Too late. I’ve already made up my mind. I’m doing this for us…”
“Come on, Tara, you really believe four days in the Bahamas is gonna change anything between you and my mother?”
“I don’t know, Babe, but I’m willing to try anything. And besides, your mother has not said one mean word to me since arriving at the airport. Maybe there is hope. Who knows?”
“You be careful –”
“Babe, I really have to hang up now. I’m handing my ticket to the agent. I’ll call you as soon as I land in the Bahamas…and don’t forget to check out the wedding location. Sabrina will be there waiting on you.”
“I love you –”
Wynton’s words were cut. He did not tell Tara that he loved her enough, but he hoped that she knew that he did and that he would never do anything silly to jeopardize their relationship. Wynton wanted to believe that, and he really did. Even now, as he tried to relax in the traffic congestion, he could not get Jasmine’s face out of his mind. Maybe it was because she was home in Brandon, Florida. She had been gone so long that he honestly thought that he had seen the last of her. As far as he was concerned, they both had moved on with their lives. After all, he had only used Jasmine’s body to ease his sexual pangs. Why should he care anything about her now? She meant nothing to him. Maybe he should not have worked himself up to attend that funeral, because all it did was open up a new can of worms.
“Boss, I will take the I-275 exit,” Tiger said. “We’ll be in Brandon under thirty minutes.”
“Take it easy,” Wynton said. “We can’t do anything much about the traffic. This is August and a lot of people are heading to the theme parks.”
“I hear you, sir, but I’m working it.”
Wynton turned his attention back to his thoughts. He realized the only way for him to maintain the life that he had built with Tara was to keep a healthy distance from his p
ast, which included the ‘new’ and transformed Jasmine Benton – especially while Tara was out of town.
Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
- Marcel Proust
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jasmine checked her voicemail and was surprised to discover that there weren’t as many messages as she had anticipated. Quite a change of pace from what she had grown accustomed to in New York. Her office in Battery Park City overlooked the Hudson River, but she barely enjoyed the scenic view because she was always on the phone negotiating contracts with her clients. The Hudson River was the one feature she truly missed, which she could have also seen from the balcony of her high-rise apartment. The calmness of the water was therapeutic, and before long, her melancholy was placated. Jasmine decided to return a call to her New York office after listening to her voicemail.
“Julie, how have things been since I’ve been gone?”
“Jas, I have it covered. Don’t hurt your little head about a thing. Take as long as you need.”
“I’ve been in Florida for over two weeks,” Jasmine said. “I know it must be difficult on you.”
“Listen to me Jas, you’ve just lost your mother. She was the dearest thing to you, so I don’t expect you to be back to your old self in two weeks…”
“Maybe that is what I need, Julie – to be my ‘old’ self. I can’t sit around crying all the time.” Jasmine puckered her lips reflectively. “I’m thinking of flying back to New York in a few days.”
“I’m sure that Mr. Benton does not agree with your decision.”
“My father will understand – he’s hardly home anyway. Besides, Brandon reminds me too much of my past. I miss New York.”
“Well,” Julie paused in defeat. “I know enough not to press you. You will do what you want anyway.”
“And it is not because I don’t appreciate your concern,” Jasmine told her real estate partner. “I feel like I’m going nuts in this house. My mother is gone and I need to start accepting that.”
