When Somebody Loves You Back

by Mary B. Morrison

Oh my God, not again, Ashlee thought, running out the door to her car. Settling into the driver’s seat, she exhaled. “Mommy sor—” Looking in the car seat, she screamed, “Aaaahhhhh!” Frantically she got out, opened the back door, and checked the floor. “Oh my God. Baby. Baby!” Ashlee leaned over as far as she could, checking under the seat. She swiped her hand deep under the passenger seat.

  “Hello, Ms. Anderson. Looking for something, or shall we say someone?”

  “You! You took my son! Where is he?” Facing Ms. Benson, Ashlee began wringing her hands to refrain from strangling that wicked witch of a caseworker.

  Ms. Benson calmly said, “Ashlee, we need to talk. Let’s go inside.”

  “Wait just one minute, you, you thief,” Ashlee said, turning off her engine. “I want my son back! I’m going to call my father and have you arrested for kidnapping. You can’t go around taking people’s children!” Walking to Ms. Benson’s car, Ashlee peeped inside the window. Little Darius wasn’t there.

  Calmly Ms. Benson, said, “What if I told you I didn’t take your son?”

  Breathing in Ms. Benson’s face, Ashlee yelled, “Liar! Liar! Who else would’ve taken him?”

  “We can go inside. Or I can leave and wait for you to come to my office or to court, but I’m not going to stand out here entertaining your outbursts.”

  Ashlee scanned her neighborhood. She was so consumed she hadn’t noticed the neighborhood wives across the street watching. Ashlee narrowed her eyes toward them, pointing in their direction. “Get a day job! If I find out either one of you reported me, I’ll make sure you get yours!”

  Entering Ashlee’s home, Ms. Benson said, “Ms. Anderson, your eruptive behavior and threats aren’t helping your case any.”

  Marching inside three feet behind Ms. Benson, Ashlee yelled, “What case!” then slammed the door, rattling the pictures on the wall.

  Ms. Benson didn’t wait for an invitation to sit on the love seat. “Where’s your husband?”

  “You so smart, you tell me.”

  Ms. Benson stood. “I’ll issue my report to my supervisor and we’ll see you in court.”

  “Okay, please don’t leave. I don’t have one, satisfied?”

  “How was your weekend?” she asked.

  “Weekend? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m starting from the beginning of our investigation. You rented an SUV in Los Angeles over the weekend. Reportedly you left your son alone in the car overnight. Tell me your side about your weekend.”

  She would bring that up. “That’s a lie. I went for a wedding that didn’t happen, so I came back home, but I did not leave my son in a car overnight.”

  Raising her brows, Ms. Benson asked, “Whose wedding? And before you answer, let me say, lying will hurt your chances of getting your son back.”

  “So you do have my son?” Ashlee became silent. When Ms. Benson didn’t answer, Ashlee answered, “Darius Williams.”

  “Same name as your son’s. The NBA player? Is he the father? Of your child?”

  “What’s it to you?” Ashlee thought about her brief conversation with Darius moments ago. Love was a hurting thing. Status was worthless if Darius didn’t want them. Couldn’t Ms. Benson see her pain? “What I’d like to know is, where is my baby and who reported me?”

  “That’s the least of your worries right now and both are confidential.”

  “So just because someone reports me, you can show up at my house and take my baby? Just like that?”

  “Ms. Anderson, accept responsibility for your actions. You were the one who left your son in a running vehicle. Alone. We’re placing him in protective custody.”

  “I’m not negligent. All new mothers make mistakes.”

  “Ms. Anderson, a mistake is forgetting to pack an extra change of clothing, or leaving the stroller at home. CSP doesn’t remove children from their homes for parental mistakes.”

  “Okay, so it was an accident. I only came in to get my…It won’t happen again. Please, I need my son,” Ashlee pleaded, wringing her hands.

  “Ms. Anderson, this is serious. You endangered your infant son. And my report shows Darius Williams Junior was taken to emergency shortly after he was born and diagnosed with oxygen deprivation. You’d better thank God your son doesn’t have permanent brain damage. I read that the hospital kept your baby a few days for observation, but I don’t know how that incident went unreported to us, so I’ll have to investigate that as well, and I’ve already requested copies of your mental health records.”

  Ashlee feared the suicide attempts she’d shared in private with her therapist would be in the reports, along with the abortion pills incident, and how she hated Fancy. Salty tears burned her eyes. “He wrapped himself in the blanket one night. All babies wiggle in their sleep. How’s that endangerment?”

  Pressing her lips flatly together, Ms. Benson said, “Hmm, let me guess. Probably another accident, I suppose. You didn’t check on him?”

  “Whatever. I did check on him, but no one stays awake all night watching their baby.”

  “Let me explain a few things that’ll perhaps help you understand my role.”

  “Fine,” Ashlee said, leaning back on the sofa. The torn cushion pressing underneath the decorative cover began hurting her thighs. Better for Ashlee to endure the pain than for Ms. Nosy to ask more questions.

  “I’m not here to break up your family. It’s the law that if someone suspects child abuse of any kind, sexual, physical, in your case, abandonment, whatever, they are obligated to report it to Child Protective Services or another authority who can properly investigate the matter. The reporter’s identity is private and protected by law. All of your records you thought were secured become accessible to CSP. Now, I was considering allowing you supervised visitation, but from what I’ve heard here today, you’re not quite ready.”

  “Considering. Allowing. Supervised visitation? Of my own son! How would you like it if somebody told you I was gonna let you see your child but I changed my mind!”

  Standing, Ms. Benson, said, “Ms. Anderson, this case is far more serious than you realize. When we found your son, I asked my supervisor not to have you arrested. The jails are filled with mothers who are capable but unable to take care of their children, all because of the law and how it works. Ms. Anderson, I didn’t want to add you to the list.”

  Flexing back one finger at the time, Ms. Benson continued. “Your son was in a running car. He could’ve died from carbon monoxide poisoning. The car could’ve shifted into gear. Someone could’ve driven off with your car not knowing, or worse, not caring that your child was inside. And I believe you did leave your son in that SUV overnight. You deserve to go to jail, but I found out that your father is a well-respected attorney in the community, so I’m giving you a break, but I’m not giving you back your son. I’m recommending you get medical help and I’ll reevaluate your mental state in thirty days.”

  Leaping from the sofa like she’d been ejected, Ashlee yelled, “Thirty what?”

  “I’m filing my case plan with the court, which will be reviewed at the hearing. Also, think about who you want to keep your son. We try to place the children with family. Does Mr. Williams live in Los Angeles?”

  “No.”

  “Would he be interested in custody?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Well, he does have parental rights too and he’ll have to tell us no himself. We will contact him, and another relative like a sister or your mother can have temporary custody.” Ms. Benson pulled out a business card, placed it on the coffee table, then concluded, “Good-bye.”

  “You can’t leave me like this. I need my son!”

  Not looking back, shaking her head, Ms. Benson left the door open.

  Locking the door, Ashlee ran to her bedroom and dialed Darius’s cell phone number.

  Darius answered, “What are you, crazy? Stop fuckin’ calling me and you’d better not call my fiancée again. And if you ever call her a bitch again, or come nea
r her, I swear I’ma hurt you if you come near me or Fancy.” Darius paused, then said, “Ashlee, whatever we had is over. You hear me, it’s over!” Then he hung up.

  “No, no, that’s not true,” Ashlee whispered into the receiver. What happened to make Darius angry again? Ashlee squeezed the phone so tight the blood rushed to her fingertips. “You’ve got to see your son before you marry Fancy. Better yet, I know what I’ll do. I’ll get my baby back, and just like the first time we’ll wait until the wedding.”

  Ashlee had no real way to prove to Darius his son was alive, since she didn’t know where CPS had placed him. She had to get little Darius before they contacted Darius. Ms. Benson was going to tell her where her son was today or somebody was going to get hurt.

  CHAPTER 22

  Jada

  Lying in Darryl’s arms, Jada was reassured she’d made the best decision. Living on a planet where men fulfilled their sexist desires, why shouldn’t a woman have the best of both worlds too?

  “Yes,” she moaned, grinding her lips into Darryl’s. “That feels so good you just don’t know. Mmmmmmm.”

  Darryl’s vibrations trembled on her clit as he said, “You still taste like chocolate.”

  Slowly, the ridges on his tongue massaged the folds of her pussy. The tip of his tongue explored her inside walls.

  Felling her clit disappear between soft, succulent lips, Jada whispered, “Ohhhhh yessss.”

  Darryl suctioned a little faster, sticking his finger inside her wet pussy.

  “Ummmm, yeesss,” Jada grunted into the pillow.

  In and out. Farther in, then out. Deeper and faster, Darryl’s finger slid from her pussy into her asshole. His cottony lips sucked in rhythm with two fingers stroking her pussy and her ass at the same time.

  Jada’s body rose up from the bed, as she yelled the loudest “Yeessss!” repeatedly. From head to toe her body exploded in one orgasm after another until she collapsed back onto the guest bed.

  “That’s enough. Please stop,” she begged, trying to catch her breath.

  Darryl asked, “Are you finished?”

  “For now, yes.” Jada’s breasts rose and fell continuously.

  At one point she questioned whether she should’ve divorced Wellington when she discovered after years of marriage he was still having an affair with the same damn woman he’d fucked during their engagement more than twenty years ago. Why hadn’t she signed the divorce papers when she had a chance? Before she’d learned her husband had prostate cancer? The papers were already drawn, in her hands, and all she had to do was scribble across the bottom line in permanent ink and she would’ve been a free woman. Naw, not free, fifty-plus and single. But she wouldn’t have been an adulteress.

  Until the doctor’s report Wellington acted like he didn’t need her. Now he not only needed her but professed he couldn’t survive without her. Where was his Ms. Home-wrecker Thang, Melanie Thompson, now that Wellington was hospitalized? Maybe that was a question Jada shouldn’t ask. Melanie had a way of showing up when least expected, like at the repast at Jada’s mother’s house after Jada’s mother’s funeral. Melanie was a bold, inconsiderate bitch.

  Dressed in black from head to toe: purse, shoes, hat, veil, gloves. Melanie had steeped foot into Jada’s mother’s house. “Jada, I’m so sorry you’ve lost someone close to you again. My condolences.”

  Again? Jada had reached back. That bitch must have forgotten whom she was playing with. Maybe the first time Jada had knocked Melanie across the room hadn’t been enough.

  “Tell Wellington his wife said hello. If you need anything, just let us know.” Melanie waved bye as though she’d won a Miss Universe contest. “Ciao.”

  Jada continued questioning herself as she wiggled from Darryl’s embrace. Maybe the only reason she doubted her intentions was she felt somewhat guilty that Wellington was in the hospital and she’d had sex with Darryl several times, allowing him to practically move into their home. He was there every night, every morning. Darryl had clothes in the closet and draws in the drawers.

  Darryl’s body felt good. Natural. Jada couldn’t remember how many years had gone by since she was sexed really good every night. She’d continued cheating on Wellington. With Darryl’s hard erection buried in her pulsating pussy, she had one total-body orgasm after another in her dreams too. Emotional infidelity didn’t count. If only for the moment, Jada felt like a new woman.

  “Hey, where’re you going?” Darryl asked, reaching out to her.

  “To wash you off of me.”

  “To do what?” he asked with a half smile.

  “Shower. I have to stop at the office before going to the hospital.”

  A man could smell another man on his woman. Jada didn’t want Wellington inhaling Darryl’s aroma.

  “Yeah, me too. That boy of ours has the most successful, well-operated business I’ve seen. You taught him well. Makes my job easy, but I have to stay on top of things.”

  “We taught him well. Wellington and I, not you. Don’t go claiming credit where it’s not due. I don’t want you to go to the hospital with us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah, Darius came back last night.”

  Darryl smiled. “He did? And you was screaming like we were home alone, woman?”

  “Nothing he hasn’t heard before, I’m sure. Besides, I’m just glad he came back.”

  “That’s my boy. Question, do you think Darius will approve of me giving Kevin a job at the company when he gets out next week?”

  Jada’s eyebrows reached for her hairline while her neck jerked back.

  Darryl said, “Never mind, before you get all heated. I’ll ask him myself. Well, I’ma hit the guest shower. Call me when you get to your office.”

  “Your office is only down the hall. I’ll stop by on my way out.”

  When the home phone rang, Darryl picked up the cordless.

  “Oh no, you don’t. Give me that,” Jada said, answering, “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Tanner?”

  “Yes.”

  “I won’t keep you long. This is Fancy’s mother, Caroline. Could you give Darius a message from me?”

  “He’s here. You can—”

  “No, just give him this message….”

  Jada listened until Caroline finished explaining what had happened to Fancy, then hung up the phone. Jada tapped on Darius’s door. He didn’t answer. Slowly she turned the knob.

  “Yeah, Mom?” Darius said, lifting his head off the pillow.

  “I have to go to the office for an hour or so. You can meet me at the hospital.”

  The telephone rang. Hastily, Darius answered, “Hello.” He paused, then repeated, “Collect call from Candice who?”

  Taking the phone from Darius, Jada said, “Darius, stop playing. Hello?”

  “Collect call from Los Angeles County Jail from Candice Jordan. Will you accept?”

  “Of course I’ll accept.”

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Candice said.

  “What in the world are you doing calling from jail? That’s why I haven’t been able to reach you.”

  “Darius didn’t tell you?”

  Jada squinted at Darius. “Darius didn’t tell me what?”

  Darius hunched, tossed back the covers, and entered his bathroom.

  “He had me arrested. I’m in jail.”

  “What! Darius Jones, what’s wrong with you?”

  Peeping through the door, Darius asked, “With me? Obviously she’s withholding information so you’ll get her trespassing ass out.”

  “Darius, stop it! Candice, I’m on my way, where are you? County? I know exactly where that is,” Jada said, staring at Darius with his toothbrush in his hand.

  “Ma. Don’t leave me. I’m going with you.”

  “Then you need to get ready fast.”

  Jada closed Darius’s door. Stepping into her bedroom, Jada stood in the middle of the floor glancing around. She had so many years of good memories with Wellington. Wellington was the only ma
n who had slept, or would sleep, in their bed. That’s why Darryl was relegated to the living room and guest bedroom. Jada showered, dressed. Darius was in the living room waiting for her.

  “What’s that?” she asked, looking at the envelope in his hand.

  “Oh, I had the locks changed at my house. I told the locksmith to drop a set here. You ready?”

  “Yeah,” Jada said, exhaling.

  Darius wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I love you, Ma.”

  “I love you too.” Jada embraced her son, appreciating his expression of love. She had things to do, places to go, but nothing was more important than living in the moment.

  When Darius let go, he opened the front door for her. Opening his car door, he waited until she got in. Driving along the highway, Jada said, “Candice wasn’t trespassing. I asked Candice to go to your house and collect the wedding gifts so I could return them. Why did you have to have her arrested?”

  “I think Candice should be the one to tell you. Trust me, Ma, you know how she is and you’re in no hurry to find out, so let’s stop at the office first.”

  Exhaling, Jada said, “Fine, whatever. I don’t have the energy or strength to argue. How’s Fancy?”

  “Ma, I don’t want to talk about her. We’re not getting married.”

  “No, baby. Why not? What—”

  “Life. Murder. She killed my baby.” Darius blinked repeatedly. “I can’t marry a woman who doesn’t care about my feelings.”

  “Darius, Fancy loves you. And if you loved her back, you would know that. Fancy’s mother said she didn’t kill your baby.”

  “Mom, don’t side with them. Of course her mother is going to take her side.”

  “I’m not taking sides. Honey, Caroline called me this morning. She told me Fancy said the pills you gave her were abortion pills.”

  “What! That lying—”

  “Darius, stop it right now! Before you go getting all upset you need to listen. I mean really listen to Fancy. Don’t be like me. Drawing conclusions and making decisions on your own, only to find out years later you made the worst decision of your life. That girl loves you.”

  “Ma, why didn’t you tell me she’d called?”