Nappily in Bloom
Page 7
Jake rolled over and pulled her trembling body close underneath his arm. “You still feel like talking?” he asked. No answer. He didn’t think so.
Till Death Do Us Part
Trevelle
I picked up the receiver after confirming the caller ID listed someone I could trust. Thank God it was Keisha calling. She was the only person who truly cared about me. My daughter was a guiding light who kept me from falling into the dark places in my mind. Everyone believed that if you were a professor of faith, there were no demons. When, in fact, the demons I faced were the strongest demons of all—the ones that challenged God’s children to prove Him wrong.
“Sweetie, I’m fine,” I answered before she had a chance to voice her concern.
“It’s all everyone is talking about. Why didn’t you call me? I have to hear about it on the news.”
“I’ll tell you everything. Do you think you could come over?” I stood in front of the mirror and leaned closer. The swelling was already going down. The hospital released me the next morning, surmising that I had a very mild concussion. The doctor said the only answer was plenty of rest. The bruises around my right temple deepened slightly but wouldn’t last long.
Keisha had a heart of gold to forgive all my past mistakes. I’d given birth to her and thought she’d died right there in my arms. Delma Hawkins, an assistant district attorney at the time, found us. She used her position to kidnap my child without a trace. She let me believe the infant had died then erased her existence and raised Keisha as her own. I’d never forgive her for trying to keep Keisha for herself, for being selfish and coldhearted.
I got settled to wait for my daughter’s arrival on the damask high-back couch and flipped the remote. The news was hard to avoid, since it was on nearly every channel. The video of Airic being driven away in the squad car made me sad but relieved. Especially after Eddie Ray played the newest tapes. Airic had been planning to meet Chandra the entire time, even after I’d forgiven him and invited him back in. So maybe his being arrested was what he needed to have sense slapped into him—all for his own good.
That would teach him. Maybe on our next go-round he would understand I was not one to be fooled with. I’d canceled all his credit cards, removed his name from the accounts, and gone forward with the changed locks on both our homes. I’d have to take a real stand on these issues publicly. I’d already had to turn down four network news interview requests. Before I was ready to speak, I wanted all my ducks in a row.
The light tap at my bedroom door was Marcella. “Missus?” She let herself in without waiting for my reply. “Can I get you anything before I leave?” She fluffed the pillows, then paused in the midst of motion. I knew she was staring at the television. She continued on with a smooth hand over the linens. “Your bed is ready, missus.”
Marcella left, gently closing the door behind her. I didn’t want to fall asleep now with Keisha on her way, but the sedative the doctor had prescribed was setting in. I feared falling asleep, the very reason I slept alone. Even after being married to Airic for two years, I couldn’t let him sleep in the bed with me. Our arrangement made sense. If I had the need for him, I went to his room a few doors down.
The nightmares had never ceased, my own gagging screams waking me in the middle of the night. Even after years had passed, I couldn’t shake the horrible dreams of the men who violated and mistreated me, the times I had to push them off and fight for my life when a trick went bad. The one episode that I can’t shake happened when I was six months pregnant with Keisha. I told Cain that I couldn’t do any more tricks. I told him it was doctor’s orders.
“Something must’ve crawled inside of me.” I faked a fever and told him I needed antibiotics. I knew I wouldn’t get away with it for long, but I had another life to look after, and I wasn’t about to sacrifice my baby. I found the strength for Keisha that I never had for myself to say one simple word: no. Cain set me up, told me to go to a room and lie down because I was tired. How stupid was I to ever think that he cared whether I was sick or not? Within minutes, I could hear the sound of keys locking the door. Which meant only one thing; He planned to send someone up later and wanted to make sure I didn’t leave.
The room was completely dark when the door finally opened later that night. A shadow was cast, and I couldn’t see his face. “What is this? Who are you?”
“Don’t worry, pretty young thang. Cain said you wouldn’t mind a little company.”
“I can’t—I’m sick and I’m on my period.”
“Cain said you would say that. Don’t worry, I got all kinds of creative thangs in mind.”
“No, please. I got a disease,” I lied. “You don’t want to do this.” I knew the truth wouldn’t have been enough to stop him. He wouldn’t have cared if I was six months pregnant and that he could hurt my baby. I was so scared, my head felt like it was about to explode from the stress of trying to think of an escape.
“Just take it easy. This won’t take long.”
My eyes scanned the room trying to find something to grab. What would be big and hard enough to strike him down with one blow? The room was filled with dirty clothes and old take-out-food boxes. There was nothing. Before I knew it, my legs were moving toward the door, just trying to get the hell out. How silly was that—a six-months-pregnant teenage girl trying to out maneuver a horny grown man. He grabbed me and threw me clear across the room. I may have messed up my own life, but there was no way I was going to allow anyone to hurt my baby.
“Looks like I’m gonna have to soften you up—you know, take the fight outta ya.” He rushed me and hit my jaw so hard, I thought all my teeth had shattered. I was completely dazed.
Lucky for me, he thought I was knocked out entirely, so he started to pull his pants down. On the ground where I lay, I saw one of those cake cutters used to pick out ’fros, then grabbed it and jammed it into his leg. He screamed so loud, I thought the whole neighborhood might come to my rescue. Blood was gushing everywhere. I tried to make my way to the door again, and he kicked my legs from under me and I fell forward, right on my stomach. I screamed in pain. My baby.
“Bitch. Look at my leg! Look what you did to me,” he wailed, holding his leg while blood seeped from his wound.
He pulled off his belt. He was trying to stop the bleeding by wrapping it around his leg. I knew once he got that belt on, he was going to kill me for sure.
Blood was streaming down my head from a deep gash. My body throbbed with pain, but all the while I could still feel my baby moving in my stomach. He pulled a switchblade from his back pocket and all I could think of was how determined I was not to die like this, in this rat hole. My life was going to be more than this, at least for my baby.
All I remember was closing my eyes when I saw the shine of the blade. He bent over me, and I rolled back as if to accept death. Then I raised my foot and jammed it in his crotch. I’d never forgotten what an older woman told me on the street: “Listen, baby, if you ever get in trouble—I mean real trouble—there is only one chance for you, no matter how big a fool it is, hit him in the groin as hard as you can and get the hell outta there!”
I took that advice, and thank the Lord, it worked. I got to the door and left him curled up in a ball, screaming about how he was going to find me and kill me. I ran out of that room. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I lied and told Cain that the man was a sadistic freak who’d tried to strangle me. I had to defend myself. He went back and found the man and, from what I understood, finished him off.
No one knows how hard I’ve had to fight in my life. No one knows how hard I fought to keep my baby, and I wasn’t going to let anyone take her away from me now.
A knock at the door awakened me from the partial sleep. I waited a few seconds before I called out. “Who is it?” I reached for the drawer at my bedside, where I kept a small-caliber gun.
“It’s me.” Keisha’s gentle voice was music to my ears. She entered. “Marcella let me in as she was going out.”
“Your face.” She noticed right away before we hugged. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.”
“It’s nothing. I will make sure he doesn’t get away with this. I gave him everything, and this is how he repays me. I will never fall in love again. Never. All men are liars and will discard you the minute someone better comes along.”
“You’re just saying that right now. You’ll meet someone. You’ll fall in love again. All men aren’t horrible.” Keisha slowly raised her large engagement ring and stared at it momentarily. “I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay for the wedding.”
I took her hand and peered closer at the ring. At least two carats. The clarity was all wrong—dull, unimpressive. “I can’t believe Gray Hillman didn’t have the respect to come to me first. I’m the one who introduced you to him and asked him to hire you, remember? Then suddenly you’re engaged—”
“We didn’t mean for this to happen. He’s only five years older than me. Is that your concern?”
I tried not to tremble when I hugged her. “No. It’s just such a shock. Gray and I have had an established lawyer–client relationship for years, and he didn’t have the decency to ask me, your own mother, for your hand in marriage?”
“He did—I mean, he did ask my mother.”
The salt she’d just poured in a far-from-mended wound burned. I touched my temples. The room felt like it was spinning, with me at the center. “He knows the situation. He knows I am your mother, plain and simple. I trusted him.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with genuine sympathy.
I’m sorry. Keisha’s warm naïveté sometimes made her look brainless. This was a clear sign of disrespect, and she ignored it. This was Delma Hawkins’s fault, never having instilled a sense of caution in the child. No ability to distinguish charm from danger. Gray Hillman was only concerned with one thing: how to get deals closed. Seemed he was about to close his biggest deal yet.
Barring any financial missteps on my part, if anything ever happened to me, Keisha would be worth millions. A very wealthy woman. I’d made sure everything was left to her. Gray Hillman knew this, of course, since he was the one who drew up the living trust just six short months ago—around the same time his interest in Keisha was piqued.
“I received this invitation like I’m some common guest. My goodness, can’t you see how I could feel hurt and slighted by this entire situation? Who’s in charge of the ceremony? I’d like to be involved. . . . Sweetie, I’m your mother.”
“I know. I know . . . and I just wish—”
“You know, you’re right. I don’t think I’m going to be well enough. Certainly Gray would understand if you postponed the ceremony. It’s not enough time to plan a decent event anyway. Don’t you think you should give it at least a year? I won’t have as much going on. Then I can help. I know everyone who is anyone.”
“He’s ready now. He even suggested we get married at the courthouse and then plan a ceremony later.” Keisha stood up. “I really hope you can attend the celebration.” She slipped her coat on. “I just wanted to come over and check on you.” She stretched her long torso toward me for a kiss. She’d gotten her height from her father, Kellogg Lewis, now Judge Lewis.
“Do you plan to include your father in the ceremony?”
“There’s still a lot of tension between he and my mom—I’m not sure.”
I flipped a hand. “I’m sure they’d put that tension aside for you, for your special day.”
“Could you do the same?” Keisha said, getting to the something she’d seemed to be holding on to from the start. “Do you think you and my mom can get along, for the ceremony?”
I steadied myself. “Delma and I have been extremely cordial. Why would you even have to ask? I am not some drama queen making trouble for the thrill of it. If someone is maligning me, I make sure they are corrected. That’s all. What . . . now, do you think I brought this on to myself?” I pointed to the bruise I hoped was still prominent on my face. “Did I ask for this, too?”
Keisha’s soft shoulders rose and fell. “No. I didn’t mean that at all. I know what a good person you are.” She took my hands and brought them close to her chest.
“I won’t get in the way. You are going to be a beautiful bride.” I kissed her cheek and hugged her tight. Someday, of course. But now is not the time.
Mother, May I?
“Mommy, did you love Daddy when he was a little boy?”
I backed the Range Rover out of the garage and glanced at Mya in the rearview mirror. Her inquiring eyes met mine. “I didn’t know Daddy when he was a little boy. But I’m sure I would’ve loved him immediately.” It took me a few seconds to realize where this was going. We were on our way to the preschool. I’d given thought to taking Mya out and finding somewhere else for her to go, but my dumb luck, Jory’s mom would have the same idea. Having met Holly Stanton after Jory dragged her over to meet us—and watching her nervous twitch—I knew she wasn’t happy about Jory’s selection for a new best friend. She and I had run in to each other a few times before we knew who the other was. She was the dark-skinned sister who always made it a point to not look me in the eye, avoiding me entirely if possible.
Something about the hair wars I would never understand. Anytime a woman decided not to straighten her hair anymore she was ostracized by the group, frowned upon as an embarrassment to the entire black race. Holly Stanton was the epitome of once-a-week visits to the salon to keep her shiny extensions from frizzing up. I was everything she’d fought to renounce, and now here little Jory was dragging us together. While Jory and Mya stood locked in a good-bye embrace, she and I forced handshakes, small talk, exchanging “nice meeting you’s,” and kid’s-are such-a-joy smiles. I’d quickly assumed Mr. Stanton was white. She hardly carried the blond-hair gene.
“Then you would’ve married him?” she asked with passion then surety. “I would’ve married Daddy.”
“I’m sure I would’ve loved him no matter his age. But you can’t love one another until you’re all grown up.”
“Miss Tess says I’m grown up, Mommy.”
I pulled out of the driveport, trying to think of what to say next that wouldn’t make her teacher sound like an idiot yet could quickly put an end to the analogy. As I was backing out, I saw a dark gray Ford parked right outside our estate. The only reason it caught my attention was that our nearest neighbor was nearly a quarter mile away. Not to mention our community was called the Briar Estates, an exclusive club of Range Rovers and latte drinkers. Not one member would be caught dead in a Ford sedan. I once scoffed at people who used that word, estate. I’d giggle at the garage sale signs posted in my neighborhood when I was a child that said ESTATE SALE, as if we all lived in the Hamptons instead of our little bungalows. Now, living in a house bigger than ten of the size I’d grown up in, how else could I describe it?
I couldn’t see past the car’s dark tinted windows. I drove slowly, noticing there were no license plates. I continued to stare in the rearview mirror. The Ford stayed put. It took me a minute to revisit our conversation. “She means you’re smart for a little girl. Little girls can’t get married, sweetie. That’s the end of it.”
Having given it a good deal of thought while on my way to the preschool to drop off Mya, then on to my floral shop, it hit me how deep down inside we were all little girls. The little girl buried underneath expectations, loss, and disappointment was probably the only completely honest part of our psyche. We just want to grow up and get married. What if the secret got out? The education and career stuff was only a distraction until Mr. Guaranteed Future came along. Only sometimes Mr. Future didn’t show up. And even when he did, he wasn’t all the fairy tale promised. No horse, no castle, and sometimes a tiny inadequate sword. So the little girl pouted and raged on the inside, but the big girl on the
outside had no choice but to smile and keep stepping.
For a few minutes I drove, feeling sorry for Mya. Let the games begin. The mating game—who knew it started so early and lasted forever?
“Hey, Vin.”
“You’re late, again. You’re looking at probation, lil’ lady.” His New York or New Jersey accent or wherever he was from where people wore black every day of the year came through whenever he ended a sentence with lil’ lady.
“Yay, does that include a couple days off?” I pulled the orders and started separating them by delivery date and time.
“What would you do with a couple of days off?”
I thought for a second. “Nothing. I’d curl up in bed with a good book and probably starve, since if I didn’t cook, no one would get a meal in my household.”
“One day I’m going to cook for you.”
“A girl can dream,” I said before we both turned our attention to the entrance. The door chime had announced a visitor. I handed Vince the stack of tear sheets. “All yours.”
“Hello,” I sang out. “Welcome to In Bloom.”
The woman’s silhouette was sleek and sophisticated. She wore a smooth bun at the base of her long neck. Her high-heel pointed-toe boots made soft taps while she strolled gently from one sample arrangement to another. She took her time turning to the sound of my welcome.
“Charming little place you have here.” Trevelle’s rich melodic voice was hardly music to my ears. When she finally faced me while taking off her sunglasses, she gripped her chest as if she’d seen a ghost. “Venus?”
“Trevelle, nice to see you,” I said calmly, and for no other reason than to let her know I was expecting her.
She did the unthinkable and snatched me up for a rapturous hug. I gave a gentle touch on the back until she finally released me. “How are you? Lord knows I’ve wanted to call. All this scandal with Airic has made me realize you were right all along. He didn’t deserve to be in Mya’s life. He didn’t deserve to know the precious love of that child.” She took a long steady breath. “So this is your place. I had no idea.” I didn’t believe her. She’d rehearsed her mild surprise.