How could they sink so low? Once again, she remembered vividly how she’d supported his education and career while she sacrificed her needs and desires. She put everything on hold for him. All of the money she earned went towards the household and his education. Her good credit helped him buy his first Benz. Yet, when all was said and done, he didn’t want Iris to have the car he bought for her. Now his new wife was driving it.
Low down dirty dog.
She thought about following Sara so she could confront her, embarrass her in front of whomever would be present. She thought long and hard about it as she followed behind, slowly, trying to be inconspicuous in her conspicuously damaged car.
What was she doing? Had she become one of those women who stalked the ex and terrorized the new woman? No, that wasn’t Iris. Besides, she needed to get busy looking for work. She could very easily live off of her alimony, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to make her own way, create her own wealth just like she helped Peter do for himself. She watched Sara turn left at the light, so she turned right.
2
She slammed the door. Infuriated by what she’d just seen, Iris paced the floor, trying to work out her frustrations. Camden rushed into the living room, having heard the thud of the front door. The slam caused his bedroom walls to vibrate. He wasn’t asleep but had been resting with his partner, hoping for the last hour of relaxation before starting his shift at the restaurant.
“Are you okay?”
Iris continued pacing the floor, only looking at Camden long enough to nod.
“You’re going to wear a path in the carpet with all of that pacing. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“It’s something. Your nose is flaring, flames are shooting out of your ears,” he said with a slight chuckle.
She just shook her head. Camden looked at her for a moment, waiting to see if she’d say anything. But she didn’t.
“Okay. Whatever it was, I’m sure I’ll hear about it later,” he said.
“Peter. That’s what’s up.”
Camden sat on the sofa and motioned for Iris to sit beside him. She paced a few more rounds then plopped onto the couch, laying her head on his shoulder, curling her legs under her butt.
“So, what did the jerk do this time?”
Camden knew how hard it had been for Iris to get over the devastation of her divorce from Peter, with all the late night crying sessions and pints upon pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream to soothe her hot burning fury – not to mention the alcohol and, well, the stint in rehab.
“Nothing,” she pouted.
“So, you wore a path in my carpet for nothing? It’s never ‘nothing’ when it comes to Peter. Spill it, woman.”
Camden was her good friend who had allowed her to sleep on his couch for as long as she needed. She had been reluctant, but accepted his offer because she knew it wouldn’t be long before she and Peter reached an agreement on their assets. Besides, she really had nowhere else to go. She had tried to lean on Sara, but Sara had just moved in with her boyfriend, who she now knew was actually Peter. Camden, who was happy to take her in, was the only one who could help with room and board until the alimony kicked in. Once she received the alimony, she decided to stay to help Camden with the rent and bills. He needed the help.
Iris repositioned herself so that she faced Camden. She took a deep breath and was about to dive into the details of her fury when Camden threw up his hand, signaling her to wait.
“I think we need some Ben & Jerry’s for this. Agree?”
Iris nodded. When he returned with a pint of Willie Nelson Peach Cobbler and two spoons, Iris shoved a scoop in her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring its sweetness. The cold creaminess quelled some of the fiery anger that had been building inside of her.
“So, spill it,” Camden ordered.
“She’s pregnant!” Iris shouted, having told Camden every sordid detail. Her heart was beating in her throat. Her hands trembled as heat rose through her body.
Camden sat the ice cream on the end table and held her shaking hands.
“How pregnant is she?”
Iris shrugged. Sara looked like she could have been anywhere between six to eight months pregnant.
“So, what did you do?” Camden asked.
“I followed them, that’s what I did.” Again, Iris gave him blow-by-blow details of what happened.
Camden grimaced. “I can’t believe you followed them. And I can’t believe that jerk Peter moved that skank into the house you wanted. I never liked Sara. I told you that before.”
“Cam, you have no idea how hurt I was to see Peter and Sara looking like the happy, expecting couple. I was so thrown for a loop.”
A tear dropped from her eye. She didn’t even know it was there. She hadn’t wanted to cry — she was too angry.
“I don’t know, Cam. I — I’m tired. I’m ready for a change. Maybe I need to leave Houston. Maybe I can repair my relationship with my mother. Maybe I can do the cross country train ride I’d been talking about.”
“It’s not a good idea to make decisions when you’re in crisis, sweetie. Why don’t you give yourself some time?”
“But that’s just it, Cam. How much time do I need? I know, now, that Peter and I will never ever reconcile. I know that there’s nothing keeping me in Houston. You’re my only friend here. I don’t think I’m being rash or impulsive. I just think it’s time for a drastic change. Something new and exciting.”
Cam shook his head, “I get you. I get where you’re coming from. I only want the best for you, but it sounds like you’re being led by anger or pain.”
“Maybe. Or maybe that was just the impetus I needed to get the stick out of the mud. I was stagnant for seven years while I built an empire for my husband, who subsequently traded me in for my so-called best friend.”
“I told you not to trust that witch. I told you, didn’t I?”
She nodded.
“And with Mercury in retrograde, now is not the time to be making drastic changes. The shit will certainly hit the fan — and you know what happens after that.”
She sighed. “How much worse can it get? Really, Cam… how much? I’m not going to base my decisions off of some astrological mumbo jumbo.”
“The last retrograde left you homeless. I’m just saying.”
“Cam?”
“Uh huh?”
“I need love…”
“Go get it, sweetie.”
She smirked, then kissed his cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you back.”
Camden squeezed out a hug and kissed her lips in a quick, friendly motion. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. You don’t deserve any of this.” He wiped the tears that fell from her eyes. “I’ve got to get ready for work. We’ll pick this up in the morning?”
She nodded. “When is your boss going to realize you’re a classically-trained chef and not some short-order cook?”
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he said as he walked into his bedroom.
Iris reached across the sofa and over its arm to retrieve the ice cream from the end table. It was mostly melted, but she scooped the liquid mess onto her spoon and slurped it into her mouth.
She went into the kitchen and put the ice cream in the freezer. Normally, she enjoyed the quietness of Cam’s apartment, but not tonight. The silence reminded her that she was alone. A divorcee. Damaged goods. She heard her phone vibrate against the cocktail table in the living room. When she retrieved it, she saw she’d missed a call from her twin brother, Idris.
Without hesitation, she called him back. Idris rarely called her—he normally texted—so she figured it had to be important.
“Hi, Idris. What gives me the pleasure?”
“Come home. Now. I sent you an eTicket.”
“What’s this about, Idris?”
“Mom.”
3
Preston sat on the edge of the bed, sleepless once again. His heavy-lidded, sleep-deprived eyes watched
the clock tick to five thirty, which was when the alarm sounded. Even though he’d left the Air Force nine years ago, he maintained his military routine. However, his body hadn’t adjusted from the London time zone, so he had been awake since one thirty. Truthfully, adjusting to Chicago time was only part of it. It was really the nightmares that jerked him out of his sleep. The memories flooded his mind. He’d worked so hard to suppress them, erase them, bury them. But they were still there like dust swept under a rug, hidden from view, but always there.
Why now? He’d managed to go on for years without much thought about his past. Now, nightmares kept him awake. His memories tortured him. He was tired, worn down.
He put on his jogging shorts, laced his running shoes, and headed out for his morning run. The lakefront hotel with easy access to the jogging trail beside Lake Michigan was great for runners. Along the route, he encountered a gaggle of geese, dodging one that became aggressive because he was a little too close.
The sunrise was his companion, hovering alongside him as he jogged and contemplated what was next. He’d left London with the hope that he’d reconnect with his estranged family. He allowed it to happen — the estrangement. It was just easier that way. He even changed his name. No longer carrying the family name — Mayweather — Preston Roberts realized a name change and an entire ocean weren’t enough to separate him from the turmoil Amanda left behind.
Amanda. Amanda was the only Mayweather girl — a girl surrounded by overprotective brothers who loved her more than she loved herself. Now she was gone, and Preston believed the family still hadn’t forgiven him for what happened to her.
He looked at his pedometer and saw he’d already jogged four miles. He circled around and headed back towards the hotel. He’d take a shower then try his brother again, even though he was overcome with feelings of deep apprehension. He wasn’t sure if it had something to do with his sleeplessness or with reconnecting with family after so many years of avoiding them. What if they weren’t receptive of him? Then what? He had so many feelings — ambivalence, regret, guilt, anxiety — but he was too tired to deal with any of them.
He thought of sending a text message to let his brother know he was in town. But what if the heads-up was an alert for his brother to plan a strategic avoidance? No, he didn’t want to give him an opportunity to be disingenuous.
***
Preston grabbed a large coffee from the 7-Eleven and pushed through the twenty-five minute drive despite his exhaustion. He parked across the street from his brother’s house. The numbers on the large solid brick facade with the stone entryway were prominent — he’d arrived at the right house. Impressive neighborhood. Mature trees, manicured lawns — uniformity. The tall green door boasted brass fittings and all sorts of accessories that reminded him he was in an affluent neighborhood.
He hadn’t seen his brother in thirteen years. It seemed much longer. Once he joined the Air Force at his father’s behest, his visits with the family gradually became fewer as the years went on. Phone calls had to suffice, and then emails. Soon after, contact was reduced to text messages. It was tough, though. He used to be close to his family.
He stood at his brother’s front door, wearing an old pair of jeans with a Ralph Lauren t-shirt. He wore a gold stud earring he’d gotten for his birthday last year. His long brown dreadlocks with golden tips that used to gleam were now dingy and gathered into a ponytail. He had a goatee that he hadn’t groomed in a few days. His slender frame was tight and muscular.
For a moment, he contemplated knocking. Maybe it was a mistake. After all, he wasn’t expected. He stood on the porch with one piece of carry-on luggage which contained everything he owned. It wasn’t that he was broke, quite the contrary. He sold everything except for what he absolutely needed because he knew he wasn’t going back to London. He knew there was nothing there for him anymore.
He took a deep breath, preparing for whatever might happen when that front door was opened. He wasn’t sure how he’d be received. He just wasn’t sure what to expect. As he was about to ring the doorbell, he stepped back mentally and asked himself, “Why am I here?”
Amanda. She was the reason he was here. The nightmares, memories of the tears she cried into her pillow — all of it saddened him. Her screams of agony haunted him again. Even the pills to help calm the anxiety, to quell the trauma, lost their effectiveness. He needed to get some closure — once and for all — so he could move on with his life.
He rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. He considered sending a text message or even sliding a note under the door. But he thought better of it. Perhaps this was divine intervention — God’s way of saying, “Not yet.” He took the handle of his luggage carrier, pulling it behind him as he made his way back to the rental car. Inside the car, he took another look at the house — wondering if he’d be welcome, and hoping that he would be.
Just as he was about to drive off, he saw a car pull into the driveway. A woman with long curly hair got out, followed by two children, one who looked like a teenager, the other, a little younger. As the car entered the garage, Preston thought about getting out to greet them. But a Range Rover drove up. A tall man in a pilot’s uniform stepped out. It was his brother, Richard Mayweather. He looked good in uniform, always had, Preston thought. The woman ran to Richard, diving into his arms, hugging and kissing him. Preston felt a tinge of envy. After the garage door lowered, they disappeared into the house. He sat in the car a long while, debating whether he’d go back to the hotel or ring the doorbell again. He took the key out of the ignition and walked to the house.
He heard the garage door open. The black Audi backed out. As the car drove by, he saw the woman and two girls in the car. Not his brother. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
When Richard opened the door, a smile lit up Preston’s face like a kid on Christmas morning. He hadn’t expected to be so happy to see him. He stretched out his arms to Richard, ready to hug him, when he realized Richard didn’t recognize him. His appearance had changed over the years.
“May I help you?” Richard asked.
“Hi, Richie,” he said. Only family called Richard ‘Richie’.
Richard did a double take, examining Preston closely, looking into his saddened eyes.
“Oh my God!” Richard shouted and reached out for him.
They hugged long. Preston didn’t want to let go. It had been too long.
“Baby!” Richard shouted, using Preston’s childhood nickname.
Richard stepped back and looked at him.
“You look…” he paused to find the right word, “remarkable,” Richard continued. “Come on in, take a load off. Coffee?”
Preston nodded even though he drank a large coffee on the way there. Once inside, his eyes roamed the space, noticing the high ceilings, atrium, and floor-to-ceiling windows. Quite different than the Officer’s quarters Richard and his late wife, Valerie, had shared at Scott Air Force Base when Preston had last visited.
Richard returned with two cups of coffee.
“Wow, Richie. I chose the wrong line of work. I should’ve become a pilot.”
Richard had done well for himself. After the Air Force, he’d worked at a commercial airline when it was new and became part-owner through stock options.
Richard shrugged and handed Preston his cup of coffee. Preston took it and carefully sipped the hot drink.
“It’s so good to see you, Richie.”
“You, too, Baby. It’s been too long. I’m glad you came early. We can catch up.”
“Early?”
“The engagement party. You’re here because you got the invitation, right?”
He hadn’t. He had no idea Richard was engaged.
“No,” he said then took another sip of his coffee.
“We sent it to the last address we had for you.” Richard paused. “Why are you here, then?
He ignored the question. “When’s the party?”
“Six weeks.”
Preston nodd
ed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t miss it. Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Prudence Payne. Pru.”
Preston nearly choked. He knew the woman in the driveway had looked familiar. It was Pru who had gotten out of the car.
“You just missed them, too,” Richard said proudly.
“You finally got the girl,” Preston snickered and patted Richard on the back., “I remember how into Pru you were when we were growing up. It was funny, too, how she kept turning you down. But she sure was pretty. I can’t wait to see her again.”
“Funny to you, not to me,” he chuckled. “She’ll be really happy to see you. She asks about you all the time. She and the girls are having a girls’ day out. So I have the house to myself. They do this once a month and I look forward to it,” he said, chuckling. “You haven’t met my daughters… your nieces,” he realized.
“I’ve seen the pictures you’ve sent over the years. They’re beautiful.”
Richard nodded.
“Wow, you’re an inspiration. How’d you get Pru to finally say yes?”
“It wasn’t easy, I can tell you that much. And it was even harder to convince her to marry me.”
“I could see how the whole ‘relationship’ thing with you would be difficult for Pru. She was really close to Valerie. It had to be hard for you, too, being such a young widower, raising two little girls by yourself. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you during that period of your life.”
Richard shrugged, a gesture that usually meant it mattered a lot to him but he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it.
“Mom and Dad know you’re here? They’re flying in for the party. I told them they didn’t have to but they insisted. They arrive from Los Angeles the day before.”
“No. I didn’t tell them. I’ll call them. Let me be the one to let them know I’m stateside, okay?”
Richard nodded. “So, if you aren’t here for the party, what brings you all the way from London?”
Preston hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to spoil the moment but he also knew that Richard was persistent and would continue to ask until he told him.
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