Defining Moments

by Ben Burgess Jr.

  “I know, but I think she does it because she feels she owes it to her for helping to take care of Jerami when he was sick as a kid.”

  “That might be one reason, but she’s one of your mom’s best friends. She loves her,” Ebony said. “She knows how hard it is for you to try to juggle things with your own life ... Well, since you’re going to be with your mom, Rashida and some of my other coworkers asked me to go to the Delancey for some drinks with them. I’m going to get ready and head over there. If you want, after you finish with your mom, you can meet me there.”

  “Nah, I’ll just see you when you get home,” I said. “I’d tell you about the case now, but it’s too much to explain over the phone. Long story short, if I win, they’re going to make me a partner. Life will be a lot easier for us if I get this partnership.”

  “Wow! That’s great, baby.”

  “Go ahead, get ready, and go unwind with your friends. I’ll tell you all the details later.”

  “All right, babe. Well, take care of your mom, and I’ll see you when I get home.”

  We said our goodbyes and ended the call once I stepped inside the building.

  I made my way up the musty, narrow, urine-scented staircase to Mom’s apartment.

  I opened her apartment door, and Mrs. Williams, Ebony’s mom, was sitting in the living room, watching TV.

  “Hey, Mrs. Williams. How’s Mom doing?”

  “She’s holding up. She’s in her room taking a nap, but you should go on in there and see her.”

  I nodded.

  Luckily for me, Mrs. Williams and Jalen’s mom, Mrs. Wilson, helped me out a lot with caring for my mom. I tried to do as much as I could when I came to visit her during the week—grocery shopping, cleaning, and cooking—but Mom had been depressed lately because she felt like she was a burden to all of us. She cried and went on about how she felt useless because we only wanted her to rest. I’d seen my mom fighting hard for a long time, but I’d never understood the full scope of her sickness. Once her leg was amputated, it scared me and motivated me to work harder to move her into a place that could take better care of her.

  “Why are you so sweaty?” Mrs. Williams asked.

  “I had to show these kids who’s still the king on these courts.”

  She laughed. “You taking care of my baby girl?”

  “Always.”

  “Tell her I know she’s out there trying to save the world, but she needs to visit her mother from time to time.”

  I winked and said, “I will.”

  I slowly opened the door, and my mom was sitting against her headboard, grimacing in pain.

  “Hey, Mom, how are you feeling?”

  “I’m all right,” she said.

  She was getting worse. All I could picture was her slowly deteriorating and one day dying alone. My mom had been through too much already. I couldn’t sit back and let that happen.

  Mom was completely bedridden and couldn’t do anything for herself. A year ago, her neurologist told her to stay on bed rest because she was having severe relapses. She had a stroke, kidney stones—which mostly formed from all the medications she took—chest and kidney infections, and recently, her left leg had been amputated. She pushed herself past her limits and said the moment she allowed her illness to define her was the moment she’d begin her death sentence.

  Her MS had made it hard for her to talk to me like she used to. Most times, she lost track or interest in conversations and found it difficult to string together long sentences.

  “I talked to the powers that be at my firm today, and if I win this big case, they’re going to make me a partner,” I said.

  “That’s great, Billy.”

  “If I get the partnership, I can afford to move you out of here to someplace more comfortable ... where they can take care of you.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Use that money to pay for a nice wedding for you and Ebony. I’m not going anywhere. All of my positive memories are here. This is my home. I’ve been blessed with friends that take care of me. I don’t have much time left anyway. Don’t waste your money on me.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Mom. You’re the only family I have.”

  “That’s why you should stop worrying about me and focus on marrying Ebony so I can at least try to be alive to see my grandkids’ births. We can’t stop the inevitable with me.”

  “Can we drop the negative talk?”

  I told my mom some things about the case and took care of her until she went to bed for the night. I prayed that she would live to see the birth of my future children.

  Finally, I went home, showered, and looked at today’s case files. I got into bed and tried to stay awake and wait up for Ebony to come home but ended up dozing off before she got there.

  Chapter 11

  Ebony

  Ashamed

  Usually, when I go through heavy shit at work, I tend to either stay to myself or just spend time alone with Billy until I get my mind right. When I got to the Delancey, I thought about turning back and going home to do one or the other ... until Rashida spotted me and waved me over. My coworkers were all drinking, talking, and laughing. I didn’t feel I was in the mood for any of that.

  “Hey! We’re all sitting over here.”

  Mendez, Mahoney, Osborne, and St. Clair all raised their beers to salute me. Rashida had her arm around Osborne, and the two of them looked very comfortable together. Osborne was a cute girl. She had hazel eyes and long, wavy, jet-black hair. She was sporting a red blouse that showcased her cleavage, with matching pumps and leggings that showed off her thick legs and ass.

  I expected the atmosphere of the lounge to be overly loud and crowded, but there were just enough people in there, and the volume of the crowd was calm.

  Morgan flashed his beautiful smile at me and patted the spot next to him. “I saved you a seat.”

  I smiled and sat down.

  We laughed, drank, and made a toast to Roberts and Gomez. After the toast, we didn’t discuss anything work-related for the rest of the night. Some of the televisions in the lounge had the news on them. The media replayed the reports of the murders over and over again. Talking about it would only pain us more, and seeing how all of us got quiet, avoided looking at the screens, and had uncomfortable looks on our faces, I knew Mendez, Mahoney, and Rashida felt like I did and wanted to push that night as far into the back of our minds as possible—at least for tonight.

  * * *

  Dancing, drinking, and having fun with Morgan, I looked at my watch and realized I had lost track of time. It was eleven p.m. I was off for the next two days, but I wanted to talk to Billy before he had to head back to work in the morning. Always considerate, he knew I needed time to relax and clear my head, so he didn’t stress me by calling and texting me.

  “All right, guys, I’m outta here,” I said.

  “Yeah, I’m right behind you,” Mahoney said.

  “Me too, as soon as I finish my Corona,” Mendez added.

  Rashida was too busy tonguing down Rayna to acknowledge me. I was sure Rayna was going home with her.

  “You leaving so soon?” Morgan asked.

  “Yeah, I haven’t seen my man all day. I want to spend some time with him before he goes back to work.”

  “Are we still studying for the lieutenants’ test together this week?”

  “Yup.”

  “All right, beautiful, I’ll see you later.”

  Morgan gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. His plush lips felt good against my skin. Feeling his impressive bulge as he ground on me when we were dancing and feeling his lips on my skin just now made me question what other things would feel like. I shook those thoughts out of my head and went home to my man.

  * * *

  It was around midnight when I finally got home. The only light in the house came from our bedroom off the muted TV that Billy left on. He was probably waiting up to tell me about his case or wanted to sneak in a quickie before I went to bed. As exhausted a
s I was, I missed him. I wanted to talk to him, even if only a few minutes. I took a quick shower, dried myself off, and nuzzled next to my man. Then I gently shook him.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, yawning and stretching out. His hand grazed my bare thigh, and once he realized I was naked, it was on.

  Billy kissed my breasts, wrapped his tongue over my hardened brown nipples, and worked his way down my body.

  “Lie down,” he said softly.

  I did as he asked. Billy stuck two fingers inside me and massaged my G-spot. He worked me until I writhed and moaned. Then he slid down and gently licked the sides of my folds.

  My head lifted off the pillow, and my thighs were pressed tightly around his ears as he flicked his tongue across my clit and nibbled on my pussy lips. Then he drove his tongue inside me.

  “Oooh! Don’t stop, baby!” I said, wrapping my hands around the back of his head, holding him in position.

  I moaned out his name. I couldn’t prolong it anymore. The way he worked his tongue and hearing the slurping sounds he made when he lapped up my pussy juices gave me an atomic orgasm that rippled through me.

  I lay there twitching as Billy went to the bathroom to grab a condom. He returned, slipped the condom over his hard cock, and spread my legs wide. I felt his cock push through the opening of my pussy and fill me with his thickness. Billy propped himself up on his forearms as his cock pounded into me. I watched his broad shoulders, chiseled back, and firm ass in our bedroom mirror. I gripped his bare ass and pulled him deeper inside me as he pumped away at my treasure.

  His powerful, fast thrusts made my orgasm sneak up on me quickly this time. I bucked and cursed as I came for the second time, digging my fingernails deep into his back.

  Billy’s face was red and flushed, and his body stiffened as he came inside me.

  We were both limp, sweaty, and gasping for air. We lay together in bed. He held me in his arms and traced the contours of my curves. As he spooned me in the dark, I felt guilty. Even though I loved this man so much, and I knew he loved me unconditionally, a part of me felt like maybe Morgan was right. Maybe I was missing out on more in life because I didn’t know anything but life with Billy. I was ashamed of my thoughts. I shook them away and kissed Billy’s arm. After all the stress I’d been dealing with, I desperately needed the sexual relief that Billy gave me.

  Chapter 12

  Becky

  Reflections

  “So ... Is it true?” Brooke asked, her crystal-blue eyes inquisitively wide.

  “Is what true?”

  “You know, about their cocks?”

  I sighed. There were a million questions people could ask me about my interracial relationship, yet all they seemed to want to know about was my man’s dick.

  Brooke and I were sitting in my cubicle at Cosmopolitan magazine in Midtown Manhattan. She was like me, a wealthy trust fund girl that used her parents’ connections to land a job here at Cosmo. I didn’t have a lot of female friends or friends in general, so we bonded over that. Next to Simone, Brooke was one of my closest friends.

  I mostly worked from home on my articles, since I worked part time. I wrote a weekly column on sex, love, and relationships, so it didn’t require me to show my face in the office all the time. I mainly came in when I had staff meetings or an appointment with a publisher. Today, I blessed the office with my presence because I was meeting with another publishing company to pitch my novel, Black and White, that I’d been working on for the past three years, but I didn’t let anyone read it. I didn’t realize Brooke was reading it over my shoulder when I was tinkering with it after I finished my article for the magazine.

  I answered her question. “From my experience, it’s true, but Ben’s the only black guy I’ve been with.”

  “Nice. So how big we talkin’? So big you’re sore-for-a-couple-of-days big, or, oh my God, you’re in agonizing pain, and you feel like you’re-being-ripped-in-half big?”

  I had to laugh at that. “Brooke, I’m not discussing my man’s dick with you. It’s funny. All these years we’ve been friends, and you’ve never asked me that question.”

  “I never read a sex scene so descriptive before. Is your book going to have lots of interracial sex scenes?” she asked.

  “Yes, but it’s not all about sex. This book is about the trials and tribulations of being in an interracial relationship. I want people to fall in love with my characters and root for them. Wait, why do you care? You’d never sleep with a black guy anyway.”

  “True, I could never be as adventurous as you, but I am curious about them. Wait a minute. This book is fiction, right? You’re not going to kill yourself and have the book published as a sort of suicide note, are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Let me read some more of it,” she said. “What are you doing, anyway?”

  I handed over the manuscript I planned on showing to the publisher this afternoon. “I finished the manuscript that I’m shopping around, but I’ve been making improvements here and there. I want it to be perfect. I need this book to get published.” I leaned back in my chair.

  I knew my book was good, but something was missing. I kept getting rejected by publishers. Every time it got rejected, I retooled my story to find that missing link, but I kept falling short.

  I wanted to write a book that showed how, with patience and perseverance, interracial love could conquer all obstacles, but that wasn’t the kind of book that I felt ended up on my pages.

  “Doesn’t your rich and powerful daddy have all sorts of connections? Just ask him to help you get it published,” Brooke said.

  “Nah, I’m not asking my dad for any favors. I need to do this on my own. My parents, Ben’s parents, Ben’s annoying best friend Gabby, and the rest of the world think I’m a helpless, incompetent bimbo. I’m determined to prove all of them wrong.”

  “I get it, but everyone needs somebody sometimes. You’ll prove them wrong when the book is published, and you’re a bestseller. Anyhoo, I’m going to sit right here next to you and read more of this juicy story.”

  I was determined to make it with my writing. My parents expected me to fail. They expected me to come running to them with my tail between my legs, begging for help, but I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

  I knew my parents loved me, but growing up, I never felt good enough for them. I was never pretty, smart, or thin enough for them, so I spent most of my life rebelling. When they wanted me to be a ballerina, I became a gymnast. When they wanted me to stay home and study, I went out and partied. They wanted me to be their perfect little angel, but since they were constant destroyers of my confidence, I was the neighborhood slut that slept with any guy that told her she was pretty. My mom, always the prim and proper woman, was too busy doing events with other well-kept women at the country club. She was fine with having my nannies handle the responsibilities of raising me and hiring the finest therapists in New York to talk to me rather than listen to any of my problems.

  Every action I did growing up was my big “fuck you” to them for always making me feel like I was a disappointment, and even though I knew they believed my relationship with Ben was a continuation of that behavior, it wasn’t. I was sure they felt my relationship with him was due to some liberal guilt, or he was with me as a trophy for his success, but they were wrong. What Ben and I had was real and beautiful.

  At the beginning of our relationship, my parents’ hatred toward Ben didn’t surprise me. They never accepted me for who I was, so I didn’t expect them to approve of any guy I brought home—let alone a black one.

  Recently, my parents had lectured me on everything they felt I was doing wrong in life.

  * * *

  “When are you going to choose a serious career and stop with this writing foolishness?” Mom always critiqued my life decisions and weight.

  I sighed.

  “Maybe I should just marry wealthy like you did so I don’t have to worry about it,” I fired back.

  Dad
laughed. Mom’s face was red. She was clearly embarrassed, but now she got a taste of how I felt around her.

  “That’s a shitty thing to say, Rebecca,” Mom said. She huffed. “Anyway, it won’t happen for you. You insist on dating your black guy, and even if you smartened up and broke up with him, you’re not thin enough to marry well.”

  “There’s the mother I know and love.”

  “You’re so cynical. No wonder you couldn’t find a nice white man to date you.”

  I tuned my mother out and played with my cell phone. Dad chimed in, “Seriously, Rebecca, when is this bullshit relationship going to end? You both know it isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Dad, we live together. We’ve been in a relationship for eight years. Why is it hard to see our love is real?”

  Mom stood up. “I’m going to the gym. Steven, there’s no point trying to reason with her. She’s too stubborn.”

  I rolled my eyes as she left the room. “Daddy, honestly, what’s so bad about my relationship with Ben?”

  “Besides him being black? Nothing.”

  “So, you just don’t like him because he’s black? Don’t you think that’s a silly reason?”

  “That’s the only reason I need, Rebecca. Blacks are mostly uneducated, poor, filthy, and diseased.”

  “And you’re basing this off of . . .?”

  “Facts. They live in crime-riddled neighborhoods, and they’re thieves.”

  “Daddy!”

  “If you don’t watch them, they’ll steal everything you own from right under your nose,” he said. “Every race needs to stick with their own.”

  “You know Ben is none of those things you just mentioned.”

  “Rebecca, remember this and remember it well: You can polish a turd, but it’s still a piece of shit. Just because Ben has a little bit of an education and has a decent career doesn’t change the fact that he’s black.”

  “You’re downplaying everything that Ben is,” I said. “He graduated from an Ivy League school, and he’s on his way to becoming a partner at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. That’s way beyond merely having a ‘little education and a decent career.’ Ben is a great guy who treats me like a queen. What does it matter what race he is? Don’t you want your only child to be happy?”