by Aja Cole
Soon, I’d be able to leave my past where it belonged.
Hopefully…Greyson would be a part of my future.
“Mandisa.”
My father is the only one that ever called me that.
Naomi told me that he’d wanted very badly for it to me my first name, but he’d relented in the end and let her choose. But he’d never used the name she’d chosen.
“Father.” I’m in the kitchen with Naomi and Jackson, standing at the large island and watching the two of them make dough for beignets. Or rather, act like children and toss flour at one another.
“Your mother tells me you’d like to sit-down with us.”
I glance at Naomi, who’s crept closer to the phone and is wiping her hands on her apron.
“My mother is standing in front of me. But I would like to talk with your first wife and you when you have the time.”
“For you, I will make this time.” His syrupy charm grates on my nerves. His words are empty to me.
“Yet, you didn’t when I needed you around the most.”
That gets me silence.
“I am sorry for that,” his accent is thicker and I take a deep breath, willing myself to not feel sympathy for him.
“When are you available?”
“We would like you to come for dinner tonight. All of you.”
Oohhhh boy.
“Let me see if Naomi and Jackson have plans.” I mute the phone and turn to them. I’m not all too sure that it’s going to go over well. “Father wants all of us to come for dinner tonight.”
They both stand there for a second, shocked. As far as I knew, Naomi hadn’t spoken to my father for years. Jackson never met either of them.
Now, all of us, sitting down for dinner after the truth was out?
It didn’t seem like the best time to play happy family.
They look at each other wordlessly, with that communication that people develop who know each other on levels that some of us never reach. Then they turn back to me and hold hands.
“Tell him we’ll be there,” Jackson speaks, hugging Naomi closer to him.
Oh.
Okay then.
“Father, what time should we arrive?”
“6pm. I will see you then, first daughter.”
Click.
29
Greyson
“Alex, man, you’ve gotta stop being such a shit player,” I tease, walking into his hospital room. My brother is laid up with some kind of brace around his neck, and he smiles faintly.
Probably a shit-ton of meds being pumped into him.
“What can I say, I’ve been watching you play too long.”
I drop down into the chair next to the bed, seeing the bruising on his face where he hit the glass. Damn, he must’ve been in more pain than I could imagine.
It could’ve easily been any of us, and it could’ve easily been fatal.
“What’s with the pathetic aura you’ve had lately? Meant to ask you about it but,” he gestures at the bed, “got kind of tied up.”
Was it really so easy to see?
“We don’t need to talk about me, bro. You’re the one who had to be taken off the ice on a stretcher. Even guys with broken bones limp off.”
“Tasha’s been fussing over me like a mother hen already, I need to talk about something else,” his lips turn down, “and not the fact that I’m out so early in the season.”
“I didn’t really know Daya. It’s that simple.” I look away, taking in all the flowers and balloons scattered around the private room. Made me happy to see the love for Alex.
“It’s been like 3 weeks, what the hell could’ve gone wrong already?”
“We barely got off the ground before she told me she didn’t want to be trapped in a relationship with me, that’s what went wrong.”
“She couldn’t have just said that out of the blue.” He turns his head to look at me as much as he can, then presses a button to raise him so he’s sitting up more. It would be amusing if I didn’t know how he could’ve been paralyzed from a hit like that. Even though he was okay, those what ifs kept running around my head.
“A lot of shit happened. I don’t want to get into it all.”
“Well that’s too bad, because I’ve got nothing else to do but pester you about it,” he scowls, “You better not have picked a dumb fight with her because of what your mom and me said.”
“I never have to pick a fight with Daya, she’s usually picking one with me. I wanted to take her out on a real first date. I did. Crazy stuff happened at the restauraunt. This guy wanted to talk to me about hockey on the date and then he punched Marco—,”
“He punched Marco!?”
“Yes. So he punches Marco but before that, the idiot’s wife was saying some foul shit to Daya. Saying it was good she got a white guy to look past her ancestry and I must want her just to have kids with he—,” he interrupts me again.
“Man, you’re making this shit up.” I widen my eyes at him, throwing up my hands.
“Alex, I wish I could make this kind of shit up. So all that shit goes down, we go home and don’t speak in the car. Then we get into the townhouse and she just goes all ice cold on me. I told her she was scared of the truth and had daddy issues, and she told me to basically fuck off. We haven’t spoken since.”
“Damn, so both of you have problems with your dads? Two peas in a pod.”
I frown. “I don’t have problems with my dad.”
“You only talk to your dad about hockey and nothing else since all the shit hit the fan. You have problems.”
“I mean…I just…we’re not back to that space yet.”
“You won’t get there by avoiding the discussion, that’s for sure. But that’s for you to figure out. Now, back to the important stuff.”
“I feel like you’re thinking clearer on pain meds than you ever do off them.”
“Fuck you, asswipe. This is your love life on the line.”
“The only thing on the line that I care about is the game tomorrow.” I bluff, looking away.
“I haven’t even been here for this whole conversation, and I know that’s a lie,” Tasha walks in with a cup of coffee and her usual smile. I get up immediately, hugging her and letting her have my seat. Pulling the chair by the window closer as she kisses Alex on the cheek, I shake my head.
“I’m telling the two of you, I don’t have time to worry about anything else.”
“Grey, look at me.” Alex demands, and I do, a little uncomfortable at the intensity in his half-glare. I know I’m not going to want to hear what he’s going to say.
“When I hit that glass and felt the pain, I thought that was the end. I thought I’d never get to see the people I loved ever again, and all I could think about was what I didn’t say.” He looks at Tasha and reaches for her hand. “All the things I said I’d get around to, everything I was waiting on the right moment for. Well guess what? You can’t wait. I know I said that shit about not being her savior and being cautious – but I’ve seen how you feel about her. Before you ever met her. If someone can mean so much to you before you ever give it a chance, that’s special. That’s something you should’ve give up just because it’s not the way others might do it. Go for it. Fight for her. Whatever issues she has, you don’t have to try to fix – but let her know you’re there.”
I rub the bridge of my nose, leaning my elbows on my thighs. “She doesn’t want me around, Alex. I can’t make her want me in her life. And I can’t be in a one-sided relationship.”
“You’re a good guy, Alex. But you’re no pushover. Those same instincts you use on the ice, anticipating moves and supporting your team – use those. I don’t think you’d have even given dating a second thought if you really believed she didn’t want you. Obviously, you felt something from her when you were together. Trust it.” Tasha jumps in, backing up Alex.
“She’s not ready to face it the way I am. She’d rather be numb to everything than be disappointed, I think.” I can
’t believe I’m talking about this. Considering this. But Alex played the nothing is promised card, and I couldn’t argue with him. Not after watching him hit that ice and feeling icy terror run through me.
“People are complicated. And depending on her reasons for acting the way she does, it’s not going to be easy. But just answer me this – Will you regret it if you just let it go without one more shot? One last play at a woman you haven’t stopped thinking about since you started talking to her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I shrug. Fuck.
“Don’t do it for her. Do it for you. Seems like you left things on a bad note and you were both feeling shitty after the restaurant. You’ve both had time to calm down some…just see what happens if you talk again. Tell her how you feel and what you need from her if anything is going to happen.”
I stand up, looking at the clock. It’s almost time to head back to play Boston. I thought I’d already been clear with Daya about my feelings, but maybe Alex was right…I needed to make one last go at it for myself. Regardless of what happened, I would know that I didn’t give up. I’d thought about her too long to just ditch it.
Maybe it was a stupid idea. But I was going to do it.
“He seems smarter when he’s doped up, Tasha.” I wink, hugging her to my side and kissing her cheek. Alex sticks his tongue out and I lean down to hug him gently, not wanting to jar his brace.
“See you soon, man.” He nods, holding me for an extra second.
“Soon.”
I leave the room, walking down the halls, smiling politely at some of the nurses who speak and stare a little too long.
I felt all over the place emotionally. I’d just decided to try to forget about her, and now I was going to put myself in a place to get trampled on again. At least with hockey, I got paid to get my ass bruised and beaten on the ice.
Daya? She was kicking my ass for free.
30
Daya
“Miss Daya, it’s so nice to see you,” Henrietta, the same housekeeper they’d had when I was home, opens the door. Her slightly weathered brown face creases into a huge smile and I hug her as she holds her arms out. I had fond memories of her.
I would bake and cook in the kitchen with her when all the chaos was going on and I didn’t want to be with “the family.” My father liked to socialize and he liked to have get togethers with his business associates and wives, the former none the wiser about the actual state of things. It was all too soap opera-ish for my liking. Kids and women would be around and I didn’t know who was a part of my father’s family and who wasn’t.
Once, I’d walked into a room and found my father and one of his women making out.
I’d started to lay low after that.
“It’s nice to see you too, Henrietta. And you know Naomi. I don’t think you know Jackson. Naomi’s husband.” I’m not sure if I should reveal our true connection yet.
It was enough that we knew.
“Come on in, let me get your jackets,” she waves us all into the large entrance hall, and collects our coats. I feel like a stranger in the house I grew up in. My father comes from his study, setting his scotch on the table closest to him.
He walks up to me, studying me as I take him in. His close cropped dark hair is threaded with grey, the same as his trim facial hair. He’s gained some weight, but not much. His tailored business suit smells like the familiar citrus and wood scent I always associated with him. A wide smile spreads across his face, and he opens his arms just as Henrietta did. Only this time, I’m not nearly as eager to enter them.
“Mandisa. My daughter. It has been too long, child.”
I walk into his arms, not wanting to be rude. This was a night to start to lay my problems to rest, not be petty. It was only a hug.
He holds me longer than I’m comfortable with, and when he releases me, I step back to Jackson and Naomi. He steps toward them, offering his hand to Jackson. He clasps a hand on top of his, and looks him in the eye.
“You are the man that helped to usher my Mandisa into womanhood, yes?”
“Yes.” He answers, staring my father down.
“I am grateful to you.” They both nod, releasing each other.
My father was very…formal. I knew he felt very strongly about tradition and appearances. Unfortunately, other than his penchant for wanting things his way, I didn’t know much else. He was as much a stranger to me as the house.
Now, for the big moment. He steps in front of my mom, and they simply look at each other for a few seconds.
“You seem well, Naomi.”
“I am, Viktor. I have my daughter and my husband.”
“I am happy to see that. Truly.” He leans forward as if to kiss her cheeks, and hesitates for a second, like he’s waiting for her approval. She turns her head just slightly to him, and he kisses one cheek briefly then the other. As he steps back, Natasha walks into the foyer.
I knew Naomi forgave her sister a long time ago, but who knew what feelings would rise after not seeing each other so long. They both take steps forward, meeting in the middle, and clasp hands.
“Nomi.”
“Nat.” With small smiles, they hug each other and return to their significant other’s sides. I’m in the middle now. Jackson and my mom on one side…my Father and Natasha on the other. My past and my new present and future in the same room.
So far, the world hadn’t imploded.
I hoped things would continue that way once we got to the hard stuff.
The things I’d need to confront in order to move on.
Everything was calm now…but who knew what the night had in store?
Dinner was a study in good manners and casual conversation.
Seriously, we could’ve been in some cheesy 1950’s commercial about the family life.
If you took out the bigamy, cheating, and accidental pregnancy that is.
But now, it was time to face the music.
Both dinner and dessert were had, and there was nothing left to do but have the conversation I’d come for.
I rose from the table after our dishes were cleared by members of the staff I didn’t recognize.
“Father, may I speak with you?” Every etiquette lesson that’d been drilled into me seemed to come to the surface when I stepped over the threshold of the house.
“Of course.” He rises and I lead the way to his study, entering before him and sitting on the edge of a cool leather chair. I open my mouth to speak, wanting to get things over with, but he stops me.
“I would like to speak first, if you don’t mind.” I swallow hard, nodding. He clasps his large hands together and leans forward, angling his body so he’s facing me.
“I have made many mistakes in my years. One that will haunt me until the day I am given back to this earth, is letting you down. I was a boy who thought he was a man, and I made decisions because of what that boy wanted. Failing to realize that the man had responsibilities far greater than those of a rash young boy.” The look in his eyes seems like he’s not even looking at me, and his accent is thicker than I can ever remember hearing it. “In South Africa, having more than one wife in my family was what was expected. It was no surprise or secret, and I watched my father and uncles add to their families. It is the way I knew, but there is a different understanding there than here. Here, it is frowned upon. I wanted to live in both of these worlds. I did not want to give up what I saw as my right as a man, for the business opportunities I wanted to pursue here. Or for the love of two special women.”
I don’t know how I feel about him right now. I don’t want to feel sympathy for him or understand him. I want to hold onto my anger and my hurt. I want to block my ears and run from the room, back to where I can cloak myself in my distrust of my father and any men I might encounter.
But I can’t do any of that. He’s opened the box now and there’s no putting things back like they were. I hold my arms, and it feels like I’m holding myself together.
What do you do w
hen your father is trying to explain 23 years of disappointment?
No matter if I believed him after he finished it all; I needed to find a way to forgive him. For my own happiness. Dr. Myers had made that clear. I couldn’t go forward in a healthy manner if I didn’t. I couldn’t get Greyson back if I didn’t.
I wanted him back so badly that I’d face my personal demons even it killed me.
It wasn’t likely to do that.
So I listened.
And I hurt.
When Natasha joined us, I listened to her too.
I didn’t approve of her outside indifference when I was younger, the way she seemed to let him do whatever he pleased because she fancied she loved him
I remembered Dr. Meyers’ firm command that I had to be honest too. I had to tell them what their actions had done to me; how I felt they impacted me years later.
I hadn’t known they’d done that, but after explaining and going over details with my therapist – now I did. Now I understood what to say.
I told Natasha that I didn’t want to be in a relationship because I equated it with losing my voice.
I admitted that I never quite felt connected to her because she seemed to keep everything at a distance.
I told her that I’d adopted the same way of dealing with people.
She’d cried when I told her that. And I cried because finally, she seemed real.
I told my Father that I ran when things got too difficult.
I told him that I pushed people away when it looked like they were getting too close.
Because when they left, it would be too much.
I told him that I didn’t want to open my heart to a man because that required trust. And if you trusted someone with your feelings, they could manipulate you. They could use you for their own selfish reasons.
