by Angel Hunter
“Yes.” What more was there to say?
“I’ll call you later.” Lange turned and walked away.
“Lange, wait.” She didn’t want him to leave like that.
He stopped at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll call you later.”
Crystal stood on the porch and watched him walk away. When she walked back into the house, Roger was no longer in the kitchen. She headed upstairs and heard the shower running.
“Was that your friend Lange?” Roger asked as he stepped out of the shower.
“Yeah, we’re working on a case together. He wanted to discuss it.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.” Roger said, not meaning a word of it. As he pulled on his pants he asked “Can we have lunch later?”
“No. I have a lot of things to do, but I’ll call you later.”
As Crystal walked him down the stairs to the door, he turned to her, kissed her on the mouth and said, “I could fall in love with you.”
Before she could reply, he was out the door. “Please don’t do that,” Crystal said out loud. “That’s the last thing I need.”
Crystal went back into the house, picked up the phone and dialed Lange’s cell number. The answering service came on. She didn’t bother to leave a message. He’d see her number on the caller ID.
THE CONFRONTATION
Jewell was waiting for King to arrive. She glanced at her watch and noticed that he was fifteen minutes late. She decided to give him five more minutes. If he didn’t show up by then, she would be out. Just as she made that decision, King walked in. He looked around the restaurant, spotted her and frowned. From the look on his face, Jewell knew this wasn’t going to be good. She had been avoiding King for over a week now. She would drop Tyson off at his house and leave the second he stepped foot in the door. She’d even rush him off the phone. She knew that wasn’t going to last too much longer, especially after she received the message from King saying he would come to her job if she didn’t stop avoiding him. King pulled his chair out and sat down. He got right to the point.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Jewell denied.
They both knew she was lying.
“You have and you know it.”
“Listen, let’s eat first, then we can discuss whatever it is you would like to discuss,” Jewell suggested then picked up a glass of water and took a sip.
“I feel he needs his father,” King continued.
“He sees you every weekend and sometimes during the week.”
“Yeah, but it’s not enough.”
“To you,” Jewell said.
“Yes, to me. He’s getting to be that age where he’s going to have a lot of questions, start liking girls, and well, I want to be there for him on an everyday basis. Shit, it won’t be hard. I’m self-employed. I work from home, and business is doing great. I go to clients occasionally. He can come with me or I can get a babysitter. Damn it, you’ve had him long enough. It’s my turn to have him.”
His being able to take care of Tyson wasn’t an issue. Aside from designing web sites, King was a master electrician who owned his own general contracting business, and he had several men working for him. Jewell informed him that a child isn’t a thing, something you take turns with.
“You know what I mean. Remember in Boyz In The Hood, how Lawrence Fishburne—”
“King, this is not a movie. This is real life with a real child. I don’t give a damn about a movie.” Did he really think she would just agree to this, to giving up her son? Yes, he was Tyson’s father, but the arrangement they had was working. Why disrupt it?
“I’ve spoken to Tyson about it.” King surprised her by saying. “He’s excited about the idea.”
“You did what?”
“We’ve talked about the possibility of him coming to live with me.”
Jewell didn’t know what to say. She wanted to reach across the table and punch King in the face, she was so pissed. “I can’t believe you did that.” She shook her head. “If he’s so excited about it, how come he hasn’t discussed it with me?” Jewell’s voice was getting louder.
“Shhh. Lower your voice.” King looked around and noticed that people were looking in their direction.
“Maybe I don’t want to lower my voice. How could you discuss this with him without talking to me about it first? I can’t believe you did that.”
“He’s my son too, and he probably didn’t mention it because he knows how sensitive you are. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
Jewell was tripping. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He knows how sensitive I am? Where the hell did that come from?”
The waiter came over to take their orders. Jewell shot him the evil eye. “We’re not ready yet.”
“Think about it, Jewell.” King reached for her hand and she snatched it away.
“Don’t touch me!” She was clearly upset.
The waiter pointedly asked Jewell if everything was okay.
“Everything is fine,” King told him.
“I’m talking to the lady.”
“And I’m talking to you. If you don’t leave us alone, everything won’t be fine.”
Jewell looked at King. “Is all that really necessary?” She then told the waiter everything was fine.
“If you say so.” The waiter walked away.
“Why’d you threaten him?”
King ignored her question. “What is this, white men just flock to you now?”
“What are you talking about now?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about—your white man, the white waiter.”
“Oh, so that’s what this is all about? Is that why you’re trying to take Tyson away from me, because I’m dating a white man?”
“No, Jewell, it’s not. That night I came over to talk to you about this, I had no idea your new man was white as rice.”
She knew he was telling the truth.
“Answer this for me,” he said. “If I was dating a white girl, how would you feel?”
She knew it would irritate the hell out of her, but she chose to lie. “It wouldn’t bother me at all.”
“Yeah, okay,” King said, wondering who she thought she was fooling. “You forget how well I know you. Remember, I was your first love.”
“Well, people change.” She crossed her arms.
Neither of them said a word. They just sat across from one another. Finally King said, “Let’s get back together. Let’s see if we can make it work.”
“Don’t do this to me, King. Not now.”
“I’ve never stopped loving you Jewell. I’m ready to settle down, have more kids, and the thought of having a whole bunch of baby mamas is not appealing.”
“Stop it, King.”
“Think about how good we could be together, and how happy it would make Tyson to have both of us.”
“He has both of us now.”
“Not in one household, not together.”
“That’s not fair,” Jewell protested.
“Just consider it, think about it. If not, consider him coming to stay with me.”
The waiter came over again and asked if he could take their order. Jewell stood up and said, “I’m not hungry.”
King watched her walk away.
“Can you believe him?” Jewell asked Evan. She was having dinner at his place.
“That’s his father, Jewell, so I do believe it,” Evan told her. “It’s only natural that he would want more time with him. Me, I think you should consider it. You women are always complaining that black men don’t spend enough time with their children and—”
Jewell looked at Evan and told him, “Watch yourself. You’re crossing boundaries.” She hated when he did that, tried to explain something about black people as though he had a clue. Then on top of everything else, he said “you women.”
“Well, you asked me for my opinion,” he told her, confused.
“No, actua
lly I didn’t. I was just telling you what happened today.”
Actually she wasn’t telling him everything. Jewell excluded the fact that King asked her to consider them being a couple again. She knew if she told him that, he wouldn’t be so, “oh, you should consider it.” What concerned her was why she was withholding information, why she chose to keep that part of the conversation from him. What was the big deal? Was it that she was considering it? Was it because even with all King had put her through, she still loved him?
“Listen, I’m sorry if I upset you,” Evan reached for her hand and kissed it.
“I know you are. You just need to be more aware of your words.”
“I will, I promise. Did you think about what we discussed?”
He had asked her to move in with him. “I did, and I can’t do that, Evan. We’ve only been dating for a short period of time and well, I’m not the type of woman that just moves in with someone.”
“But I’m falling in love with you,” he declared.
“How about this?” Jewell tried to pretend he didn’t say what she thought he’d said. “I’ll stay the night occasionally and we’ll see.”
“That’s not the answer I was hoping for,” he told her.
“Well, we can’t always get what we hope for,” she told him. Jewell didn’t want to commit to anything right now, especially after this afternoon. King had messed everything up by saying he still had feelings for her after all these years.
“I’ll accept what you feel you can give me then. Are we still on for this weekend?” he asked.
Evan’s parents were coming to visit him, and he wanted them to meet her. She wasn’t crazy about the idea and she let him know it. “I’m just not sure about this meeting your parents thing.”
“Why not? We are a couple. I want them to meet the person I’m involved with.”
“Do they know I’m black?”
“I’m real close to my parents,” he went on to say.
“That’s not what I asked you. I asked you if they know I’m black.”
“Does it make a difference?”
“To me it does.”
“No, they don’t know, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. If you make me happy, which you do, that’s all they’re going to care about.”
Jewell didn’t reply, because she knew better.
THE MEETING
Why she agreed to do this, she didn’t know. Susan decided to attend a Narcotics Anonymous meeting with Timothy. It was being held at a church, the last place she wanted to be. When they walked through the doors, she regretted it immediately. She felt as though all eyes were on her.
“You’re just being paranoid,” Timothy told her when she expressed this. “When I came to my first meeting, I felt the same way.”
“Are you sure these meetings are confidential?”
“Yes, Susan.”
She knew she’d asked him that question before leaving the house, but he didn’t have to give her attitude. “How do you know?”
“Because I know, Susan. We’ve had this conversation numerous times.”
“Why are you talking to me in that tone?”
With love in his eyes he told her, “Listen, sweetie, you’re making me nervous, and I’ve been here before.
I’m going to the bathroom, and when I return, we’re going to take a seat.”
Susan wasn’t stupid. She knew he needed to take a breather, so she let him go. She looked around the room to see if there was anyone she knew, any faces she recognized. Thank God, there weren’t. Then again, there probably wouldn’t be, considering the fact she made Timothy take her to meeting over an hour out of town.
“How are you doing?” someone asked her out of the blue, causing her to jump. “Is this your first meeting?”
“Is it that obvious?” Susan asked.
“Well, I haven’t seen you here before, plus you have that nervous first-timer’s look on your face. Did you come alone?”
“No, I came with a friend,” Susan told her.
“My name is Dasha.”
“I’m Susan.”
Before they could converse any longer, Timothy walked up. “Hey, sweetie, let’s go have a seat.”
“Timothy, this is Dasha.”
“How you doing?” Timothy greeted.
They went to find seats. Susan really didn’t know what to expect, but for people to stand up, give their names and identify themselves as addicts was a bit much. As they went around the room, it was getting closer and closer to her turn and she was obviously nervous.
“Don’t worry,” Timothy told her. “You don’t have to say anything.”
I wasn’t planning on it, Susan said to herself as she looked around the room, surprised at the diversity amongst her. It was mind-blowing. Of course, she knew drugs could beat anyone down, regardless of class or color. Heck, it got to her, but to be sitting here staring it in the face was a whole different matter.
A young girl who looked to be all of sixteen years old stood up and told her story. She said that she had tricked for drugs, and never considered her body as something sacred. She had been a victim of incest, and would give her dealers her body instead of money. Now she had HIV. She wasn’t diagnosed until she’d been clean for three months.
Hearing the stories, feeling the emotions, was a bit much for Susan. She found herself getting antsy, squirming in her seat.
“Are you okay?” Timothy asked.
“I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she lied.
Timothy knew she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. He knew she was feeling overwhelmed. “It’s always hard in the beginning,” he said to reassure her.
The ride home was a quiet one.
“You want me to come in and stay the night?” Timothy asked as he parked the car.
“Yes.” She didn’t want to be alone.
Together they went into the house, climbed up the stairs, got undressed, turned the television on and cuddled.
“Let’s start praying together,” Timothy blurted out.
Susan looked at Timothy, surprised by his suggestion. “When did you start praying?”
“I’ve always prayed off and on. What do you think, I’m some kind of heathen?”
“No, of course not. I’ve just never known you to be religious. How come you never shared this with me before?”
“Prayer is normally a private thing.”
“I’m just surprised.”
“Well, do you want to pray or not?” Timothy figured that since they were both trying to stay clean, if they could connect spiritually, it would increase the chances of sobriety and their becoming one.
“I don’t know how to pray,” Susan admitted. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Say whatever comes to mind. Say what’s in your heart. It doesn’t have to be poetic or fancy. God knows what you feel. If you don’t want to say anything out loud, you don’t have to. You can pray to yourself and I’ll do the same. We’ll still be praying together.” On that note, Timothy took her hand.
Susan watched him close his eyes, closed her own and said to herself, Damn, I love this man.
A NEW DAY, A DIFFERENT WAY
Susan climbed out of the bed, but not before kissing Timothy on the cheek. “Good morning,” she told him.
“Good morning,” he replied.
“You want some breakfast?”
“No.”
Susan smiled because she knew when he was short with her, it only meant one thing. He wanted more sleep. Recalling how she and Timothy prayed together the night before, she told him, “I’m going to church today.”
“Repeat that?” Timothy looked up at her in surprise. He wanted to be sure he heard her right.
“I said I’m going to church today.”
“I thought that’s what you said. Do you want me to go with you?”
“Nah, I need to do this by myself.” Timothy understood.
She kissed him again and said, “I’m going to make a quick breakfast and
some coffee.” She left the room.
Susan was in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of orange juice when Timothy came in and hugged her from behind. “So, do you think you’ll be attending another meeting?”
She didn’t want to tell him no because he swore by them. They might have been the answer for him, but Susan knew they weren’t for her.
“I don’t know,” she told him.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like the group thing. I’d rather do one on one.”
Timothy pulled away. He was disappointed to hear her say this, because he’d already put it in his mind that they would attend the meetings together. To hear her reject his idea threw him for a loop. “Well, you need some kind of help,” he told her. “You’re not going to be able to get clean on your own.”
Felling insulted, Susan snapped, “Well, maybe your kind of help isn’t the kind I need.”
“Listen, I’m just concerned. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that I have to do this my way, not your way. It’s not a rejection of you or your solution, but I need to find something on my own. I know you love me and that you want to rescue me, and I appreciate it, but you have to let me do this my way. Okay?”
“Okay,” he told her.
Susan placed her cup on the counter. “I have to get dressed.”
While in the shower, Susan thought about Timothy and wondered if his insistence on her attending the meetings would become a problem between the two of them. She hoped he would stop pressing the issue because it was bound to push her away. She told him she needed to do this her way, and although she didn’t know what her way was, she needed to explore some options. Right now there were only two: God and counseling.
While Susan was getting dressed, Timothy asked her, “What church are you going to?”
Susan told Timothy that she’d heard Crystal mention a church she went to quite a while ago. It had a “come as you are” policy. You didn’t have to dress up, there was no trying to outdo one another and the congregation was mixed. Non-denominational, she believed it was called.
The church parking lot was full. Good, she thought. This way I won’t stand out. Little did she know she didn’t have to stand out in this church to be noticed. People approached newcomers whether they knew them or not. Everyone that walked through the door was welcome this way.
