If Only For One Night

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If Only For One Night Page 11

by Victoria Christopher Murray


  Leaving my car in the driveway, I jumped out and strolled up to the door, just as my son opened it. “Hey,” I said. “You came out to greet your old man?”

  “Nah, I’m on my way to a basketball game at school.”

  I nodded. “Okay, come home right after. You have school tomorrow.”

  A car honked behind us and Tanner dashed out the door. “Okay, Dad.”

  “Did Ms. Ellis drop Raven off?” I shouted as Tanner ran across our lawn, even though I had told that boy to use the walkway.

  “Yeah,” he said, right before he jumped into the SUV.

  “Drive safe, Ryan,” I called out to Tanner’s friend. But the Ford Explorer had taken off, going just a little faster than I would have liked.

  I closed the door. I didn’t know how parents did it. Every time my son went out, I wasn’t sure what concerned me more — my teenage son being out, or my teenage son being out while black.

  Sighing, I stepped all the way into the house and the moment, I closed the door, I heard the pitter-patter of Raven’s small feet.

  “Daddy.”

  Raven usually greeted me with a beam that came from the sun kinda smile and a hug around my knees. But today, she just shuffled toward me, her steps heavy as if she had a lot on her six-year-old mind.

  “Hey, Munchkin. What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes watered and I did something that I hadn’t done to Raven in a while; I lifted her into my arms and repeated my question.

  “I just went and talked to Mommy.”

  The tremors in her voice let me know that she was one degree away from a full-out cry and it took everything in me to keep a straight face and not frown. What had Monica done to Raven?

  I said, “And what did Mommy say?”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck before she cried into my ear, “I asked her if she was going to take me to see Despicable Me because she promised that she would.”

  “Well, she can’t take you today because you have school tomorrow.”

  “I know, but she promised and she said that we would go on Saturday.”

  “Okay. Well, today is only Thursday. So how do you know that she won’t take you on Saturday?”

  “Because when I talked to her, all she did was lay there. And then, she started crying. I hate it when I see Mommy cry.”

  I took a deep breath. One of the things that concerned me was the way Monica’s illness was impacting our children. I’d been able to talk to Dr. Nichols about that and she had been as concerned as I was saying that children were always affected by a parent’s emotions.

  “A parent’s depression can often lead to a child’s depression. So keep everything in your house as normal as you can. You’re going to have to make up for the heaviness that your children feel with your wife.”

  I’d tried my best to heed the doctor’s advice, but it was a hard task. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t keep the children completely away from Monica.

  “Well,” I leaned over, setting Raven on her feet, then led her into the living room. When we both sat down, I began again, “Do you remember I told you that Mommy is not feeling well?”

  Raven nodded.

  “And sometimes when people aren’t feeling well, they cry.”

  “But Mommy cries all the time.”

  “I know, but sometimes crying helps her.”

  The way Raven cocked her head and gave me a what-you-talkin’-‘bout look, I had to hold back my chuckle.

  Fighting to keep my expression blank, I said, “It’s hard to explain, but sometimes when you have a lot of sadness inside, you have to cry to get the sadness out.”

  She nodded as if my explanation made at least a little sense. But then, she asked, “Why does she have so much sad inside? Doesn’t she love us?”

  “Oh, Munchkin, she loves us and you especially. She loves you very, very much. That’s why she’s trying hard to get better. Because she wants to be better for herself, but she wants to really be better for you.” I paused as Raven kept her wide brown eyes on me. “I know this is scary sometimes, sweetheart, but your mom is really trying. Just know that she loves you and I do, too. You know that, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And you know what?”

  I wasn’t sure it was possible, but her eyes got wider. “What?”

  Leaning over, I got close to her ear, as if I were going to tell her a secret. I said, “If Mommy isn’t feeling well on Saturday, and if your room is all cleaned up, I’m going to take you to see Despicable Me.”

  She gasped as if my words shocked her. “But you don’t even like cartoons,” she whispered back.

  “Well, I love you, so I like anything that you like.”

  She was thoughtful for a moment. “I like bubblegum ice cream. Do you like that?”

  “If you like it, I love it. Just like I love you.”

  She grinned for the first time and that made my heart swell with so much love. I said, “So whaddaya say? Just you and me, kid. You and me at the movies, okay?”

  Raven jerked her head up and down. “Yes, Daddy.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, but before I could her hug her, she jumped off the couch and dashed toward the hall.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “To my room. I have to make sure it’s all clean so we can go to the movies on Saturday.”

  She didn’t give me a chance to respond, she was gone before I could say anything. I sighed, but again, I was filled with mixed emotions. I was thrilled that my daughter’s smile was back, but on the other side, I was really saddened. I had to fight to remember that Monica couldn’t help her illness. But it was hard because she was affecting her children and they meant everything to me.

  “A parent’s depression can often lead to a child’s depression.”

  Leaning back on the sofa, I knew that I needed to go upstairs, check on Monica, at least let her know that I was home. But just saying hello could turn into an argument. So, I did the only thing that (besides my children) could make me smile. I slipped my phone from the side pocket of my briefcase and opened the Word with Friends app. What I wanted to do was talk to Angelique, but I needed to wait for her call.

  So, I studied our game, moved around my tiles just a bit, then made a move that netted me fifty-seven points and put me twelve points ahead of her. I pumped my fist in the air and although, just a minute ago, I’d decided not to call Angelique, there was no harm in sending her a message:

  Hey beautiful. Top that move.

  I held the phone, hoping that I wouldn’t be sitting for too long because I couldn’t wait to hear from her. And Angelique didn’t disappoint. She replied:

  Can you talk?

  My fingers couldn’t move fast enough:

  I sure can.

  I jumped from the sofa and then paused. I needed to check on Monica, especially since she was home with Raven. But I wasn’t going too far and I wasn’t going to be long.

  There was all kinds of pep in my steps as I first raced to Raven’s room. I chuckled when I saw her in clean-up mode — pushing her dolls and toys under her bed. I’d deal with that later. Then, I dashed to the door, then trotted down the driveway to my Tahoe. The moment I slid inside and turned on the ignition, my cell phone vibrated.

  Looking down at the screen, the name — Angel — with her photo from Facebook flashed up at me.

  The moment I answered, she spoke, “Hey you.”

  "Hey gorgeous.” I backed my car out of the driveway, feeling like I didn’t want to talk to her this close to my home. “How was your day?"

  "Absolutely splendid."

  I smiled. I had the signature from the messenger service that the package had been delivered, but when I hadn’t heard from Angelique, I wasn’t sure if she’d even gone into the office.

  But even though I smiled, I fought to keep the cheer out of my voice. “I love the sound of that. See? I told you this morning, it wouldn’t be so bad. I knew you’d be able to handle whatever was in front of you.”
/>   “Well, that’s true, but my attitude is because the event was saved.”

  “What?” I rounded the corner, then parked the car — one street over from my house.

  “Yes! It was all saved,” she said, her joy jumping through the phone, “because I received a check from an anonymous benefactor this morning."

  "Wow, that must have been something.” I hoped that I was at least in the running for some kind of acting award. Because I was trying hard.

  “Yes, I'm just stunned because that check truly came out of nowhere." She paused. "I almost wondered if you had anything to do with it.”

  "Me?" I was incredulous — and shocked that she would think of me. "Of course not. I mean, how would I know how to get my hands on thirty-thousand dollars.”

  "I knew it!" Angelique exclaimed. "I can't believe you did this. I can’t believe you did this for me."

  I blinked. What had I said. "What are you talking about?" I said, trying, wanting to keep the charade up. Because I never wanted her to know. I never wanted her to think that this was anything more than one foundation reaching out to another. "Did what?"

  "You're the one who donated this money to save my event."

  She stated it as a fact, as if she already knew. “I have no idea why you would think that.”

  "Because you just said thirty-thousand dollars and I didn’t tell you how much I’d been given.”

  Damn!

  “Plus,” she continued, “you’re the only person I’d told that I’d be short five thousand.”

  Damn!

  I hadn't counted on that. I would’ve thought that she’d told everyone.

  All I could say was, “Busted.”

  “Blu….” She sang my name and right then, it became my favorite song. “I can’t believe you did this…for me.”

  “Of course. You’re doing good work.”

  “That’s what you said in the letter.”

  “I mean that, and with you at the helm, Black Girls Magic will soar.”

  She paused for a moment before she said, “But….”

  “Where did I get that kind of money?” I finished for her.

  “Yes,” she said. “Where? I wouldn’t want you….”

  “Donating that kind of money?”

  “Yes.”

  This conversation made my heart smile. I was finishing her sentences. I felt that connected. But not connected enough to tell her the whole truth. So, I said, “Don’t worry. It’s not my personal money.”

  I heard her exhale.

  “I work for…a local foundation and we’re always looking for charitable causes and there was no one, no cause more deserving."

  I felt her smile. We were that connected.

  She said, “Oh, my God. Blu, you have no idea how much this means. How will I ever repay you?"

  I stayed silent and thought about what I wanted to say versus what I needed to say. I needed to say, ‘There’s no need for repayment. You're welcome and have a good day.’ But instead, what I wanted came out. “Have dinner with me.” Then, I added quickly, “I mean, that's not a condition, the money is yours. It's just...Angelique, I enjoy spending time with you, but I don’t want you to think at all that’s why we donated the money to you.”

  Now, it was her turn to pause and the silence, as I waited, seemed to go on forever. It made me think that I’d gone too far, made me think that I’d pushed her away. Damn! Why did I have to ask her to dinner….

  “I would love, too.” Her words came softly through the phone.

  I exhaled, feeling as if I was letting every bit of air inside of me, out. “Great. What about tomorrow night since it’s Friday. And we can go somewhere on the other side of town like we did with the wine bar."

  “Okay. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Me, too,“ I whispered and imagined what it would be like have dinner together. To just sit and talk to each other. Although if I were being honest, sitting and talking was not all that I wanted. Every time I spoke to Angelique or saw her, it was like I needed so much more.

  But I would never disrespect Monica that way, never disrespect Angelique that way. So, I would settle for the beautiful thing that this was — friends with a connection. “Okay, I need to get back home,” I said, glancing at my watch. I’d been out for a little more than ten minutes and with Tanner out of the house….”I need to check on my daughter,” I told her.

  “That’s fine.”

  “We’ll talk later…I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Anytime with you….I mean, no…I mean, any time I hear from you. That will be fine.”

  The way she stumbled made me smile. Made me want to say to her — I know what you mean. But all I said was, “You’ll hear from me soon.” Then, I clicked off our call.

  If I hadn’t been in my car, I could have just floated home. This was crazy. The time I wanted to spend with Angelique, the things I wanted to do with her.

  I shook my head and tried to shake those thoughts away, too.

  “Let this be, Blu,” I whispered to myself as I turned over the ignition, then made a U-turn heading home. “Let’s this be what it is — just a connection.”

  But then I prayed. Because I had no idea how long I could keep this connection without plugging all the way in. That thought would have been funny to me, if this situation weren’t getting to be so serious.

  CHAPTER 13

  Angelique

  Since I met Blu, there had been so many justs in my life.

  It was just a game.

  It was just messaging.

  It was just phone calls.

  It was just coffee.

  It was just drinks.

  And now, it was just dinner.

  But I needed to take the word just out of my vocabulary, at least for this dinner. Of course, when Preston used to pay attention to me, he took me to the best of restaurants, though we had never been to Cafe Dubois. Reservations for this exclusive New Orleans eatery were six to seven weeks out.

  So, I was already impressed when Blu told me that number one: we were eating at Cafe Dubois and two: we were eating at Cafe Dubois today when he’d only invited me yesterday. But from the moment I gave my name to the hostess and she asked me to follow her (to what I thought would be a table), I knew Blu had done something special.

  The hostess passed all of the tables that were filled with patrons, and led me to the very back before she pushed open the door to what I realized was one of the private dining rooms. She stepped to the side so that I could walk inside…and I gasped.

  There was so much for my eyes to see: the banner that greeted me that sloped against the far wall — Congratulations Angelique! You're going to shake up the world! Then, the second banner — Black Girls ARE Magic. Beneath the two banners were long tables filled with dozens of rose-filled vases.

  But what captured me, where my eyes settled was on the small round table in the center of the room. And the man who stood beside it with a single rose in his hand. His smile was beyond his lips as he walked toward me, and my heart was beyond the moon.

  “I'm so happy to see you,” he said as he handed me the rose.

  I would've told him the same if I could've figured out a way to speak. But since I couldn't, I stretched out my arms to hold him in a hug.

  But why did I do that? A moment ago I couldn't get my lips to move, but now, I couldn't get my heart to slow.

  Thank God he stepped back because with all of this, in another moment, all of my clothes would have fallen off. He took my hand and led me to the table.

  I laid the rose on the table as he held out the chair for me to sit. “I thought we were just having dinner.”

  “You like?”

  “You think?” I let my glance once again journey around the room and then I paused when my eyes met his. “I love. I just....wow. But how?”

  He shrugged as he took his seat right next to me. “It helps to have friends in high places.”

  Leaning forward, I chuckled. “Okay, Mr. Bl
u. Let’s talk. I know you’re an almost-partner at PricewaterhouseCoopers, and now, I find out that you also work with the Taylor Foundation, but still.” I paused and enjoyed all that was around me again. “This took a lot.” I stopped for a moment again. “Cost a lot.”

  He said, “If you’re wondering if I’m involved in any illicit activities, the answer is a resounding no. I’m too pretty,” he stroked his chin, “to go to jail.”

  His words were meant to make me laugh, but all I could do was mumble, “That you are.”

  I guessed he didn’t hear me because all he said was, “No, I just wanted to do something nice for a beautiful woman.”

  “And you do this?” Shaking my head, I added, “Whew, your wife is one lucky woman.”

  Maybe I should have measured what I was going to say because my words snatched his smile away and that made me want to bite off my tongue. Blu had told me a little about his wife in some of our message exchanges. But for the most part, we’d stayed away from the double elephant in the middle of our app — my husband, his wife.

  But the way Blu’s eyes saddened, I felt like he needed to talk. So, I listened. He said, “If my wife were here, if I could get her out of bed long enough, if I could somehow convince her to leave the house, she would be complaining about the temperature of the water. It would be too warm or too cold, the room would be too dark or too light, my suit would be the wrong color, my shirt would be the wrong shade and that would all happen before the food was served.”

  When he paused, I didn’t speak for a moment because I wanted to give him room. Then, after a few seconds, I said, “I’m sorry.” I said that for her, but I said that for me, too. For taking him to this space.

  He nodded, his smile that I was so used to, still far away. “I’m sorry, too.” Now, he was the one who paused and looked up at me for a moment. I knew what he was thinking — this was a territory we had not breached (at least not too deeply), respecting our spouses, respecting each other. To this point, except for a few mentions, our relationship was about us, about our connection. And like me, I was sure that Blu knew this was crossing a new line.

 

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