My Storm

by Tiffany Patterson

  “Yeah, Laura usually crawls in the bed with us sometime around five, and they end up sleeping in for a few hours.” He smiles reverently while looking down at his phone. His background photo displays one of those occasions of Laura and Coral sleeping in bed.

  “I always knew you two would end up together. Even when you…uh…left,” I say hesitantly, knowing that Liam’s decision to leave Coral years ago wasn’t one he’d made of his own free will.

  He looks up at me. “I always knew too since we were eighteen years old.”

  “That long?” I question.

  He nods. “Yup. I was young, but from the moment she first told me to get lost, I knew she was the one for me.”

  We both laugh at that recollection. Coral and Liam have given me their versions of how they first met during their first semester in college.

  “So what about you?” he asks after we both sober.

  I raise my eyebrows, surprised. “Me?”

  “No, the other you in the room.”

  I roll my eyes. Smartass.

  It’s funny the somewhat brother-sister relationship Liam and I have formed over the years. I haven’t told Coral this, but even when they weren’t speaking all those years, he still kept in touch with me every now and again. He’d check in on me to make sure I was okay when Coral was out of the country. It was then that I realized how much he loved my sister.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m just trying to finish the fourth installment of Danica’s series.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” He stares at me, giving me a serious expression.

  His eyes remind me so much of Jeremy’s that I have to look away. I turn toward the counter and pull out a mixing bowl to make the batter for the blueberry waffles.

  I can still feel Liam’s eyes on me, so I turn back to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  “Oh really?”

  He eyes me and I roll my eyes again.

  “Fine. I’m nervous as hell about meeting Stacey and…”I want to screw the hell out of your gorgeous cousin and that terrifies me. I decide to leave that last part out.

  “Telling her you’re her sister?”

  “That and her finding out the rest.” I avoid looking at him, busying myself with the food on the stove. “I know Coral says she won’t judge me, but still, telling someone about my past…” I stop, shaking my head.

  “We all have a past,” Liam clarifies.

  “Yeah, but not everyone’s past is as fucked up as mine.”

  “You mean that everyone isn’t a survivor like you.” He pats my shoulder, comfortingly.

  My eyes water as I turn to see his genuine expression.

  “I know someone else with a past who I know wouldn’t be intimidated by what you’ve been through.”

  I give him a perplexed look. “Who?”

  “Jeremy,” he states.

  My eyes widen. Have I been that damn obvious in my attraction to him? Did Jeremy tell him about the other night?

  “No, he hasn’t told me anything about you two. But… Well, I have eyes. He’s good people. And I’m not just saying that because he’s my family and best friend.”

  “I don’t know for sure what or if there’s anything going on between Jeremy and me,” I admit.

  Liam nods as he grabs an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. “Don’t rush it. He’s not going anywhere. Trust me on that.” He tosses me a knowing smirk before exiting the kitchen to head down the hall.

  I’m left standing there, wondering what he’d meant. Is Jeremy really attracted to me? I’d begun to convince myself that he had only invited me to dinner out of pity. I guess I would find out in a few days.

  ****

  “I still can’t believe you’re going to be a mom soon.” Stacey laughs across the table as we sit outside eating lunch.

  I look over at her, noticing her warm brown skin tone, honey eyes, and head full of natural coils and curls that she has styled in a high puff. Her long limbs and neck move with the grace of the dancer she once was. Well, actually, she still is. As a matter of fact, she dances burlesque at a popular club in Atlanta.

  “Tasha, can you believe it? I mean, I know you haven’t known Coral as long as I have, but could you imagine her being a mother?” she questions me.

  I swallow deeply and force a smile. “No, I can’t imagine it. Although she has incredible protective instincts,” I state, remembering how much my sister has taken care of me over the years.

  Coral rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever. Don’t get all emotional, you two. Butterball here has already turned me into a sap. And as the aunties of this kid, I expect you both not to spoil him rotten like you do with Laura already.” She points and glares at both of us.

  Stacey holds up her hands defensively. “I make no promises.”

  “Nor do I,” I concur, laughing.

  “Stace, how’s the conference going?” Coral asks.

  Stacey’s eyes widen in excitement. “Oh, it’s going well. I’m learning so much. This conference is on how family dynamics affect people with eating disorders and their recovery. Very interesting stuff.”

  “Family dynamics. Isn’t that interesting?” Coral tilts her head, looking at me.

  For my part, I stuff another one of the crab puffs we’d ordered in my mouth, squinting at Coral.

  Stacey being the rather intelligent person she is, looks between Coral and me. “I’m not a body language expert like some people, but even I can tell there was some sort of hidden meaning in that comment,” she concludes, eyeing Coral.

  Coral’s eyes shift over to me as if to say, spit it out!

  I stuff another crab puff in my mouth.

  “Tasha,” Coral implores. “Just say it.”

  “Somebody, say it,” Stacey adds, sounding nervous.

  I close my eyes tightly, remaining silent.

  “Look, Tash, if there’s one thing I’ve come to realize, especially in the last few months, is that family is the most important thing in the world. I’d never want Laura or Butterball to feel like they either couldn’t tell me anything or like they were alone in this world.” She looks directly at me now with what looked strangely enough like tears in her eyes. I don’t ever think I can recall a time when I saw Coral cry. “Tasha, it’s okay. Just tell her,” Coral urged.

  Despite the tenseness of the situation, I smirk at the nickname Coral’s given the baby in her womb. Last time she was at the doctor, he told her the baby was in the ninetieth percentile in size and weight. Ever since then, Coral’s taken to calling him Butterball.

  I looked at Stacey and then down at my now empty plate. I had no idea how she would take this, but if Coral believed it was okay, then so would I. “I’m your sister,” I finally admit.

  Stacey’s eyes widen as she stares at me before looking over at Coral for the truth.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Coral nod. “It’s true.”

  “What? But how? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I was a secret…our father’s dirty little secret.” I can’t help the bitterness in voice.

  “Our father? Wait, you mean…” Stacey trails, off trying to put the pieces together in her head.

  “Yes, our father,” Coral begins. “He had an affair while Mom was sick. Tasha’s mother lived upstairs in our apartment building. They had the affair off and on for years as Mom’s disease progressed. Eventually, Tasha was born.”

  “But that was years ago. How long have you known about Tasha?” Stacey’s voice rises.

  Coral doesn’t look perturbed in the least by Stacey’s questions. “I found out when I was about twelve. You were seven and Tasha was five. I overheard him on the phone one day with Tasha’s mom who was threatening to take him to court for child support. Mom had passed recently and his drinking had gotten out of control. After that, I realized he had another daughter, but he wasn’t taking care of her. So I made it a point to befriend the child and lo
ok out for her,” she states, rubbing her belly.

  “Just like a big sister. But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “That was my doing,” I interrupt Coral. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I was ashamed.”

  “Ashamed? It wasn’t your fault the adults in our lives had lied and cheated. You were innocent.”

  I grin at Stacey, seeing the social worker in her now. “I know that, but…” I pause, not wanting to go into the totality of my history and my real shame. I’d long ago stopped blaming myself for my parents’ actions, but there are things in my life I’d yet to completely let go of. I look to Coral, remembering that day a decade ago when she came and found me in juvenile prison. No, I didn’t want to go into detail about that yet.

  “But nothing,” Stacey persisted. “It’s terrible what our father and your mother did to you…to us. And I guess I can understand you not wanting anyone to know until you were ready, but I just wish you would’ve told me. What if something had happened to you while you were away at war or trying to save the world? We could have lost contact and I would—”

  “That wouldn’t have happened,” Coral interrupts.

  “Why couldn’t it have possibly happened? Tasha didn’t know where I was—”

  “Quincy knew and our aunt and uncle did too.”

  “What?!” I shriek, pinning Coral with a glare.

  She pauses, looking back and forth between Stacey and me. “I told Quincy after I found you in New York.”

  “What?” I ask again, rising from my seat. “How the hell? No! Why? Why would you tell them?” I was angry and afraid. I was afraid because I wondered what Coral had told her about my life when she’d found me in New York.

  Coral pivots to me, looking me right in the eye. “I told them because like it or not, the reality was I was going back to a warzone, and the possibility that I would never return was very real. And if that would’ve happened, I knew Quincy wouldn’t have hesitated to carry out my wishes to protect you and look after you. I knew Aunt Ruth and Uncle Gerry would have welcomed you into the family, and you wouldn’t have had to be alone. I had made a promise to look after you when we were kids, and I broke it once. I wasn’t about to let that happen again.”

  I was left speechless at Coral’s words. My vision blurred as my eyes became watery. She had looked out for me in ways I never even knew nor could I imagine. I feared daily that she wouldn’t come home when she was on deployment. “Dammit! How the hell am I supposed to be pissed at you when you put it like that?” I whine, wiping my eyes.

  “Yeah, she has a way of doing that,” Stacey chimes in.

  I turn away from Coral, grinning at Stacey. “She’s a damn piece of work.”

  “And probably has more secrets than we can even fathom.”

  I nod in agreement as Coral chuckles.

  “Stacey, I’m so—”

  “Don’t be.” She holds up her hand. “You had your reasons for keeping me in the dark. Hopefully, one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me the full story,” she states as she grips my hand. “For now, I’ll settle for getting to know my sister.” She looks at me expectantly.

  “I’d like that,” I agree.

  “Welcome to the family, little sis, as fucked up as it is.” She laughs.

  I laugh at that too. I sigh releasing a weight I hadn’t even known was there. I’m starting to feel like I actually have two sisters.

  ****

  Tasha

  “Are you having dinner with us tonight?” Coral asks over the phone.

  I bite my lower lip as I stare at myself through the full-length mirror, twisting and turning. I’m trying to figure out if this is the right outfit for tonight. It’d been a few days since the big reveal with Stacey, and she’d gone home to Atlanta the day before, but not without giving me her contact information to keep in touch. She’d already texted me a few messages. Although I was hesitant to return them, I started to feel a little more comfortable letting my guard down.

  “Tasha? Hello?” Coral’s voice breaks through my concentration.

  “Oh, sorry, Coral. What did you say?”

  There’s a pause before she asks, “I said are you coming to the main house to have dinner with us tonight?”

  My chest caves in as I let out the breath I’d been holding, hoping she didn’t pick up on anything. “No, not tonight. I’m actually going to go to a local Starbucks to see if I have any luck writing in a different environment.” I’m proud of how even my voice sounds as the lie slips out.

  “You’re still experiencing writer’s block, huh?”

  I nod, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror, ashamed of lying to Coral. The truth is I haven’t even ventured to pick up my laptop in about a week. “Yeah,” I reply to her question.

  “Well, you’re the writer, so if you think writing in a different space will be helpful, I guess it’s worth a try. I’ve gotta go, Princess and Butterball are getting hungry.”

  “All right. Go feed my niece and nephew.”

  “Yeah, yeah… Later.”

  “Bye.”

  Once I hang up, I go back to assessing myself in the mirror. The dress I just purchased has short sleeves and it’s fuchsia. The hemline stops just above the knee and the bodice cinches in a little at the waist. I actually smile a little bit, liking the fit and the way the color of the dress looks against my skin. For years, I avoided wearing anything that brought more attention to me. As a child I was taught that because of my dark skin, bright color fabrics weren’t appealing on me. It’s taken years in therapy and encouragement from my sister to move past that lie. Even now as I look at myself, a small part of me wonders if the dress is too much.

  You’re too dark. That’s why ya daddy don’t want nothing to do with you. If you were prettier, he’d claim you like he do those other two!

  I shut my eyes, remembering the hurtful taunts my mother spewed at me when I was just six or seven years old. It was always her excuse why my father wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence when he did come over to our apartment. He’d head straight to her bedroom, barely paying me a backwards glance. An hour later, he’d be gone, leaving my mother to yell and rant her frustrations out on me.

  “Shake it off, Tasha. They’re gone. You’re still here,” I whisper to myself. I move away from the mirror, finally deciding to wear the dress. I remove it to take a quick shower and moisturize, before applying a little bit of makeup. I opt to wear a pair of nude pantyhose and black peep-toe, shoes with a medium block heel. After one final look in the mirror, I feel confident. “Good enough, I guess,” I say, shrugging before I turn to grab my keys and purse from the living room. I decide to take the long route to the garage where my car is parked so I don’t have to pass by the main house on my way out. Coral will know something is up if she sees me in a dress. I’m more of a leggings and T-shirt kind of girl. Within minutes, I’m in my car and passing through the gate to make my way to Al Biernat’s. I try to ignore the little shiver of anticipation that passes through me as a vision of Jeremy’s sharp gaze from the other day flashes in my mind. Those eyes have me both excited and fearful of what’s in store for me this evening.

  ****

  Jeremy

  “What the hell am I doing?” It’s a question I’ve asked myself multiple times in the fifteen minutes I’ve been sitting across from the restaurant.

  I look down at my dashboard clock. It’s 6:50. Without thinking, I reach down to retrieve a toothpick from where I keep my stash between the seats. I’d love to say this act isn’t a result of my nervous anticipation of the evening ahead, but that would be a lie. When I take another look at the clock and see that only two minutes have passed, I readily admit the knot in my stomach is a result of disappointment rising up. Maybe she’s decided not to come after all.

  “Shit!” I curse to myself, frustrated with all the damn ministrations going on in my damn head right now. This is the goddamn reason why I’d never approached LaTasha in the first place. She’s usually guarded and cagey
around me. Since the first time meeting her at Coral and Liam’s wedding, I’ve felt the urge to reach out and protect her and put her over my knee. For months now, I’ve worked hard to keep my distance, thinking what I have to offer her would be too much. Obviously, from where I’m sitting right now, that plan has been shot to hell.

  Grunting at my lack of willpower and what it could possibly mean, I look up and the first thing I notice is a pair of dark chocolate legs mired by nylon stockings. My lips turn down into a deep frown that only lasts for a half a second when I move my gaze up the rest of her body. She’s covered in a fuchsia dress that accentuates the glow of her skin. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun at her nape. I take a moment to watch as she is greeted by the hostess who’s standing at her booth outside the door of the restaurant. With concentrated effort, I peel my eyes away from her to check the time. 6:56.

  “Good girl,” I mumble. I abhor lateness. I’ve given the restaurant specific instructions not to show her to the table until after I arrive. Finally moving, I turn my ignition off, and step out of my Lexus SUV. I button my suit jacket and make my way to the door.

  As I approach, I take in the curves that even the relatively, loose-fitting dress she’s wearing can’t hide. I grin, thinking of all the things I could do with those curves.

  “Good evening, LaTasha,” I say just above a whisper, leaning in behind her. I notice a small shiver as my breath grazes across her nape.

  She turns, wide-eyed, but quickly recovers. She clears her throat before speaking. “Hi, I thought you’d be inside already.”

  “I’ve been waiting on your arrival.”

  She nods. “That makes sense, I guess.” Her eyes dart from one place to another as if she’s trying to avoid eye contact.

  “Let’s go inside, shall we?” I suggest. “Darlin’, reservation for Bennett,” I say to the young, blond hostess.

  “Yes, right this way,” she announces cheerfully, grabbing a couple of menus and motioning for us to follow her.