by Zuri Day
“I always did like butterflies,” he said as he straightened the lapel of Gwen’s summer suit. “Now they hold even more meaning.”
It was Gwen’s turn to lick suddenly dry lips. She realized she could stare at this man for hours and listen to him all day. Then she remembered Mrs. Walker’s phone call, and her mother.
“I’ve got to go,” she snapped as she stepped around Ransom and ran to her car.
Intrigued, Ransom stared after her, eager to find out more about this obvious newcomer to the town of Sienna. She had class and poise, something rare in the females he encountered around town. For some inexplicable reason, Ransom felt driven to make sure they keep the date he’d suggested in a lighthearted fashion. It wasn’t until he entered the coffee shop that he recognized the problem in making that happen: he didn’t know her name.
Adam sat at the corner of Tenth and Main—pissed. The same woman who had pushed him off her and hid under the cover of her marital status was practically mauling his half brother in broad daylight. She looked anything but unavailable as she held on to his red mesh top and gazed up into Ransom’s eyes while his brother brazenly palmed her breasts. They’d stayed cuddled up the entire time it took the light to change, finally breaking apart as he made a left-hand turn toward the highway. But ten minutes later, as he pulled into the parking lot of the old yet stylish apartment turned condominium complex, his mind wasn’t on the sex he felt sure awaited him just inside Joanna Roxbury’s place. It was on Gwen Andrews Smith, the fake-ass bitch who’d tried to play hard to get. Well, he was hard all right. And he knew at that moment he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d shared that hardness with a certain former classmate.
6
Gwen emerged from the hot shower somewhat calmer than when she’d stepped under the water spray. She’d donned a shower cap, but tendrils of hair that had escaped now spiraled around the nape of her neck in their natural curled state. Eyeing herself critically in the mirror, she tried to tame her wayward locks with hard pulls of a brush, then swept her hair back in a ponytail, put on a worn cotton robe with fuzzy slippers, and exited the bathroom.
Although she’d just done so before going into the bathroom, she opened the door to her mother’s bedroom and checked on her again. Lorraine was sleeping peacefully on her back, the hint of a smile on her face. Gwen watched the rise and fall of her mother’s chest a moment, then backed out of the room.
She walked into the kitchen, put on water for tea, and washed the few dinner dishes that remained in the sink. Just as she was spooning honey into her cup of chamomile bliss, her cell phone rang.
“Okay,” Chantay said without hello. “We’re going to have to get one thing straight, because you’ve obviously got it twisted. I am the one you call with the play-by-play. You should have been on the phone to me as soon as you left Adam’s office!”
“Hey, Chantay.”
“Hey? Is that all? Did you get my message?”
“I did, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Mama walked off this afternoon while I was at the interview. She’s okay. We found her a couple blocks over, talking to Ms. Disney’s neighbor. He was just about to bring her home when Miss Mary and I turned the corner.”
“Good Lord, Gwen,” Chantay said, her voice changing quickly from pseudochagrin to true compassion. “You must have been worried sick.”
“I was, still am. At times Mama is her old self, you know? Talking, laughing, cooking like she used to. But then in the next moment she snaps, and begins asking the same questions over and over, and leaving burners on under pots of already cooked food.”
“You’re still making sure the gas line to the stove is off when you leave, right?”
“Yes, and she’s none too happy. Thinks I’m trying to run her life. I’m just trying to keep her from burning it up! If it wasn’t for the fact that Robert was here last time…” Gwen stopped short of finishing the sentence. She didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if her brother had not been visiting when Lorraine left a pot of greens boiling on high and had then gone to her room, closed the door, and fallen asleep.
“Good thing Robert forgot his cell phone and had to come back for it,” Gwen continued. “Otherwise they would have been gone to the airport and…it’s just a good thing he came back, that’s all.”
“I still don’t understand why I’m not your sister-in-law. You know I should be raising Robert’s kids right now, instead of Mike’s and Tashon’s.”
“Uh, if I remember correctly it was you who dumped my brother for Mike, or are we having selective memory and rewriting history now?”
Chantay sighed audibly. “I cannot tell a lie. I don’t know what I was thinking that night when I let Mike take me for a ride in his shiny new Mustang. And we all know the end to that run around the block. I came back with more than a hickey on my neck.”
What Chantay had come back with was delivered nine months later, her daughter who shared the name of their town, Sienna. Two years younger than Chantay, who was a year older than Gwen, Robert was devastated when he found out the love of his teenage life was pregnant. She’d been his first.
“Too bad I didn’t know then what I know now,” Chantay murmured, in a conversation they’d had more than once. “Mike took half the girls in school for a ride in his Mustang and on his joystick. He even cheated on me while I was pregnant with Sienna. You know that’s why we eventually split up: three people in the bed all the time is a crowd, even if the dick is good. Dang, and what is Robert now?”
“CFO of Automated Technologies,” Gwen responded. “He deserved the promotion after hanging with the ups and downs of that company for the past eight years.”
“And he’s been married to his wife a long time, huh? I bet he’s tired of tapping that familiar territory. Wonder if there’s any chance—”
“Don’t even start with that nonsense,” Gwen said, cutting Chantay off. “Denise is a good woman to Robert, mother to their son, and she’s family.”
“Hell, I’m family. I’ve been in your family longer than her!”
“Yeah but she’s family family, as in with a ring, a license, and a vow. Besides, you know how faithful Robert was with you, how deep he falls when he loves someone. He is still in love with his wife.”
“Oh, who asked you,” Chantay huffed. Both women were silent for a moment, thinking about woulda, coulda, and shoulda.
“So…since I’m not going to get Robert, are you going to get Adam? How was the closed door meeting?” Chantay let her voice provide the correct inference to her question.
“Not as you or I had imagined,” Gwen answered, glad to change the subject. Chantay could be stubborn when she wanted to and Gwen didn’t want any shake-ups to her brother’s happy home. “First of all, Adam oh, oh, has turned into Adam, oh no!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“How can I put this nicely? Our firm piece of Hershey’s chocolate has morphed into a Klondike bar.”
7
The jazz music streaming from the radio sitting on Mama Lorraine’s kitchen counter provided the soothing atmosphere Gwen needed. She smiled as she moved her body to the rhythm and put up groceries. Since arriving in Sienna, her schedule had been hectic. But she’d gotten a lot done. In just over a week, she’d bought a car to replace the gas guzzler she’d sold before leaving Chicago, checked out several assisted living facilities, and with the help of her mother, had narrowed the choices down to two. And the biggest and best news? She’d received and accepted the official offer to teach at Sienna Elementary.
Orientation was a week away, so the faster she got her mother settled in and adapting to her new living arrangements, the better. She didn’t want to leave Lorraine alone all day. Even with Miss Mary nearby, she couldn’t depend on her mother’s neighbor to be responsible for watching Lorraine’s every move. It pained her to think of her mother anywhere but in the home she’d shared with Harold for the past thirty years, but at the end of the day, the only thing that remained cons
tant…was change.
As if thinking about Mary Walker conjured her up, the doorbell rang, followed by Mary’s familiar “’lo, Lo”: ’lo short for hello, and Lo, the nickname she gave Gwen’s mother when they’d met decades earlier.
Gwen walked over and opened the door. “Come on in, Miss Mary. Mama’s in the bathroom.” She continued talking as Mary followed her into the kitchen with a covered casserole dish. “I see you’ve been cooking again. What do you have that smells so good?”
“Oh, just a spaghetti casserole I whipped up. You know I can never cook just for myself. Thought I’d come and share it with you and Lo.”
“Well, that’s sure nice of you, Mary,” Lorraine said as she rounded the corner. “It seems like I can never get this stove to work since Gwen’s been home. I need to have the man come out and fix it.”
Gwen and Mary exchanged a knowing look. “I’m sure everything’s working just fine,” Mary said. “You just need somebody here when you’re cooking.”
Lorraine’s face contorted into an uncharacteristic scowl. “I’m plenty grown, Mary Walker, and been cooking since I was ten years old. I know my way around a kitchen and don’t need nobody to help me cook!”
“Mama, why don’t you and Miss Mary visit while I make a salad?” Gwen underscored her suggestion by gently placing her arm around her mother’s shoulders as she walked her toward the living room sofa. “And if you want, I’ll make a nice pitcher of your favorite lemonade.”
Fortunately, the rest of Mary’s visit went smoothly. It was one of Lorraine’s good days, and she lucidly chatted about Gwen’s childhood in Sienna, Mary’s daughter who lived in Phoenix, and the new boyfriend Mary was considering for a live-in love interest.
“He’s a nice enough man, and these days it’s dangerous for a woman to live alone,” Mary responded when asked why she’d consider “shacking up,” the term Lorraine had used to describe her friend’s plan.
“But hasn’t it always been pretty quiet in Sienna? Other than a few teenaged pranks, vandalism, broken windows, a stolen car here or there?”
“Gwen, things have changed, even in this small town. Ever since the drugs and gangs sprung up in Los Angeles, our little piece of heaven on earth hasn’t been the same. You know Viola’s boy, Thomas?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s right, you were gone by the time he came along. He’s probably fifteen, twenty years younger than you. Well, anyway, he was arrested for robbing Ms. Disney’s house, got caught as he tried to climb back out her dining room window. And she was right there the whole time, sleeping on the couch!”
“Ms. Disney?” Gwen was incredulous. This dedicated educator had taught at least three generations in Sienna. Her retirement after fifty years was the opening at Sienna Elementary that created the vacancy Gwen now filled. How anyone could lift a finger to hurt one of the town’s treasures was beyond her. In fact, how anyone could think of taking advantage of an old person filled her with disgust. At times like these, she felt older than her forty years, light-years removed from the twenty-something crowd this Thomas fit into. She wasn’t much into hip-hop, still preferred a telephone call to a text message, and couldn’t understand why men wanted to walk around showing their drawers.
“Is he in jail?”
“Yeah, they arrested him,” her mother answered. “But there’s plenty more where he came from. Driving down the street with music so loud it’ll wake the dead, walking around in the middle of the day when they should be punching somebody’s time clock. A man don’t work, he’ll steal. That’s what the scriptures say.”
“Let me get on across the way before it gets dark,” Mary said once they finished eating. All the conversation about thugs and drugs and crimes being committed had her understandably squeamish.
“I’ll walk with you if you’d like,” Gwen offered.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t think of it,” Mary responded strongly. But once she got to the door, she added, “You can watch me though…until I get inside my door.”
Mary smiled and waved as she bolted her screen door and then closed her wooden one. Gwen joined her mother on the couch where they watched a rerun of Lorraine’s favorite sitcom, Sanford and Son. Once her mother retired for the night, Gwen washed the dinner dishes, made a cup of hot chocolate, and decided to unwind in her mother’s backyard garden. Since she could remember, there were always flowers everywhere. In spite of the heat, the blooms were flourishing: lavender, gladiola, sunflowers, and sweet pea. They offered a profusion of beauty to the backyard her father had helped landscape. She thought of him as she walked across the cobblestone pathway and over to the wooden bench resting near a bird bath she remembered picking out with her dad. In those days, it was always filled with water. Now it sat silent and neglected, with leaves, weeds, and an errant piece of paper filling the bowl. The nostalgic moment made her think of her mother, and just how hard it would be for her to leave the home she’d created with Harold Andrews.
Gwen closed her eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth of the night. As had often been the case since meeting him a week ago, her mind went to the handsome stranger at the coffee shop. She’d gone back almost every day since their chance encounter a week before, and had almost convinced herself it was really because she liked Kristy’s hot chocolate. Truth be told, it was to hopefully run into him again, but that hadn’t happened. So she was left with her memories and imagination. She remembered the feel of his hard chest, and imagined it crushing her breasts as he lay on top of her. She remembered his strong arms, and imagined them enfolding her as they lay naked and satisfied. She remembered his mouth, and imagined it covering hers, tongue swirls and love bites. She remembered his eyes, and imagined drowning in their depths as he professed his undying love. He was tall and hard and beautiful. She imagined that his…well…all of him was as perfect as what she’d already seen.
When she’d asked Chantay about him, her usually know-everything-about-everybody friend drew a blank. At one point, she’d almost called Joanna, the fellow first-grade Sienna teacher. But she didn’t feel she knew her well enough to enlist her help on a personal matter.
And just what matter is that? she asked herself. Joe violated his wedding vows but you’re still a married woman, Gwen Smith. And you’ve got priorities—your mother and your job. Whoever that man was, okay whoever that fine, strapping, gorgeous chunk of oh-my-goodness is, makes no difference to you…no difference at all!
Draining the last of her chocolate, Gwen tried to chase away the erotic thoughts by turning to the bird bath and methodically cleaning out the debris. Soon memories of her and her dad visiting on this very bench replaced thoughts of him. Just when she felt the tension leaving her shoulders, a sound interrupted her peace. She started and looked around her. It had gotten dark, and while there were back porch lights on at various houses, it was hard to see past ten or so feet. After looking around for a moment, she went back to cleaning the bird bath. And then another sound, something scraping or being dragged, a creaking of wood.
Gwen strained to see into the darkness. This was Sienna, the small podunk town that was almost as clean cut and drama free as Mayberry. At least it used to be, when she was growing up. But hadn’t Miss Mary said things had changed since then? Gwen’s heart began to beat a little faster as she heard the distinct sound of footsteps. How could that be? The yards were all covered with grass and inlaid with either cobblestone or large rocks to make paths. This was the creaking of footsteps across wood. It didn’t make sense. Gwen tried to calm herself down. “You’re being silly,” she said aloud.
And then she saw him. An unmistakable figure crawling on the roof of her neighbor’s house. Miss Mary! Just as she was about to yell out, the figure disappeared into a window sitting on the roof’s backside. Her attic! He’s gone inside her attic!
Gwen sprinted inside her house and dialed 9–1-1.
8
Officers Young and Lopez approached the front of the Walker residence, while two others ran around the
house to the back. Carlos Lopez placed a hand on the handle of his weapon as he cautiously approached the front porch. His partner, Young, drew his weapon and planted himself at the side of the house, with a clear shot to whoever answered his partner’s knock.
Carlos silently stepped up on the porch, peering into the medium-sized picture window as he did so. The curtains were drawn, but part of the material had caught on a knickknack positioned on the television console. Carlos motioned to his partner, then cautiously stepped closer and peered inside.
There were two people sitting on the couch: an older woman and a younger man. The man leaned over and spoke to the woman, eliciting a hearty laugh. She reached for a plate of cookies and offered one to him. He objected briefly, running a hand across his midsection, before taking one.
Carlos frowned as he walked over to the door and knocked. “Mrs. Walker, this is the police. Open up.” There was a flurry of footsteps before a cautious pair of eyes appeared above the rim of a small window in the middle of the door. “It’s the police,” she said to her visitor. He joined her in the small foyer and soon his eyes peered down squarely at the officer at the door.
“Open up, Ransom.” Carlos sighed.
Ransom assured Mrs. Walker all was well, and then opened the door.
“What’s going on, man?” Ransom asked his former classmate and good friend. “Y’all fools have so little to do that you’re harassing old ladies now? What, is Kristy’s closed or out of donuts?”
Carlos gave an all’s clear to the other officers. His partner walked to the patrol car to make a report, shaking his head as he did so.
“We got a call, ma’am,” Carlos directed his comment to Mary. “One of your neighbors thought they saw a burglar on your roof.”
