by Zuri Day
Of all the things Gwen guessed could have come out of Joanna’s mouth, a compliment wasn’t one of them. Someone could have knocked her over with a feather. Surprise was her first reaction. Suspicion was her second.
“This sure is a change in tone and attitude,” Gwen said. “What brought it on?”
The sound of tiny feet walking into the classroom told Gwen she’d have to wait for the answer.
“I have to get back to my room,” Joanna said. “Hopefully we can talk later, maybe at lunch.” With that Joanna hurried out.
Gwen’s day was so busy that it was late afternoon before she gave the strange conversation with Joanna a second thought. Aside from the regular activities that were more than enough to handle on any given day, little Patrick had gotten food poisoning and thrown up in the classroom, Tianna cut her foot on a piece of glass at recess, and Kari hit a second grader for calling her a butt head.
The mother of the second grader, who in Gwen’s opinion was the epitome of an anal cranial, had demanded a meeting with the principal and “those teachers on the playground who’d failed to keep her child safe.” Gwen had patiently explained that “children fight,” and that the woman’s daughter had instigated the situation by name calling. The mother had then threatened a lawsuit, which in California was like ordering a latte—an everyday occurrence. Not even Adam’s lick-licking flirtations could calm the woman down, and finally an officer was called in to take affidavits. From a six- and seven-year-old! By the time it was all over, Gwen wanted to hit the mother and give the police a genuine reason to be there.
This drama happened after Ransom called, said he would finish earlier than expected, and for them to meet him in Los Angeles as soon as she could. She decided that there were obviously some forces at work trying to hamper this endeavor. But now, at four-thirty, she was finally going home. Thankfully, Miss Mary had come to the school and picked up Isis, saving the child from a nine-hour school day. Now all Gwen needed to do was go home, take a quick shower, pack an overnight bag, pick up Isis from Miss Mary’s, swing by Ransom’s house for his and Isis’s overnight bag—oh—and get to LA “as soon as she could.”
“No problem, Ransom, piece of cake,” Gwen said sarcastically, as she listened to the traffic report announce a multicar pile-up on the 14 Freeway. “Just great!” Gwen turned off the radio and put in a CD, thinking that Barry White could help her get in a better mood for the weekend by admonishing her to practice what she preached.
Gwen showered and had her bag packed in twenty minutes. She retrieved Isis from Miss Mary’s and they headed over to the Blake residence. It took ten minutes to get to their home and another fifteen minutes to get overnight clothes for Ransom and Isis. The two women had fun going through Ransom’s closet and deciding on the perfect outfit for him to wear to Universal Studios, the outing Isis insisted they take since she hadn’t been with them the last time.
“If we hurry,” Gwen said as they placed clothes in Isis’s Frog Princess backpack, “we can stop and get fries and chocolate shakes to eat on the road.”
“Yay!” Isis exclaimed, pushing her sandals into the bag and zipping it with a flourish. “I’ll race you to the door!”
Isis grabbed the backpack and was out of the bedroom in a flash. Gwen chased behind her, laughing at Isis’s determination to win. “I won, I won,” Isis chirped. She fumbled with the key on the deadbolt lock to the front door.
“You sure did,” Gwen agreed, as she waited for the door to be unlocked. “You’re a fast runner, Isis. Maybe you’ll be a sprinter when you grow up.”
“What’s a splinter?”
Gwen laughed and reached for Isis’s hand as she opened the door. “A sprinter,” she began, emphasizing the r, “is a person who…Oh, excuse me.” Gwen was startled by the woman standing on the other side of the door. “May I help you?”
“Yeah, you can help me,” the woman replied with a great deal of attitude. “And you can start by taking your hands off my daughter.”
40
The venom in Brea’s tone surprised Gwen. Of course she knew the woman was Brea. Ransom hadn’t lied when he’d said she was drop-dead gorgeous on the outside but that that attribute didn’t carry over to her personality. Gwen was prepared to retort in kind until she became aware of Isis, wide-eyed, frightened, and clinging to her hand like a lifeline.
“Hello, Brea,” Gwen said calmly. “I’m Gwen.”
“I don’t care who you are. I came here for my child. Come here, Isis.” She spoke to Isis in a softer tone, and even managed a smile. “Come to Mama. I’ve got a surprise for you in the car. Come on, now.”
Isis moved closer to Gwen. “I don’t know you,” she said softly.
Brea reached into her Monogram Motard Louis Vuitton and pulled out a framed picture. She knelt down and showed it to Isis. “Do you know who this is?”
Isis shook her head no. If she moved any closer to Gwen, she’d be under her legs.
“It’s you when you were almost three years old. And that’s me. Remember when we took this picture? Remember this dress? You looked so pretty. But you’re even prettier now.”
“I don’t know you,” Isis repeated.
“Well, I’m your mama,” a quickly frustrated Brea said. She rose and glared at Gwen, looked her up and down as if she were spoiled meat. “You can consider yourself relieved of your babysitting duties tonight. I’ll take my daughter.” She reached for Isis.
Gwen shifted her body, becoming a barrier between the child and Brea. “You’ll do no such thing. It was inappropriate for you to show up unannounced, and thoughtless of you to think you could just knock on the door and take a child you haven’t seen in over three years. I’m sure you don’t want to make a scene, especially in front of Isis. So if you’ll just give me a number where Ransom can reach you, I’ll make sure he gets it. I’m sure he’ll call.”
“Bitch, I don’t need you to get a message to Ransom for me. And I don’t need you to tell me what’s inappropriate neither. You look old enough to be Ransom’s mother, but you sure as hell ain’t mine!”
The insult stung, but Gwen was more concerned about protecting Isis than assuaging her hurt and anger. While keeping herself between Isis and Brea, Gwen locked the door, and then stepped around Brea and off the porch to the walkway leading to the sidewalk.
“Go ahead and walk your scrawny ass away if you want to,” Brea huffed. “But Brea’s back in town, bitch. Your little mommy/wifey acting role is about to come to an end…believe that.”
41
Gwen started her car and pulled away quickly. She wanted to put as much distance between Isis and Brea as possible. Belatedly, she wondered whether it was a good idea to leave Brea at the house. Even though it was locked, the woman seemed the type who wasn’t past putting a brick through a plate-glass window. Maybe I should call the police? No, I need to call Ransom. Gwen reached into her purse for her cell phone and Bluetooth. She was putting the device on her ear when she looked over at Isis. The child was staring straight ahead, crying silently.
“It’s going to be okay, Princess,” Gwen said, unconsciously using Ransom’s term of endearment. “I’m calling your father now.”
“I don’t want to go with her,” Isis whispered.
“Shh, don’t worry about that. Your father will take care of everything.” Gwen quickly hit 10 on her speed dial. Ransom’s answering machine picked up immediately, meaning hers wasn’t the first left message. Gwen hit the pound key to bypass the outgoing message.
“Ransom, this is Gwen. You need to call me as soon as you get this message. It’s important.” She almost hung up before adding, “Isis is okay, it’s just that…just call me.”
Gwen disconnected the call and sent an emergency text through. If Ransom had his phone on him, which he normally did, it would vibrate. She looked over at Isis, who, while no longer crying, stared wide-eyed out the window. For the first time since Gwen had met Isis, the always-in-motion ball of energy was as still as a statue. She was t
raumatized, Gwen knew, and experiencing a myriad of emotions right now.
For the second time that day, Gwen wanted to kick a grown woman’s ass. How dare that woman waltz into town like she owned it, barge into this child’s life, and demand an audience? Gwen’s heart physically constricted as she ached for Isis. She’d always been close to her mother and, even in Lorraine’s worsening mental state, Gwen didn’t know what she’d do without her. She couldn’t imagine growing up without a female presence, a role model, a nurturing influence in one’s life. In that moment, a protective feeling for Isis came over Gwen as powerful as any birth mother could ever experience. Gwen glimpsed another look at the girl, who looked so much like her father, and knew then that she would do whatever it took, absolutely everything, to protect her.
“That was kinda scary back there, huh?” Gwen asked softly.
Isis nodded.
“You want to talk about it?”
Isis shook her head no.
Gwen waited a beat. “I tell you what. We’ll hit the drive-through for two yummy chocolate shakes and a bag of fries. Chocolate always helps my tummy feel better.”
Isis said nothing.
Gwen batted away tears and spoke from her heart. “Isis, I love you. I love you as much as any mommy ever could.”
They drove in silence until Gwen took the next exit two miles down. When she looked over at Isis, the merest beginning of a smile was on the child’s face.
42
Ransom called while Gwen and Isis were waiting to place their order. “Gwen, what’s wrong?”
Gwen kept her tone as casual as possible; she knew a little pitcher with big ears was listening to every syllable. “Someone stopped by your house while Isis and I were there.”
“Don’t tell me, Carol. What did she say?”
“It was Brea.”
Silence. One second. Two seconds, five.
“She didn’t stay long,” Gwen continued, when Ransom remained quiet. “I asked for her number for you to call her but she…prefers to contact you directly.”
Ransom’s voice was deathly calm. “Where’s Isis?”
Again, Gwen worked to sound normal, as if she were discussing the weather, or a Cubs game. “The little princess is right here, about to dig into a cold shake and hot fries in about sixty seconds. Hold on.” Gwen paid for the order and took the food from the window. She checked to make sure they had ketchup, salt, and straws, and pulled away.
When Ransom spoke again, there was relief in his voice. “Thank you, Gwen. Whatever happened, I know it went better because you were there. How is my baby?”
“Here, I’m sure she wants to talk to you.” Gwen pulled over, took off her earpiece, and helped Isis adjust it over her ear.
“Daddy, I’m scared. I don’t want to go with her! She’s pretty but she’s mean. Is she really my mommy, Daddy? ’Cause I don’t like her.”
Ransom closed his eyes, so angry at Brea that he could barely breathe. What in the hell was she doing in Sienna, and what right did she think she had to come by his house! Wait, how does she even know where I live? Ransom took a breath and tried to concentrate on what Isis was saying. Almost anybody could have given Brea his address. That was beside the point. The point was, she was there now, and she would have to be dealt with.
Isis listened as Ransom talked. Whatever he said must have soothed her, because she visibly relaxed and began eating her fries. She even laughed at something he said, looked over at Gwen, and laughed again. “Uh-huh,” Isis said in response to something Ransom said. “Yes!” Isis took a long drink of her chocolate shake and started swinging her right leg. “Okay, I promise,” she said. Then she took off the earpiece and gave it to Gwen.
Gwen’s brow creased as she listened to the one-sided conversation. What had Ransom said to change that child’s attitude so quickly? Then Gwen almost blushed, knowing what he could do to change her attitude in a heartbeat. She put on the earpiece and pulled back into traffic.
“What do you want me to do? Should I take Isis back to my place until you get here?”
“Absolutely not, Butterfly. I want you to get your fine self to this hotel room and bring my precious daughter. Coming to LA today was the best suggestion you could have made. Are some of my psychic talents starting to rub off on you?”
“If that were the case, there would have been no meeting, trust.”
“Well, I’m not happy there was a confrontation and I’m definitely not happy Brea came to see Isis without contacting me. The same person who gave her my address could have probably given her my number. But I am grateful that you were there, and so is Isis. And just so you know, Gwen Marie Butterfly Andrews, I’m going to have to think up a very special way to say thank you.”
43
By the time Gwen and Isis reached the hotel, Isis was back to being her rambunctious self. As soon as Ransom opened the door to his room, Isis jumped in his arms and squeezed his neck tightly. After that endearing moment, she became a chatterbox of questions, all having to do with their trip to the theme park: when they were going (tomorrow, Princess), how long they would stay (as long as you want), what all would they ride (everything), and could they come back and next time bring Tianna?
Ransom looked over at Gwen, who was about to explode with laughter. He turned to his daughter and answered, “We’ll see.”
“Daddy, is that woman my mommy?”
Isis’s abrupt change of subject also changed the mood. The smile faded from Gwen’s face. Ransom took a deep, calming breath.
“Why don’t I go to my room and freshen up,” Gwen suggested. She blew Ransom a kiss and left the room.
“Come here, Princess. Let’s have a little powwow on the couch.”
Father and daughter walked over to the couch and sat down. Isis turned big, questioning eyes toward her father. Ransom put his arm around her and began to talk.
“Remember two years ago when we went to the park with Carol and Kari? We saw children playing with two parents, remember?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you ask me then?”
“I asked you why Kari only had a mommy and I only had a daddy.”
Ransom smiled. “And what did I tell you?”
Now it was Isis’s turn to smile as she cuddled closer to her father. “You told me that it was so you could have all my love.” Isis spread her arms wide and drew out the word “all” for several seconds, as Ransom had done years before.
“That’s right, Princess. So I could have all your love. And so I could give you all of mine. And that is the most important thing for you to remember: that I will always protect you, that you will always be my princess, and that I will always give you all my love.
“The woman who came to the house today, her name is Brea. Brea and I were boyfriend and girlfriend when I was a teenager. What are teen ages?”
“Daddy! That’s easy. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”
“All right, all right. That was too easy a question for someone as smart as you. I was nineteen, and she and I dated. We went to movies, out to eat—”
“Like you and Miss Gwen.”
“Yes, like me and Miss Gwen.”
“So you and Miss Gwen are boyfriend and girlfriend!”
“Miss Gwen and I are best friends, like you and Kari.”
“Unh-unh. My best friend is Tianna now!”
Ransom laughed as his daughter jumped from one topic to the other, and marveled at how quickly kids could change, adjust, navigate circumstances. For them life was simple, and the only thing constant was change. He trusted this resiliency would help get Isis through the days ahead. He hoped it for himself as well.
“Okay, Princess. Your best friend is Tianna. My best friend is Gwen. And right now, we’re talking about Brea. Isis, she is your mother.”
Isis frowned and crossed her arms in a huff. “But if she’s my mommy, why doesn’t she live with us? Why did she leave me with you? Where does she live?”
“Always full of q
uestions, aren’t you?” Ransom tugged Isis’s braid affectionately. “Brea was very young when you were born. She was a teenager too.”
Ransom continued talking to Isis, telling her about how he and Brea modeled together, and that Brea had moved to New York so she could work there. He answered all of Isis’s questions as best he could, assured her that she would continue to stay with him, and that he wouldn’t let Brea take her away.
After Isis had exhausted her supply of questions, it was Ransom’s turn to ask one of her. “Brea probably wishes she hadn’t waited so long to come see you, probably wants to know the beautiful girl you now are. If she wants to meet, to talk to you a little bit, do you want to see her?”
Isis pondered the question a long moment. “Will you be there?” she finally asked.
Ransom nodded. “Of course.”
“Then maybe I’ll talk to her. As long as she isn’t mean.”
44
Gwen jumped at the sound of tapping on the side door that joined her room with Ransom’s.
“That was fast,” she said as she opened the door.
Ransom took her into his arms and gave her a long, slow kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”
Gwen pressed herself against Ransom. He bent down and brushed his tongue across the nipple barely concealed behind thin ribbed cotton, and then sucked it into his mouth.
“What about Isis?” Gwen whispered.
“Sound asleep.”
It had been a full day. After Ransom’s talk with Isis, the three had gone to dinner and then a movie. Gwen doubted Isis would awake before morning. “Then come to bed,” she said.
Ransom’s lovemaking was slow and deliberate, each thrust seeming to pierce Gwen’s soul. Gwen bit Ransom’s shoulder to keep from crying out. Afterward, they lay quiet and satisfied for a long time, Ransom drawing lazy eights across Gwen’s flat stomach.
