Forgive Me

by Stacy Campbell

  “Do you think I can have some time alone with Aruba today? I had a special afternoon planned for her, but after the therapy session, I’m not sure she’ll come with me.”

  “You let me handle the situation. Darnella ain’t running nothing here. You might not be married to Aruba, but you two have a child to raise, and it’s obvious you still love her.”

  “I do.”

  “And she loves you, too.”

  “She said that?”

  “I said you left the room too soon. She said she never stopped loving you; it was taking you too long to get yourself together.”

  James pondered Maxine’s words. “Screwup” could’ve easily been his name in the marriage. He wouldn’t keep a job, frittered away their money, and cheated on Aruba with any woman who had hole and a heartbeat. He hated her for creeping with Winston, but for the first time, he realized how much he’d contributed to her bad choices.

  “Ms. Maxine, do you think I’m wasting my time?”

  “No.” She leaned forward and placed his hands in hers. “It will take some time, but if you want Aruba back, don’t give up.”

  Lance, Darnella, and Aruba appeared in the lobby area. The session had ended, and James looked at Aruba’s dejected face. He stood to greet her.

  “Aruba, I left the room to handle a little business. Are you hungry?”

  “We’re about to go to lunch,” Darnella snapped. “Without you!”

  Maxine stood. “You, Lance, and I are going to the drive-thru at Popeyes so we can be in Harlem when Jeremiah gets home. James and Aruba are going to pick up her meds from the pharmacy and eat something here in Augusta.”

  “Mama, she doesn’t need to be alone with him.”

  “Nella, let it go. Aruba doesn’t need this stress from you.” Lance turned to his daughter. “Baby, do you want to go with James?”

  She paused, looked at her relatives, and answered, “Yes, I do. I have some things I want to talk over with him.”

  Darnella pursed her lips. She slung her purse to her opposite shoulder and headed to the parking lot. Maxine and Lance watched her leave, shaking their heads at her defiance.

  “Where are you all going?” Lance asked.

  “I’m taking her to the pharmacy for her medication and by the house for a meal. I’ll bring her back home before nine tonight. I want to spend some time with Lil—Jerry.”

  “Lord, you sound like y’all are in high school. Take care of her, James,” said Maxine.

  Maxine hugged them both and left the psychiatrist’s office with Lance.

  Aruba and James eyed each other, familiar strangers navigating new territory.

  “Did I hear you say house? I thought you were staying at a hotel.”

  “I put business on hold back in ’Nap for a while, and Isaak helped me out with one of his rental properties here.”

  “Oh.”

  “By the way, Katrina said hello. I told everyone you’re not accepting calls at this time, but everyone is lifting you in their thoughts and prayers.”

  Not Bria, and definitely not Victoria. “I don’t know why. I’ve let so many people down.”

  “Who hasn’t? Let’s look to the future. Can you try?”

  She didn’t know what to do anymore. She missed having steady employment and an active life. The low-dosage Lexapro lifted her mood somewhat, but it felt artificial. Dr. Shipman recommended diet and exercise to get her endorphins moving and assured her the medicine was not intended to be a long-term fix.

  “Where are we headed? For your medication, I mean.”

  “Deans Bridge Road Walmart.”

  “I can map it with my GPS.”

  “Oh, you rented a car?”

  “No, I flew back to Indianapolis last weekend and drove back down in my SUV.”

  Your SUV? Flew without using someone else’s credit? When did that happen?

  “We need to get going. I’m marinating steaks and I have a surprise for you at the house.”

  “James, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starving.”

  Aruba walked hand-in-hand with her ex-husband to the parking lot. The new James, cocksure and strong, opened the door of his Infiniti QX56, waited for her to be seated, and locked her in. She looked in the backseat of his ride and saw appointment books, invoices, and business manuals. Who is this man?

  James backed out of the parking lot and headed to Deans Bridge Road. He held Aruba’s hand, making sure he didn’t say anything inappropriate. Before their first group session, each family member, including Jeremiah, was given a pamphlet about suicide. The statistics were astounding. James had no idea only 10 percent of people who attempted suicide actually died by suicide. Moreover, he found out 80 percent who died had made a previous attempt. He looked at Aruba’s attire for the day. Her hair wasn’t as matted as it was when he came to the hospital; however, her hair was on his to-do list for the day. His mind drifted back to the pamphlet; the material listed the first six months after hospitalization are critical to the survivor. It pained him to know Aruba remained at an elevated risk the first year.

  “What are you thinking?” Aruba asked.

  “About you. I have to make sure you get meds and food in that belly of yours.”

  “Is that all you’re thinking?”

  “No. I pictured life without you and how I would have explained it to Jeremiah.”

  Aruba directed her gaze to the scenic view outside the window. She still tasted the bitterness of the sleeping pills and remembered how they lodged in her throat the night she tried to take her life. She figured no one cared about her; she’d become a burden to everyone and felt the family would be better off without her. It wasn’t until her parents and members of her church family held an around-the-clock prayer vigil in her hospital room that she got it. The concern on their faces, the way they each told her how much they loved her and how empty life would be without her, all made her realize how selfish the act had been. In real time, scenes from her life flashed before her in the hospital bed: playing across the street from her parent’s house with her childhood friend, Bria Hines; running to meet the ice cream truck and snagging the Good Humor Cherry Bombe popsicle the driver set aside for her; shopping at Belk’s for Easter with Darnella and Maxie. Memories of the suicide attempt overwhelmed her. The image that made her swallow the pills was Winston dying in her arms.

  James felt her hands tremble and turned in time to see her crying again.

  “Let’s pull over for a minute.”

  She didn’t respond. She pulled her knees to her chest while James rubbed her back.

  Chapter 22

  James pulled into a parking space close to the Walmart entrance. Aruba had calmed down and insisted on coming inside with him.

  “I can get the meds. It’ll take a minute,” said James.

  “James, I can’t stay locked up forever. I made a horrible mistake, but the last thing I want you and everyone else to do is baby me,” she said. Her tone was void of her usual spunk.

  “Come on in, then,” he said. Words from his new holy grail, the suicide pamphlet, popped in his head. Don’t hover and monitor every action of your loved one. Give them a minute to themselves.

  They found the pharmacy area. She handed James the prescription and said, “I’m going to the health and beauty area. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  James dropped the prescription off and decided to shop for a few items for the house. Twenty minutes was enough time to get Aruba some flowers, sparkling grape juice, and her favorite oranges. The aisles bustled with people asking the attendants for greens, peanut oil, sugar, and pecans. It dawned on James that Thanksgiving was near, and a Southern Thanksgiving wasn’t complete without fried turkey, pecan pies, and stuffing. He overheard Darnella say she was cancelling Thanksgiving dinner at their house this year due to the “situation”; however, Lance nixed the notion. He told her they had nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything, this year they’d gi
ve thanks in a bigger way.

  A soft rub on his arm interrupted James’s thoughts.

  “Well, well, look who’s here,” said a lovely young woman.

  “Hi, it’s nice to see you again,” James culled his memory for her name.

  “Barbara! I sat next to you on the plane,” she said.

  James checked the immediate area in hopes Aruba wasn’t near. The last thing he needed was the appearance of flirting. This is the worst coincidence. He couldn’t deny Barbara was stunning. His preoccupation with Aruba on the flight distracted him, but this time he saw Barbara for the first time. She wore a lovely ensemble of a two-piece gray skirt suit, black heels, and decorative jewelry. She’d applied just enough makeup to give her medium-brown skin an earthy glow. The one thing he couldn’t ignore was how her low haircut accentuated her deep-set eyes and dimples. Her megawatt smile completed her sensuous look. She twirled around as if on the runway, stopping with her back to him as she caressed the nape of her neck. She faced him again, her gaze fixed directly on his eyes.

  “Am I rocking this TWA or what?” she asked.

  “I told you it would suit you,” he said, backing away from the bin of clementines. He looked over his shoulder for Aruba.

  “I went to your website and got a lot of information, like you said. Of your products I’ve ordered so far, I love the Sheanuff Shampoo and Leave-in Conditioner, and the Honey Almond Magic Butter. I’m strictly wash-and-go right now, but you best believe I will be doing twist-outs as soon as my hair grows a little more,” she said. She moved closer to him.

  “Thanks. I’ll let the team know you’re pleased with the products. It’s always good to know we’re meeting our customers’ needs.”

  “It was good seeing you again, James. I wish I could see you more often.”

  “Take care, Barbara.”

  He navigated his cart back to the pharmacy area. Aruba sat on the bench in front of the pick-up sign. She had items for purchase in a basket she gave James.

  “Do you mind getting these for me?”

  “Sure.”

  He paid for her prescription and the items she’d given him. Aruba blushed at James’s ability to pay for the items. When he pulled out his wallet, she saw cash, a debit card, and credit cards. She remembered years of their marriage when she fronted cash and managed their finances. He couldn’t manage funds well, and she resented him for his fiscal irresponsibility. Today, she felt embarrassed about the negative thoughts she had regarding him and money. People can change if they want to.

  “Do you need anything else, Aruba?”

  “I got everything I needed. I’m tired. I want to get to your place and take a nap if you don’t mind.”

  “We still need to get your food.”

  “I’ll have a hamburger for now. You said you were making steaks, so I’ll dive into those later. I really am sleepy.”

  They headed out to the car and were startled by a high-pitched voice. “James, one more thing.”

  They turned as Barbara quickened her pace and headed toward them.

  “Your website listed the launch date of the scented, sulfate-free shampoos as the week of Christmas. Is that true? I can’t wait to try the Pomegranate Blueberry Quench.”

  Immediately, James turned to Aruba and said, “Baby, this is Barbara. We sat next to each other on the plane when I flew down two months ago. She did the big chop and was raving about our products.”

  Sizing up the competition, Barbara eyed Aruba from head-to-toe, looking at her hair, pulled back in an unkempt bun, her dull, unpainted nails, and her dry skin. She continued her visual lashing by turning up her nose at Aruba’s sweatshirt, jeans, and athletic shoes. He won’t give me his number for her? Barbara caressed the nape of her neck again and dismissively said, “It’s nice to meet you,” offering a limp shake and smoothing out her suit.

  Aruba withered under Barbara’s scrutiny. She returned the shake. “It’s nice to meet you, as well. Your hair is lovely.” Aruba glanced at her suit and smelled her intoxicating perfume.

  “I know you’re going to let him do something to your hair. That’s a lot of hair wrapped up in that bun,” Barbara sneered.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m doing her hair, manicure, and pedicure tonight. When I’m done with her private spa treat, I’m grilling steaks for her. Anything for my baby, Barbara.”

  Aruba watched as Barbara’s face cracked. James stepped up to the plate in such a way she hadn’t experienced in years. She felt covered and loved.

  “Ummm, I’m gonna be going then. I just wanted to find out about the shampoos.” Barbara turned on her heels and headed in the opposite direction.

  James held the shopping bags in one hand and placed his free hand around Aruba’s shoulder. They headed to his vehicle in silence, both ready to get home. Aruba needed to sleep; James needed to check his emails.

  Chapter 23

  Tawatha slipped the key in the front door of the carriage house just past seven that evening. She had to process all she’d seen during the day. Talking with Shandy reignited the love she had for James. Being in the space he’d occupied made her realize she belonged with him. Since no one in her family wanted to embrace her, she would find a way to get back in James’s good graces. She flipped the light switch and jumped at the sight of Royce sitting in the living room.

  “Royce, what are you doing in here?”

  “Last time I checked, my name was on both deeds.”

  His chilly reception stopped her in her tracks. She noticed the active laptop screen and the notepad with names and addresses she’d scribbled earlier. Damn!

  “Come have a seat, Tawatha. I’d like to speak with you about a few things.”

  Tawatha took slow steps to the sofa and placed her purse on the floor.

  “Lovely outfit.”

  “Thanks. You said I could wear some of Millie’s old things.”

  Royce nodded. “So, how did it go today?”

  “I dropped off a few applications and grabbed a bite to eat. It looks like I’ll have to take you up on the offer about helping you with administrative duties. This job hunt isn’t going so well. It’s hard out here for a felon.”

  “I see. So, where else did you go?”

  “Job hunting and a meal at Jason’s Deli.” Tawatha snapped her finger. “I also stopped at Sweetie’s Gourmet Treats for a cupcake.”

  Royce placed his head in his hands, lacing his fingers. He sat back in the chair and massaged his temples with his thumbs. He faced her now. Tawatha felt his icy stare.

  “Tawatha, do you know what I hate more than lazy people?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Liars. It bothers me when someone sits in my face and blatantly lies.”

  “What have I lied about?”

  “Jamilah came by earlier today to talk to you. You weren’t here, so she came to the main house searching for you. I told her you were out looking for a job. She told me that she had a meeting with your mother and she said you’ve been stalking them. Naturally, I defended you because surely, the woman I helped wouldn’t jeopardize her freedom by doing something as stupid as stalking the people who’ve done everything except file a protective order against her!

  “Since Jamilah has known you longer than I have, and since she insists you have a stalking proclivity, I brought her out here to prove her wrong. Imagine how I felt accessing a laptop I gave you to help you find a job. Imagine how dumb I felt seeing you use it to stalk your family. And James Dixon.”

  “Royce, let me explain.”

  He slammed his fist on the coffee table. “There’s nothing to explain! Do you realize the danger you’re placing yourself in with this behavior?”

  She stood and tried to join him in the chair. He held his hands in protest.

  “I was so lonely in jail all those years. You were the only one who tried to keep in touch with me. I still have a child, a mother, and two people who were once my best friends. Do you know how it feels to be shunned?”

&n
bsp; “No, I don’t. But I also know you can’t bully or stalk your way into someone’s life. If they don’t want to deal with you, you can’t make them communicate with you!”

  “It’s been five years.”

  “It might take five more!”

  Royce shifted his strategy. “Please sit down. This argument isn’t getting us anywhere. What did you learn about recidivism rates before you were released?”

  “Indiana’s rate is about 52% within three years.”

  “Don’t you see you’ll beat the three year mark sooner if you don’t stop stalking your relatives and friends?” Royce walked over to the table, picked up a printout, and handed it to her. “These are Indiana’s law from the Stalking Resource Center. I suggest you take the time to read this. The only difference on this sheet and what Jamilah said about your contact is you haven’t threatened anyone. If you go back to jail, Tawatha, I can’t help you again.”

  She took the paper from Royce, unable to make eye contact with him. She scanned the sheet, her eyes falling on the words terrorized, frightened, and intimidated.

  “I haven’t threatened or terrorized anyone, Royce.”

  “Tawatha, you wouldn’t feel terrorized or intimidated if someone sat outside the carriage house watching you, never coming in and never knocking on the door?”

  She imagined being the object of such attention. “I would.”

  Royce sighed. He didn’t know if his words carried any weight, but he had to speak his mind.

  “Do I make myself clear about this matter?”

  “Yes.”

  “I opened up my home to you because I respected your desire to start a new life. You said you’d learned from your mistakes and you wanted to turn over a new leaf. Don’t let yourself down, Tawatha. One more incident, and I’ll be forced to ask you to leave my premises.”

  “Royce, you know I have nowhere else to go.”

  “The choice should be easy then, right?”

  Royce, satisfied with his ultimatum, left Tawatha to consider his words. On his way back to the main house, he saw Tawatha’s parole officer park in front of the carriage house.