by Meka James
She rolled her eyes but said nothing else as she walked around us. It wasn’t missed on me that neither she nor Macy spoke to each other.
“She really is a bitch, and I hope you aren’t seriously considering letting her stay here.”
Shawn repeated “bitch” and giggled. I frowned at Macy, who apologized for her language.
“Put him in the highchair please. I need to get him a snack.”
Macy went about taking care of getting Shawn settled while I pulled cheese from the fridge and grabbed a banana from the basket. She walked over to me, picked up the banana, peeled it, and then proceeded to cut it up for me.
“How long do you have to wear the brace?”
“Um, another week or so maybe. Depends on how I’m feeling. But happy it wasn’t a fracture or break.”
“I bet. So…”
“So…what?” I questioned, carrying the cheese cubes over to Shawn.
She joined me at the table, depositing the banana pieces onto his tray. “What happened? Why did you pass out? I mean that’s some scary sh…stuff, Lee, especially if there wasn’t a reason.”
Shawn held out a piece of cheese for me, I leaned forward letting him put the cube in my mouth. “Yum, thank you baby.”
I looked over at Macy, who was patiently waiting on me to answer her question, as was everyone else that’d asked me the same thing. Why? What happened? There has to be a reason. That anxious feeling crept up on me. The slight increase in heartbeat. The gnawing in the pit of my stomach.
“It is, but I’m fine. I just got lightheaded or something.”
“There has to be more to it than that.”
Macy could be relentless when she wanted. She’d learned to not push as hard than in the past, but still she had her moments. I felt like this would be one of those moments. I got up to get a sippy cup for Shawn, and filled it with milk.
Shawn reached out for the cup when I returned. He went back to happily eating his snacks. , Brushing his hair from his face, I focused on him. “It happened, but I’m fine, so can we leave it at that?”
She sat back and crossed her arms. “Just tell me there’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing pressing on the brain or any of that stuff I need to worry about.”
I smiled at my friend. “No, Mace, I don’t have any sort of brain tumor or anything like that. I promise.”
The look on her face told me she wasn’t entirely happy with not having answers, but then again none of them were. For a brief moment, I thought about letting her know, but I couldn’t. Letting her know would have a domino effect, and I didn’t want that.
Chapter 17
Malcolm
I waved bye to Brenda and climbed back into my truck. I pulled out my phone to call Ginger when her number flashed across the screen. We’d only talked a handful of times since the ice cream incident a few days ago, but I’d not seen her at all.
“Hey, I was just about to call you.”
“Really? And here I was thinking I might be waking you or something.”
“No, I had the home inspection this morning.”
“Oh, how’d it go?”
“Good, no major problems.”
“That’s good. Um…in a way, that’s why I’m calling. Can you give me your agent’s number?”
That request caught me by surprise. “Yeah, sure.” I paused. “Are you ready to sell your house?” I knew the most likely answer to that question, but still I had hope that she was moving somewhere, even if not with me, and getting out of that place.
Silence on her end followed by Shawn’s voice coming through, and then the sounds of them wrestling for control of the phone.
“Sorry, he always wants the phone when I’m on it. But no. Dorian showed up last night. She’s moving here and apparently staying with me until she finds a place. She’s been here less than twenty-four hours, and it’s been nothing but near constant complaints about her accommodations, so that needs to happen sooner rather than later.”
That was the last thing I expected to hear. Ginger and her sister had a rocky relationship due to the fact Dorian was a major bitch to Ginger more times than not. To hear that Dorian not only asked to stay there, but that Ginger had agreed, blew my mind.
When I didn’t say anything, Ginger launched into an explanation about needing to help family no matter what, which also revealed the fact she’d gotten Dorian a job at the company she’d inherited.
“Why didn’t you tell her no?”
“When has anyone ever taken no for an answer from me?”
I squeezed the steering wheel and tried not to let her clipped tone, or the implications of her statement, get to me.
“Right. I’ll text you Brenda’s number. Talk to you later.”
“Malcolm, wait. Sorry…I didn’t mean…” Her words died out. “If you aren’t busy, do you want to come by later?”
More rustling sounds, and I listened to her tell Shawn he couldn’t have the phone, which was followed by him crying. Loudly at first, but it started to fade away as if one of them walked away from the other.
“How is he today?”
“Busy like always. I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
“Is he the only one?”
Her delayed reply was an answer in itself.
“No. I’d like to see you too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Come by, and I’ll do as my mother said and feed you.”
Her answer brought a smile to my face and eased some of the tension. “Okay. I have a few things to do, so I’ll call you later about a time.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginger and Shawn stood on the porch, watching as I pulled up. Shawn reached out for me as I approached them.
“Hey, buddy. And here are the cookies you requested.” I handed her the bag I’d grabbed from my front seat.
“Thanks.” She hesitated before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Smells delicious. What are we having?”
“Herb crusted salmon with creamed asparagus and oven roasted baby potatoes.”
As we got closer to the living room, Shawn started fighting to get down. He grabbed my finger, pulling me behind him over to his play area. I sat on the floor with him and drove cars around, then worked on a puzzle, followed by him wanting a book read. All within ten minutes of play.
“Can you put him in his chair, please?”
“Time for dinner, Lil’ Man.” I picked him up and complied with Ginger’s request.
I walked up behind her as she fixed our plates, and rested my hands on her hips. She stopped moving. There was a time when I could do this and she would’ve laughed. She would’ve enjoyed it instead of reacting like she had to brace herself for what was next. We needed to get back to that place.
“What are you doing?”
“Supervising.”
She turned, placed her hands on my chest, and gave a gentle push. “Why do I need supervising?”
“I’m a growing boy, have to make sure you don’t give me the kid portion.”
A playful grin appeared on her face. “Really? With as big as you are, you should be done growing.”
My arms circled her waist. “Nope, pretty sure I have several more inches.”
She visibly swallowed. Color crept into her face, and she dropped her head, breaking the eye contact. Reaching behind her, Ginger took hold of my hands, and removed them from around her waist.
“One kid portion coming right up.” She smiled, but it didn’t seem as genuine as the earlier one. “Pick a wine, please.” She turned back to complete what she was doing before I interrupted her.
Playtime was over. Shawn whined from his high chair, fighting to get out of his restraints. I picked up his little plate and gave it to him before heading over to her bar.
I wasn’t a big wine drinker, but the lady gets what the lady wants. “White or red?”
“White. A Chard
onnay.”
We’d not been eating long when the alarm chimed, singling the door had been opened.
“Great,” Ginger muttered under her breath. She gulped down the remaining wine in her glass before refilling it.
I thought back to our phone conversation this morning, and swallowed back the comment I wanted to make.
“Smells good,” Dorian stated when she entered the kitchen. “Hello, Malcolm.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
Dorian fixed herself a plate. “Thanks for getting me in contact with Brenda.”
“No problem.”
She grabbed a wine glass from the cabinet before taking a seat. I waited for her to speak to Ginger. She didn’t.
“You guys don’t mind if I join you?” The question was apparently rhetorical.
I went back to eating, opting to not say anything. If Ginger wasn’t going to correct her, it wasn’t my place to do so. Shawn started crying, fighting to get out of his high chair. Ginger worked on freeing him then excused herself, and escaped upstairs to get him cleaned up, leaving me and Dorian alone.
We’d interacted very little over the years. Most of my information about her came secondhand through Macy, who couldn’t stand Dorian, since she gave Ginger a hard time at every turn. I don’t think I’d ever understand the dynamics of their relationship. My siblings and I all got along and cared about each other. Dorian on the other hand had made Ginger shed countless tears. I recalled the times she’d be at our house, upset over something Dorian had done or said, and Macy would comfort her.
An awkward, uncomfortable silence settled between us. It took effort to resist the urge to check my watch to see how long Ginger had been gone.
Dorian was the first to speak. “When do you close on your house?”
“End of next month. On Ginger’s birthday, actually.”
She gave a short laugh. “Ginger. I didn’t think you still called her that.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s our thing, and she likes it.”
Dorian nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “I’m sure she does.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic, or if she was actually agreeing with me. Ginger returned, leaving me unable to question Dorian on it.
“Sorry, I decided to go ahead and give him his bath. It took a little longer with me moving slow and all.” As soon as she put Shawn down he ran in my direction.
“I need an opener for the garage. I don’t want to keep parking outside,” Dorian said.
Ginger immediately reached for her wine glass, and took a slow, long drink. She kept her eyes trained on the remaining liquid when she spoke. “It’s full.”
“What’s full?”
As if in slow motion, Ginger sat her glass back down, looking first at me then back at Dorian before answering her question. “The garage. You can’t park in there.”
“You have a four-car garage and only one car. First, you stick me in the basement, now you’re saying I can’t park in the garage. Is this your way of making me feel as unwelcome as possible?”
Ginger’s nostrils flared, and her brows drew together as she whipped her head in her sister’s direction. “No, Dorian, if I wanted to make you feel unwelcomed, I would have made you sleep in your damn car.”
“Then what the hell is it full of?”
With the way she was acting, I could guess the answer to the question before she spoke. Ginger still lived in his house, still carried his name. It concerned me that she was so stuck, but sadly it didn’t surprise me she’d still have his stuff.
I focused on playing with Shawn. Maybe Dorian didn’t see it, or she didn’t care, but Ginger’s neck started to turn red. The hand that held her fork trembled as she pushed the food around on her plate. She was at her limit.
“Dorian, your car should be fine. She’s let you stay here, just let it go.”
“All I did was ask a simple question. No reason for that to get her all riled up.”
Ginger stabbed her fork into the salmon, and got to her feet so quickly her chair tumbled backward and crashed to the ground with a loud clatter. “It’s a garage, Dorian, what the hell do you think it’s full of?”
Shawn jumped at the noise and started crying. She gave an apologetic glance at her son before she made a hasty retreat from the kitchen, through the family room, toward the patio doors. We watched in silence as she yanked the French door open. She slammed it shut behind her so hard that it bounced back open a little.
I was torn between going after Ginger or continuing my task of trying to calm Shawn, who was now calling out for her. He was in full-blown tantrum mode, so he got my attention.
Silently Dorian began clearing the plates from the table. Neither of us spoke. When she was done, she walked over and took Shawn, who still fought for freedom and called out for his mom.
“You should go check on her.”
It was seven in the evening, yet the humidity remained thick in the air, and everything was quiet. Too quiet. No sound of cars passing on the street, no voices of the neighbors or sounds of life, other than the crickets off in the distance. Isolation. Like stepping through those gates cut you off from the rest of the world. But I was sure that was the point when he’d bought this place. I stood at the top of the patio, trying to figure out what the hell to say to her.
Ginger sat on a lounger near the fire pit, hugging her knees close to her chest. I was sure she knew I was out here, or that someone was, but she didn’t turn to see who. Instead, she stared off in space. Taking the stone steps two at a time, I made my way down.
“How is he?” She spoke without turning to look at me.
“A little upset, but we took care of it. Dorian has him.”
She nodded before unfolding herself to finally face me. “Look…I know what you’re going to say.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Yes, I do. You’re ready to give me another lecture on—”
“Dance with me.”
“What?”
I put my hand out toward her. “Dance with me.”
Her face contorted into a frown. Being asked to dance was probably the last thing she expected, but it was the perfect thing. She was already on the defensive; therefore any conversation would have ended badly.
“I’m supposed to dance to no music?”
Reaching down, I took hold of her hand, and pulled her up. My free arm slid around her waist as I began swaying our bodies. “The crickets are playing our song.”
She was stiff and resistant at first, but I kept moving, humming softly. Eventually her body began to relax. The arm that was dangling by her side slipped around my waist, and she rested her head against my chest. They were little actions, but they made me smile. Anything that I’d wanted to say to her when I stepped out here I put on hold. We could talk another day. For now, I enjoyed a dance with the woman I loved.
Chapter 18
Calida
Three weeks since I’d last been at Dr. Carr’s office. I’d had to talk myself into keeping the appointment when I woke up, and again when I’d parked in the parking deck. I knew I’d have to see her at some point after my accident, but that didn’t stop me from trying to put it off as long as possible.
The basic pleasantries were out of the way. My knee bounced uncontrollably until I finally got up to move around. I assumed my preferred position in front of the window. Here I could talk without facing the scrutiny of her eyes.
“Anything happen over the last few weeks that we need to discuss?”
“Dorian’s living with me.”
“That is an unexpected development.”
“I suppose. She invited herself.”
“And you let her?”
I wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a question, not that it mattered. Macy and Malcolm had the same reaction.
“Sometimes it’s easier not to fight.”
Scratching of pen against paper. That sound was beginning to be my ve
rsion of nails on a chalkboard.
“Sometimes the easy way isn’t the best way.”
I shrugged, turning back to face her. “It’s the well-worn path I chose to take.”
“Who benefits from that?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something I thought about.”
“Maybe you should. If you keep taking that ‘well-worn path’ as you call it, how are things ever going to change?”
“Is this where you ask me that cliché question about the definition of insanity?”
She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t do anything cliché if I can help it.”
I retook my seat. “Might as well get this out of the way instead of trying to ignore the elephant in the room.”
“I didn’t know there was one.”
I rolled my eyes. “You won’t do cliché, but you’re not above playing dumb.”
A smile spread across her face. “That’s not what I was doing. I’m not here to force you to talk about things you don’t want to. You should know that by now.”
I knew she was right. Patient led therapy; that’s how she conducted things. At times, she would try and push if I got on a certain topic, but never too much. She didn’t need to. Dr. Carr had a way of getting some information out of me simply from a look, or by using those questions meant for self-reflection she was so fond of.
“So, you don’t want to know what sent me into a panic attack?”
“I think you want me to know, but you’re not ready to talk about it yet.”
“If that was the case, I wouldn’t have brought up the topic at all.”
More note taking before she flipped back in her notebook, checking her notes from our last session. Looking back up at me, she pushed her glasses up on her nose, made another note, and then she took the opening I’d stupidly given her.
“Last time, we’d just entered new territory about your relationship with Seth when you cut the session short. You’d equated your relationship to that of Pavlov’s experiments. Saying Seth had systematically conditioned you to get the responses he wanted. One of those things being the name Ginger, something Malcolm calls you, and you said Seth tainted it. How did he do that?”
