by Leigh Lennon
“I have a lot to say, so much, and I don’t want to overload you.” Plus, there’s the matter of her dick-head ex-husband I need to address. “I don’t want to scare you.”
It’s in this second she bites her bottom lip and the carefree Liz is now transformed into a jack-in-the-box, about ready to burst at the seams. Her shoulders freeze, and she rubs her temples, like she may be warding off a migraine. I’m about to question the sudden change when she speaks.
“We do have a lot to talk about. You’re right.” She doesn’t catch my gaze when she says these words and I’m left to question the carefree Liz of five minutes, hell, five seconds ago. I’m not sure what to say, then Liz begins, “I’ve been keeping something from you and if I tell you, or the other people it involves, I may lose you and…” She falters with tears pouring down her face. I want to catch them but I can’t. I’m stuck, unable to move my feet at her confession. “I may lose you and I may lose Candace.”
16 years ago
After the win at the Rose Bowl, one could say I’m the big man on campus. But I only wanted to be the big man for one person in my life. Liz dominates my thoughts. Six months of knowing her, sharing my life with her, we were both ready for the next step. It was so easy because everything with my girl is just that, fucking easy. When I mentioned our living arrangements for next year, she looks back at me to say, “If this is your way to gauge if I’d like to move in with you, the answer is hell yes.”
Our future was a constant subject we’d often dreamt about. Sure, I’d tell her one day I’d be a big name in the pros and we’d have our hearts’ desire. The only thing she wanted in life was to get her sister away from her daddy and stepmother.
We’d often talk into the late hours of the night about our family, making our own little world that exists of just us. She surprised me one night. “If we have a boy, I want to name him Israel like you.”
This subject never scared me and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Actually, Buttercup, I’m named after my mama and my sister is named after my dad.”
Her eyes pinch together then a smile covers her face. “I love this idea. New plan, if we have a girl, I want to name her Isabella—after you.”
I place a kiss on her perfect button nose when I silently agree as my own idea overtakes me. “And if we have a boy, I want to name him after you—how about Eli?”
In her smile, I know she agrees and we now have a plan, one that includes my Buttercup as my future.
We’re barely without each other. Her roommate had moved home at the end of the first semester. I may make it to my room weekly. For now, her dorm is all we need.
Going into spring break, she’s talked her dad into letting her bring her little sister out for the week. I adore my sister and would move the world if possible for her but Liz’s attachment to Candy, as I refer to her, borderlines on obsession. But I keep this to myself. No reason to upset my queen and her loving nature is honestly sexy as fuck.
The plan consists of her flying home to pick up Candy and then straight into L.A. I’m meeting them at the airport then we’ll spend a week at my parents’ house. My mama is beside herself by having a little one in the house again. Talia, my sister, though younger, is out of the house at a prep school for the gifted in New York. Mama misses the laughter and love of kids at home and already told me, she’d get her fix this week.
At the airport, as I leave for L.A. with her flying to Charleston, I know she’ll be back in my arms tomorrow. I never asked what she had told her daddy about me. “Hey, Liz, your dad, he knows I’m black, right?”
When her eyes dart from mine, I know my answer. “Daddy, well, let’s just say he’d never let me have Candace this week. He’s a racist bastard.” She laces her hand in mine, taking her free hand and tipping my chin. “Iz, look at me. I’m not ashamed of us, of this—of our future. I decided it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And Daddy, well, he’ll get over it.”
I squint her way. “But how are we goin’ to spend time with your family during the summer if my color is an issue? I can’t and I wouldn’t change it, even if I could. It’s who I am.” The final boarding for her flight is calling her.
She stands, kissing me on the cheek and says, “Well, they’re coming to pick Candace up in L.A. You’ll meet them then.” She gives me another kiss and her words ring true, it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. I’ve never been ashamed of my heritage or my race but I do sometimes fucking hate that people can’t see deep enough to our love or beneath the color that blinds them.
20
Liz
Iz is motionless. I never admitted until now I’ve kept something from him. It’s more than the fact that Daddy was blackmailing me, which is something Iz recently found out himself. But now, in his own posture, he understands the gravity of this conversation.
Lifting his head up, he scans the room. This is his way to think and to gain understanding as he strains to find his speech. It’s something he’d done often, especially in the last months of our relationship when my father’s hatred and bigotry began to damage the future we’d wanted together.
When Iz is like this, it’s best to let him think. After a while, his position relaxes only slightly when he asks, “What does that douche bag of an ex-husband have on you?”
Oh, if it were that simple. It’s been almost fifteen years since that fateful day. Daddy had already taken so much from me. I didn’t see it, not the hand, not the placement of my feet at the oval staircase. No, I couldn’t protect me. I couldn’t protect us.
The tears continue to pour and it’s the constant struggle I face daily, thinking of what I lost with Iz when I stumbled down the stairs. Choosing one person over another.
16 years ago
Seven days in L.A. with the two people I love the most in this world is more than I could ask for. We spent three days at Disney Land and drove down to San Diego another day to take Candace to LEGOLAND.
She immediately took to Iz. Isadora Laita loved her equally. But as I was waiting for Daddy and the step-witch’s plane to arrive, I paced mindlessly while Candace sat on Iz’s lap. It’s funny how quickly she fell in love with Iz. What was even better, at the age of six, Candace never once questioned the difference in our skin color.
Our plane is departing in three hours; more than enough time for me to introduce them to Iz. My dad had mentioned on the phone last night that we’d get a late lunch in order to know more about this boy who’d won my heart. I’m not sure when he sees my very dark-skinned boyfriend and the man I plan to move in with next semester, if we’ll stick to these arrangements—though I stay optimistic.
I see the step-witch’s frizzy red hair and her Chanel bag before I see either one of their faces. I look down and rustle Candace’s hair. “Hey, kid, Daddy and Mummy are here.” Our stepmother insists Candace call her mummy as if we were British. It should say something when Candace stays seated in Iz’s large lap and isn’t running after her “parents” like I did, at least for my mother, when I was her age.
Iz stands and keeps “Candy” in his arms as he insists on calling her, always saying she’s as sweet as cotton candy. I hated the nickname from the moment Candace’s mother picked the name for her.
My dad embraces me, awkwardly but still an embrace, and our stepmother doesn’t even try. “Elizabeth, it’s good to see you.”
Dad sees Iz holding Candace and puts out his arms for her. “Come to Daddy,” he commands in his booming voice and Candace obeys out of fear, not love or respect.
The step-witch is looking around for someone and then sees Iz. Before I can offer a proper introduction, my stepmother looks at Iz. “Oh, good, you got someone to help with baggage.” My jaw almost falls to the floor but with her, it always gets worse. “Where is your boyfriend Isaiah?”
I turn to Iz and in one fluid motion, I place my hands intimately around his waist. With Iz’s jaw locked and fists tightly shut, I begin, “Um, actually, Daddy, Stepmother,” I always call her that
. She doesn’t deserve me using her real name and she sure as fuck is not my mother. “This is Israel Laita. He’s the starting quarterback for the Cardinals and my boyfriend.”
My dad actually takes a step back from him, as though the air Iz breathes is different from his own. The step-witch looks him up and down. “But, Elizabeth, he’s…” she leans in closer to me and whispers loud enough for Iz to hear, “he’s black.”
Iz isn’t one to allow color or race to be an issue. It’s not just black and white to him. People are people regardless and everyone should be treated the same way. Leaning in close to my step-witch, he replies, “Since the day I was born, ma’am. You’re right about that.” His smile, which in this moment can melt my panties, isn’t doing anything for the parental units.
“Elizabeth, can I speak with you in private?” my father demands, yanking on my arm. In Iz’s gaze, I fear my protective boyfriend will physically stop him. My own eyes plead with Iz to let it be, for now, and he backs off. Giving Candace to the step-witch, Daddy says, “Take Candace, dear. I’ll be right back.”
Candace screams at being given to her and yells, “No, I want Iz!” With Iz’s hands outstretched, ready to catch her in mid-air, Daddy intercepts her, looking behind at Iz.
“No, you can’t go to him. Stay with Mummy.”
Huddled in the corner, I’m not sure why after all these years I expect more from my father. Sure, Daddy is a hateful man at times but this is beyond my worst nightmare.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Elizabeth. You let my daughter hang out with his family this whole week?” This comment makes me want to hurt my dad; physically damage him. I’d never let harm come to Candace and he fucking knows this.
“Daddy, you know nothing about him. He’s the first freshman from Stanford to win the Heisman trophy. He’s going places. That’s not why I’m with him but he has a good head on his shoulders.”
My dad’s eyes bore into my own. “You’ve been talking about bringing him home for the summer. Are you for real, Liz? This may be liberal California, but we live in the south. This stuff isn’t acceptable.”
Not all southerners are racist bastards is what I want to say to my father but he has Candace that he controls for now and I can’t risk it.
“This isn’t over, Liz,” he says, turning away.
Because sarcasm is sometimes the only thing I know when I’m pissed off, I yell behind him, “I guess dinner is off.”
He takes Candace from my stepmother’s arms as she screams for Iz and me, to say goodbye, but my dad continues walking. Like always, Iz is near me to catch me when I fall.
21
Liz
“Liz, honey, now you’re scaring me. What the hell did he do to you? I knew I should have kicked his ass. Pansy ass fucker.” He’s now next to me. I had decided to tell the truth before today, before Neal came and surprised me with the truth of my daddy’s will. Funny how the step-witch kept this little secret to herself. Now he wants to blackmail me. I’ll be fucking damned if that man takes anything more from me.
“You know Daddy never liked us together, right?” Of course, this is one of those duh moments but it’s what I lead with.
Leaning back, with his hands raised over his head, he says, “Yes, the night in the airport and the horrible couple of weeks he tried to keep me hidden in the ‘slave’ quarters of your house—Liz, I’m aware of that fact.”
“So, you already know how he blackmailed me to go to Harvard in order to have Candace to myself. For me to raise her away from the evil clutches of that horrible woman he married.”
“Buttercup, we’ve been through this. I get it.” His eyes are hungry, not with need and desire, but for information and understanding.
“You have to understand, the Candace you know is well rehearsed. Her mummy made sure of that. When I say she crushed Candace’s soul, you won’t see it ever. Candace has been programmed. Sure, she comes off very sassy and a little saucy. She knows what works to get guys’ attention but the night you came to my apartment and surprised me, I’d barely gotten her out with Lang. She cried for an hour, thinking she’d ruin things—afraid she’d come on too strong as her mummy taught her. Or Lang would get bored with her stupidity. I had to Freud the hell out of her that night. I used every bit of data I’ve gotten from all the counselors she’s seen over the years. There’s so much more. So much fucked up shit; you’d have a hard time hearing but I wanted to get her away from it. Then I married Neal.” At the sound of his name, Iz’s hands are balled into fists and I'm afraid they may make their way through his modern glass coffee table.
“Okay, I get it. I really do.” His hand hovers to comfort me.
“No, you don’t. You can’t. Because you weren’t there to see the mind tricks she pulled on Candace. I had her away for six years and I should’ve fought for more. I thought what I’d instilled in her would make it past the formidable years but no, the step-witch still wormed her way into my sister’s life; making her the shell of what she should be.”
Iz’s long and strong arms find passage around my entire body as I give into his safety. My tears stream down his simple black V-neck t-shirt.
I pull away, it’s time, time to tell him what happened to me all those years ago.
“I had to make a choice for Candace but there was one thing, one thing which would make me want to turn back to California and share my life with you; all while fighting for Candace.”
With his brows furrowed together, he takes my hand. “Liz, Buttercup, what was it?”
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I reply, “It was your baby, Iz. I was pregnant with our baby.”
16 years ago.
Iz had been in Charleston for two weeks. I begged Daddy to give him a chance and he’d agreed. In our home, sitting amongst the oldest and grandest lining the Battery of the downtown area, were the old slave quarters my daddy converted into a nice guesthouse. Though we have plenty of space in our home for Iz, it’s not lost on me that he placed Iz in the servants’ residence. Though this was labeled a guesthouse, no guests of ours had ever slept out there. Daddy, in his control, put Iz there, simply because he could.
“It’s fine, Liz,” Iz tells me just because he wants to earn the respect of Daddy, not rock the boat. Iz’s coach was good friends with the football coach at the University of South Carolina in Columbia and talked him into driving up three times a week to practice with his boys. It’s something I secretly hated because I’m a Clemson girl through and through. But this was good for him and a way of showing Daddy he’s making something of himself.
However, after two weeks, Daddy had his belongings packed with the ultimatum of Candace or a man Daddy claimed he’d never accept. When Iz pulls into the driveway after a long day on the fields at the University of South Carolina, Daddy’s car is full of all his shit and in his face, Iz knows—he’s leaving for California without me.
On the way to the airport, Iz’s words sting harder than a slap to the face. “I never thought you’d choose your daddy’s money over us.” I’m not sure why this is the first conclusion he jumps to, especially since I’d told him from the beginning I never wanted Daddy’s money. I guess he assumes money could be the only thing that would drive a wedge between us.
The tears falling from my eyes are only one of the many things that hinder my sight. The idea of saying goodbye to this man forever is another. I park and beg him, “Iz, babe, let me sort this out. This isn’t over for us.”
Standing at my door, he throws out the last ultimatum I’d thought would ever come from his lips, “Me or the money, Liz. It’s that simple.”
“You should know me enough—I never wanted my daddy’s money. It goes deeper.” He turns and it’s the last time I see him.
A week. One full week without hearing Iz’s words whispered in my ear. A week is all it has taken and I now understand my heart will forever be destroyed for any other man. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night, unable to breathe with my impossible decision. I wan
der into Candace’s room, crawling into bed with her. The smell of her apple conditioner is the only comfort I need as silent tears make their way from my tired eyes. They are exhausted. All I have done is shed a river and it won’t stop. When will my drought come and end all the water works?
I can’t even scream. Daddy has me under lock and key, still using Candace against me. If I’ve ever had an Achilles’ heel, it’s the beauty nestled in close to me, scratching her nose in her sleep and talking in baby gibberish, words I can’t understand.
Sacrificing my own happiness for Candace’s was never even a choice. It was as natural as breathing, knowing I’d do anything for her. I’ve been so naïve. Daddy was never going to allow me to have her in California, out of the grips of his control. Especially with a black man, even if he’s the best person I’ve known. Color is all Daddy sees.
As sleep is about to overtake me, right at the edge of being able to forget for one second Iz is no longer a constant in my life, my stomach starts to churn. In a split moment, almost an out of body experience overtakes my entire physique as though I’m transported to the toilet, expelling my guts into the porcelain god.
My own hands tremble as I start counting with fingers representing days in the twenty-eight cycle and the understanding hits me. This is not just any bug. I’m late.
Still in Candace’s bed, I wait until the sun peeks through her curtains and I spring to life, grabbing a bra and brushing my teeth quickly. I need to get to the closest pharmacy and back before the step-witch and Daddy wake.
Who thought peeing on a stick would be so fucking hard? The steady stream shot at me several times and I’m left laying down my stick while washing my hands. In the thirty seconds it takes for me to clean the urine from my fingers, I glance at the test. There’s no need to wait the three minutes the instructions recommend. It’s clear as day: I’m pregnant.
