Amaryllis

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  Amaryllis exhaled. “A whole lot. I was wondering if I could come and stay with you for a while.”

  Michelle stood and waited anxiously for her sister at the security gate. Amaryllis came through the terminal of the McCarran International Airport looking beaten down and broken up. Her left eye was still swollen and dark. The stitches in the corners of her lips were very visible. She limped on a cane and a cast supported her right arm. Michelle didn’t recognize her sister. She made eye contact with Amaryllis then looked past her.

  Amaryllis came and stood next to Michelle. “Do I look that bad that my own sister doesn’t recognize me?”

  Michelle looked into the face of someone she once knew as beautiful and well put together. It wasn’t often that she got to see Amaryllis, but when she did, Amaryllis always had her hair, nails and make up done to perfection. Michelle wore a horrid expression. She was shocked at how grotesque Amaryllis’ face looked. “Oh my God. What happened to you? Were you in some kind of accident?”

  “Yeah, I accidentally walked into a fist.”

  Michelle reached out to hug her, but Amaryllis cautiously stepped backward. Three weeks had passed since Amaryllis’ unfortunate encounter with Darryl and his posse, but her body was still very sore. “No, please don’t touch me. It hurts too much.”

  “Oh, Amaryllis, how could you let something like this happen?”

  “Do you have forever and a day for me to tell you about it? That’s how long it’ll take me.”

  Michelle relieved Amaryllis’ left arm of her carry-on tote. “First, let’s get your luggage, then I’ll take you home and get you into a nice comfy bed. I told Daddy that you were coming and he’s excited.”

  It was no secret to Amaryllis that their father favored Michelle. “Yeah, I bet. Why is he so excited to see his daughter whom he’s always called The Bad Seed?”

  “Don’t go there, Amaryllis. Growing up, you were a brat and you know it. How many Catholic school girls do you know get arrested at eight years old for pushing a nun down the steps?”

  “Well, the heifer shouldn’t have taken my candy. She didn’t buy it.”

  “It was still wrong for you to do that.”

  “Okay, so I do one bad thing as a child and folks never let me forget it.”

  They had been slowly walking to the baggage claim area when Michelle abruptly stopped walking and looked at Amaryllis. “Excuse me? One bad thing? Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we? You gave Daddy hell every time you came to visit. How about that time when we were at summer camp and you put hair remover in Karla Monroe’s shampoo? It took almost three years for that girl’s hair to grow back.”

  “Well, she shouldn’t have called me fatso.”

  “That’s beside the point, Amaryllis. Karla calling you names didn’t hurt you, but what you did tormented her for years.”

  “Okay, so I did two bad things,” Amaryllis said as they resumed walking.

  “Two bad things, Amaryllis? I don’t think so. Remember the summer you came to visit when you sat and waited for our neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, to leave at night to go to work? Every night you watched her husband’s girlfriend sneak in the back door. You decided to take pictures of her going in the house for a week then mail the pictures anonymously to Mrs. Taylor.”

  “Come on now, Michelle, you know good and well that he was wrong for cheating on his wife.”

  “It was none of your business.”

  “He stopped cheating didn’t he?”

  “He had no choice after Mrs. Taylor hired two goons to break both of his legs.”

  “Mrs. Taylor didn’t seem to mind pushing him around the neighborhood in a wheelchair.”

  Michelle chuckled. “Of course not. With two broken legs, she didn’t have to worry about him creepin’ anymore.”

  “Okay, Michelle; I did three bad things.”

  Michelle stopped walking again and looked at Amaryllis. “Three bad things? What about that time when you—”

  “Hey, I didn’t come all this way to walk down memory lane with you.”

  “You’re the one who seemed to have forgotten why your nickname is The Bad Seed.”

  “Well, thanks to you, now I remember. Can we please get out of this airport? My leg is killing me and it’s hot as heck here in Vegas.”

  Michelle grabbed Amaryllis softly around her waist and carefully led her to the baggage claim area. “We only got a little ways to go. Lean on me. And as far as the weather goes, September in Vegas is like July in Chicago.”

  At twenty-eight years old, Michelle was the youngest and only African American female attorney who owned and ran a law firm in the entire city of Reno. Price & Associates sat in the heart of the city. It housed six female attorneys who were all working for Michelle. It wasn’t that she discriminated against men, but the women who came to her, fresh out of law school, expressed how difficult it was to get hired in the law business. Michelle could relate to their frustrations because she, too, was interviewed and hired by a female partner after being turned away many times by other firms due to her gender.

  Two months at the law firm, Michelle was made partner, and in only three years, she managed to save enough money to invest in a building of her own. She vowed to herself that she would give as many women as she could a chance in life. Corporate law was her expertise and her skills blew the minds of business owners who challenged Michelle and her team in the courtroom. Michelle’s all-female staff was fierce.

  Price & Associates had been in business for two and a half years and had never lost a case. In the past eight months it had gone from being the ninth best law firm out of seventeen in the city, to the third best. Michelle was confident in herself and her team to know that in another year, they’d be ranked the best and most requested corporate law firm in Reno, Nevada.

  Michelle owned a three-level town home on North Bally Street, located on the east side of Las Vegas. Though she lived alone, the town home consisted of four bedrooms, one of which housed her home office, a laundry room and a full bath, all on the third floor. The entire second floor dedicated itself to Michelle’s master suite and bath. This room surrounded her king-sized white wicker bed, night-stand, eight-drawer dresser, full-length mirror and bench that was placed at the foot of her bed. This room also held a compact refrigerator, a thirty-two inch flat screen television and a cherry stained marble fireplace.

  Toward the front of the master bedroom, Michelle designed a sitting room with two chaise chairs, a glass cocktail table and a five-shelf bookcase that held a collection of novels written by African American authors. This is where Michelle spent her time when she wasn’t in the courtroom. She would curl up on one of the chaise chairs and read away the hours. Christian fiction novels were her favorite books to read. Michelle took pride in her book collection.

  On the cocktail table, sat her latest delivery from Black Expressions Book Club. Michelle did so much reading that she vowed to take at least six months off from practicing law in the near future and write her own novel. Surely she could find something to write about. How she made it to the top as a young black attorney would be a great start.

  On the first floor of the town home were the kitchen, dining and living rooms. A half bath was just off the kitchen and a door adjacent to the bath led to the two and a half car garage where Michelle stored her Lincoln Navigator and late model Jaguar X-Type.

  Amaryllis loved the town home and was in awe of its décor and magnitude. As Michelle escorted her from room to room, Amaryllis could actually see herself in a home of her own. When Michelle opened the door to the garage, Amaryllis froze.

  Michelle saw the look on Amaryllis’ face. “What’s wrong?” Amaryllis couldn’t take her eyes away from the Jaguar. Michelle followed her gaze to the car and asked her again. “Amaryllis, what’s wrong?”

  Still unable to move or respond, Amaryllis kept her focus on the car. Michelle slowly walked and stood in front of her and saw tears on the verge of falling onto her cheeks. Amaryllis blinked an
d the teardrops fell onto her face.

  Michelle wiped the tears away. “Honey, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  Amaryllis forced herself to look away from the car and into her sister’s eyes. “You remember the guy I told you about; the one I lived with a year ago?”

  “Yeah, his name was Randall, right?”

  “He had a Jaguar exactly like yours.”

  Michelle didn’t see the connection between Amaryllis’ tears and Randall’s car. “Why is that upsetting you?”

  Amaryllis wiped her tears away. “Because I’m reminded of Black.”

  Michelle frowned. “Who?”

  “Black.”

  “Who is Black?”

  “Randall is Black.”

  “I know he’s a black man.”

  “No, his name is Black.”

  “Randall Black?,” Michelle asked.

  “No, Black is Randall.”

  Michelle shrugged her shoulders. “Amaryllis, you’re not making any sense.”

  “Black is the nickname I gave Randall because he’s so dark.”

  “Oh, I see. Thanks for clearing that up. But why the tears about the car?”

  “Looking at the Jaguar reminds me of the good times Black and I had. We went everywhere in his Jaguar before ...” She got choked up and couldn’t finish her sentence.

  Michelle wiped away the new tears that made their appearance. “Before what, honey?”

  “Before I asked Darryl to get his boys to trash it.” Amaryllis couldn’t hold the cry any longer. She shifted her weight, leaned on the door to the garage, put her face in her hands and let it all out. “Oh, Michelle, I’ve destroyed the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  Michelle reached out to her sister and held her tight. “Shh, it’s all right, sweetie. Come on and let’s get you off of this leg.”

  Amaryllis chose the largest guest bedroom on the third floor. Michelle helped her undress and get into bed. She fluffed the pillows for Amaryllis then brewed chamomile tea and brought her a cup. “This should calm your nerves a bit. Are you hungry?”

  Amaryllis took a sip of the tea, leaned back on the pillows, exhaled and closed her eyes. “I don’t have much of an appetite, but my shoulder is starting to ache. Can you get my pills? They’re in my purse on the dresser.”

  Michelle gave Amaryllis two pills then filled a cup with tap water from the bathroom faucet.

  “What is this you’re taking?” she asked Amaryllis.

  “It’s Vicodin. I love this stuff because it numbs my whole body.”

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t drink the chamomile tea right now.” Michelle knew the effects of chamomile. Whenever she needed to wind down after a difficult day in the courtroom, the chamomile tea acted as a lullaby. She worried what the tea mixed with the Vicodin may do to Amaryllis.

  “I want to drink it. I need all the relaxation I can get.”

  Michelle sat at the foot of the bed and watched Amaryllis drink the tea. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask, but I can’t guarantee a complete answer before the Vicodin kicks in.”

  “I’m curious about Darryl. Who was he and why did you ask him to trash Randall’s car?”

  Amaryllis set the empty teacup on the nightstand and positioned herself to lie comfortably on the bed. “Darryl is the man who’s got me looking the way I do. Back when I thought he was a nice guy, I asked him to do this favor for me because I was angry at Randall for cuttin’ off my gambling money.”

  “I thought you gave up gambling years ago. How much did this favor cost you?”

  “I paid with my body,” Amaryllis admitted shamefully.

  Michelle blinked her eyes repeatedly. “You what?”

  “You heard me,” Amaryllis said, feeling embarrassed by her past actions.

  Michelle couldn’t imagine her sister doing such a thing. “You sacrificed your body, Amaryllis?”

  “I’m not proud of it. Money became tight when Black got suspended from his job. Darryl was there financially to pick up where he left off.”

  “How long were you sleeping with Darryl?”

  “Long enough for him to rape and beat me up.”

  “Is he the reason you and Randall broke up?”

  “I guess you can say that. Black followed me to Darryl’s house one night and saw me stripping for him and his friends. When I got home that night, Black told me to get out of his house. He hasn’t spoken to me since. Now he’s married with three kids and living in a mansion in Oakbrook, Illinois. I’m supposed to be living in that house, Michelle. Those are supposed to be my kids. Black shared his dreams with me and I practically laughed in his face. And look at me now.”

  Amaryllis started crying again and Michelle patted her foot. “Honey, we all go through rough times. Nothing just happens. There’s something good coming out of your experience. The most important thing is that you learn from your mistakes and not repeat them. The next good man that comes in your life will be appreciated, right?”

  When Amaryllis didn’t respond, Michelle looked at her and saw that she was softly snoring. Michelle was glad her sister was in town. She hoped that this visit would be good for their father and Amaryllis to bridge the gap between them.

  Michelle and Amaryllis’s father, Nicholas, lived a saved life. Amaryllis was the complete opposite. She didn’t care about church or God. Michelle realized her sister’s soul was at stake and she vowed to do all she could to help Amaryllis develop a heart for God.

  Chapter 2

  Later on in the evening, as Amaryllis slept, Michelle decided to return to the firm to finish paperwork she had put aside when she left to meet Amaryllis at the airport. She was in the middle of looking over a brief when she glanced at the eight-by-ten photograph of her fiancé.

  Minister James Bradley was heaven sent and Michelle knew it. God confirmed that revelation shortly after Michelle set her eyes on him for the first time. James had swept Michelle off of her feet the moment he spoke to her.

  Michelle picked up the silver-plated frame that embraced the photo of the man that would soon be her husband. Looking at James’ smile, the corners of Michelle’s own lips curled upward. There wasn’t a stress filled day when his dimples hadn’t come to her rescue. She kissed James’ picture as she reminisced about the day God answered her prayer one year ago. It all happened on a Sunday night at the Praise Temple Church of God. Michelle had stood in the vestibule after the radio broadcast, talking to her best friend, Jodie Frazier, when out of nowhere, a perfect gentleman approached her. He gently applied his opened palm against Michelle’s lower back, interrupting her in mid-sentence.

  “Excuse me, I’ve been watching you for weeks and trying to get up the nerve to approach you. I’m drawn to your spirit and level of praise. Your true worship shows that you’re a woman after God’s own heart and I like that. And if no one has ever told you before, let me be the first to say that you are one beautiful black woman.”

  This stranger’s words had literally knocked Michelle off of her feet. She had only been a member of Praise Temple Church of God for a few months and hadn’t become acquainted with many of the members. She certainly didn’t know the Adonis standing in front of her. Dark brown eyes, skin the color of burnt butterscotch, a freshly groomed goatee blended with a mustache that cascaded upward to side burns stood in Michelle’s presence. She almost lost her balance when she inhaled his cologne, Tiffany’s Man. Michelle recognized the scent. Last Christmas she’d bought a bottle for seventy-five dollars an ounce for her father.

  The words that flowed from this gentleman’s lips had never been spoken to Michelle before. “Thank you,” she smiled.

  He smiled in return. “What’s your name?”

  Michelle saw deep dimples in each cheek and the whitest teeth she’d ever seen. His mother must’ve slapped braces on him at age five. Michelle immediately fell head over heels in love with a man whose name she didn’t know. When she realized his hand was still in place o
n her back she felt her body temperature rise fifty degrees. “Michelle Denise Price.”

  His smile got wider. No doubt, he was expecting only a first name, but she had given him three. “I’m Minister James Bradley. It is certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Michelle Denise Price.”

  James greeted Jodie, gave Michelle one last smile and walked away. Michelle’s eyes followed James as he entered the pastor’s office and closed the door behind him.

  “Jodie, who was that angel?”

  “James is Bishop Graham’s armor bearer. Whenever and wherever you see the Bishop, you see James. You’ve never noticed him before?”

  “No. Is he dating anyone?”

  “Not that I know of. James’ duties as an armor bearer have him so busy that no one can get close to him.”

  “Well, I’m gonna have to do something about that.”

  “I see stars in your eyes, Michelle. But you won’t get to James. He appears with Bishop Graham and disappears with him.”

  “Oh, I’ll get to James,” Michelle said with confidence.

  Driving home from church, Michelle couldn’t get James Bradley out of her mind. She muted the radio and talked to God. “What just happened back there, Lord? Is James the husband I’ve been praying for?”

  She reminisced what James had said to her only moments earlier. “I’m drawn to your spirit and level of praise. You’re a woman after God’s own heart and I like that. And you are one beautiful black woman.”

  Michelle couldn’t contain herself. She smiled at the recall of James’ words. “Oh God, can I please have him?”

  MY DAUGHTER, I’VE JUST DEALT YOU A PROMISING HAND. IT’S UP TO YOU TO PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT.

  The following Sunday morning, James was disappointed that he didn’t see Michelle at morning service. He had no clue where she was, but had a good idea who may know Michelle’s whereabouts. After the benediction, he sought out Jodie, who was making her way downstairs to the fellowship hall. “Praise the Lord, Sister Frazier.”

  “Praise the Lord, Minister Bradley, how are you?” Jodie smiled.