Distorted Perceptions

by Diana W

  Submerged in the details of the final phase of Sultry’s marketing plan, the sound of heels approaching made my head pop up.

  “Uhh Cass,” Erica approached with an uneasy expression. “The guy from that day, is out in the front asking for you.”

  Automatically I knew that was a Julian reference. Erica didn’t have to, but she kept that situation quiet for me and I appreciated her discretion.

  “Did he say why?” I asked already borderline annoyed.

  “You’ll see,” her eyebrows hiked.

  I stood up and walked out the backroom with Erica following suit. Standing near the two registers, Julian held what had to be more than two dozen long stemmed roses in his hand with a smirk that could part the Red Sea.

  I managed to plaster a smile on my face and approached him. “Julian...to what do I owe the pleasure? And at my job?” I muttered that last bit out.

  “Well Beautiful, I could tell you weren’t feeling your best today so I decided to give you a reason to smile.” He held up the roses towards me and for the sake of saving face, I happily took them.

  “Hooooow thoughtful,” I sang uncomfortably.

  Now, it’s not that I didn’t appreciate the gesture. It was sweet, romantic, and all that other tooth decaying mess but again, did I or did I not tell him that I would call him later?

  “Erica,” I turned behind me to see her wearing this look of adoration. “Can you please put these in the back for me?” I almost shoved them into her chest.

  She seemed a bit shocked but quickly rebounded and disappeared from view.

  “Julian, let’s walk outside.” My hand landed on the small of his back as I guided his large frame out of the entrance and stopped just shy of the curb.

  “Thank you for doing that,” I looked up to him, shielding my face from the blinding noon sunlight. “But next time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it here.”

  Julian’s smile dropped into a scowl. “What? I come over here to try and put a smile on your face and that’s your response. The fuck is up with that?”

  I folded my arms. “This place is a temporary space for me Julian and I would like to keep my personal life separate from it,” I admitted. “And since we’re talking about it, lately I think the lines of this thing we’re doing, are starting to become blurred.”

  “This thing?” He repeated with in an offended tone.

  “Yes, this thing. Weren’t you the one who said we were having fun?” I reminded.

  “So, I can’t be a little romantic while we’re having fun?” He challenged. “The fact that I like you outside of your pussy is a problem for you?” He was now louder than I appreciated as a few people walked by looking noticeably uncomfortable with his choice of words.

  “Julian,” I attempted to calm him.

  “Nah Cass, you’re coming at me real reckless right now and I don’t appreciate this bullshit.”

  See what happens when I try to be respectful.

  “Quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck what you do or don’t appreciate. Now I told you how I felt so you can either deal with it or move the fuck around but whatever you choose, keep it away from this damn store,” I snapped, giving him one hard final look as I prepared to walk off.

  Just as I barely passed him, I was snatched at the arm and spun back in his direction.

  “You need to watch how you talk to me. You owe me more than you realize,” he spit off as I stood there shaken up with wide eyes. It only took me a second to realize what had just happened.

  “Julian,” I tried my best to sound calm. I should’ve asked him what he thought I owed him but that wasn’t the problem at hand. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but you need to get your hands off me.” My eyes bounced between his grip and his eyes. I wouldn’t dare show it, but it honestly scared the hell out of me.

  He immediately released his hold, shaking his head in the process.

  “Shit, I’m sorry Cass. My bad baby.” He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his Khaki’s. “It’s just that we go from having these great times with each other and then all of a sudden it’s like I’m a problem today.”

  “I’m not trying to frustrate you,” I admitted honesty, still backing away some as a precaution. “I just need you to understand that this thing with Elliott is fresh, real fresh. There’s a bunch of things that I have to wrap my head around. It's emotionally and physically draining. I need you to understand and respect that for me.”

  He nodded remorsefully. “I do, and I apologize again. I didn’t realize I was still this high strung when it comes to you.”

  High strung aren’t the exact words I would have chosen but I did recognize this Julian. The possessive one that wanted me to be in his face twenty-four hours a day. I mean that was fine for me when I had no other obligations and responsibilities to worry about, but we weren’t those “kids” anymore.

  I took a deep breath. “It’s fine but I do need to get back to work.”

  “Ok.” His head dropped a bit. “Are we good?”

  Although reluctant, I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re good.”

  He accepted that response with a nod. “Text me later.”

  “Will do.” I waved goodbye and made my way back inside, breathing a sigh of relief. I felt like I had just deescalated a bomb threat.

  Erica was completing a purchase with a customer and at first sight of me, quickly handed them their bag and receipt.

  “You ok?” She asked me off to the side.

  “Yeah,” I rubbed my forehead. “Yeah I am. “

  “Ok good. I take it that he wasn’t a welcomed surprise?”

  “Surprise? Yes. Welcomed? No,” I admitted but then again that was my fault for not having boundaries laid out.

  “What should I do with the flowers then?” She asked, seeming to read my mind.

  I started to tell her to throw them in the dumpster in the back but had a different idea at the sight of this young couple looking at different items, specifically some garter belts.

  “Give her one,” I pointed to the woman of the pair. “As a matter of fact, give them to every female customer that walks in here. That just might solidify a purchase.” I gave her a wink before heading to the back.

  I immediately started packing up my laptop bag and purse. I needed to make a stop when I left here.

  Chapter 15

  “Please don’t slam the door in my face,” I pitifully begged from the steps of the porch.

  The door cracked open just a little bit more. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “Because I'll tell mom that you snuck that grown ass man in your room when you were younger.”

  Denise opened the door fully with an annoyed scowl, “I was seventeen and he was a sophomore in college. Stop trying to make him sound like a pedophile.”

  “Tomato. Tomatoe,” I shrugged. “You know damn well she wouldn’t see it that way.”

  Denise still didn’t make a move to let me in which prompted Plan B.

  “I brought food.” I held up the bag filled with fried shrimp and fries from one of our favorite spots on the Westbank. I knew she saw the logo.

  She rolled her eyes and retreated inside. “This doesn’t change anything.”

  “I know,” I admitted following her into her house that reminded me just how much money her and Gerald made as a unit. It looked like a photo plucked directly from a Southern Living magazine. Denise was a style mastermind which is why she opted for becoming an interior decorator. She didn’t have to work every day but when she did get involved in a project, you could expect greatness followed by a hefty bill.

  I placed the now greasy bag on one of the kitchen counters nearest the entranceway. Denise opened up one of the large walnut cabinets and pulled out two turquoise dinner plates. I started to ask if she had any disposable ones but then I remembered who I was dealing with. She was the weirdo that actually didn't mind washing dishes.

  “You’re not going to ask
me why I’m here?” I watched her take her own portion of food from the boxes, retrieve a bottle of ketchup from the pantry and carry it all to the kitchen table.

  “Nope,” she sat down and plopped a fry in her mouth.

  I dumped some of the food on my own plate and took a seat next to her. Her sudden loud smacking on piece of shrimp to annoy me, told me she wouldn’t stop until I spoke up first.

  “Elliott and Julian crossed paths with each other last night,” I opened the ketchup bottle and drizzled it over the contents on my plate.

  Denise briefly stopped chewing, taking in that information I’m sure but then resumed.

  “Elliott was so mad. I mean pissed. Like... I’ve never seen him like that.” I stared down at my food. “He said some things. Well a lot of things about our marriage. About me,” I swallowed back the tears that suddenly popped up. “It really hurts to know he views me like that. That you view me like that.” I finished. Even Julian’s reaction earlier played a part in this epiphany I had been struggling with. “It’s fucking with me.” I quickly wiped my eyes and ate a few pieces of fries. “I didn’t know I had become that horrible of a person.”

  When she didn’t respond, I looked up to find her staring sympathetically at me. “You're not a bad person Cass.”

  I snorted, sniffling back some tears, “Yeah ok. I just suck at marriage, being a sibling, and apparently, being a decent human being in general.”

  “Stop.” She held my hand. “You have some ways about you that aren’t the best but don’t confuse that with who you are.”

  I huffed, “That sounds pretty much the same to me DeeDee.”

  Denise shook her head. “It’s not.” She scooted her chair closer. “When that kind of trauma that you experienced with Shanice happens, there’s always going to be a residual effect. Yours just happened to be a two-fold kind of situation. You got past the depression but created this persona in the process and Elliott, like the rest of us, fed into it, instead of attempting to correct it. Nobody wanted you to hurt like you did before, so we constantly excused some of your actions.” She sighed. “We kind of all dropped the ball and I’m just sorry all of this is coming at you all at once.”

  So... I was a bitch and everybody knew it.

  No…I was a selfish bitch and everybody knew it but me.

  I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than I did last night but here I was. “I don’t wanna be this person,” I held my face in my hands. “I’m sorry DeeDee. I’m sorry for everything over the years and not being there like I should’ve been. And Elliott...” My voice cracked at his name. I held my mouth to keep from spilling out how much I regretted things that went down between us.

  “I accept your apology, but you should tell Elliott whatever that is you’re feeling.” Denise offered a lop-sided soft smile.

  “No, I can’t.” I shook my head profusely. “There’s no point. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me last night. I felt like a stranger. And then this whole baby situation.”

  “There’s always a point,” she cut me off. “You don’t know impactful hearing that from you may be for him. Just try.”

  I didn’t agree to it, but Denise patted my hand to inform that she knew I would. She went back to eating but looking noticeably flustered.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, sobering up from my own helpless feelings.

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m here offering advice about what to tell Elliott and can’t even confront my own damn husband.”

  “About the thing?” I implied. “You found out more info?”

  “Did I,” her eyes got wide.

  She then proceeded to tell me everything she said she tried to tell me the last time we saw each other which was some shit that I didn’t think could confuse me more than I already was about the situation.

  “So how are you going to ask him about it?” That was some uncomfortable mess to bring up to anybody much less Gerald.

  “Well Cooper thinks I should just be straightforward about it.”

  “Who the hell is Cooper?” I sat there trying to run names through my memory banks. I’m sure I would've recognized a Cooper.

  “Oh,” she smiled shyly. “This guy I met at the bar and...”

  “Umm no,” I cut her off. “Don’t be confiding in some random man you just met. Are you trying to be divorced right along with me?” I fussed. No way in hell was I going to be ok with this and neither would Gerald if he found out.

  “It’s not like that Cass,” she whined.

  “Is he gay?” I countered.

  “No but...”

  “But nothing.” I held my hand up. “If he ain’t roping another penis with his own, then he has no business trying to be your friend. That’s a tactic and I know you know better.”

  “Ok fine,” she conceded with an eye roll.

  “So, let’s work on what you’re going to say to him.” I finished eating.

  Chapter 16

  I tried to blend in with the few stragglers filing into the room, taking the first available seat I could find in the back. My hands involuntarily quivering at my attempt to play it cool. Rattled nerves competing with the rattling my phone had been doing non-stop in my crossbody purse. I didn’t bother checking it because I was well aware of who it was.

  Julian started with a few text messages that evening after our “incident” in front of Sultry. Mostly making sure I was good and then inquiring about how the rest of my workday went. Now in my defense, I did plan on responding but when I finally made up with my Denise, spending time with her became top priority. When I left her house, I felt like I needed a quiet moment to myself to digest a lot of the ugly truths that were thrown at me by both, her and Elliott. I mean it’s not every day you hear how fucked up your ways are from two people that close to you. So yes, I stayed away from my phone, social media, and even tv to use that time for my own personal reflections and no, I wouldn’t apologize to him or anybody else for doing so. A normal person would’ve given me a few days to get back to them, but Julian wasn’t proving to be in that majority.

  “Good evening everyone” were the words that quickly brought my attention to the center of the large lecture room.

  Elliott walked in, dropping his leather satchel on the table near the large digital whiteboard and heading straight for the podium. “Keeping with our colorful discussion on integration, no pun intended,” he flashed his students a brief smile that oddly made me do the same, “did anyone see the news last night?”

  A few hands went up.

  “So, you saw the story about the double murder in the East?” He logged into the room’s computer.

  “Isn’t there always a double murder in the East?” A male voice from the right of the room responded.

  Can't argue with that.

  It wasn’t a secret that New Orleans East had not so creatively been nicknamed the Wild Wild East since its rebuilding post-Hurricane Katrina. The shock was when a crime occurred anywhere else in city.

  Elliott nodded in agreement to that sentiment, “Can’t debate you on that but my question is, how did it make you feel when the story came up?” The presentation for his lecture popped up on the screen and he walked back in front of the single table, leaning against it. “When they told you the ages of the victims? The ages of the shooters?”

  Something about his laid-back stance and the way his brown tweed jacket complemented the dark blue and white plaid shirt in addition to his dark blue tie, made me bite my lip. I’d never seen either one of those items of clothing and if he did own them before he moved out, he never once put that combination together. His beard was still curly but lined up to perfection right along with his hair. He looked good. Real good.

  “I mean it’s sad something that senseless keeps occurring but to be honest, I barely blink an eye at it anymore.” A female in the front row responded. “That’s just our city.”

  “That’s. Just. Our. City,” Elliott repeated, drawing out his words for emphasis. “And
is it alarming that this type of crime is occurring at higher rates in the area of the city we are heavily populated in?”

  “Dr. Watson, please tell me you’re not buying into this black on black crime propaganda the media keeps shoving down our throats to distract from the senseless yet constant wrongdoings of certain white people of power?” Another female to the front asked sounding annoyed. Her question wasn’t relevant to what he was asking but I was curious to see how he’d handle it.

  “Is it propaganda or poorly placed, ill-timed facts?” Elliott challenged with that dimple of his threatening to reveal itself.

  “Propaganda,” she repeated. “There’s white on white crimes too. Hell, none of the nutcases that carry out mass shootings look like me or you,” she finished getting a few others to amen her.

  “That’s not the discussion we’re having Miss Waters. I’m talking about what’s happening in our communities. Getting to the root cause of it. Remember that integration is the theme we’re on. How that affected our communities. Good and bad.”

  “We’re going to commit crimes based on who we’re sharing our community with. Again, I don’t see why it’s alarming.”

  Elliott stood up. “What if I told you there was a more than fifty percent hike in crime in 2006 than 2004. Just in New Orleans. Does that hint at that issue?”

  When the girl didn’t respond, something in me pushed words from my mouth before I could stop myself. “Our city has been racially and economically lopsided since Katrina hit in 2005.”

  Elliott’s eyes shot up to me. His surprise was evident, but he didn’t waver in his demeanor. “Continue,” he rebounded, folding his arms in front of him.

  “Gentrification,” I attempted to speak louder, “or the new age segregation, has pushed us, to the East for more affordable housing, yet we lack the basic essentials in our neighborhoods like major grocery stores, decent schools and most importantly, sufficient jobs.”

  Elliott nodded. “And what happens during those types of situations?” It was a question that should’ve been directed to the class, but it felt more and more like we were having a one-on- one.