Young Wives

by Olivia Goldsmith

  “My sister always travels first class,” Michelle added. “You got a problem with that?”

  The woman recovered as best she could from her politically incorrect comment. Well, Jada thought, that’s the good thing about the islands. Fewer assumptions based on skin color down there. All of that may be good for my children. Maybe a white suburb was too difficult.

  “Have you packed all your own bags?” the airlines clerk asked. Jada nodded. “Have they been in your possession all the time?”

  “Yes,” Jada lied.

  “Has anyone given you any gifts?”

  “No,” Jada lied again, this time looking at the tickets.

  “Do you have any concealed weapons?” the woman asked, and Jada raised her eyebrows. Was that a standard question?

  “Only my tongue,” she said sweetly, and Samuel and Michelle both laughed.

  All that was left was for Samuel to hand over his passport and ticket. They were checked in. The whole group of them moved through the metal detectors. “Are we going, too?” Jenna asked, confused, though she knew the answer.

  “Kevon says they’re going to the beach,” Frankie said. “Can’t we go? Just for a little while.”

  Michelle and Jada kept herding the kids as they used to do, through malls, through grocery stores, through toy stores. At least here there was the distraction of the fast food court, moving sidewalks, and a new candy store—one with every imaginable sweet displayed in big plastic dispensers that made them totally irresistible. Oh well, Michelle thought. It would keep them busy until Angie got there.

  But where was Angie? They couldn’t separate without her. Michelle moved the kids in the direction of the candy store. “You have four minutes to fill your bags,” she told each of the children. “Samuel, do you think you could help Sherrilee?”

  He smiled. “I think I can manage it,” he said, and followed the toddler, who was already pointing to a bin of gummy worms. He was a nice man. Michelle wondered if anything would happen between him and Jada.

  Left in peace for a few moments, Michelle turned to her friend. Jada looked at her. “Okay,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Everything’s under control,” Michelle said. “You know it’s much safer to go to the Caymans than to Barbados. Samuel managed to fix the legal part and I fixed the other part.”

  “What’s the other part?” Jada asked.

  “The financial part.”

  “The Caymans take real money. I can’t go there,” Jada said. “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Michelle laughed.

  Angie was driving the Volvo like a bat out of hell. She thought that Clinton had been behind her when she was on the Merritt Parkway, but she wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Angie had actually enjoyed her job as the decoy. Now, driving Jada’s car and wearing a black braided wig, dark makeup, Jada’s sunglasses, and her overcoat, she was playing rabbit to Clinton’s greyhound. And just like at the dog races, she had to get to the goal long before the dog did.

  Frightened, she gunned the Volvo, though she knew that the Merritt was always filled with troopers only too happy to give out speeding tickets. She looked at her watch. She had to get to the airport and park the Volvo, filled with all of Michelle’s luggage and boxes, in time to say good-bye to both of her friends and their children.

  She could hardly believe that Jada was leaving the country for good. Not that she didn’t want her to get away—it wasn’t that. Michelle and Jada had been right—the system didn’t work for them, and they had stepped outside of it. As an attorney, she might not approve, but as a woman, she did. The fire at Jada’s house had been a real statement. Angie had changed into her costume and gotten to the Volvo, which Jada had parked around the corner, but as she drove away, she saw Tonya pointing at her. If she had been followed, it didn’t matter—if they got as far as the airport, they’d go for the wrong airlines.

  Angie pulled into the American Airlines lot, threw off the wig and sunglasses, wiped off her face, tore off the coat, and ran to the shuttle bus station. If Clinton had seen her, he certainly hadn’t followed her to the lot. But just as she crossed the street toward the departures curb, she looked back and thought she saw Clinton’s truck pull in beside the Volvo.

  God! She couldn’t wait for the shuttle to the other terminal! What if he followed her? What if he figured out that he wasn’t pursuing Jada at all, and that they’d pulled a switch on him? Did he already know the house wasn’t insured, that the kids and his meal ticket were gone? He’d be enraged.

  Angie realized that she couldn’t wait for a shuttle to pull up, and there were no cabs. She saw a Hertz van and waved it down, getting on as if she were on her way to her car rental. But had the van already passed Jada’s terminal? Or was it on its way there? Would the driver let her off? She’d have to play very stupid. Not so easy for someone whose brain was clicking as fast as Angie’s was at that moment. “Do I need to pick up my luggage before I get my car?” she asked the driver. “I’m so confused.”

  “Most people do,” he said, looking her over as if she was an idiot.

  “Oh. Then would you mind bringing the car to me at Terminal B?” she asked.

  “Lady, we don’t do that,” he told her and laughed. “You better get off at Terminal B. Get your luggage. Then get on the van.”

  “Are we near Terminal B?”

  “Next stop,” he said, only too happy to get rid of her.

  She looked at her watch. She only had twenty minutes before Jada’s departure. She bounded down the van steps, across the terminal floor, through security, and up to the gate. Thank God she immediately saw Michelle and Jada, surrounded by the kids, all of whom seemed to be chewing on something. She ran up and hugged the two of them. “I made it!” she exclaimed.

  Michelle looked around. “He didn’t follow you?”

  “I think he did for a while, but I lost him.” She handed the Volvo car keys to Jada. Jada turned and handed them to Michelle.

  “It’s yours,” she said, “though why you want the Volvo instead of the Lexus is beyond me.”

  “A new life, an old car. It makes sense to me,” Michelle answered. “Anyway, you do understand. I don’t want what Frank bought me.” She fished into her pocket and pulled out her own car keys. “These are for you,” she said, and handed them to Angie.

  “Your car? Oh no. I couldn’t take it. That’s a forty-thousand-dollar car.”

  Michelle shrugged. “Eighty-eight thousand, ’cause it’s fully loaded, but never mind the details. God knows where the money came from. But you’re an underpaid, over-worked, do-gooding mother-to-be, you’re going to need it. You can’t drive to the hospital to have your baby in your hunk of junk.” Michelle turned to Jada. “I also wanted to wait until Angie was here to give you this. It will explain about the Caymans.” Michelle handed Jada the canvas bag she’d been toting.

  Jada looked at the brown paper-wrapped, string-tied packages inside, raising her brows in question.

  “What’s six inches long, has a head on it, and drives women crazy?” Michelle asked.

  Jada smirked. “I have no idea. I never slept with a white man.”

  “Money,” Michelle said, ignoring her vulgar friend. “Paper money, and lots of it. You can count it on the plane.”

  Jada looked down at the bag and then back up at Michelle. “Samuel assures me you’ll have no trouble taking it into the Caymans,” Michelle said. “That’s what the Caymans are for. And don’t try and give it back. It’s like the Lexus. I don’t want any part of it. You’re doing me a favor. Buy yourself and the kids a nice house—one that’s finished.”

  Jada stood silently for a moment and then tears began to flow from her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d ever have friends like you two, and now I have to leave you?”

  “Flight three-two-one to the Cayman Islands is about to board. First class passengers and Premium Gold passengers may begin boarding at this time.”

 
“That’s us, Mama,” Shavonne said. “Come on!”

  “I don’t think I can go,” Jada told Angie and Michelle.

  “Are you frightened?” Angie asked. “I really think it will be okay. Your parents will come for a long visit. And I think you can depend on Samuel.”

  “No. It’s not that,” Jada said. “I’m not afraid anymore. I just can’t leave you two.”

  “Well, we’re leaving you!” Michelle said. “I’m getting in that station wagon of yours and driving. I’ve got houses to clean and new employees to supervise.” She looked at Angela then, and giggled. “Plus, Angie wants her apartment back so she can finally have somewhere to sleep with Michael.”

  “At least she doesn’t have to worry about getting pregnant,” Jada laughed.

  “Hey. How do you know I haven’t slept with him already?” Angie asked. “He really liked me in your wig.” The women hooted.

  “Well, we have a gift for you that he might not like,” Jada said. She looked at Michelle, who fumbled in her big purse and pulled out a wrapped flat package.

  “Oh, come on. You’ve already given me too many gifts,” Angie said.

  “You’ll want this one, sisterfriend,” Jada said and laughed.

  Angie tore the paper away and realized it was a frame. But the picture inside was unbelievable: Michelle and Jada grinning into the camera, wearing their sex clothes.

  “You saved me a Polaroid! How did you do it? The two of you in the picture at once. Who took the picture?”

  “The camera. I put it on the bureau and used the timer.”

  Angie stared at the photo of her two friends grinning. “The best memento I’ve ever had,” she said.

  Samuel came up to them then, which made Angie blush. “I’m afraid I have to say good-bye now. And I’m going to take the kids on board,” he said to Jada, “if that’s all right with you.”

  “No,” Jada said. “Just give me another minute or two. I’ll be right with you.”

  “Are you going to sleep with him?” Michelle asked Jada after Samuel walked away.

  “I don’t even know him!” Jada whispered, shocked.

  “That’s not what I asked,” Michelle said. “I slept with Frank for fourteen years and I never knew him.”

  “Jada, it’s time to say good-bye,” Angie said, reaching up and hugging the taller woman.

  “Look, I don’t know if I can come back here from the Caymans once I’ve done this thing,” Jada said, “but it doesn’t mean you can’t visit me. We don’t have to say good-bye. I mean, not a permanent good-bye.”

  “Are you kidding?” Angie said. “I’m bringing the baby down as soon as we can travel.”

  “And I want you to look around and see if they need a cleaning business in the Caymans,” Michelle told Jada. “There’s a lot of rich people with condos and they don’t want to have to mop up that sand themselves.”

  “Just as long as I’m not pushing a mop,” Jada said. “No domestic work for me.”

  They announced the last boarding call. “Agreed. You don’t do windows, but you do have to go,” Michelle said.

  “Who made you the boss all of a sudden?” Jada asked.

  “You did. The two of you did. I’ve become a boss, and I’ve done it on my own. I don’t know what I would have done without you two. Jada, you gave me self-confidence. And Angie, you took me in. You showed me what true friends were like.” Michelle kissed Jada. “I did it myself, but I owe you,” she said. Then she kissed Angie. “And I owe you, too. And Michael.”

  Jada hugged both of them. “I do have to go now,” she admitted, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Yes, you do,” Michelle said, suddenly serious. “Jada. Jada, promise me one thing. Promise us you’re not really running away to the Basketball Hall of Fame.” Angie giggled as Jada promised.

  Then Jada turned and walked over to Samuel, took Sherrilee up, and gently pushed Kevon and Shavonne in front of her. She turned to Samuel, said something, and started toward the ticket taker. Angie, Michelle, and the two remaining children yelled and waved.

  Jada turned back to look at them from the end of the jetway. The two women were standing in the doorway, arm in arm, waving.

  Michelle had the Volvo back in Westchester in less than an hour. The road was open and the driving was fine. She didn’t miss the Lexus or anything it represented. In fact, getting her old station wagon back felt good. She thought that Frankie and Jenna liked it, too. In fact, after about half an hour, they seemed to have fallen asleep.

  Michelle thought about the jobs that were waiting for her. She had found a place to rent—just a plain little modular ranch on half an acre, but she was renting it furnished, so it was a simple and affordable decision. She couldn’t put the house up for sale, because if Frank was found guilty it might all be claimed by the state. It wouldn’t bother her. The Volvo had the basics, and though she knew now that life wasn’t easy, she was determined to keep it simple.

  She didn’t know when she had begun, but as she turned off the highway she realized that she was singing. How long had it been since she’d sung? She smiled and sang a little louder. It was an old thing, something her grandmother used to belt out about a syncopated clock: ‘“There was a man like you and me, as simple as a man could ever be …”’ In the backseat, Frankie, who loved the song, chimed in. A moment later Jenna’s voice joined them. ‘“From far and wide the people flocked, to hear the syncopated clock,’” they all sang, and glancing into the rearview mirror, Michelle smiled at her smiling children.

  On the plane, Jada looked down. Samuel had insisted that she take the window seat. They’d been served champagne, with orange juice for the children. Then they’d had a delicious meal, and now ice cream with hot fudge sauce and cookies, warm out of the oven, were about to be served. It was the first, and possibly the last, time Jada would fly deluxe, but she had to admit it was very enjoyable. She looked out the window again, and for the first time she could see down to the ocean. They were flying over an island, although she didn’t know which one it was.

  She wondered what the Caymans would be like. Samuel had told her about his discussion with Michelle, and what preparatory work he had done. Now Jada bent forward and took the black canvas bag from under her feet. Slowly she opened it, but she didn’t remove the wrapped money. Instead she simply opened the paper.

  They were hundred-dollar bills and it looked as if there were dozens—no, hundreds, maybe even a thousand of them! For a moment Jada thought her heart might stop. She tore all the rest of the paper off, put both of her hands into the sack, and started to riffle through one of the stacks of money. She noticed each was carefully wrapped in the middle with a colored band; they’d used the same things at her bank. Each small bunch was a hundred bills—ten thousand dollars. She began to count the bunches. After she had counted past thirty—more than three hundred thousand dollars—she was having so much trouble breathing that she simply stopped, folded up the bag, and stowed it at her feet again. Meanwhile, Samuel was smiling at her.

  “Four hundred and eighty-two thousand dollars,” he said. “She gave the rest to the police.”

  Jada blinked, tried to speak, couldn’t, and cleared her throat. “And it’s mine?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. Michelle told me she wants nothing to do with it. She wants it to go to a good cause and we both agree you are one.”

  Jada shook her head. She was still having difficulty taking this in. “So the money is mine?”

  “Yes,” Samuel said. “And you’ll need it to establish yourself on the Caymans. They’re very prejudiced there, but only against poor people. With this capital, any interest you draw from it, and your new job, you’ll do fine.”

  “What new job?” Jada asked.

  “Well, there are a lot of banks on the island, as I told you. I think you have your choice, but of the three interviews I’ve set up, I would say that Island Bank will offer you not only the more interesting job, but also better pay.”

  Jada l
eaned back into the comfort of the plush first class seat. How had all of this come about? Should a girl simply listen to her mother and her girlfriends to be sure everything worked out perfectly? In her case, it had certainly helped. For the first time, she had the courage to look directly at Samuel Dumfries. “I want to thank you for your help, too,” she said.

  He smiled. “My pleasure.”

  Angie didn’t know how she would feel going back to the empty apartment. Lonely, she guessed, so she pumped up the sound system in the Lexus and enjoyed the drive. But when she got there, the apartment wasn’t empty.

  “We thought you might want some company,” her mother said as Angie walked in. Her father was there, too, sitting on the sofa reading a folded up Wall Street Journal in that mysterious way he had, turning pages in portions so the paper was no longer than his hand. That it was almost unreadable didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Well. What a nice surprise,” Angie said.

  “And nice or not, I’m here and I brought dinner,” Bill added. “Lucky thing, too, because as they say in the ads on TV, some assembly required.”

  Angie was grateful to see them all. Walking into an empty, echoing apartment probably would have been more than she could have tolerated at that moment. But that wasn’t all. Natalie moved her toward the door of her spare room, so recently filled with Jenna, Frankie, and Michelle. Now it wasn’t empty—it was filled with a crib, a changing table, a rocking chair, a pile of stuffed animals, and boxes and boxes of wrapped gifts. “From Jada and Michelle,” her mother told her.

  “No, the rocking chair’s from me,” someone said, and she turned to see Michael behind her, a pair of pliers in his hand. She was very glad to see him. “And they left this,” he said, handing her an envelope.

  Dear Angie,

  You’ll only get this letter if we’re not in jail. That means that our plan worked, and that we won’t be wearing matching jumpsuits for the next twenty years.

  We never could have done it without you (but you couldn’t have done it without us, either). We both agree that we’ve never had a friend like each other, or a friend like you. We love you.