Ms. Perfectly Imperfect: BBW BWWM Interracial Romance

by Roxy Wilson

  Gage put aside his menu. “Sweetie, can you please order the beef for me?” He rose from his seat. “Excuse me. I’m going to the washroom.”

  Layla felt this terrible urge to yank him back into his seat. She didn’t think it was possible for her to survive alone with his parents for even a few seconds. When he left, she smiled at them and glanced at the menu again, as if she was ready to memorize it.

  “You do know that this isn’t going to work out,” his mother hissed the words.

  Layla glanced up, not sure if she heard correctly. “What do you mean?”

  “It might look all good now, but when…if…you get married, he wouldn’t be able to tolerate the kind of lifestyle that you lead. Women like you, the ones who flaunt their bodies and lure men, are not really his type. I don’t know what he sees in you,” his mother muttered hatefully. Her gaze darted in the direction her son had wandered off to as if she wanted to say everything before he came back. “It’s a mistake, and the sooner you realize it, the better it is for everyone.”

  It was almost as if she was punched in the face. Never before did anyone talk to her in such a manner. The woman must be insane, and probably her husband too, because he stared at Layla as if he agreed with everything his wife said. So, they didn’t like her. Big deal. She could live with that because Gage loved her. If it were anyone else, she would’ve given them a piece of her mind, but Layla swallowed the anger threatening to engulf her. “You don’t know me, Mrs. Shelton. If we got to spend some time together, you’ll realize that I’m not such a bad person.”

  “It’s not about being good or bad, although how you can excuse away your shameless behavior with such ease, I’ll never understand…You don’t fit into my son’s life, and you’ll never be accepted into our family.”

  Just as Layla opened her mouth to speak, Gage slipped into his seat. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Layla said quickly.

  His mother put her hands on the table. “I’d decided early on, not to talk about it in the open, but I’ve now come to the realization that some things need to be said out loud.”

  “Mother,” Gage protested.

  “You don’t want me to speak about it. I understand.” She raised a hand to silence her son. “But I feel that I must tell her what to expect if she marries you. We, your father and I, are not happy with this decision. You’ve rushed into it, and I’m afraid that it’s going to end badly.”

  Layla glanced at Gage, sure that he was going to tell his mother off any moment now. So, he was well aware that his parents didn’t like her. He hid that fact from her probably, because he didn’t want to hurt her. Now, she finally understood why she never saw them before. But this was crazy. They couldn't insult her so openly and expect to remain on good terms with Gage. Surely, he would tell them off. This wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything to them, and yet they continued to harass her.

  Gage glanced away. Rather than say something, he just looked in another direction as if he couldn’t even hear his mother’s humiliating words.

  “You shouldn’t get married,” his father added.

  Layla couldn’t take the insults anymore. What the hell was going on here? The man she counted on to protect her, to stand in front of her like a shield, was actually looking the other way as if he couldn’t even hear the conversation. Although there was a lot that she could have said to shut them up, she didn’t want to make matters worse by opening her mouth. They accused her of being below their expectations, but it was actually they who failed their son.

  And Gage failed her.

  She stood up. “I’m leaving.” She straightened her spine, stared all of three of them down, one at a time, then spun around, and waltzed off.

  Gage marched behind her. “Layla, listen. I know they’re not talking sense, but just bear with me. Ignore what they’re saying.”

  She whirled to face him. The quick movement made her fashionable hat tip, and as she captured it with her hand, Layla was well aware that the bald patches on her head were clearly visible for a few seconds.

  The horrified look on Gage’s face told her that he didn’t miss anything.

  The murmurs that started among the people who were sitting closest to them told her that some of them saw it too. She glanced back towards the table where his parents were sitting. The open hostility on their face made her feel even more demoralized. Humiliated, she forgot what she was about to say. She rammed the hat back down on her head. “I should go.”

  Gage reached her before she could hail a cab on the street. His hand clasped around her arm. “What the hell is going on here? Your hair—it’s…”

  “It’s falling out. I went to the hospital a few days ago to do some tests. They don’t know…but they’re doing everything to find out the reason behind it.”

  Letting go of her arm, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to do so after I knew something more about it. This isn’t the right time to talk about that.”

  “So when is the right time? After you’ve made all the decisions?”

  “Don’t talk to me like that. You’re the one who sprung that surprise on me. We’ve been seeing each other for two years. It might have been better if you’d told me at some point that your parents didn’t like me. At least, I would’ve been prepared.”

  “What did the doctor say about the hair loss?” he asked as if he didn’t hear her accusations.

  She couldn’t believe that they were still talking about it as if she hid something monstrous from him. He was the one she needed to lean on and instead, he glared at her in an accusatory manner, as if she committed some grave error. “The doctors don’t know anything as yet.”

  When she stomped away, he made no attempt to follow her.

  Layla felt as if her world just collapsed around her. First her hair, then Gage’s parents, and now—him. What else did she have to endure before this nightmare came to an end? She hated it. It was terrible to feel that no one loved her enough to offer her some level sympathy, to gather her in their arms, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. She wanted Gage to do that. He was supposed to be her rock, but instead he was more worried about his parents and about the implications of her hair loss on his life.

  It’s just the shock, she decided. Surely, he felt devastated for her but couldn’t express himself. She didn’t tell him, and perhaps that’s why he was upset.

  Only once she was home did she allow herself to let loose the tears that pooled in her eyes.

  Couldn’t she get a break anywhere?

  What the hell was going on in her life these days?

  Everything seemed to be falling apart, and she didn’t quite know how to put it back together. When she closed her eyes, much to her surprise, the image that floated up to the top of her thoughts was of the handsome Dr. Collins. Layla opened her eyes in a flash. Why would she think about that man? She didn’t even know him…yet, somehow, she felt that if he was around, he would’ve been able to offer some comfort.

  Layla fell into an uneasy sleep, and when she woke up in the morning, she was greeted by the sight of more hair piled on top of her pillow. The sight triggered fresh tears to spring to her eyes. While mourning the loss and wondering if the doctors would soon get to the bottom of this mystery, her cell phone rang.

  It was Gage.

  She picked up. “Hello.”

  “Layla, what’s going on with you? You’re going through something terrible, and you didn’t even mention it to me.”

  Layla picked up a lock of her hair and curled her fist around it. No good morning. No declarations of love. Instead, he launched straight into an argument. “I didn’t want to tell you before I knew for myself what was going on.”

  “Is it a disease?”

  “I don’t know, Gage. I’ve no idea what it is.”

  “How long has it been going on?”

  “A week or two, I guess.”

  He let loose an e
xpletive. “You’ve known about it for weeks, and yet you didn’t tell me!” She heard him exhale a deep, gush of breath. “Look, Layla. I don’t think this is going to work out.”

  She felt too distressed to make sense of his words. “What isn’t going to work out?”

  “I need some time to rethink this decision.”

  She still didn’t get it. “Which decision?

  “About us getting married.”

  It felt as if a truck rolled over her. Where was the sympathy she expected? Where were the quiet mummers that everything was going to be all right? She wanted him to soothe her, calm her, but instead he was stepping away as if she were a leper—and right after she tolerated the humiliation that his parents piled on her lap.

  Another woman might have yelled and cursed, but she was too overwhelmed to talk. “Fine, Gage. Call me when you know what you want.” She hung up.

  Would she ever hear from him again?

  Would he come back?

  She didn’t have a clue. All she knew was that this man wasn’t the one she got engaged to. Gage, the one she loved, was always kind and loving. This man only seemed to be concerned about his thoughts, his needs, his image. She didn’t like it.

  Not one damn bit.

  Layla took a bath and slipped into a pair of jeans and a royal-blue cami. She felt too drained to give more thought to Gage and his horrible behavior. Perhaps she made a mistake by not telling him, but this wasn’t the kind of response she expected. While she pondered over the possible implications of his behavior, the doorbell rang.

  Without thinking, Layla opened the door.

  Her mother breezily strode in without looking at her. “Good morning, darling. It’s been a while, so I thought I should drop in to take a look at you. You’re so busy with your life that you’ve forgotten about me.”

  “That’s not true, mom.” She wanted to run into the bedroom and cover her head with a scarf, but it was too late.

  Her mother already turned towards her. “I tried to call you two days ago, but your phone was switched off. I was—” Her mouth fell open, and the high-pitched scream which emanated from her lips pierced the air. She pointed at Layla’s head, ran forward, and grabbed her shoulders. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

  She glanced down at her mother who was almost a foot shorter than Layla’s almost 6-foot frame. “It’s falling out.”

  “Falling out? What do you mean?” she shrieked.

  This wasn’t a good idea at all. Layla wished she could’ve kept her predicament from her mother for some time. Mary, her mother, never reacted positively to any change. She wouldn’t take it well. “I’ve been to the doctors already, mom. They’re trying to find out the reason behind it.”

  Her mother’s hand flew to her chest. “Your hair. Your beautiful hair!” Her slate-gray stare looked incredulous. “What—” Mary shook her head, as if her brain was not processing what she saw with her own eyes. “How—”

  Layla’s gaze traveled to her mother’s hair which was exactly the color of hers. Or had been when Layla boasted a head full of hair. It was the one thing she’d inherited from her mother. Actually, it was the only thing they had in common.

  Now…it was disappearing.

  Mary wasn’t going to take it well, as evidenced by the color virtually draining from her apricot-colored skin. When she collapsed on the couch, prostate with grief, Layla sat next to her to offer her some consolation. Once more, she was struck by the strangeness of this situation. Mary should have comforted her, but it was the other way around. “It’s going to be okay, mom. I’m sure they’ll find a cure for this.”

  “Is it a disease?”

  She winced at the same question Gage asked. “They’re not sure as yet. It will take time before the doctors find some answers, but I have to go back to the hospital soon.”

  Her mother hunched on the couch. “I should stay over here until all this is sorted out.”

  Layla didn’t think it was a good idea. Mary could be a hyperactive, controlling woman who was ridden with anxiety. Her mind had long ago deteriorated and all she could spout were lists of fears and caution. She wasn’t a good influence on Layla and living with her would bring to life all the doubts Layla managed to suppress or deal with ever since she became independent, when she turned 18 six years ago. “Mom, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” Mary stated as she stood up. “I’m going to bring my stuff and stay here in case—anything happens to you. It’s not good to be alone at a time like this.”

  At a time like what? She wasn’t sick… not really. And she wasn’t dying. What did her mom think was going on? “I’m fine, mom. You don’t need to turn your life upside down for me.”

  “I insist.” Mary sniffed. “Do you have sherry? I need to calm my nerves after the shock I just had.”

  The shock that she just had? Layla was the one going through shit, but there would be no point arguing with her mother. She was like a force of nature. Once she settled on a course of action, nothing could deter her. “I’ll get some for you.” She went into the kitchen, took out her bottle of sherry and a glass.

  Mary came in. “Never mind, dear. I’ll manage myself. Why don’t you go and rest?”

  Layla checked her watch. She was running a bit late. Mary’s unexpected visit threw her off her schedule. Just because she was suffering from hair loss didn’t mean she could ditch her assignments. “I actually need to go to work, mom.”

  She hoped her mother would take the hint and leave but she poured a glass of sherry. She took a delicate sip and shuddered. “Go ahead, dear. I’ll be right here when you come back. It shouldn’t take me that long to gather my stuff, and don’t worry about letting me in or anything. I have the spare key of your apartment at my place. When I come back, I’ll use it to get in.”

  Layla resisted the urge to bang her hands on the counter. Frustration bubbled through her. She loved her mother, but the woman sure could get on her nerves. If they had to stay together for long, she would probably end up saying something that would start World War III, but this wasn’t the time to argue with her mother. When she was on a mission, nothing could stop her.

  “Take care, mom.” She kissed her on the cheek and hurried into her room. After putting on her hat, she picked up her purse and phone. Once she got out, Layla took a deep, fortifying breath. The situation would resolve itself soon. At least, that was her hope. Mary’s presence was likely to make her life even more problematic. She wasn’t a calming influence at all.

  When she got to the studio, Layla was faced with another problem. “This just wouldn’t do,” said Francis, the hairdresser, as he examined her. “I can’t work with this. Your hair is a mess. You’ll have to wear a wig.”

  Tears stung at the back of her eyes but she pushed them back with a force of will. It wasn’t as if she created this situation. “Do you have one at hand?”

  “Yeah. But I think we should cut your hair and make it really short for now. That way a wig will fit easily and you can wear it all the time.”

  Layla didn’t like it, but the idea made sense. The bald patches were now all too obvious. She couldn’t even hide them, and it wasn’t practical to wear hats all the time. After remembering what happened in the restaurant, she thought it was a better idea to wear a wig instead. Her heart clenched as she pondered over this dilemma. Cutting off her hair was a huge thing but under the circumstances, it was the ideal solution. “Go ahead.”

  Even though Layla was aware of the low murmurs that continued when he began chopping off her hair, she didn’t bother to check to see who might be talking. Naturally, the news regarding this would spread far and wide. Gossip traveled at the speed of lightning in the modeling industry. People thrived on it. Her competitors were bound to have a big laugh over this, but she couldn’t allow them to bring her down. She would fight this till the end.

  After being fitted with the wig and the makeup done, Layla walked to the set to start the photo shoot. Much to her surprise, no one commen
ted as she continued with her work. Surely, the photographer knew about her hair loss by now, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash at her new hairdo. The wig she wore looked quite similar in color to her own hair, and it was a good fit. Once pack up was announced, she collected her belongings.

  “Layla, wait a minute.” The photographer came over. “Good job today. I believe we’re working tomorrow with another client.”

  “Yes, we are.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I just wanted you to know I’m glad that you’re continuing with your work despite—the troubles you’re facing right now. This is true professional behavior, and I just wanted to congratulate you on it.”

  Amazed that he would show such support, she hugged him. “Thank you.”

  Feeling slightly better, she hailed a cab and went home. It was already eight in the evening. All she wanted to do was take a hot shower, have a meal, and go right to sleep. All this worrying about her hair and the continuous pressures of work made her feel tired. Entering her house, she felt surprised to find it dark.

  Perhaps her mother didn’t bother to come back.

  With a sigh of relief, she strode in and dropped her keys in the bowl next to the main door. She pulled the wig off and shucked off the wig cap, thankful that Francis didn’t use a lace-front wig, in which he might have had to use glue or tape, making it a little more complicated for her to take off.

  A loud, piercing scream reverberated in the silence and Layla jumped. She ran back to the room and switched on the light. When the light flickered to life, she saw her mother, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, and rocking back and forth on the couch.

  “Mom?”

  “Go away.”

  “Mom—?”

  “You—you—bastard.” It seemed Mary could barely control her rasping breaths.

  “Mom, what’s going on?” Layla rushed over to her mother and stretched out her hand to comfort her.

  Mary’s eyes bulged. “Get away from me!”

  Layla’s stomach churned. She couldn’t figure out what could have triggered this episode.