Carmen

by Nako

  Tossing out the idea of cooking, she stood up and grabbed her things. Carmen said, “I deserve a drink.”

  She closed her office door behind herself and took the long hallway where black and white photographs of her favorite designers lined the walls leading into The Showroom to see if any of her partners wanted to join her for a mid-day celebratory lunch. Carmen barely used the word employees, although she signed their checks and not the other way around. It was important to her that they knew their dreams had a voice. She didn’t expect anyone to stay with her forever. Carmen encouraged them to express themselves for the time being at The Showroom, until they were ready to spread their wings and fly.

  The smile on her face was a wide and bright one. Once she got to wherever she was going to turn up at, she would send the article out to her family and friends. Support meant everything to someone like her. There was no doubt, that she stood on the shoulders of her people to get to where she was in this present day.

  “I’m hungry and I want to drink,” she announced to no one.

  “We have some champagne in the back, want me to make you a mimosa?” Narie, her friend and partner asked.

  Carmen shook her head, “I was thinking a lemon drop or something stronger like a Sidecar…” she loved the Hennessy concoction.

  “Oh, you trying to get drunk-drunk, what time is it?”

  Carmen didn’t care.

  “The article dropped today!” she finally blurted out.

  Narie dropped her pen, “For real? Where it’s at?” she was as excited as her bestie was. Friends that went as hard as you did for your dream was a blessing.

  Carmen couldn’t wait until Narie really chased her dreams. She did hair full-time, but her passion was candle making and sis was the shit at it.

  Carmen handed her cell-phone to her and she read it aloud, attracting the attention of the few people in the building today, which consisted of designers pulling clothes for clients.

  “How do you feel?”

  She was crying all over again as Narie repeated certain words such as, fulfilling, vibrant, and original. The author did a great job of articulating her vision.

  Carmen exhaled loudly, “It’s a dream come true.”

  “A prayer answered,” she added.

  Whew, she was thankful. More than anyone would ever know.

  She wasn’t supposed to make it out of her house.

  That man tried to kill her.

  He didn’t even plead not guilty. He was in the wrong and he was aware.

  All Carmen wanted was happiness which couldn’t happen until she left him.

  She had a few more demons left in her closet that she was sure would be swept out eventually but the biggest one was her slimy, cruel ex-husband.

  She had lived to see another day and she promised God if He gave her the strength to get through that time, she was going to sing His praises forever more. A small prayer of, “Be it done unto me. According to thy Word,” is what got her through every dry season. One thing she never questioned or doubted was God. He was always in the forefront of every decision she ever made. Carmen was finally entering her winning season and it felt darn good.

  “Can we go celebrate now?” she was in a rush to partake in a mid-day turn up.

  Everyone looked at each other, not wanting to tell boss lady that they had a long day of expected visitors.

  “We deserve it y’all,” she said with tons of emphasis.

  They very well agreed.

  “We will be closing in five minutes,” the receptionist announced.

  Carmen didn’t wait around for anyone. She headed outside of the building and called an Uber. A few hours off wasn’t going to kill her. She didn’t join the masses when everyone was chanting, “team no sleep,” because she got plenty of it.

  That’s how she could still look this good and work as hard as she did.

  Sleep and prayer carried her a mighty long way.

  Giving her worries to God and letting Him handle her load.

  “Carmen Kincaid?” the Uber driver wanted to be sure, as she and two of her partners slid into the back seat of a Toyota Camry.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  Her name meant everything to her these days.

  η

  Jersey birthed her. New York raised her and California made her. She didn’t get homesick too often being that she didn’t really come from a large family. Her mother was a loner, the black sheep of her peoples. She often wondered is that how she fell under the spell of her father, Courtney.

  On nights like this, when she was home alone, she craved her mother’s good energy.

  Her warm hugs and the positivity that she radiated.

  She asked her several times over the past few years to move to Cali and live her best life, but Sheila refused. Claiming that Carmen had to sow her own roots.

  She called her and waited up until she heard her voicemail click in before she hung up and called back.

  It wasn’t like her mother to not answer the phone.

  She’d been a “housewife” since Carmen was born, what else could her momma be doing right now?

  Carmen was her whole life.

  She never worried about her because she was either at home or outside of the house in the backyard tending to her garden.

  Before she panicked, she went to fix a glass of wine. She was still buzzing from the drinks she had earlier in the day.

  They’d yet to wear off.

  On top of the alcohol, she was still reeling from the excitement around the article and the possibilities that were sure to roll in once people who hadn’t heard about The Showroom discover how cool the concept was. She could only pray the right people came to shop with her. Home girl didn’t have time to be dealing with people who only read the words, rent and runway. When she first started people would try her and not return the items. She had private showrooms in the building that were reserved for her trustworthy clients. Cases of Pigalles, Audemars, and Russian Sables were hidden. It took money to make money, that was the first lesson she learned the fast way when she launched her business.

  After ten minutes or so of daydreaming, she called her mother again and again.

  It was rare that she called the “house” phone.

  Growing up, it was always complicated trying to explain why she and her momma lived in the basement of a million-dollar house and her brother, who went to the same school as her and was considered her Superman, lived upstairs with their father and his mother. Many of her friends would etch their faces in confusion while others had no shame asking all kinds of damn questions.

  Carmen was often embarrassed and felt herself becoming defensive over the years to the point where she stopped having company at the house.

  Her mother would tell her all the time, “It ain’t nobody damn business how we live.”

  She wanted so much more for her mother but couldn’t make her see something that she refused to see with her own two eyes.

  It didn’t take her long to know what the hell she didn’t want and that was sharing a man with another woman, openly at that.

  Commitment was important to her.

  She held relationships to a higher standard although she didn’t see that growing up.

  She rolled her eyes as she called the first number she ever learned.

  The phone rung three times before the housekeeper answered.

  “Kincaid’s Residence.”

  They switched the staff so much she didn’t bother learning names anymore.

  “Hey, it’s Carmen, can you check on my mother?”

  “Carmen?” her tone held uncertainty.

  “My mom, Sheila. She lives in the basement,” she croaked.

  The woman said, “Oh yes…Ms. Traylor… she moved out last week,” the housekeeper informed her.

  “Huh?”

  She’d just spoken to her mother and often talked to her throughout the day. Not once had she mentioned she was moving out.

  Her mother…. mo
ved out?

  Carmen couldn’t believe this.

  “Uh, okay thank you.”

  She hung up and instantly called her brother.

  “In a meeting,” was the text message she received after he sent her to voicemail.

  Casey’s ass swore that he was always in a meeting. He was the busiest attorney she knew. Thankfully, that was the only thing he adopted from their father; his insane work habits.

  She called her mother’s cell phone for what had to be the twentieth time and then texted her, “Call me, ma.”

  She prayed that everything was okay and went to shower before bed. Tomorrow would be another busy day at The Showroom.

  While padding towards her master bathroom, she eyed the letter atop the marble counter. Mailed from a prison. Riker’s to be exact. The sender was Inmate No. 359691. Her ex-husband, Keiter, wrote her. The letter had been in that same spot for days. Nine days. When she first checked the mail, she assumed it was for their son, but her name was who it was addressed to. Carmen Kincaid.

  She’d went back to her maiden name and from what she’d been told during a casual conversation with her kid, he was enraged when he heard she dropped his name like a hot potato.

  Carmen sped up her pace, not wanting to dwell on wondering what he possibly had to say to her. If she never saw him again in her life, she would be just fine. There wasn’t any hate in her heart for him and it was only because they shared a seed. However, it was best that he stayed behind bars.

  It took her family longer to let the attempted murder go.

  Casey knew niggas and it always shocked her because they were true silver spoon babies. Trust fund. Private school and all of that.

  Yet, her brother was surprisingly accepted in the trenches.

  He was good everywhere he went, and he threatened to have Keiter murked behind those prison walls.

  Carmen told him that he would suffer more not being able to raise their son and be amongst his family.

  Death would’ve been too easy.

  From the beginning, she knew their marriage was a mistake.

  God wasn’t in the middle of the two.

  The union wasn’t ordained, at least not by a higher power.

  But… the old Carmen was such a people pleaser. She would do anything to finally feel as if her father accepted her and loved her the way he did Casey.

  She did everything his way and it was never enough.

  Carmen took his death hard for only one reason.

  She thought they had more time. There were so many things left unsaid.

  On one hand, she could count the “I love yous” she’d heard from him versus how many times she knew for a fact he told Casey.

  She never wanted to claim daddy issues, but she knew she had them.

  In the shower, as one of her playlists that she’d curated played softly in the background, she rubbed her body down in a lavender and mint scrub that her best friend, Narie made for her.

  The girl could cook up anything when it came to skin, nails and hair. She designed products that made being home a comfortable place.

  Carmen was sure to get every nook and cranny of her caramel skin.

  She loved her downtime.

  It was when her thoughts were mostly clear.

  She had peace of mind and it felt so damn good.

  Carmen had been single since she was shot and almost six years later, she was still as content as ever. Love was tricky. She was focused, there wasn’t any time for games. She’d dated every now and then, literally. She had to really be in the mood to entertain a nigga and the moments were rare. It never went further than dinner and a movie. No sleepovers and no sex. It seemed like dick came with complications these days and she was over having the blues. She was such a beautiful soul, and she possessed so much confidence that whomever she chose to really pour into would be the one. He would have to be. The way her relationship was set up with Christ, she knew He would clearly reveal to her who he was. And God ain’t tapped her on the shoulder yet so she was chilling in the meantime. Living her life, traveling, raising her kid, running and minding her own business was the path she was on right now. She wasn’t against love or commitment; she simply didn’t have any time to waste. Carmen turned around and rinsed her body before stepping out of the shower stall and drying her body. Natural long tresses inherited from her Tobagonian-American mother and sultry hazel orbs that her father passed down to she and Casey made her a sight for sore eyes. Most men found her alluring, Carmen would disagree. Her casual response was always, “I’m just a girl from Yonkers,” however, that was far from the truth. Carmen got a boob job after multiple surgeries from being fatally shot. On top of already having an hourglass shape, the voluptuous DD’s only enhanced an already beautiful picture. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and moisturized her skin with jojoba oil.

  She slipped on a pink negligee and went back into the living room to finish her wine.

  A glass of wine before bed guaranteed her a peaceful slumber. Still no word back from her momma and she was beginning to worry. Mom dukes had till the morning to get in contact with her before she booked a flight. Her mother was all she had, and she didn’t like not hearing from her.

  She couldn’t help but to read the article for what was now the billionth time in the last twelve hours. She felt giddy all over. National recognition for what was just a dream many years ago. A thought that she didn’t think people would understand or want to even support. Rented designer clothes? Rich people loved it. It helped with budgets for music videos, movies, television shows and even fashion shows and red-carpet appearances. Carmen had designers emailing her every day requesting certain looks and she became a one-stop shop. People were always telling her that The Showroom was a life saver and convenient. She was often flown out to sets around the world and that was her favorite part of her career thus far. Traveling on someone else’s dime was a blessing.

  Before she knew it, she had somehow fell asleep and woke up to her phone ringing and vibrating under the sofa pillow.

  She fumbled around for the device and lazily placed it to her face,

  “Hello?”

  “Carmen. This is Missy…well mom.”

  It sounded so forced.

  “Have you talked to your mother?”

  She came to all five of her senses rapidly.

  “No, no I haven’t.”

  Missy sighed, “Me neither. I just got home from a cruise. Nita told me that you called looking for her. Did she tell you she was moving out?”

  “Not at all. I’m actually confused. I talk to her every day. She hadn’t mentioned it at all.”

  “Maybe you should…fly in.”

  She was already thinking of doing that anyway but the tone that Missy was using made her think she knew something and wasn’t sharing it.

  “I’ll stop by as soon as I land.”

  Missy wouldn’t say much over the phone. She wasn’t Carmen’s mother and never tried to be, but she loved her dearly, whether Carm believed that or not.

  “Okay sweetheart. I will be here. Safe travels.”

  Carmen wanted to call Casey to see what he knew but if Missy had been traveling, he probably hadn’t talked to his mother anyway. Their relationship was weird if you asked her. She said a quick prayer, hoping her momma was fine. Lord knows, any type of bad news would shake up her world right now.

  She packed a quick overnight bag, booked her flight and told Narie she would be back as soon as she could. She trusted her friend to hold The Showroom down in her absence.

  She also planned on seeing her son since he was at his grandparents’ house for the summer. Carmen was out of her crib in less than an hour. The aching feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn’t due to the alcohol from the night before. Something was off, and she always trusted her intuition.

  Three

  Niggas die every day, can’t control that – Nipsey Hussle

  Carmen’s brother was at the airport waiting on her when she walked out
of the terminal. Her normal bubbly persona wasn’t what greeted him. She’d prayed the entire flight as her stomach did somersaults. Her nerves were shot.

  “Is she gone?”

  It was a straight-forward question that she expected a yes or no to.

  Casey looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “What the fuck, sis?”

  He tossed his hands in the air as he left her where she stood and went to get in his car. Carmen followed behind him closely.

  “Your mom made it seem like she was dead.”

  Missy was in the back seat and reached forward in between the driver and passenger, “No, I said that you should come home immediately.”

  Carmen shrieked loudly, “Oh my God! You scared the hell out of me.”

  Missy rolled her eyes and slid her Chanel sunnies back on her face.

  “Casey, take this child to her mother.”

  She didn’t care how old they got; they were still rug rats in her eyes.

  She could only deal with Carmen’s dramatics in doses and today, wasn’t the day. She’d returned from her trip and hadn’t been to sleep since.

  “Mom is cranky,” he told Carmen who didn’t say anything in response. She put her seatbelt on and slammed the door.

  Casey looked at his mother in the rearview mirror and shook his head.

  “If someone called you sounding all panicky, what would you think?”

  Missy chimed in, “You mean assume, because that’s what you did. You assumed your mother was dead.”

  She automatically expected the worse.

  “Okay, okay, let’s all take a breather,” Casey interjected.

  “Take a breather for what? Casey where the hell is my momma?” that was all she wanted and needed to know.