by Tina Martin
“Am I a bad person?” he asked her.
“Well, Suh...”
“Be honest with me, Beatrice.”
“I think you’re harsh wit’ certain peoples,” she told him. “You’ve always treated me kind, and I ‘preciate that, but you treat lil’ Mrs. Gabrielle like she has a plague. And she’s such a sweet girl.”
“She is a sweet girl,” he admitted.
“Don’t think I heard you correctly,” Beatrice said, sounding bewildered.
“I said she’s a sweet girl,” he repeated, covering his face with his hands. “Did you know what she did for my Father?”
“What do you mean?”
“You remember when my Father was sick?”
“Yes, when he needed the bone marrow and y’all boys were all rallying fuh matching donors. I ‘member that.”
Dilvan nodded. “Gabrielle was a match,” Dilvan said, swallowing hard. He dared not cry. “My Father is alive because of her, and I hurt her. I hurt her, Beatrice, because I was upset with my Mother and I took it out on Gabrielle when all she ever tried to do was love me.” Dilvan’s face turned a shade of red. He hid his face in shame, then stood up, walked down the stairs, out onto the dark beach.
CHAPTER 14
Gabrielle
- - -
“Have you ever tried tiramisu?” Tyson asks as he opens the fridge and takes out a container.
“No.”
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing towards one of the four white barstools that lines the opposite side of the island he’s working from. The kitchen has an eclectic, industrial type feel – the biggest room in the house – with stainless steel appliances, a double oven, and a French door refrigerator with thru-the-door ice and water. The island countertop, as well as all the other countertops in the kitchen, is lime green quartz. Charcoal-colored tiles cover the floor, which works well with the lime green, white and silver colors of the kitchen.
I sit down and watch him tie on a white apron.
“I made these lady fingers a few days ago, but instead of making them like rolls, I made them in cupcake form. I like to serve tiramisu in little glass dishes.”
“And how do you make lady whatcha-ma-call-its?”
He looks at me and smiles. “Lady fingers.”
“You know what...nevermind. You must get tired of talking about food.”
“No, not at all. I’m actually surprised you’re curious. Most people don’t care about the process, as long as they get the finished product.”
“Well, I can cook a little, but I’m not good with making dessert, so I’m very intrigued by this.”
“Cool. So, um...to make the lady whatcha-ma-call-its,” he says, then winks at me, “All you do is mix eggs, white sugar, all-purpose flour and baking soda. Of course they would be measured out appropriately, depending on how much tiramisu you’re making.”
“Right.”
“It bakes for eight minutes, and it’s done. I soaked them in espresso and rum and now that they’re no longer soggy, I’m going to layer them between mascarpone cream.”
He pops the lid off of the container he took from the refrigerator and says, “Taste.”
“Huh?”
“Taste it. Dip your finger in it.”
“What is it?”
“Just taste it, sweetie.”
I cautiously push the tip of my index finger into the mixture and he watches as I lick it from my finger. “This is good. What is it?”
“Mascarpone cream, made of mascarpone cheese, heavy cream, sugar and egg yolk. So what I’ll do with this is layer it between the lady fingers.”
I watch him work and once he’s assembled the dessert, he sprinkles on cocoa and chocolate shavings.
“And voilà. This is Gabrielle’s tasty tiramisu.”
He brings a dessert dish around to me with a spoon. Sitting at the barstool next to me, he says, “Dig in.”
“Where’s your spoon? I know you don’t expect me to eat all of this by myself after you’ve done all the hard work?”
“Okay. I’ll get a spoon.”
Tyson stands, takes off his apron and grabs a spoon. He’s back, sitting next to me and we take a spoonful of dessert at precisely the same time, tasting it.
“Mmm...this is very good, Tyson.”
“Glad you like it.”
As we continue eating, I give the kitchen another once over. He has just about every kitchen appliance any chef would dream of.
“So tell me a little more about yourself, Tyson.”
He grins.
“What?” I ask him.
“You know plenty about me...you know I’m a chef...that I’m your husband’s first cousin and...”
“I mean personally...like you pretty much know all about my personal business with Dilvan and all. So what about you? Is there someone special in your life?”
He gives me an inquisitive glare that almost transforms into a frown.
“What?” I ask.
“The way you phrased your question makes it sound like Dilvan was special to you.”
“No...that’s not how I meant it. I...I was just trying to ask you if you were involved with anyone.”
“No. I’m not. Now you would like know why, right?”
I don’t answer him, but still, he says, “I was in love with a woman about five years ago. We were engaged, actually, but she got a job offer in Chicago and I owned my own restaurant in Atlanta and wasn’t willing to pick up my entire life and go to Chicago. So we split up, and now she’s happily married with two small kids, still living in Chicago and I’m here.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
“It didn’t feel right.”
“But you ended up moving from Atlanta anyway to the Outer Banks, so you could’ve just moved with her.”
“Nah. Besides, we’d gotten into a huge fight...she said I wasn’t supporting her dreams as much as she supported mine and one day I came home from work and she was gone.”
“Just like that?”
He nodded. “Yep. Just like that.”
“So how do you know she’s married with kids?”
“I hear things, you know...but I have no hard feelings. I know I did the right thing. Sometimes you have to listen to your mind and not your heart.”
“Trust me, I know that all too well.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I didn’t say anything before, because I didn’t want you or Padma to look at me like I was foolish, but I actually didn’t want to leave Dilvan’s house. I mean, in my mind, I have this image of what Dilvan and I could’ve been if he was a sane individual,” I say with a chuckle. “And even when I knew it was time to go, my heart still wanted him to love me.”
“I don’t think that’s foolish at all. My sister went through something similar with her ex...boy could she tell you some stories.”
“Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet her one day.”
“Maybe.”
I take another spoonful of tiramisu, savor it because it’s my last and then lay the spoon on the table. “Tyson, do you have a home phone?” I ask him, because I want to call my Father and talk to my sisters before I go to bed.
“Nah, I don’t have a home phone, but you can use my cell.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t have a cell phone?” he inquires.
“No. Dilvan didn’t allow me to have one.”
Tyson shakes his head. “So how were you able to contact your family?”
“Whenever I would go to Padma’s house, I secretly called them from there.”
Tyson takes his cell phone from the countertop and says, “Here you go, dear. Use it whenever you want.”
He stands, stretches his muscular arms high up in the air and says, “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Okay. I’m going to call my Father. Hopefully he’s still up. I’ll leave your phone on the counter.”
“Okay, Bri,” he says, then began walking towards his bedroom.
“What did you call me?” I ask. It sounds like he called me the ‘bri’ in Gabrielle, but I’m not certain if that’s what he said.
He turns around and has a sly smile on his face. “Bri...I’ve decided to give you a nickname because Gabrielle is way too long.”
I laugh. “Seriously? It’s only three syllables.”
“Yeah, but still...”
“And nobody else calls me Bri. People call me Gabby for short.”
“I considered that, but Gabby sounds like a nickname for a person who talks entirely too much and that’s not you. Bri fits better.”
With that, he heads to his room.
I stay in the kitchen, dialing my Father’s number into Tyson’s cell phone, listening to it ringing. I glance at the clock on the wall and it’s 11:32 p.m. I’m wondering if he won’t answer because he doesn’t recognize this number.
“Hello.”
“Hi Dad.”
“Gabrielle?”
“Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”
“I’m doing good. How are you? I was getting worried...haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’m okay,” I say. I decide not to tell him about my split with Dilvan. That’s for another time. Right now, I’m just glad to hear his voice. “How’s Destiny and Carmen? I know they’re probably sleeping.”
“Yeah, they are. They’re both doing well. When do you think you’ll be back for a visit?”
“I’m going to try to make it there soon, Dad. I’m trying to get on my feet over here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, um...” Ugh, I cannot believe I let that slip. It always seem like every time I try to hide something, I inadvertently let something slip. So I say, “It’s nothing...just have a few items with work that’s been keeping me occupied.”
“Work? You have a job now?”
Ugh!
“No...well...yes...the charity work I help Padma with.”
“How’s Padma doing?”
“She’s good. She makes sure I have everything I need.”
“And how’s my son-in-law?”
I roll my eyes. “Dilvan? Oh, um...he’s fine.”
“Make sure you bring Dilvan with you when you come. I want to meet him face-to-face at least once.”
“Okay,” I respond. No one in my family has never met Dilvan and I plan on keeping it that way. “Well, Dad, listen, I have to go but give Destiny and Carmen a hug and kiss for me.”
“Okay. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too, Dad. Bye.”
I blow an agitating breath while placing Tyson’s cell phone back on the counter. I cover my face with my hands, trying to determine when I would be able to visit the family again, as well as feeling a bout of anxiety about having to tell Dad about Dilvan.
I get up to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator before I head upstairs and get ready for bed.
* * *
It’s a little after midnight when I’m finally lying down. The bed is a peaceful oasis. From it, I get the sensation of how it must feel to sleep on a cloud. The room is cozy, warm and inviting. I leave the curtains open, allowing a little bit of light in to illuminate the space. Then I close my eyes and know I can rest because Dilvan Alexander is not here to sneak into my room, snatch covers off of the bed or do anything else to harass me.
Somehow, though, I don’t feel sleepy. Maybe it’s because I’m in a new environment, a new room with a different layout. I’m not sure what it is. At any rate, I flip on the TV and find the Travel Channel just to pass the time. It works, because fifteen minutes of watching it, I began to doze off, that is until I hear the stairs creaking.
My body tenses up tight, because I have flashbacks of the floors creaking when Dilvan made late night visits to my bedroom. And now, Tyson was coming up the stairs. What did he want?
After two taps on my door, he says, “Bri, you still up?”
After a long pause, I say, “Yes.”
“May I come in?”
I pause again. I don’t want him to come in. I feel comfortable with Tyson, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable in the same bedroom with him. And I have on my night gown...
“Never mind,” he says. “I just wanted to tell you to have a good night...oh, and if you weren’t up, I was going to turn off your TV.”
“I’ll turn it off.”
“No...if you’re watching it, it’s fine. I was just...um...you know what...have a good night, Bri. See you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” I tell him, then I hear his footsteps descend the stairs.
CHAPTER 15
Tyson
- - -
Tyson got up early the next morning. He couldn’t sleep well. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone being in his home besides him, and something about having estrogen flowing through the house excited him. He hadn’t had a serious relationship in years and just the thought of having female interaction was a nice change of pace, especially when the woman was Gabrielle.
She was young, respectful, as sweet as they came. He hadn’t understood why Dilvan, his idiot cousin would treat her so badly. She was beautiful. He meant it when he told her that at dinner last night. She was pretty, and he could name plenty he found enchanting about her.
She was one of those natural sisters, had thick, black, cottony hair, bundled up into a bun. The natural hair made her look authentic and real. Truth be told, it looked a lot better than the weaves and wigs he was accustomed to seeing on women.
Gabrielle had smooth, milk chocolate, blemish-free skin. She didn’t need to pile on loads of makeup to look beautiful or hide flaws because she had none – none that were physical, anyway. Her eyes were bright and dark brown. Beautiful, perfectly curled eyelashes decorated her eyes. Her nose was small and dainty, lips plump and full. She had a smile that could transform darkness into light. And then there was her body – he saw her naked only because of the way Dilvan had left her on the floor in the bathroom that morning, but from what Tyson could see, she had a tiny waist, full breasts and a shapely bottom. Nothing about her repulsed him. Not one thing.
The only drawback he had about her was her mental state and her age. Dilvan had damaged her. He knew that for sure because she hadn’t liked making eye contact when speaking to him. And even after they spent the day together yesterday, she felt leery about inviting him in her room last night, as if he would harm her somehow.
She was also young, twenty-one, inexperienced and just really starting to live on her own. He preferred older, mature women who had life experiences and knew what she wanted out of life. Tyson could admit he liked Gabrielle, just from the little time he’d known her, but he would do what Padma wanted him to – help Gabrielle get back on her feet. He’d be her friend, confidant, whatever she needed him to be and he’d make sure Dilvan never hurt her again.
* * *
While she was still sleeping, he made breakfast pastries – sausage, eggs, bacon, cheese, ham and veggies – all baked in a pastry and smothered with country gravy. He’d also taken the time to make a fruit salad with strawberries, peaches and mangoes.
He then took some plates from the cabinet and placed them on the island, in front of the barstools where they’d sat last night. Then he waited...
Gabrielle was up pretty late the night before, so he wasn’t sure what time she’d come down for breakfast. His house was small, so he’d hear her upstairs if she was out of bed. Since he hadn’t heard anything, he knew she was still sleeping.
After pouring a cup of coffee, he took his cell phone from the table and called Padma. He hadn’t spoken with her in a couple of days and he needed to check in with her about the desserts for the restaurant and to give an update on Gabrielle.
“Hi, Tyson. I meant to call you yesterday, but I was so busy with the foundation.”
“I know how busy you are, Padma. You don’t have to explain that to me.”
“How’s my girl?” Padma inquired.
A smile touched his lips. “She’s doing well
now that she’s Dilvan-free.”
Padma sighed. “Speaking of Dilvan...he came home early.”
“Why? His shoot got canceled?”
“No. Somehow, he found out that Gabrielle was your uncle’s bone marrow donor.”
Tyson snapped his head back. “She was?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” he responded, while thinking about the selflessness of her to do something so honorable for his uncle. “I didn’t know that.”
“Hardly anyone knew. I wanted to keep it that way, and I especially didn’t want Dilvan to know.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I didn’t want him to develop an affection for Gabrielle because of it, you know. I wanted him to fall in love with her because he realized how good of a woman she was to him. But he treated her so poorly.”
“So the only reason Dilvan came back early was to ask you specifically about the transplant?”
“Yes, and he called himself confronting me because I didn’t tell him about what Gabrielle had done, and Tyson, you know I’m pretty calm, but I let him have it.”
“I don’t understand why he would be so angry.”
“I’ll tell you why. He’s trying to blame me for the way he treated Gabrielle...if he knew about the transplant, he would’ve treated her with more compassion.”
Tyson shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“So he’s supposed to be remorseful now?”
“According to Beatrice he is. She said he’s been less talkative and is very withdrawn.”
Tyson rubbed his mustache. If Dilvan wanted to apologize to Gabrielle, he didn’t see the harm in it, but he would be present, just in case Dilvan tried to do anything to her.
“What’s on your mind, Tyson?”
“Well, I’m wondering if allowing him to apologize to her would help her move forward.”
“Honestly, I don’t want her near him. My son needs to be taught a lesson, and while I hate what he did to Gabrielle, at least now he sees how his attitude and treatment of people can backfire in his face. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you walk around with your nose up in the air. I mean, look at you...you own a chain of restaurants and you treat people with respect. That’s what I’ve always admired about you, Tyson. Your millions have never changed you. You’re modest, live in that cute little house when you could live in a mansion if you chose to do so. You help me out at the restaurant; devoting your time to cook desserts that you fund with your own money. If only Dilvan could be more like you...”
