Monty

by Tina Martin

  After showering, I sit on the sofa alone and watch the movie we were supposed to watch together. I don’t make popcorn. I sip water and stare at the screen, forcing myself to watch it. Thirty minutes into it, I hear noise at the front door.

  She walks in. My eyes immediately go to her. She has on a dress. A short above-the-knee dress. One with flowers in it again. Pink ones. My eyes follow the length of her legs to her feet. She’s wearing thong sandals. Her toes look delicate, decorated with pink polish. Her braids are hanging loose. She’s wearing makeup, too – not much – a few touches here and there. The mascara on her lashes enhances her eyes. Blush looks beautiful on her cheeks. The gloss on her lips accentuates their size. She looks beautiful – the way a woman would dress if she was going on a date.

  Did she go on a date?

  The thought of it nags me like I have claim over her.

  She looks at me but doesn’t say a word. She walks by the sofa and proceeds toward the hallway where the bedrooms are located.

  “Hi,” I tell her.

  She stops, looks at me briefly wearing a frown. Still, she doesn’t say anything.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “No,” she responds. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “Cherish—”

  Her frown deepens and I hear aggravation in her voice when she asks, “What do you need now? You need me to change a bandage? You need soup? Water? What can I do for you before I go to bed?”

  “I don’t need anything. I just want to talk to you.”

  “Well, I know this is a foreign concept for you, but you can’t get everything you want.” She continues on to her room.

  She’s upset. It’s my fault, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

  * * *

  I can’t sleep, and apparently, neither can she. It’s around two in the morning when I hear her in the kitchen. I get up, walk there and see her drinking water. She’s not wearing a robe this time – just a silk, pink nightie trimmed in white lace. She glances at me. Says nothing.

  I look at her and don’t know what to say. She usually initiates our conversations.

  “I was out of line yesterday,” I begin.

  “You weren’t out of line. You were being yourself. I understand you’re straightforward and all that, but I don’t have to put up with it, Montgomery. I quit working for you. You came to me. I didn’t go running back to the estate. You said you needed help. When I try to get you to talk to me, you insult me. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I don’t even know why you’re here. You don’t need me to do anything for you. You’re a billionaire. Go hire some nurses, therapists, Iyanla Vanzant and whoever else you need to fix your life and make you feel like a human again because this guy I’m looking at—this guy standing in my kitchen—he’s not human. I really don’t know what you are, who you are or what you want from me, but I can’t help you.”

  “Can I speak now?”

  “You’re a grown man. You don’t have to ask me for permission to speak,” she fires at me.

  “Why are you raising your voice at me?” I ask her.

  She hikes up a brow. “Why are you in my house?”

  I take a breather. People usually don’t speak to me in this manner, so I try not to have a visceral reaction towards her.

  “I don’t trust a lot of people,” I tell her. “That’s why I’m here. I trust you.”

  “But not enough to confide in me.”

  She’s standing in front of the sink. I’m near the table holding on to the edge suffering from a mild case of vertigo this early in the morning. I want to get closer to her but I think the space separating us is needed at the moment.

  “I struggle with abandonment,” I tell her. “It’s the primary reason I’m the way I am. It’s why I don’t trust people. Why I’ve never been in love. Never been in any real relationship. In my mind, it won’t work out because if my—if my own parents didn’t want me, who else would? Throwing myself into the company allows me to forget that. To forget how messed up I am, because I am messed up,” I tell her trying not to let my emotions get the best of me. I hate that. Hate being vulnerable.

  “When I crashed my car, I didn’t care if I lived or died. I didn’t want to live. When I woke up in the hospital, I was angry because I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to die. There were things I wanted to accomplish, but I still wanted to die. I wanted to be a better person, I wanted to treat my mother better, I wanted to be a good role model for Major and a better boss. I wanted to show people the real me—the one you say I keep hidden—I wanted a second chance for all those things but I didn’t feel like I deserved it.”

  She gasps, eyes swell with tears. “Monty…”

  “I wanted it to be over. But it’s not over. I’m here. In pain, trying to make it through. Trying to be normal. Trying to live my life like I have it all together. Like I have everything when what I really have is nothing. I don’t have anything, Cherish. I’m here—at your house—because I need you to help me. I need you to save me,” I say feeling a tear roll down my face.

  She sniffles. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “No one knows me like you do. Not my brother, not my mother. Only you. I know that about you. I know how hard you work for me. How you go above and beyond for me. I know I’m hard to deal with, but please, please don’t abandon me when I need you the most.”

  She walks over to me, wraps me in a hug, careful not to squeeze too hard due to my injuries. “I won’t abandon you, Monty. I won’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cherish

  And just like that, he’s reeled me back in. I was angry when I came home – ready to kick him to the curb, but he finally decided to talk to me.

  I know it took a lot of courage. It breaks my heart to see him so broken. To see a man as strong as him reduced to tears. I walk with him back to the guest bedroom, sit with him, then help him into a reclining position. I make sure he’s comfortable.

  “Do you need the heating pad tonight?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Are you in any pain?”

  “Physically? No—just a little dizziness.”

  “That’ll probably be gone after you get more rest.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Um…you’ve never opened up that way to me before. I know it took a lot out of you, so I want you to get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning over breakfast. Is that okay?”

  “Yes.”

  I find him in the kitchen bright and early. Surprises me. He usually sleeps in.

  “Hey, good morning,” I tell him.

  He looks over at me. “Good morning.”

  “I hope you got some sleep last night.”

  “I did. It felt really good to talk to you.”

  “I’m glad,” I tell him. I place a pan on the stove and take some cheese and eggs from the fridge. “Cheese and egg omelet. Is that good with you?”

  “That’s perfect.”

  While I’m getting the food prepared, he checks his phone. It doesn’t take long to cook the omelets. I take our plates to the table and two cups of coffee – one black for him and the other with sugar and cream for myself.

  We eat.

  He breaks the silence saying, “This is good.”

  “Thanks.”

  He takes a sip of coffee. “I’ve always wondered how my life would’ve turned out had I been raised by my real parents.”

  “That’s not unusual. Most children who were adopted or fostered probably feel the exact same way.”

  “I almost feel like I’ve been living under an identity. Like this person you see is not really who I am.”

  “I think it will help if you knew why they gave you up.”

  “How will I find that out when they’re both deceased?”

  “That, I’m not sure of. I’ll have to do some research.”

  “You’ll have to do some research?”

  “Yes. You poured your heart out to me last night and I promise I�
��ll do everything in my power to help you. Now, as for you giving up—let me tell you something—you don’t have that option. You’re brilliant—the smartest man I know. You don’t have the right to give up when there are so many people who need you.”

  “Like who?”

  “The obvious first of all. Your family. Friends. And you have one of the most profitable companies in North Carolina. Does Hawthorne Innovations donate to any charities? Homeless shelters? Food banks?”

  “No. My father didn’t believe in that sort of thing. He said they were all scams.”

  “And what about you? Do you believe that?”

  He shrugs. “I never thought about it.”

  “You need to. Your main problem with yourself is, you’re not happy. You have all this money rolling in, but nothing going out. You need to give. Help people. There are kids out there right now who don’t know where their next meal is coming from. They need you. Giving will make you happy. Knowing you’re doing some good in this world is something to be proud of.”

  He nods.

  “And then there’s Sylvia…”

  He takes a sip of coffee.

  “Monty, Sylvia Hawthorne may not be your biological mother, but she does love you. Don’t ignore her. Talk to her and don’t talk to her like a co-worker. Talk to her like she’s your mother because she is.”

  I take a break and eat a little while he digests my suggestions. After a sip of coffee, I say, “What I’ve come to learn about you is, you keep a lot inside. You hold a lot of resentment. If you don’t release it, it’ll only build and build and grow legs until you explode. Talk to her.”

  He nods again.

  “And then there’s the matter of your family—the people you don’t know. If you don’t love the people who are right here with you—Major and Sylvia—how will you love the ones you don’t know?”

  “You’re right.”

  “You said you had an older brother.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do I have your permission to help you find him?”

  He stares at me. I can’t read him this time. I’m waiting for an answer and he’s in a trance.

  “Monty?”

  He clears his throat. “Yes. You have my permission.”

  “Good. By the way, you have a follow-up appointment with your primary doctor today.”

  “What time?”

  “Two.”

  “Alright. That’ll give me time to check in with Hannah.”

  “Okay.”

  While he’s using the kitchen for his make-shift office, I take my laptop and sit out on the front porch. It’s hot already – ain’t even ten o’clock yet and I see heatwaves dancing across the road. I open a search engine and type: Magnus St. Claire, Charlotte, North Carolina. The first listing on the search results is for a company – MJS Communications. I click the link to go there. On the site, there’s a page of executives along with pictures. My mouth falls open. Magnus St. Claire, the CEO, looks almost identical to Montgomery and Major. Same illustrious green eyes. Same curly black hair. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s his brother. A DNA test isn’t needed.

  I key the phone number into my cell, fold my laptop closed and walk out into the yard as I press send to dial the number.

  “MJS Communications. How may I direct your call?”

  “I need to speak to Magnus St. Claire, please.”

  “Mr. St. Claire doesn’t accept unsolicited phone calls, ma’am. May I ask what this is about?”

  “Sure. Uh…my name is Cherish Stevens. I know his brothers and they would like to meet him.”

  “Okay, ma’am…can I get you to hold for a second?”

  “Sure.” I take a moment to look at my flowers. I glance over to see Ms. Kettleworth’s truck is gone, thank goodness. Otherwise, she’d be over here running her mouth.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “I’m going to put you through.”

  Did she just say what I think she said? My nerves are all to pieces. She’s actually going to put me through. Crap! What am I doing?

  “This is Magnus St. Claire. Who am I speaking with?”

  And they sound alike, too. Oh…my…goodness.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh. Hi. This is—this is Cherish Stevens, Mr. St. Claire. Um…can I ask if you were adopted or in the foster care system at any point in your life?”

  “You can, but how is that any of your business?”

  “I’m going to get to that. Did you have any siblings who were placed in foster care?”

  “I did. I’ve been talking to my uncle trying to locate them.”

  “Wow! Okay. Um, I know them.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I work for one of them and he’s desperate to meet you. They both are.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Monty—I mean—Montgomery and Major St. Claire.”

  “They live here in Charlotte?”

  “No. They live in Concord. Is there any way you can meet us somewhere so you can meet them?”

  “You’re moving a little too fast aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so excited. They’ve been waiting for this for a long time and—”

  “I’ll have my security team clear them and if everything checks out, I’ll have them over at my home. Is this a good number to reach you?”

  “Yes. This is my cell phone number.”

  “Okay. You’ll hear from me in a few days Ms. Stevens.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hang up the phone excited like I’d just found some of my long lost kinfolks, but that’s how happy I am for Monty and Major. They deserve to know their family.

  The doctor tells Montgomery he’s doing better. Says his ribs won’t be fully healed until another three to four weeks but as long as he’s not overdoing it, he can get around. As for the lacerations, the stitches have already fallen off. The scars on his face are becoming more and more less visible.

  “Good job, Montgomery,” the doctor says. “You must’ve assembled yourself a team of nurses.”

  “No. Not a team.” Monty winks at me and smiles.

  The doctor looks over at me. I see him although I’m nearly blinded by the brilliance of a rare smile from Montgomery St. Claire, I’m in awe. My goodness, he’s beautiful.

  “Ah, so you’re the caretaker,” the doctor says.

  “I do the best I can. Montgomery can be difficult to please at times.”

  “Yet, you do it so well,” Monty says.

  He smiles again.

  Is he—is he flirting with me? Can’t be. He’s probably just appreciative.

  “Alright. That’s all for me, folks. I’ll need to see you back in about four weeks, Sir.”

  “I’ll be here, I’m sure my caretaker will see to it that I am,” he says staring at me more.

  The doctor leaves the room.

  I’m red-in-the-face embarrassed. “What are you doing?” I ask, amused.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you were telling the doctor I took care of you and all that.”

  “You did, and you did a good job. What? I can’t compliment you?”

  “No. You never did before.”

  “We weren’t friends before. We are now.”

  I smile again because I think he really means it this time, especially since he knows how much I care for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Monty

  Cherish says I need to learn to love the people who I know before getting to know family I’ve never met. Taking her advice, I called up Major this morning and arranged for him to pick me up for dinner. We end up at Jason’s Deli since it’s one of the closest restaurants to Cherish’s house.

  Major gets a salad. I stick with soup.

  “You’re looking much better these days,” he says.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Major grins. “Seriously. The last time I saw you was shortly after you were released
from the hospital.”

  “Yeah, well, it has been almost three weeks.”

  “Right. How’s Cherish?”

  “She’s doing good.”

  “That’s good to hear. It hasn’t been the same without her around the house.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, feeling a jealous streak slice through me. Cherish has always had a better relationship with Major than she’s had with me. Everyone seems to get along with Major. I didn’t care before. Now that I know her, I do.

  “She brings life to the house,” he answers. “She knows where everything is.”

  “Yeah. She does,” I say, remembering the relieved look on her face when the doctor told me how my condition had improved.

  “And she’s as pretty as a picture,” he says. “Beautiful inside and out. It’s rare to come across a woman like her.”

  Jealousy burns my chest like acid reflux, but just to find out if my brother has a thing for her, I say, “You act like you’re interested.”

  “Trust me, she’s definitely a catch, but it’s not me she has eyes for.”

  I get his insinuation but I continue eating while listening to him talk about her. He’s right. She’s pretty. Inside and out. She’s an angel, and I know she has eyes for me. I understand how accommodating she is to my needs. But I’m not in a place where I could give her what she needs from a man. I’m still trying to fix myself and my relationship with my family. That’s why I’m here with Major. Following her suggestions.

  Not knowing where to begin regarding that, I hesitate at first. Then I hear Cherish’s voice pushing me to say what needs to be said. “Listen, I want to—”

  “You want to what?” Major asks.

  “This isn’t easy for me,” I say rubbing my head. “I want to apologize for my behavior. I thought that being the CEO and handling problems no one else wanted to handle put me in an elevated position of power, but it has come to my attention that I should be using my platform as an opportunity to serve others. Not to belittle them, and I feel like that’s what I’ve been doing with you. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be that man. I want to be your brother, first and foremost. Everything, as it relates to the company, comes second.”