by Tina Martin
And Reggie – Reggie was standing next to me, as I stood next to my dying husband. If Reggie wasn’t holding me up, I probably would’ve fallen to the floor. This was it. I could feel his connection with me slowly slipping away.
“Tiff,” Derrick said faintly, looking at me. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and said, “I…I…love you and…and…” He took another breath and said, “Baby.”
He was trying to tell me that he loved our baby.
I sobbed, holding his hand, telling him how much I loved him, how I couldn’t live without him. Reggie told him that he would make sure I was taken care of. He gave him his word that he would protect me and the baby.
After that, we all watched him take one last breath, then he was gone.
I was numb, heartbroken, trembling and lifeless. I felt like I’d stopped breathing. I might as well had. My reason for living was gone.
“No,” I cried out, leaning on the bed, pressing my face against his. “I love you
Derrick. I love you. Don’t leave me, baby. Please don’t leave me, Derrick.” I screamed in agony and fell on top of him. “Noooo,” I said crying harder watching him lying there, lifeless. “No, no, no, no, no!”
Reggie took me by the hand, pulled me up to his chest, squeezing me tight.
“No, let go of me, Reggie. Help him. Please. Somebody help him,” I wailed.
“Tiffany, he’s gone, baby,” Reggie told me and wrapped his arms around me again. I cried in Reggie’s arms until I was bone dry. I never experienced anything this painful. I was a mess. My life was over. Derrick was gone.
I felt like I died with him.
Chapter 34
July 2009
Four days later, I’m sitting in the front row at Derrick’s funeral with the rest of his family, all decked in black, all wearing sunglasses, all clenching balls of wet tissues, staring at a poster of a healthy, vibrant Derrick, the way he was when I met him – the way I want to remember him, though the image of him laying in bed was deeply entrenched in my memory.
I couldn’t even bring myself to stay at our house alone. Seeing Derrick’s things would only make me more upset and as it was, my doctor was worried about the baby. I didn’t want to cause any more disturbances, and I didn’t want to lose the part of Derrick that meant the most to me, our child. So I stayed away from our place and lived with my Mom.
Today after the funeral was over, I immediately went back to Mom’s house. I refused to stick around and let everyone feel sorry for me. I didn’t want any more hugs, kisses and words of sympathy. So I just left to save everyone from having to offer me their condolences. As it was, people didn’t know what to say to me, scared that if they said something wrong, it would set off a Tiffany-time bomb.
“Tiffany, are you in here sweetheart?” Mom asked, rushing into the house like a mad woman. I was sitting at the kitchen table, playing with my keys.
“Tiffany, you okay, honey?” she asked, standing in the doorway staring at me.
“I just left my husband’s funeral. What do you think?” I said evenly.
“Tiffany I know you’re hurting – we all are – but you don’t have to talk to me like that. I’m just looking out for you.”
“Yeah but you don’t know how it feels, Ma.”
“I don’t?” she said, pulling out a chair. “When your father found out I was pregnant with you, he took off. I didn’t blame you for it. I just took it for what it was. Honestly, it probably would’ve hurt me less had he died. Derrick didn’t leave you intentionally. He was sick and I know he loved you. Your own Mother don’t know love like that.”
Mom disappeared off into her bedroom, I assumed. Moments later, Reggie was calling my cell.
“Hello,” I said dryly.
“Hey, Tiffany.”
“Hey.”
“Where are you?”
“At Mama’s.”
“You need anything?”
“No.”
“Well…can I stop by and see you?”
“No. I don’t want company.”
“I ah…I really wanna see you.”
“I can’t right now, Reggie.”
Reggie released a heavy sigh. He wanted to spend some time with me, but I wasn’t ready to face him. “Ah’ight, well I’m heading home. If you need me for anything, just call me. Ah’ight?”
“Okay.” I hung up the phone and went to sleep.
FOR THE NEXT few weeks, I stayed in bed and cried like a hopeless person. I was almost four months pregnant and during my visit to the doctor last week, she expressed more concerns about my state of depression and how it could affect the baby. She said that in this state, I wouldn’t care enough to eat healthy, which would lead to poor nutrition, premature birth, low birth weight and developmental problems. She said I would have no desire to bond with my child. I knew she was right – I just didn’t care.
I hadn’t seen or spoken with Reggie since the day of the funeral but today, Mom was so worried about me, she called Reggie and told him everything that had been going on – our shouting matches, the way I stayed in bed all day, not eating healthy – he knew it all. I overheard her telling him everything this morning, but again, I didn’t care. I just went back to bed.
A half hour later, I felt someone tugging on my shirt.
“Tiffany, wake up.”
“What?” I cracked my eyes open and saw Reggie stooped down beside my bed. “Leave me alone!” I yelled at him, trying to pull cover over my head. Reggie must have lost his mind pulling on me like that.
“No. Get up. Come on. Let’s go.”
“Let’s go where, Reggie? Stop pulling me!”
“Come on then. You’re coming home with me.”
“No I’m not!” I snatched my arm away from him.
“Yes you are. I will carry you out of here if I have to. Now grab your purse and let’s go.”
“And why should I go with you?”
“So I can take care of you.”
“Oh and who are you supposed to be – the widow fairy?” Reggie ignored me, which pissed me off more. “I need to get some clothes! Let go of me!”
“I’ll come back and get some clothes for you,” he said calmly.
“Get off of me, Reggie!” I yelled at him again and managed to yank my hand away from him. When I did, he picked me up and carried me to the car, all while my Mother watched.
When we arrived at his place, he showed me to the guest bedroom upstairs where I would be sleeping.
“There are extra towels in the closet,” he said.
“Whatever,” I said rolling my eyes like a juvenile, standing beside the bed.
“What you mean, whatever?”
“I don’t need you to rescue me. I can take care of myself!”
“By doing what? Staying in bed all day crying and not eating? Your Mom called me worried that you might be suicidal.”
“Suicidal? I’m not suicidal!”
“So when was the last time you had something to eat?”
“I don’t freakin’ know!”
“Well you should. There’s a baby growing inside of you. If you don’t care about yourself, at least you should care about your child, Tiffany!”
“I’m doing what I can.”
“No you’re not. You’re walking around like you’re a lost cause with no direction. I’m sorry about Derrick, ah’ight. I’m sorry. But I’m going to take care of you and the baby whether you like it or not.” Reggie stopped talking to regain his composure, then he said, “I’m gonna go fix you something to eat.”
Fifteen minutes later he came back in the room with a bowl of salad.
“Here,” he said, handing me the bowl. “This will be good for the baby.”
“I don’t want that,” I said pushing it away from me, but he sat it in my lap. “I said I don’t want it!” I yelled, slapping the bowl to the floor. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, croutons and olives were everywhere.
“I’m trying. I’m really trying, Tiffany,” Reggie said di
sturbed.
“You don’t have to try. I didn’t ask you for anything. I didn’t ask you to drag me here like a bag of trash.”
“I didn’t drag you here. I brought you here because I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” I said as I stood up to leave the room. “I can take care of myself!”
Reggie stepped in front of me. “Why you gotta come back at me with attitude? I’m trying to look out for you since you’re too stupid to do it for yourself.”
I lost my mind when Reggie called me stupid. Before I knew it, I’d slapped him so hard, I hurt my hand.
“I hope that made you feel good,” he said collectedly, unfazed by my assault. I expected him to totally lose it, but he remained calm.
“I hate you!” I yelled as I left him standing there. I went downstairs to rest on the couch.
***
That’s how it went between me and Reggie for the next three months – back and forth bickering. He would constantly try to help me and I would always give him grief. I had to take my frustration out on someone. But then again, it wasn’t his fault Derrick died. All Reggie was trying to do was help me. He came with me to my appointments, he cooked for me, he kept the house clean, he did it all for me. He even gave up his room and that comfortable king-sized bed for me. He said he didn’t want me climbing up and down the stairs to get to the guest bedroom since I was seven months pregnant. He didn’t want me to fall and hurt myself or baby Derrick.
Yes, I’m having a boy. The doctor confirmed that two months ago. I cried when I first heard and Reggie held my hand, trying to comfort me once again. Derrick sure would’ve been proud to know he was going to have a son. Needless to say, I was depressed for a few weeks after I found out the gender of the baby. Reggie tried everything in his power to cheer me up. He took weeks off work to spend with me like he didn’t trust me being alone in the house by myself.
Mom said I was lucky to have a friend like Reggie – a man who moved me into is home so he could take care of me. She said Reggie loved me so much, he would do anything for me. I knew she was right, though at times, I didn’t feel that way with Reggie. I was a sad case of hopelessness, an experiment to help him pass his time. That’s how he made me feel, and that’s why I resented him so much.
Chapter 35
November 2009
Yesterday, me and Reggie must have argued for what seemed to be like an eternity. I’d been staying with him going on four months now and in that time, he’d been pressuring me to visit my home, the home Derrick and I shared. He said it would be a “step towards healing,” a way for me to accept the fact that Derrick was gone.
I hadn’t been by our house since the funeral. I didn’t want to go back but Reggie didn’t understand that. He kept on nagging me. “Tiffany, you need to do something with the house. Tiffany, you need to talk to Derrick’s parents. Tiffany, you need to start planning for the baby’s arrival.” It was always Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany.
I had to go back to the house eventually, but I didn’t have the willpower to do it just yet. After all, that was Derrick’s house. Everything about it reminded me of him. How could I go back in there without breaking down? That’s what bothered me the most.
I was painfully aware of the fact that I needed to do something with the house. Derrick had willed it to me. As a matter of fact, he willed everything to me with the exception of his business. That went to his brother.
Should I or shouldn’t I go over to the house today? That was the question I pondered while sitting on Reggie’s bed at five o’clock in the afternoon. Then out of nowhere, I got a call from Evelyn. We weren’t tight, but she was my Mother-in-law; my son’s grandmother. She had tried calling me many times during the past few months and I just avoided her. I didn’t even know why – guess I didn’t know what to say. But this time, I wouldn’t let it go to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tiffany.”
“Hi Evelyn. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing good now that I finally caught you. Reggie called me yesterday and told me that you wanted me to come with you to your old house. I can meet you in twenty minutes if that works.”
That sneaky bastard. Reggie pulled a fast one on me. I could have strangled him for doing that to me, practically forcing me to do something I didn’t want to do. I agreed to meet Evelyn only because I felt like I had to, then I called Reggie as I was on the way. He was about to find out how I really felt about him trying to control my life.
As soon as he picked up the phone, I snapped, “Why did you do that, Reggie!”
“Why are you yelling?” he mumbled as if he was in a meeting, and tried his hardest to be discreet.
“So you can hear me!” I shouted as loud as I could.
“Keep talking like that and I’m hanging up,” he said evenly.
I dismissed his threat and said, “Why did you tell Evelyn I wanted to meet her?”
I heard Reggie excuse himself from his meeting, or whatever he was involved in at the moment, then he continued, “Because that’s the right thing to do,” he said in an argumentative tone. “You should meet her. You should’ve already met her. You haven’t seen her once since Derrick died.”
“So what? Why don’t you let me handle this the way I want to handle it…ah’ight? You don’t even know Evelyn.”
“Seems like you don’t either,” Reggie shot back.
He was starting to work my nerves, even if he had made a point. This was still my life. He had no right to interfere.
“I do know Evelyn, you freakin’ jerk!”
“Yeah…you know her, but you dodge her calls…you sure know how to treat people, don’t you?”
“Just mind your own business and stay out of mine.”
“Look, Tiffany,” he said lowering his tone. “I’m trying to help you get out of this slump you’re in and move on with your life.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You haven’t lost anyone.”
“I haven’t?” he said with an uncomfortable chuckle that seemed out of place for the argument we were having. “We don’t kick it no more, you don’t talk to me anymore and I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen you smile. So don’t tell me I haven’t lost anyone because…” Reggie was choked up. I heard a crack in his voice followed by some sniffling. Then after a few more quiet seconds, he continued, “Because I lost you and I don’t know how to get you back,” he said, his voice trailing off.
I couldn’t say anything in my defense. Reggie and I used to be tight. Now all we did was fight. Our relationship took a blow when I married Derrick, but it took a nose dive when Derrick died.
“I gotta get back in this meeting, but if you’re not too angry at me, maybe we can talk later. Bye.”
I felt guilty after our argument. Through all of this, Reggie was my crutch, took me into his home, helped me any way he saw fit and all I did was treat him like crap. I was ruining our relationship and it hurt me to hear him so upset. He said that he lost me and he didn’t know how to get me back. It sounded like a sad end to our friendship.
EVELYN WAS STANDING on the deck when I pulled up at the old place. I took a deep breath before I got out of the car, then joined her.
“Hi Evelyn.”
“Hey Tiffany,” she said hugging me. “Wow. Look at you. You’re really showing now, and you have the glow.”
“Yeah. I’m seven months now.”
“Do you know what you’re having?”
“It’s a boy.”
Evelyn cried tears of joy. “Derrick would be so proud. I’m so happy.” She hugged me again. “Tiffany, I know we got off on the wrong foot and I want to let you know that I’m sorry and I want to be a part of your life and the baby’s.”
“I would like that. I know that’s what Derrick would want. By the way, I’m naming the baby after him.” I put both of my hands on my stomach, swallowed hard to keep from crying and said, “You’re looking at Derrick Orlando Brooks, Jr.”
Evelyn�
�s cheeks turned a blushing rosy pink color as she smiled. And it felt good to make her happy, to include her in my life again.
We went ahead in the house. Everything was still neatly in place. I wobbled my way upstairs to our old bedroom. Just walking in made me cry. The bed was left unmade, made me think of all the times we made love. I watched the black, burned tips on the candles, those Japanese wall plaques, the Jacuzzi we used several times a week, his shirts that lay atop the hamper waiting to be dry-cleaned, his watch on the nightstand with some pocket change, Cartier cuff links and a wedding photo of us, his slippers poking out from underneath the bed, his robe hanging on a hook attached to the bathroom door. So many reminders of him struck me all at once, but unlike I thought, it wasn’t too much for me to bear. They actually made me smile, made me remember the good times. That’s all I had to hold on to at this point.
I went ahead and grabbed some pieces of clothing and shoes from my closet. I took a few more items, walked around the place again and after thirty more minutes of reminiscing, Evelyn and I said our goodbyes and left.
Overall, I was glad I went. It made me see how strong I really was. I could cope with the loss of my husband. I still had the memories – I knew how much he loved me. That was all I needed.
***
It was close to eight when I got back to Reggie’s. His car was in the driveway but he wasn’t anywhere in the house. I saw him standing on the beach, enjoying the ocean. I went out to meet him.
“Reggie…” I said, uncertain of his mood. “Can I talk to you?”
He looked at me but didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. You were only trying to help me—” I paused to get a hold of myself, “And you don’t deserve to be treated the way I’ve been treating you. I’m sorry.” I wiped my eyes and wobbled away. I was too ashamed to look at him after what I’d done.
I went in the house, sat on Reggie’s bed and cried. Reggie came in a few minutes later, sat down beside me on the bed and put his arms around me and said, “When Derrick died, I was in pain because you were in pain. I wasn’t tight with Derrick, but I didn’t want to see him die. I was miserable because you were. Tiffany, I feel for you what I have never felt for any other human being on this planet, and sitting here looking at you now, seven months pregnant, you still take my breath away. And that little boy you’re carrying may not be my son, but I will take care of him and raise him and love him because I love you.” Reggie wiped his eyes before any tears could escape his lids. “I know things have been rough for you and I forgive you, baby, for everything you think you’ve done wrong to me. But I’m not going to let you go this time. I’m not. So you can yell at me, hit me, spit at me – I don’t care. I’m never letting you go again.”
