The Broken Canvas

by Tai Barnett

  He threw his keys into the sofa and placed both hands on his hips staring at me as if contemplating what he was going to do to me next.

  “I—”

  “Don’t say another word!” He interrupted.

  I dashed into the dark kitchen to get away from his lunacy.

  “Well, this is just crazy. I don’t know what’s wrong with everybody tonight, including you!”

  Before I had a chance to turn the lights on, I felt his hand gently taking mine away from the switch as he used his now 30 pounds heavier muscular body up against the marble island and pulled my waist close to his.

  I gasped and rushed to the other side of the island countertop as I finally realized what he was doing.

  The light from the hallway, which he frequently left on, shined rays into the kitchen, enough for him to see into my eyes. He sneakily and briskly chased me back to the other side as he looked into my eyes, pressing me against the countertop once more laying me on my back.

  But the island in the kitchen was almost as tall as me, so he quickly lifted me up and pushed me down on my back.

  By now, I was panting and knowing all too well, what these moves were leading up to. Yet in my head the only thing I could think about was that my best friend, my younger sweet and innocent pal was making a pass at me. Or better yet, he was literally on top of me.

  Andrew suddenly used his hands and rips my shirt open, exposing my black laced brazier and huge bosoms. I gulped as I tried to understand why he was doing this, and then it suddenly dawned on me that Michael and Lauren were right all along, and that Andrew really did like me more than a friend.

  I quickly shoved him off once more and rushed toward the front door as he rushed right after me. He held my waist and turned me around while pushing me unto the door. He stood above me with both arms on the door and me in the center looking down on me.

  “You’re staying here with me tonight,” he whispered in one ear and ohh, that sweet accent.

  I pressed my lips together trying not to look into his eyes, but I finally gave in because he was doing everything in all the right ways.

  Andrew grabbed my waist and kissed me passionately. He removed his soaked polar shirt.

  By this, I was turned on, but I was still thinking how different he was acting. I never knew just how sexually persuasive and erotic he could be.

  He turned me around and pressed my bosom against the door ripping away what was left of my blouse. While undoing my brazier, he used his tongue to massage my neck. He briskly turned me back around and removed my bra and lifted me as he took me over to the couch.

  I know a woman should never do this during sex, but I started crying, I was not sure why. And who the hell was making up all these silly rules anyway? I was overwhelmed with emotions and the tears just kept on coming.

  He used his hand to tenderly wipe the tears from my eyes and said nothing, while finally stripping off all my clothes and his. He looked at my body and kissed me gently.

  He breathed deeply while he pressed his naked body against mine and looked into my eyes.

  “I have waited so long to kiss those lips. It was torture watching you every day and desiring you, just to touch you…” he uttered as he used his robust hands to grasp my behind.

  I looked at him and smiled.

  “I have waited so long to show you that you’re so wrong! To show you how a man can still truly love a woman,” he said.

  Andrew was not gentle with me at all—perhaps, because he was anxious. Each thrust harder than the first while he took me from behind and whispering into my ear how long he wanted to have me. How he wanted no one else—that I was perfect for him, with every insecurity that I think I might have.

  “I love every inch of you, every line, every curve; every fold…is just…perfect,” Andrew said.

  We made love all night, three times to be exact, and we would do it again the next morning as I finished showering.

  ***

  The next morning while coming out of the shower, I was hiding my body with Andrew’s chocolate colored towel. I looked into the mirror and smiled because I would never ever forget last night. Yet, I still considered what I was getting myself into, sleeping with a younger man.

  Patting away the water from my thighs, I heard him coming towards the door. I quickly fixed my towel properly so that he could not see me naked, particularly the tiny bulge of fat which was right at my lower abdomen that refused to go away since I had the children. It wasn’t balloon belly fat, but it was enough for me not wanting to be seen naked in front of anybody. Especially this younger and perfectly defined young man.

  He knocked on the door but quickly opened it before I even had a chance to lock it shut. He walked into the bathroom shirtless with his boxers, rigid and bulky. He looked at me and smiled sighing very deeply while walking toward me. He grabbed my waist and kissed me while skillfully starting to unwrap the towel from around my body. I started kissing him back but held the middle of towel unto my waist.

  Now I know you must be thinking, but you just had wild and crazy sex with the man 3, going on 4 times now, what’s the problem? But that was in the dark and for some reason, his bathroom lights looked like I was on a spotlight about to deliver a performance on stage.

  He gently used his hand, held my chin while looking down into my eyes, he kissed me tenderly while using the other hand to slowly remove the towel, and then he whispered, “I want to see all of you.”

  He started kissing my lips between words.

  He looked into my eyes again using his hand to caress my ghastly stomach.

  “You have nothing to feel ashamed of when you are with me, Natasha. This body, this tummy…brought life into the world and I find that absolutely sexy, and I am so turned on right now! And I am sure you can tell that I am turned on right now, correct?” He said chuckling.

  We both giggled. But I said nothing because I had been silent and been grinning all the time since this happened between me and Andrew. I just didn’t know how to act around my best friend that has now turned into my lover.

  He rubbed his hands on my hips and thighs while intensely kissing me. And even up until this moment we had not truly discussed what was happening.

  “No one else will be making a child with you except for me. You know that, right?” he said.

  This man must have been sent from God for me. I thought to myself.

  And we did it another time.

  It’s Not That Serious… Is It?

  Three months later, it was spring. An anxious knocking at my bedroom door followed by three rowdy voices. Michael, Lauren, and Nicholas were shouting excitedly that my mom was downstairs frying fish and baking sweet potato pudding for Easter. We all sure did love to eat.

  Traditional Jamaican Good Friday involved Easter bun and Jamaica sharp cheddar cheese, fried fish usually snapper or parrot with pickle, sweet potato pudding and chocolate tea.

  I heard the footsteps heading downstairs. My room was slightly dark because I always left the nightlight on for Rose or Charles when they slept, I always wanted to be able to see every inch of them at nights to be certain they were breathing properly or in the event of a potentially dangerous insect biting them.

  I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed as I looked to the other side. I saw Charles cuddled up in Andrew’s arms while making silly noises with his voice and looking at the Italian ceiling fan spinning in the air. I quietly came out of bed and went to pee.

  Unlike me, Andrew slept like a log and would fall asleep anywhere and went into a very deep sleep undisturbed. I always asked how he did it because I had been a chronic insomniac for more than 19 years.

  I quickly washed my hands as Charles started getting louder with his baby talk, car engine sounds and spitting. I stood with the bathroom door ajar observing what my little man was doing. He turned around and went on top of Andrew.

  Charles started meddling with Andrew’s lips, still making his baby sounds. He then went on to his eyes and tried to o
pen them. I watched Charles and thought how cute it was and that he was doing that to only me, just a few months ago.

  I knew what was coming next, Charles would surely attempt to consume Andrew’s face but instead would leave a shower of teething saliva.

  I was watching to see how Andrew would react. The saliva had awoken him suddenly as he opened his eyes.

  “Ohhh Charles, eehh. Hahaha,” Andrew sat up in bed and lifted him into his hands, placed him unto his lap, and did not notice that I was looking.

  He wiped his face and smiled

  “You got me really good, buddy,” he rubbed Charles’ hair and kissed his chubby cheeks while Charles attempted to eat his own toes.

  A few minutes later everyone sat around the dinner table eating our traditional Jamaican Easter breakfast. Charles was on his high chair and Rose was seated in between Andrew and I. Charles was on one side of me while Mom and Dad were at the head of the table. Vernon, Nicholas, Michael, and Lauren sat across from us.

  I had just received the green light for production on this movie in Barcelona so I was on the phone finalizing travelling details with a group of Spanish producers. Luckily, I spoke fluent Spanish. I watched while everyone was talking and laughing and then when Andrew wiped the crumbs of bun from Charles’ lips and helped Rose with separating the flesh from the bone.

  “Ahem…aahh, Natasha dear, this is a family breakfast,” said mother in her usual pristine tone. My mother was half Indian and half African, beautiful and a wonderful mother.

  “Sí sí…no hay problema! El lunes es perfecto!”

  I covered the phone with one hand, “Two more minutes and I am done, Mom!” I whispered.

  Lauren saw when Nicholas rolled his eyes.

  “She is a workaholic, Nick. You know that she never knows when to slow down,” said Lauren.

  Andrew looked back at me, smiled and mumbled, “Hurry up.” I nodded to give him assurance that I would soon be there.

  While everyone was reminiscing of past Easter events, my father was too busy eating to say anything. My father was a very tall white-looking Jamaican man. Yes, there are white Jamaicans out there, despite what some people may think. Well, he was as white looking as they could come with blonde hair and blue eyes.

  His mother was British, and his father had German ancestry. He loved indulging in traditional Jamaican food but maintained his general well-built but lean stature. He was a daring man, opinionated and well educated, and he was not all too pleased about Andrew being my boyfriend either. He, most times, just ignored him.

  “Well, Natasha has always been ambitious. That’s why she is so successful and owned her own house and car by the age of 34,” said Dad, gazing at Nicholas.

  Mom shook her head while staring at Nicholas as well and continued eating her sweet potato pudding. My mother was much shorter than father. She hardly spoke but she was kind, sweet-spirited, and gentle. Plus, she was very witty and very good with money and figures. She also had dark brown complexion having Indian, African and some European ancestry. Yes, my family is its own little melting pot.

  “Hmm. Well, why should I move when y’all have more than enough space for me? It makes no financial sense to me that I rent somewhere when I could be saving all that money and then get a house. Now that’s more practical!” said Nicholas laughing.

  “Well, ain’t nothing wrong with wanting to stay on with your folks until you become a homeowner yourself, Nick. I can’t understand why all these young people dying to leave the comfort of their houses at 18, makes no damn sense to me!” exclaimed Vernon with a full mouth.

  Michael shook his head while he took a sip of the rich and creamy chocolate tea.

  “Well. I disagree, I think kids should spread their wings once they become adults, it gives them a sense of independence and definitely teaches them how to live in the real world,” said Michael.

  “Now there’s a sensible man right there,” said Dad.

  “What about you, Andrew? What do you think?” said mother.

  Andrew took the napkin and wiped Charles’ mouth.

  He looked at my father’s expression—a wide-eyed gaze.

  “Ahem, well, you both have a point, but I don’t think my opinions will hold much weight here as it’s clear to everyone what Mr. Bishop’s sentiments are of me.”

  Andrew sipped some of the chocolate tea and sighed while looking at my father. Andrew was a straight shooter for the most part.

  “May I be blunt, Mr. Bishop? I mean I hate to do this right here while having such a lovely breakfast but the fact that I am younger than Natasha bothers you tremendously, doesn’t it?” Andrew said.

  The table became quiet—eyes opened wide and some went frozen but Charles broke the silence crying for Andrew to give him more cheddar cheese. Andrew placed a cube of cheese into his mouth and he started laughing again.

  “Well, you’re quite a straight shooter, Andrew. You’re just like my daddy!” said Vernon while smiling.

  Lauren, Nicholas, and Michael stared at each other, deciding to stay out of this one.

  I was still yapping away in the back, not hearing a word that was being said and excused myself from the table.

  “Actually, Andrew, I don’t think Bennett disapproves of you, he just has his ways,” Mother was feeling the chill wind of a potential quarrel.

  Dad exhaled and sat up into his chair

  “Oh now, now, Dorothy. It’s quite alright. I can speak for myself. And you’re damn right, I don’t believe you’re the one for Natasha,” he exclaimed.

  You could hear a pin drop if you came into the room for that few seconds.

  Rose and Charles were still busy eating, unaware of what was happening.

  “I presume if Mr. Kingston can be so unswerving about his opinions in front of all of us, he can certainly hear what I have to say…in everyone’s presence!”

  “Andrew, my tummy hurts,” said Rose while rubbing her tummy.

  Vernon shook his head from side to side and whispered to Michael, Lauren and Nicholas.

  “Am I the only one sweating like a sinner in church?” Vernon whispered.

  “Honey, just stay tuned. You know how Uncle can be and it ain’t pretty either!” Michael murmured. Nicholas sighed and continued to eat his breakfast.

  “Well, that’s because you ate too much cheese, Rose. I told you that would happen, it always does,” said Andrew.

  “Come…come with me honey, let’s get you to the bathroom?” said Vernon, “Y’all continue eatin’. I’ll go look after Rose.”

  As Vernon took Rose to the restroom, Lauren sat beside Charles and started tending to him.

  Yet, Father continued talking because he was very anxious and passionate about me.

  “I don’t trust you. I think a younger man being with an older woman is just weird and a blatant suggestion of a questionable character. You try just a little bit too hard for my use, especially to try to prove to Natasha that you love those children. I am curious what does a man in his thirties want with an older woman anyhow?” Dad still had his Jamaican accent.

  Andrew stared at my father penetratingly while folding one hand beneath his arm and placing the other hand underneath his chin.

  Andrew’s demeanor remained calm, poised and resolute.

  “All rather interesting questions, Mr. Bishop, which require no considerations at all. It’s simple. I believe in fate—kismet—serendipity or whatever it is you want to call it. And as bizarre as this might sound to you all, I knew I loved Natasha from the first day I laid eyes on her.”

  As Andrew spoke, everyone was mesmerized by his self-assurance, his dignity, and effortlessness in expressing just exactly how he felt about me.

  “If I were to calculate the precise moment when we met, I might even be intrepid enough to presume that there was a higher force—the universe if you will, that orchestrated our meeting; for every moment of every second of pain and irrelevant occurrences in my life seemed to have led up to the one singular moment that I k
new I found my soul mate.”

  Mother, Lauren, and Michael were bedazzled by his charm and his honesty. They all sighed intermittently and made sure not to miss one word of Andrew’s riveting feelings towards me. And if you dare to believe it, Andrew had even managed to gain the attention of my mulish brother Nicholas.

  “I love Natasha because she mirrors everything that I desire in a woman. I love her because she is vulnerable and impulsive as she is focused and scholarly. I care for your daughter Mr. Bishop, because I see something in her that I see in no other…not back in England, or the streets of France or all of the wonderful places that I have been to, not in all of Hollywood. Your daughter is a human being that is unselfishly unaware of how wonderful, how beautiful and kind-hearted she really is and I truly believe that our souls are so familiar with each other that if I were to tempt fate, I would say she was my one true love in a former life that I am lucky enough to have found in this.”

  Mr. Bishop folded his hands and leaned back into his chair, he sighed and his face appeared to become more relaxed as he observed everyone in complete awe of what Andrew was saying.

  Andrew looked at Charles and rubbed his head.

  “As for Rose and Charles, they are an extension of their mother. Even though we may not share the same kinship, I see them as a part of my own soul and I would do anything for them. Now, if I have in anyway unknowingly offended you or your family, I apologize. But my love for your daughter, your grandchildren, Vernon, and everyone else around this table is steadfast, I am afraid. You have to ask yourself now, if you think you have the right or endurance to keep up with trying to prevent that?”

  Miss Julia

  That was the story of how my relationship with Andrew all started. But to get back to today, it was the day of Vernon’s grandmother’s funeral, Betty Cummins. The Three Musketeers had seen some of the local sights—at least, enough to get that desire to explore life in ‘The Big Easy’ out of their system.

  The African-American priest gave a very touching, very heartfelt sermon at the funeral, giving just a glimpse into just how generous and considerate the deceased was just about to everyone. Yet still, the pews were scanty and the words of comfort to the bereaved few.