by Leanne Davis
“Yes, you could have.”
“No, I couldn’t. You get me. You know how I feel and how hard this is. Now, it’s Damion’s turn to grieve over her.”
“You’ve been a good brother to him again. You always were.”
“Yeah. But he wasn’t. I can’t deny the resentment I still feel whenever I think too much about it.”
I touch his face. “That’s okay. You can think and wonder and ponder all you want. Your actions are all that counts. You’re also allowed to say you don’t know how to handle a situation when there is no handbook to tell you what is right or wrong.”
His hand grabs mine. Again. But this time, he squeezes mine against his cheek. “How could I miss seeing you?”
I try to yank my hand back. He never “saw” me like this, I quietly point out. “You didn’t see me the way you did Ireena, not even when I was lying naked in your bed.”
He stares down into my face, and his mouth scrunches up. “Fuck. I messed that up.”
“No, you didn’t. You can’t be blamed for not having the same feelings as me. My feelings are on me.”
“What if I want to see you now?”
I shake my head and gently wiggle my hand free. “I can’t do this, Devon. I can’t be… yours again. Not like that. How can I tell if it’s different or for real? Right now, you need to deal with your brother and your parents. You also might want to take a slight detour from the path in your life that went so wrong.”
I grab the door, knowing I can’t resist him for long. He’s my holy grail and everything I want in life: us together as one and both feeling romantic. Both of us being in love. Dating for real.
“Claudia, what if you’re wrong? I believe I’ve changed. This whole ordeal has gutted me. I’ve had to peel back all the layers of life and face the emotions and mistakes to get to the core. The very innermost part of me. And when I got all the way down there, I found you. I love being with you. My feelings for you are the most sincere part of me. I’m not wrong.”
My heart skips. Yeah, I have to fight the urge to turn and run into his arms. I want to kiss him incessantly like I (unfortunately) know we can. But I lean my head into the door and let my shoulders sag. “I’m not being stubborn, but I know you. Deeply and for a long time. You’re sorry. You’re very sorry about how Ireena made me feel, but it’s not as if you suddenly noticed me. I’ve always been here. Just like this. So what if you need me right now? It’ll pass.”
“It won’t. I think I—”
I whip my gaze back, glaring at him. “Don’t you dare say it, Devon. Just… take care. We need more space and all that. Sure, I care about you and your family, but maybe I’m getting too close again… and it’s hurting me now.”
He presses his lips together. “I never want to hurt you again.”
“Then accept the reality of what I’m saying.”
He doesn’t comment, and I slip free of him. I observe the reception, a whole room full of sad, confused people. I leave the man I want more than any other, a man who is sad and needy. He thinks he needs me now in new ways that he didn’t before.
Walking away from that, and from him, might be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
Chapter 13
CLAUDIA
Devon returns to work, and it’s slightly better than the day after we had sex, but Lord. It’s like taking two steps forward and four steps backwards. Our relationship used to be comfortable for both of us. It’s so not now. Again. It’s tense and taut and strained. We’re pretending to allot way too much concentration on our work projects with little to no attention toward our personal lives.
Except on the occasions when Cooper comes into the office. Lord, sometimes I want to crawl under my desk. I chide myself for having such a childish and unnecessary response. I have no reason to hide. Cooper represents my healthy chance at moving forward. Just because Devon’s finally noticing me and pretending to get his personal life together, I’m not falling down that rabbit hole again. Ha. If I don’t make a move now, I might never find the strength or the courage.
The sad confusion makes me imagine myself reaching out to check on him. I just like to hang out with him and talk. I pretend I have to check on him and Damion. But I don’t. I don’t really care how either of them are. For far too long, I sacrificed my personal interests to be around them.
So now I am moving on with my new boyfriend. I can do that. I should most definitely be doing that. Yeah. Sure. Right?
DEVON
She really is dating him now. She is not slowing down or backing off. How long will it take for her to consider not being with Cooper? He comes here more often now, picking her up after work. He’s very courteous to me, compelling me to reciprocate. I am still determined to show Claudia the new and improved me, but I have to fist my hand and grind my teeth sometimes. It can be very hard for me to live with the new me.
I keep my irritation to myself. I smile and make small talk with the man. He is fine enough. I guess I saw the change coming for her. He is completely stable and monotonously sane, a real Caspar Milquetoast. I don’t make the comparison because of his pasty color. No. It has nothing to do with his whiteness, he is just so boring. Claudia could be in danger of falling asleep while talking to him. But since there are no sparks there or burning passion, I suppose Claudia wants to keep all the drama at bay.
She lacks all the things that exist between us with Cooper, even if we’re just friends.
The chemistry is absent with him. I’m sure of it. If only I could convince her that chemistry is as important as friendship, understanding, and that X-factor, where people just get each other. You meet someone, and you know for sure he or she is just your type of person. Like Claudia and me. We have all that.
I limit my life to my career and Damion now. Our progress is slow. So damn slow. First, I have to figure out if I am still angry at him and only forgiving him because Ireena died? The ability to forgive is a part of common decency, at least from my perspective. I start off with stopping by his apartment every day on the way home from work. Sometimes I stay for dinner, and other times I bring it to them. Occasionally, I leave after an hour or two. I help him with the chores, doing anything from laundry to sweeping the floors or playing with Dayshia. I try to encourage Damion to lie down and rest whenever he needs to.
We start talking slowly. First, only about the present, the here and now. I ask what Dayshia did, or we discuss the events of the day or the local listings on TV we like to watch together. It’s pretty generic, and we successfully ignore the former connection we always had. That leaves me missing the closest person in my life.
I want to call Claudia. I’m ready to rush over to her apartment and confess my revelations. That I want more with her than friendship. That I am able to be around Damion even after the initial shock of Ireena’s death. Like a kid seeking his parents’ approval, I want her to know what I’m doing. Instead, I just go home alone. I have to live and deal and pretend that this is enough. I have become the scorned one who has to get over her.
The irony amazes me. The only reason I change and suddenly realize everything I missed was right in front of me was due to the death and pain of losing someone else. Only Claudia can draw me to a new place. She’s right; I am still relying on her to get through this. She inspires me to be different and better and so much more. But my actions have to change. My behavior will have to match my most recent epiphany.
I don’t want any other women now. I don’t want my old life back. I don’t even want what a repeat of what I had with Ireena. I was often stressed over her leaving me and the real possibility of her cheating. She made me feel insecure and never good enough. She preferred to keep me guessing how she felt about me. But with Claudia, I receive honesty and truth. The true me was exposed to Claudia. And vice versa. That’s how I know this is real.
But she doesn’t believe it yet. And I, alone, own the means to change that. A few weeks after Ireena’s death, I figured out that I couldn’t continue this
way. I hope she believes I’m serious although I’ve done no work to earn that opinion. She has no reason to trust me. I failed to do the hard work of making any actual changes. I withheld my forgiveness from my brother, except for what I said when his wife was dying.
I quit sleeping with strange women. I quit going out. I quit pretending that none of it happened. Not exactly the most profound changes. At first, I thought it was pretty impressive and worthy of a pat on the head for abstaining from those things. And being monogamous. I deserve a medal, huh? That’s how I felt.
But now? I see my true character. How I’ve been living. My goals in life and how I go about getting them. How I present myself. What I value as important.
I have to sit back and take stock of the truth: I don’t know what I want out of life. I just know what I don’t want: to be a single guy that sleeps with random women without knowing their names and relying on my best friend for everything else. All the money in the world means nothing without someone I love to spend it on and share it with. I want someone forever. I want to live with another human being that I care about. I want to enjoy the benefits of a long-term partnership and family. I want love. I want it all, and I want to be in love.
If I die tomorrow, I have nothing but a car and condo to show for my life.
That, too, is on me to fix.
The first thing I realize is how much I value the working and personal relationships I share with Claudia; dating could ruin those. I have to acknowledge that. I consider it for several days as well as what the hell am I doing with my life?
After work, I visit my mom in Silver Springs. Walking into her café, my heart feels like it floats. I am home. This place is home to me as much as my parents’ house. My parents met here and fell in love while working together, she as the boss, he a dishwasher and server. My grandmother, Hathai, also one of my mom’s employees, was the reason my dad ended up here. I spent my entire life here. Hanging out when I was young, I watched my mom cook, serve, do the books and manage the staff. She and Tara Kincaid own it. It was where Damion and I played and also where we met and interacted with all the townspeople. My cousins worked there at different times as well as both of their wives. They were financing their way through their respective schooling. Later on, I worked there as a dishwasher, a server, and a cook. It makes me grin when I remember high school and how much I resented my after-school job. Mom and Dad own this place, and I had to do all the grunt work for it? I know the reason why now: no one is above doing good, hard, honest work. Any decent work is acceptable. We all worked hard here for years. No, decades.
Chloe’s Corner Café.
It’s my family. I stare around at everyone. The same picture as it was twenty years ago. A high school student is serving a drink to an elderly lady behind the long bar where all the single chairs are. The half-filled tables create a warm ambiance of gentle voices. Another server carries a tray of meals to a table. One customer is walking to the restroom, and a toddler is jumping on the seat of the booth as his mother tries to coax him to stop.
I’m greeted by several long-time customers. “Devon. How are you? How is Damion? We are praying for you both.”
I nod as I quickly recap the latest news of my brother and parents. Another asks, “How is your dear mother? We worry so much for you guys.”
And another remarks, “So glad to see you here again, Devon. It’s been too long.”
I sigh. It has been too long. I don’t come home as often as I should for the past two years. My heart hurts when I realize how much I’ve missed. All the people who know me. The proud sense of walking into my family-owned establishment. It belongs to my parents and aunt, but I always felt like it was mine, too. My self-proclaimed entitlement complex makes me proud of what this place means to the whole town. That is all my mom’s doing.
I make my way past the regular patrons and fist-bump the college-aged server. His name is Hank. The kitchen is warm and busy. The cooks have changed over the years, but my mom always pitches in, mostly out of love. I get a happy round of hellos and warm greetings, making me realize how relaxed and comfortable I feel when I’m here.
I’m instantly lighter, happier, more engaged and more connected to the people working here and the patrons who come in and out. I find it easier to laugh and chat and throw shade, good naturedly, of course. There’s no question of my intentions because we all share the same culture: a culture of familiarity and love.
I enter my mom’s office, and she glances up. How many times have I done this? It makes my heart swell with tenderness for her. How many times have I walked in on my mom at her desk, her neck bent in concentration over some task or another?
She looks up when I enter, and a huge grin brightens her face. “Devon. What are you doing all the way out here?”
I grin at her as I sit in one of the chairs before her desk. “Visiting my mother.” Her mouth presses into a pleased smile.
“That’s a nice change.”
I nod, letting out a breath as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “What? Being together for no reason other than just because? Every interaction for the last month was centered on death, tragedy, shock and coping. Deciding who checks in on Damion or cares for Dayshia or prepares the food or writes the obituaries or pushes Damion to handle his end-of-life arrangements for his dead wife. Is it so wrong to get together without a frown or any tears or sobbing?”
She leans back in her office chair, stretching her hand out. “When you lay it all out like that, no wonder I’m so damn tired all the time.”
“It’s been a tough road.”
“It sure has. When death comes so unexpectedly and unfairly, or when the victim is just too young, or through violence, the anger on top of all the sadness and depression creates a confusing mish-mash of emotions.”
I eye her more closely. “You would know, Mom. More than most people.”
She smiles and drops her arms. “I miss her every single day. Still. After forty years. It’s been almost forty years since I saw her face, heard her voice, or her special Ebony-take on things. It’s been four decades since I touched her hand or hugged her and I miss it as much now as I did then. My parents are getting older now. I wonder how much longer I’ll have them. and coping with the loss of Ebony is just as heavy and sad now as it ever was.”
“I tried to ignore your warnings about indulging my anger and avoiding my twin brother. But now I see it more clearly. and I get it. Watching him lose his wife and lover touched me much more deeply than my anger was. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, however, until that happened.”
“It’s hard to imagine living without someone when you still have them. Sometimes, you feel such deep hurt and anger toward them. But losing any chance to ever see them again is so much worse. Death is permanent. I’m sorry Damion has to endure that and you, too, through your bond with him. You know I never wanted anyone to feel anything close to the loss I have to accept. I moved on though. I found so much joy in you boys and your dad and our life here in Silver Springs. I still find joy here every day. But something else on the periphery is always missing. A very small part of every moment of my days, a part that isn’t quite right. Grandma Adaline says things like that sometimes. She can accept the death because she has all the faith that she’ll eventually join Ebony again.”
“I think I failed to understand your warning.”
Her smile is slow and kind of amused. “You’re a kid. You aren’t really supposed to understand me. I raised you, not vice versa.”
“But now, as an adult, maybe I’m finally getting there.”
“I love you, Devon. The past two years were a test for all of us. And our love. What love means, how it can change and evolve and grow and even betray and hurt us. And the discovery that life is very fragile. All of life is. As much as I love this random visit from you, I always know when you have something on your mind. How can I help?”
“I think that Damion needs me. But in a different way than ever before.”
She lets out her breath slowly. “I’m sure he does. But it’s not on you anymore. You don’t have to give it to him. And I’m proud of you for seeing and knowing that.”
“I think I want to give it to him. I want to forgive him now. For real. I mean… you know? Cell-level forgiveness, from my heart, not just hollow words and hanging around or helping him when he asks me.”
“I know exactly what you mean. What do you have in mind?”
“I think I should move back home. To Silver Springs. And Damion and I could raise Dayshia together, at least for now until he heals. Until he gets his head, heart, and feet planted firmly back on the ground. A year, maybe two… whatever it takes.”
Her eyes bug out. “Devon… you want to help Damion? Where is this coming from?”
“I don’t enjoy my life or the person I’ve become in it. I used to have goals and ambitions, but I lost my integrity and satisfaction. I drove a nice car and mistook the looks I got from the girls as being important and something to strive for.”
“Damion?”
“Yeah. My twin. I missed him so much, and I want to forgive him now and move past this. He’s pretty destroyed, and I’d like to make sure his daughter isn’t. I think I could offer her a lot now and maybe supplement whatever Damion lacks.”
Oh. The motherly spark that radiates from Mom’s eyes and her smile thrill me. She is bursting at the seams with joy and pride at my words. I lift one side of my mouth in amusement. It’s nice to know that. It’s fucking awesome, actually. I’m glad I’m not too old or jaded to care what my mother thinks and approves of. I’m also glad I’m still capable of human decency, caring, and joy. I’m capable of so much more than that. Even growing up.
“I know you have a lot to offer her and Damion… everyone, actually.”
“I’m also in love with Claudia.”