Sweet Karma

by Amara Kent

  “She’s good. She’s leaving now to come here.”

  “Who’s looking after Toby?” Chris is the only one that works, which is enough to afford them the lifestyle they lead and the house they have. It’ll take her a few hours to get here by train, so someone has to look after him.

  “Violet was able to get their neighbor to pick him up and look after him until Chris finishes.”

  Of course. The neighbors. That’s the one thing about living in New York. You don’t exactly make an effort to get to know your neighbors. In this big, bustling city, people are too busy and engrossed in their own lives to worry about those of others. The only time you get involved is if you hear abuse or a funky smell wafting into your apartment. I had forgotten what it was like to actually have people you cared to know.

  “Oh, okay.”

  I’m still sitting in my room when my sister arrives. She pokes her strawberry blond hair through the slight gap in my door and gives me a grim smile.

  “Hey, hon. I hear you aren’t doing so well,” she says, pushing open the door the rest of the way and walking in taking a seat next to me on the bed.

  “I’m not in the mood to talk, Vi.”

  “Come on. You know you can talk to me about anything.” She strokes my hair, and I move away from her. I don’t want her here, and the only reason I didn’t say anything before, is because it would have taken too much effort.

  “I can’t talk to you about this,” I state. If we talk about this, then I need to let her into my secret world. The one I’ve kept from her for five years. We’re extremely close and I don’t usually keep anything from her, yet I’ve been keeping a pretty massive secret for over five years. I can’t have her angry at me too.

  “I think you should,” Kerri states.

  “I can barely find the energy to have this little discussion right now, let alone one that will take hours,” I mutter.

  “What are you two talking about?” Violet asks, confusion contorting her beautiful face.

  “Taylor isn’t an interior designer.”

  “Kerr.” I sigh. It’s not exactly the rebuke I was going for, but it’s all I can muster.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Taylor lied to you—”

  “Kerr, don’t,” I warn a little more forcefully.

  “Then you tell her. You need to tell her. You’re my best friend and seeing you like this… Do you know how hard it was to see you after what happened with Cameron?” I shake my head. “This is worse. You haven’t had a shower in two weeks.”

  “Can someone just tell me what’s going on?” Violet asks, a little more hysteria lacing her tone.

  “Fine… I don’t have the energy to fight you,” I relent.

  “Good.” Kerri closes the door behind us.

  “As Kerri stated. I’m not an interior designer…”

  I tell her everything. From how someone popped up in my life, and helped get back at Cameron, and how Kerri suggested I start this business. How we had specifically moved to New York to cater to the scorned women here. And how I had broken my number rule with this job.

  “He said, what?” she screamed, jumping off the bed.

  “He said that I should deserve to have what Skylah said happened to her, happen to me,” I repeated. It was just as painful saying it the second time.

  Nothing would break through the pain. No matter how many times I replayed it in my head to force myself to get angry, it never worked. I had fallen for him, and it pushed me back to how I was before. Getting into shitty relationship after shitty relationship, after shitty relationship.

  “What a fucking asshole!” she shouted.

  I broke out in a laugh, because it was the funniest thing in the world to see my sister this riled up. My sister was a saint. She never did anything bad in her life. I was the rebel; she was the angel. She kept that image her whole life. She, like my father, abhorred swearing, whereas my mother and I would drop it as much as we could. Mostly, because it ticked them off to no end, so to hear it coming from her mouth is comical.

  “What’s so funny?” she snaps.

  “I’m sorry, but you’ve never sworn in your life, so this is quite funny to me.” My shoulders bob up and down at my laughter.

  “This isn’t funny, Tay. How dare he say something like that to you. I’m just so angry!”

  “Breathe, Vi. Breathe.”

  She holds her hands up. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute. Excuse me. I’ll be back.”

  “I don’t give a fuck if he’s shitting gold eggs, I will go into his office!”

  I hear the commotion outside and prepare myself for the anger I know will be aimed at me in the next few seconds.

  One. Two. Three.

  The doors fly open and in storms… that can’t be right. I must still be hungover, if I’m seeing her.

  “I’m so sorry, sir, I couldn’t stop her,” my new idiotic assistant apologizes.

  I wave him off and request that he closes the door. The woman who looks incredibly like Tiffany, stops right at my desk, and that’s where I see the differences. Her face is more oval, whereas Tiffany’s is more heart-shaped. They both have the same color eyes, but different nose shapes. Tiffany’s is slimmer, and more petite.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, Dean Lukas?” she snaps.

  “I could say the same for you. Who are you, and why have you barged into my office?” I drawl, getting up and pouring myself a glass of whiskey. If I’m about to have a conversation with a lunatic, I might as well be liquored up. At least, if anything, it’ll help with this hangover.

  “A little too early to be drinking, don’t you think?” she rebukes as I sit back down and take a sip.

  “It’s four o’clock on a Friday. I think it’ll be okay.”

  Her face hardens up more. Lines in her forehead creasing, creating deeper ones. Her eyes bug out, and the veins in her neck protrude.

  “How dare you hurt my sister.”

  “Did your sister happen to tell you what she did?” I ask, becoming annoyed myself. Of course, Tiffany would make herself seem like the innocent one.

  “Yes, she did. And I’m not here to defend her actions, because believe me, they’re quite deplorable—”

  “Then why are you here?” I ask, leaning forward.

  “The girl you know as Tiffany; her real name is Taylor. She’s my older sister and has been through a hell of a life. No, it doesn’t excuse what she did. To be honest, I still can’t believe that was her actual job for all these years.” Interesting. So she’d been lying to her sister as well. “But that gives you no right to say what you said to her.”

  “And what is it exactly that I supposedly said to her?”

  She grits her teeth and takes a deep breath. “You told her that you hope that she becomes pregnant, her partner leaves her, and then she miscarries. What kind of monster wishes that on someone?”

  The acid churns in my stomach, and not from the sick feeling of alcohol. I’ve regretted saying that to her ever since I said it. I hadn’t realized how awful it had sounded until after I had calmed down. Since then, I’ve been playing it over and over in my head. I’ve wanted to apologize for it, but there would be no point. It wouldn’t change a thing.

  “I’m sorry I said that to your sister, but was there a reason you had to come here and tell me in person? How did you even get access up here anyway?”

  She throws Tiffany’s swipe card on my desk. I groan. Just another thing my assistant has failed to do. I make a note to fire him and get a new one.

  “I came here to tell you that you owe my sister an apology. You think you know everything from all the way up here? That you’re so damn clever? Well, you’re not so smart to actually listen to someone when they were trying to tell you truth.”

  “I know the truth, and I certainly don’t need to apologize to your sister. I’m not going to retract what I said.”

  She whips out her phone and swipes through it until she comes to what she’
s looking for and holds up a picture to me.

  If I hadn’t felt like the biggest prick in the world, I do now. The photo is of Tiffany. She’s holding a baby who has their eyes closed. She’s looking up at the camera with tears in her eyes.

  They say a picture paints a thousand words. Well, this one paints a thousand and one. I can feel the contents of my stomach coming up through my throat and I quickly pick up my trash can and empty it all out. The burning from the acid is strong, as if my own body is punishing me for being an asshole. I wipe my mouth with a tissue and put down the trash can.

  “I’m sorry.” It’s all I’ve got to say. It’s all I can say. Because what other words are there to express how regretful you are.

  “I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” she states.

  “How long ago?” I ask.

  “It’s not my story to tell, but I felt that you should at least know the enormity of what you prayed for.” She takes a piece of paper from her purse and places it on my desk and walks out. I pick it up and look at it. It’s the address for Tiffany’s apartment, or should I say, Taylor’s, place.

  I look at the piece of paper in my hand. I’ve wanted to call her. To go to her place and knock on her door and beg for forgiveness. I’m not sure why I still have it with me, since I go by her place every single time, but chicken out at the last minute. I tell myself that I’m going to do it this time, but never do. I’m a chicken. It’s three in the afternoon and I’m at home. I asked Don to look over things for me while I try to get my shit together. I can’t be sitting there dealing with whatever business thing there is. I would much rather sit in my den here and just drink. Drink until I can no longer feel anymore. Drink until I pass out and can sleep the days away. Drink until there is nothing left. The door opens and I watch as my mother walks in with a dreary look on her face.

  “Have you moved at all today?” she asks coolly.

  “No, I have not,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.

  “I know.”

  “Then why the fuck would you even ask me then?” I ask, throwing my hands up in the air.

  “Because of Chloe. I got a phone from the school today. Seems as though you weren’t there to pick her up like you promised, nor did you answer your phone when they called. I had to leave my doctor’s appointment to go and get her.”

  “Shit,” I curse, throwing my head back.

  “Grandma! Grandma!” she stops short when she sees me.

  I go to hug her but she backs away from me, running to my mother instead and hugging her. I feel a pinch in my heart at seeing her like this. Flashes of a similar situation floods my mind. To the time when she was just two years old, clinging to my mother, who looks at me with disappointment pooling in her eyes. The only difference between now and then, is that Chloe is older. My mother bends down to eye level with my daughter. “Sweetie, why don’t you go wait for me in the other room? I just need to have a little word with your father.” Chloe sniffles and nods, before giving me that look of hers. The look she’s perfected to an art. The one that makes her look like her mother.

  My mother waits until Chloe is out of the room. “You left her at school,” she announces.

  “I know.” My head hangs in shame.

  “The school couldn’t reach you at all, so they called me.”

  “I know,” I say again. Because it’s all I can say in this situation. There is no argument I could bring to the table that would excuse my actions, or lack thereof.

  “She was crying when I picked her up. Sitting alone in the cold. Shivering. You’ve been drinking again.” It’s a statement rather than a question, created with abject disappointment. I had promised her the first time that I would never jeopardize Chloe’s well-being over myself. But I’d done it again, and it cut me up to think that Taylor had done this to me. That it was so easy for her to do this to me.

  “Come, sit,” my mother orders, taking a seat down on the sofa. I sit next to her and she turns to me, placing a hand on my leg. “I don’t know who this Taylor woman is, but I do know that you need to speak to her.”

  “You know what she did, right?” I ask, shocked that she would suggest such a thing.

  “No, but I know that you are miserable because of it. You love her,” she says as if she’s commenting on the weather.

  “I’m not in love with her, Mom,” I object.

  “Yes you are, darling. Before all this happened, I have never seen you more happy than I have since Melinda died. I have been so used to you just traveling through life, that I forgot what it was like to see you happy. You were happy.”

  “She used me. Made me fall for her in order to get revenge for Skylah who was trying to get me back. What kind of woman does that make her?” I argue. I need her to see my point of view. It’s been weeks and I haven’t said a word to Taylor.

  “Someone who is hurting. Just like you.”

  “You don’t do that if you’re hurting,” I snap.

  “Oh, darling. You are so caught up in how you are, and how you react, that you don’t see that everyone is different. Am I condoning her behavior? No. But most people don’t do bad things for the sake of being a bad person. There is usually a reason as to why we do things. Why don’t you find hers””

  “Because that’s not going to change what happened.”

  “No, it won’t, but try to think of it this way, when you lost Melinda, you were distraught. You couldn’t function and you neglected your newborn baby. It took two years for you to realize what you were doing with your life. If you had continued to go down that dark path, you wouldn’t have the highly successful business you have now. Whatever happened to Taylor must have been pretty big for her to have done what she did. The situations aren’t the same, but it resulted in the two of you becoming lost. You were lucky enough to have someone guide you. She clearly doesn’t. Whatever you choose, you need to think about Chloe. You can’t continue allowing your demons to override you as a father. Sort whatever this is out so you can be here for her.” With one last quick pat on the leg, she stands up and leaves me to think about her advice.

  I can’t in my right mind forgive Taylor for what she did, but I can’t keep denying that I’m damn fucking miserable without her, and my depressed ass is affecting those I love. The people that mean the most to me.

  I took Mom’s advice. Standing in front of her closed door, I wait and sort out whether I can make the move to actually knock. I don’t know if it’ll change anything between us. I’ve been miserable without her. I’ve been neglecting Chloe, my work, and I’ve gone through more personal assistants than what is possible. It’s taken me a while to get here. First, I had to stop drinking and make things right with my daughter. My mother said I should seek professional help, so I did. Clearly, I have some issues I need to overcome. I hope that it’s not too late; I hope, that after a couple of months she can stand to be in the same room as me.

  I take a deep breath and knock on the door. It swings open, and I don’t try to hide the despair I feel when I see her sister standing there with a wide smile that quickly fades into a scowl. One I’m certain doesn’t occur that often.

  “You’re two months too late, Dean. The time for apologizing is long gone.” She goes to close the door in my face, but I stop it with my hand.

  “Just let me in,” I beg.

  “Vi? Who’s at the front door?” I hear her voice, and it makes my stomach do a backflip.

  “Mormons,” she announces loudly.

  “Really? There are no mor—” She stops dead in her tracks when she sees me. “Dean,” she breathes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  She looks at her sister, who gives her a firm quick shake of her head, and then back to me. “I’m sorry, but I’m busy packing up. You’ll need to leave.”

  “Packing?” I ask, looking at all the labeled boxes strewn about her living room. “Are you moving?” As if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

  �
�Yes. I have no life here anymore and felt it would be good to start anew. Somewhere fresh and away from bad memories.”

  “Where are you moving to?” I pray and plead with my eyes for her to tell me.

  “I’m moving back home. Back to where I came from. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do need to finish packing.”

  The fire is gone. Snuffed out by a man with a cruel mouth. A man who wished one of the worst things that could happen to a human, on her. A man who was too selfish to find out the truth.

  “I just want a few minutes of your time. And then if you never want to see me again, then that’s fine.”

  “I… I—”

  “Tay?” Violet warns.

  “Sure.” She turns to look at her sister. “What could it hurt?”

  I smile and thank the lord that she’s giving me this chance. She guides me through the doors to her terrace and closes it behind her. She takes a seat on the one chair and I stand up, resting against the railing.

  “I should start by saying how terribly sorry I am for what I said to you. I had no idea.”

  She stiffens up. “Who told you?”

  “Your sister. She came into my office a couple of months ago and told me that I should at least get the full story.”

  “She shouldn’t have told you. It’s not her story to tell. It’s mine,” she grits through clenched teeth.

  “I’m also sorry I yelled at you and fired you when you asked about my daughter.” I take a deep breath. Ready to tell a story I rarely tell anybody. The only people outside my immediate family that know are Don, Nancy, and Victor, my driver, and that’s because I’ve known them since I was a kid.

  “None of this matters anymore, Dean.”

  “But it does. It really does.”

  “What will it change?” she asks.

  “Nothing, but I need you to know. Ten years ago, my girlfriend, Melinda, fell pregnant. We were going to get engaged, after I had the business fully up and running I was going to propose. When I found out she was pregnant, I couldn’t have been happier. Here was the love of my life, pregnant with my child. Well, I didn’t waste any time. I proposed to her the next day. We were in love and we were happy. The day my beautiful daughter came into the world—Chloe, is her name—is the saddest and darkest day of my life. Her pregnancy was smooth and there were no complications, which is why it hit me so hard when she died giving birth.”