Blue Sky

by D. Bryant Simmons

  There was a creak on the stairs, and I looked up in time to see Jean-Louis close the door of our bedroom. His tie hung loosely from his neck as he placed his medical bag by the door.

  “You’re home. How was your day?”

  “It was long.”

  “Did you eat? Want me to warm you something up?”

  “No, no. I’m fine.”

  Restless, my knees began bouncing beneath the sheets, and I sat my devotional book aside, waiting for him to focus entirely on me. “Honey? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  He mumbled something from inside the walk-in closet that didn’t sound like what I was expecting, so I eased out of bed and tiptoed across the carpet.

  “Honey?”

  He was wearing only his underwear and buttoning his sleepshirt. “Something…about the basement?”

  “Did it flood?”

  “No.”

  “Then no, I do not know what you’re talking about.”

  “Something in the basement, maybe? Something sweet and furry?”

  “Nicole, what are trying to say?”

  “I found the toys!” I couldn’t contain it any longer. My cheeks hurt from the smile that had taken over my face. “They’re so perfect! She’s gonna love them! I love them! And I love you so much!”

  He accepted my embrace, caressing my back with his firm precise hands before his mouth found mine. Full of aching and longing, his kiss was deep and brisk, nibbling on my bottom lip. Happy to follow his lead, I backed up toward the bed. Every muscle in my body constricted as the weight of his pinned me to the bed. The volume of the television rose a few decibels with the commercial break. His hands lifted my nightgown, invigorated to find I’d already removed my underwear. Twenty-five minutes of brisk lovemaking later, I exhaled and snuggled next to my husband, studying his face as he drifted off to sleep. It seemed a shame to wake him but I couldn’t help myself.

  “When are you going to give Mia the toys?”

  “What toys?” was his groggy reply.

  “The toys in the basement. The stuffed animals in the bag near your tools. I was going to bring them up, but—”

  His eyelids flew open. “You did not—”

  “No. I thought you probably wanted to do it yourself.”

  He relaxed onto his side, muttering that we would discuss it in the morning.

  Staring at his back I wondered what I’d said wrong. Did he misunderstand? I was happy. I wasn’t trying to take over. He bought the gifts, of course, I’d let him do the gift-giving. I just wanted to know when it would happen.

  “Is it for Christmas?”

  “Go to sleep, Nicole.”

  “I just wanna know, so I know how much stuff to buy them. I was thinking about getting a new tree, a bigger one. I don’t think Mia’s ever had a Christmas tree. I know she doesn’t have any toys. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

  But the conversation was over. His breathing slowed and the slight whistle I’d become familiar with breezed from his nostrils. With the aid of the remote control the late-late-night television show disappeared into blackness. I tossed and turned trying to find my own sleep.

  When did he have time to go shopping? And why would he hide the toys from me? Keep it secret from me? I could’ve easily found a space for them in our closet, and Mya and the kids would’ve been no wiser. A pain seared into my gut and rose to my chest. The stuffed animals weren’t for Mia at all.

  “I want them to stay here. Permanently.” I swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling, as he stirred next to me. “Jean-Louis?”

  “Not this again.”

  “Yes, this again. She’s my sister.”

  A second later we were face to face. No visages of sleep visible in his features. “You will stop this.” His jawline firmed, and my fortunate husband declared the option impossible.

  “Who are they for?”

  “The toys are for our children. Maybe you’ve given up but I haven’t. I won’t.”

  “I… I never said—

  “You don’t have to say it. It is obvious.” He shot up, his voice following in the same manner. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t accept your sister’s bastards as replacements!” He jumped out of bed, fumbling around for his slippers, and said, “This is why I do not want her here! She is a bad influence on you! They all are. Do you think I do not see these things? Do you think I am blind?”

  “Please, keep your voice down.” I pushed myself up to a sitting position, letting my eyes drift to the closed door leading into the hallway.

  “You think I do not see the way she looks at me?”

  “She looks at everybody that way.”

  “You are a fool! She hates me! Hates your husband, and still you bring her into our home!”

  “Stop saying that!” Before I knew it, I’d flung off the covers, and I was rounding the bedpost, closing the distance between us. Didn’t have an agenda other than to make him be decent, to make him understand how hurtful he was being, but he didn’t know that.

  He’d misunderstood my action. I understood that the split second before his hand made contact across my face.

  I gasped, pressing my hand to my cheek. The wetness seemed to spring up out of nowhere, my tears. “You hit me!”

  “I…”

  His apology barely got off the ground before the bedroom door was thrown open, and in its place stood a very pissed Morrow girl.

  “Mya, don’t! It’s okay!”

  I don’t think my sister heard me because she charged at him, both hands jutted out in front of her until she had the collar of his sleepshirt in her grasp. She stood three inches or so higher than him anyway and watching as he struggled to free himself, I immediately understood the shame he must’ve felt. She released him, and he hit the wall with a thud.

  “Don’t you ever—”

  “Mya, I’m okay,” I pleaded with her.

  “—put your hands on her again. Ever!” My sister’s voice trembled, on the verge of losing control.

  Did he know that? Did he know what awaited him on the other side of Mya’s self-control? I couldn’t see past her to him, but the answer came to me anyway. He couldn’t have known. I’d been careful to leave that part out. He wouldn’t have believed me anyway. No man would ever take a woman seriously as a physical threat.

  “Get out! Get out my house y-you junkie whore!”

  “Fine by me.” Mya threw a glance over her shoulder at me, but I was speechless. Tried to muster up an apology, but the words just piled up in my throat, a sluggish muddy clog in my airway.

  “Get out or I call the police!”

  She nodded. “You do that. I’ll tell them what you did to my sister.”

  My heart skipped a beat. What he’d done to me? How did she know? When did she…what had he done to me? The carpet fibers rose before me like a wild field, growing until each was as tall as me. He’d lied to me. Struck me. That’s what she meant. She would tell the police that he’d struck me. But what would they do? Didn’t they have better things to pursue—murderers, rapists, burglars? Couldn’t go after every man that struck his wife in a fit of anger.

  “Nicole. Tell her to go. Tell her.”

  Oh, God, no! This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go! They were my blessing!

  Mya’s sigh thundered in my ear, and I realized she’d wrapped me in her arms, pressed her warm chest to mine. My sister loved me even though I was failing her.

  “M-Mya?”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered in my ear. “I’ll call and check on you tomorrow.” She turned, glared at my husband, and escaped to the guest room to pack.

  “Did he put his hands on you?”

  Mia was snuggled up between the two of us as the bus screeched to a stop. She let loose a yawn, then relaxed into his armpit.

  “Mya, tell me if he did, and I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” I snapped at him. I’d reached a new level of pissed off. First him and his bad habits, then Nikki’s little troll, and
now he was insinuating I couldn’t take care of myself. Didn’t he know me at all? Well, Nikki’s husband knew. If he ain’t know before, he knew now. Nobody fucks with the Morrow girls. He oughta be grateful it was just me. If Jackie had been there, we’d have his ass buried in the backyard by now.

  “I missed you, you know,” Darien confessed to my reflection in the window. “You miss me?”

  I didn’t. Having him to come rescue us from Nikki’s didn’t mean I was ready to fall back into the normal rhythm of things. I just needed an extra set of hands to carry stuff.

  “It’ll be different this time. I promise. People at the school talking about giving me a promotion to head custodian. Means benefits and steady money. Okay? You can go get your GED like we always talked about. Go on to college even.”

  Nikki went to college. One full year. Jackie was in college now, didn’t know how much time she actually spent at the place. One of us should actually do the thing right. Maybe it would be Natalie.

  “Mya?”

  “I heard you.”

  “You know you could do it. As smart as you are.”

  “College costs money.”

  “I’ll pay for it.” His eyes glistened proudly.

  A good girlfriend would’ve accepted the offer without any hesitation. She’d smile and swoon and lace him with robust platitudes of gratitude, instead of recalling the broken promises that littered the past.

  “Mya, let me make it up to you. Okay? I know you’re pissed, but just give me a chance, and I’ll make it better.”

  He wasn’t a bad person. There were yards between Nikki’s little demon and Darien, but still a tiny voice in my head accused me of turning into my sister. After all, I could’ve left Darien years ago, but I’d stayed. I knew what was in his heart. Knew the man that he was fighting so hard to become. And he deserved it. After everything he deserved to have folks look upon him with respect instead of shooing him away or looking right through him as if he didn’t exist. Mia, Alan, and I might’ve been the only proof that he’d returned from the war a full-fledged human being.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, just as the baby bristled a bit against my chest.

  The bus rocked side to side, picking up speed as the early morning traffic parted. Probably should’ve lied. Told him I was thinking about getting back to Lakeview Terrace in time for him to make it to school. Told him I was thinking about checking on Mama. Or any number of plausible answers. But I stayed quiet.

  ◼︎

  This time will be different, he said again with unworthiness burned into his retinas. The blood-red circles and their miniscule spidery veins pulsated with each breath he took. Begging. On his knees, he pleaded with me to believe him. This time would be different. He loved me. He’d die for me. He would stay straight for me.

  Never seen a man cry until the mysterious soldier boy. On the outside he was old and crusty and more than a little musty, but his insides were sweet as jam. The kind of sweetness that made me believe in everything that wasn’t in me. Tears and hugs and coy kisses with come-hither-stares. They’d never been me, and he didn’t mind. All he asked was that I loved him.

  He’d dropped to the floor the second we entered the room. “Mya, I swear…,” he was mumbling. His arms stretched out as if to offer himself to a spiteful god. “Never again. Never, never, ever again.”

  I nodded. “All right. Get up.”

  “I can’t live without you and the kids.”

  I nodded again but turned to the starry sky outside our window before his hands touched me. It’d been broken since the day we moved into room 222 at Lakeview Terrace, a motel with neither a view nor a lake.

  “I’m gonna get us outta here. I swear. A real nice place.”

  “Nice places require security deposits.”

  I heaved my duffel bag onto the bed that we were to share and set my mind to unpacking.

  Nobody would understand why I went back to this man who only made my life infinitely more complicated, but he’d made significant progress. Holding down a full-time job was a major accomplishment. I think it helped that it was at a school. Being around kids helped him beat back his demons.

  “Let me help you.”

  “Don’t need any help.” I laid the stack of clean clothes in the first drawer on top of a clean towel. He sank into the foot of the bed, watching as I carried stacks of sweaters, baby onesies, and underwear, then tucked rolls of socks in the spaces between them.

  “How you get all that into one drawer is beyond me. Sure you wasn’t in the service?”

  “We go sleep now?” Mia sat up on the bed next to us rubbing her eyes. She yawned and reached blindly for whoever was closest. Wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

  No one would understand why I did what I did unless they’d seen the two of them together. He loved her so intensely that DNA didn’t matter. Protected her before she was even born. Fed her out of the goodness of his heart. I wasn’t the sort to believe in fairy tales, but because of him, my daughter did.

  She stretched out on the bed next to her brother, eyelids closed, breathing steady, dreaming of the day to come.

  “She’s down.”

  “I see that.”

  “Mya, please…look at me. At least look at me. You’re here, but you’re not here. I know you’re mad, and I can take that. I deserve it. I just gotta know that you still love me.”

  I’d left my sister’s house with less than I’d brought there. I spun the duffel bag around searching each compartment for a diaper or two that might’ve made the return trip.

  “Mya.”

  “I love you.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No.” I exhaled and paused long enough for him to feel my eyes on his. “I do. But I’m tired of this. You are better…than this…”

  Seconds later his arms were around me, pulling me into his promises of a better life. He withdrew slowly before he was ready because he knew I wasn’t ready for physical contact. Eased out of the dark green jacket he’d worn every day since his discharge, folded it neatly, and placed it on the dresser with the patch that read Lt. Allen facing up.

  “We’re outta diapers.”

  “I’ll go get some.” He reached for his jacket.

  “No. I’ll do it.”

  “Mya, I can get diapers. I’m not gonna fuck that up. You should lie down and get some sleep. He’ll be up soon, you know.”

  I did know. Couldn’t help but know. My milk was fighting for more room in my ever-expanding chest. But still…“I said I’ll go.”

  Last time he went out for diapers, he didn’t come back for three hours. And he’d forgotten all about the diapers.

  “Mya—”

  “I’ll go and be right back. Ten minutes.”

  The police said I was found in the bushes, my upper body hidden by the many branches and leaves. When they pulled me out, it was clear my face had taken quite a beating although nothing was broken. Just bruised. A rib. My cheekbone. My pride. I stood at the spot, remembering all that I could about the moments leading up to it. Ten feet ahead and around the corner stood Kem’s apartment building. Three blocks behind me, the bar. Across the street was a currency exchange. I’d never paid any attention to it before. I’d followed Kem down there once, keeping him company while he paid his electricity bill but didn’t remember a thing about the place.

  Hiding behind a pair of sunglasses, my hair pulled back into a bun, I barely looked like me. Didn’t help any that under my leather coat I was wearing one of Heziah’s favorite dress shirts, the one with a white-and-black pattern of suits—clubs, hearts, spades—hanging loose over a pair of blue jeans. I’d been an easy mark. Hard to admit, but it was the truth. It wouldn’t happen again, that much I was sure of because I would find them. Whoever they were, wherever they lived, I’d search them out. I waited for a break in the traffic, then crossed the street.

  At four o’clock in the af
ternoon, it was only servicing a handful of customers. The vending machines in the corner offered up blow-pops, stickers, and gumballs sprinkled with a sugary replica of confetti, all for a quarter. Something to keep the kiddies busy while their mothers took care of business probably. An older gentleman tucked his wallet into his back pocket and nodded in my direction as he slipped out the front door. The windows framing the door looked out onto the street but were covered in a thin bluish plastic that was hell to see through. I sighed. Possibility number one down the drain.

  Kem’s neighbor heard a scuffle, a woman’s screams, and dialed 911. She hadn’t seen a thing. Apparently, no one had since the cops had yet to arrest anyone.

  I had only one idea left. A drunk girl gets robbed as she walks down the street, it wasn’t a crime that screamed premeditation or conspiracy. I’d simply been an opportunity that presented itself. In the right place at the right time. Perhaps they had been walking down the opposite side of the street and caught sight of little old me. Maybe they’d been present in the blurry crowd from the bar, leering from some dark corner and following as I left. Or just maybe they’d been cashing a check or paying a bill…

  “Next. Ma’am?” The clerk beckoned me forward. “Can I help you?” He asked, clearly bored out of his mind.

  “Yes. I’d like to see your security footage from last Friday. Please.” I tacked on a smile as if it were a perfectly legitimate request.

  “Umm…I don’t think…”

  “Well, maybe you didn’t hear. A very nice, very attractive young lady was attacked just across the street, and she comes from a very important family, if you catch my drift.”

  He did but didn’t yet know what to make of the information.

  “They’ve hired me to look into the matter. And I’m sure they’d be very grateful when I tell them how helpful you…” I stole a quick peek at his nametag. “Ben Milford…how helpful you’ve been. Could even be a reward in it for you.”