Blue Sky

by D. Bryant Simmons

  She was so happy, she was crying.

  I laughed for the second time that day. “And if you talk to your sisters—Mya? No, I ain’t heard from her, but if you do go ahead and tell her the news. Tell her I wanna see her. Jackie too. Okay, baby. See you soon.”

  It was a misunderstanding—a drawn-out, one-for-the-record-books misunderstanding, so I explained it all again. The metal cuffs had begun to weigh heavily on my wrists, but if I kept them at a 30-degree angle, the handcuffs didn’t bite at my skin.

  “So, Jane Doe…you expect us to believe you were present at the scene of a robbery and murder, but you didn’t see anything, didn’t do anything, and you just had to run out the back door?”

  They didn’t like me. After six hours of interrogation, the tag team of detectives had made that abundantly clear. They didn’t bother with the good cop/bad cop dichotomy. Their distaste for me was equal. At first I thought that was their act. That they expected me to try to win them over, expected me to be one of those girls that couldn’t stand for someone to dislike them.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, that’s what happened.”

  “And where did the blood come from again?”

  The blood. I closed my eyes but I could still see the dark red mass spreading from his body. Feel the warm stickiness seeping into my jeans and coursing through my fingers. His life was in my hands. Should I have done CPR sooner? Faster?

  “Arif.”

  “So, you knew the victim?”

  “I guess.”

  How much did anybody know anybody else? I knew him enough to speak to him. He knew me enough to ask about Darien and Mia. And if I was a few pennies or even a dollar short, I’d come to expect that he’d forgive it.

  “The cash register was empty. Where did you hide the money?”

  “I didn’t. I told you. It wasn’t me.”

  “That’s right,” his partner chimed in, chuckling. “She was only there to get diapers. She’s innocent. You must think we’re a couple of simpletons, huh?”

  Was I supposed to deny that? Claim that they were some Rhodes scholars or something?

  “Look at her. She thinks she’s smarter than us.”

  “Hey, missy.” The fat one waved his thumb back and forth, indicating himself and his partner. “We ain’t the ones living on the street, begging for hard-working people’s spare change.”

  “I don’t beg.”

  “She doesn’t beg,” the funny one mocked me. “What you do then? Stand on a corner?” He knelt, so he could see me sweat. “What do you do for those crumbled up sticky dollar bills?”

  The metal nipped at my wrists reminding me to keep the anger under wraps. They couldn’t keep this up forever. I’d stick to my story and they’d have to let me go. Then they’d better hope we never ran into each other in a dark alley.

  “If we run your description by vice, any chance something interesting might come up?”

  “That’s why she won’t give us her name because she’s gotta long list of priors. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

  They paced in opposite directions, a choreographed routine they knew well, and waited for me to give an inch.

  “We have you sneaking out the back door soaked in his blood.”

  “Maybe she had a crisis of conscience. Her boyfriend or pimp or whoever did the shooting, left her there to take the rap. That what happened?”

  “Did he take the money with him?”

  “Yes.” I exhaled hard, my skin tingling from the effort the word drew from my body.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” The shorter detective pulled up a chair and sat down, looking at me anew. “Where can we find him? What’s his name?”

  “I told you. I don’t know him.”

  “She ain’t gonna give him up. Are you?”

  “She’ll give him up if she knows what’s good for her.”

  “We’re running your prints right now. We’re gonna find out who you are, your last known address, any known acquaintances…you might as well give it up now.”

  They ain’t know I’d spent my whole life practicing for this moment. I could hold my tongue. I could keep a secret. I could be quiet as a mouse. I’d never played poker a day in my life, but I had the face for it.

  “See. Told you. She’s not gonna give him up.”

  “Guess she’s not as smart as she thinks she is. Let’s throw her in lockup. Maybe that’ll change her mind.”

  “I get a phone call.”

  “You not even here! I mean, not like we gotta name to process. So you, princess, ain’t owed a damn thing.”

  “Besides, you just wanna warn your boyfriend anyway. He left you behind. Sure you wanna keep protecting him?”

  The he they were talking about didn’t exist, but try as I might, I couldn’t think of one piece of evidence of that fact. Not one solid fact that proved my story. All of which was secondary to my real concern. Soldier boy. One look at him, and it wouldn’t take much for these two scholars to convince themselves that he was the real thief, the real murderer.

  “Stand up. Down to the tombs you go.”

  “Wait. There’s a security camera. In the store. Check the tape. You’ll see for yourself.”

  The twosome glanced at each other. Then one opened the door while the other led me to it.

  “No tape. Security system been down for a few months according to the victim’s family. Contrary to what you might think, Miss Doe, this ain’t our first rodeo.”

  The flight attendant was asking everyone to return to their seats for the landing. Her comrades were patrolling the aisles collecting trash. So it was the perfect opportunity to relieve the unattended cart of a few bottles. I eased out of the cramped restroom and discretely palmed two of the pocket-sized glass bottles before returning to my seat in coach.

  “Look what I found.”

  Kem shook his head in mock disapproval.

  “What? Clearly I’m terrified of flying. I need this.”

  “And me? What is my excuse for drinking at ten o’clock in the morning?”

  “You’re celebrating your impending marriage to a remarkable woman.” I grinned and handed him the wee bottle of Champagne.

  We’d taken the first flight to Las Vegas without a second thought. Maxed out his credit card on the reservations and had only one bag between the two of us. Kem insisted that we only needed swimwear to begin with because we would spend the first hours as husband and wife as God had intended. Naked and sublimely happy.

  “So? Elvis?” I covered my mouth to hide the belch I’d been fighting for the last hour.

  “They have chapels. We will pick one of them. A man in a suit will marry us with elevator music in the background.”

  “I want Elvis!”

  “No Elvis!”

  “Why do you hate Elvis?” I collapsed into a fit of giggles. “Or Big Bird! I want Big Bird!”

  “That’s it. I cannot marry you.”

  “Okay, fine. Have it your way, Delgado. Boring man in a suit with watered-down jazz in the background. But just so we’re clear, I’m telling my grandkids that I wanted Elvis, but you were a big old fuddy-duddy.”

  The landing was bumpy even by a veteran flier’s standards, but I barely noticed. Couldn’t get enough of the man who’d stolen my heart. His lips, supple one minute, passionate the next. His smoldering stare setting my body on fire. No girl had ever been luckier.

  “Don’t look,” whispered the irate mom of two as she shepherded her little ones into the ladies’ room. Shame on you! was truly what she was saying to us.

  Kem’s chuckles interrupted the rhythm of our kisses, and my fingers slowly began to withdraw from his back. Wasn’t like we were naked, humping each other against the wall. It was just a little kiss.

  “Okay, I really have to go now,” I added, wiggling as I pulled out of the embrace.

  “One more minute.”

  “No! Kem! I gotta go!”

  Damn man. All he had to
do was whip it out. I had to pray there wasn’t a line. That the toilets were all functioning. That there was enough toilet paper. And then do the get out of my panties dance. Taking flight on my tippy-toes, I darted into the terminal’s restroom and locked myself in the first available stall, grinning like a madwoman at the floor. Had I ever been this happy? Maybe once as a child. A warm spring day that held nothing but imaginative play with my sisters. One of those rare moments where the real world fell away, leaving only what we could dream up.

  “How do you do?” Upon my exit I nodded to the middle-aged prude standing at the sinks with a boy and girl. Wasn’t in me to hold anything against her. In fact, I pitied her. Poor woman didn’t know what it was like to be on the verge of the happiest day of her life. Washed my hands, shook the water off, and went in search of paper towels. Was then that I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. How could I have forgotten? I hadn’t even bothered to cover the bruise with makeup. And Kem wouldn’t let me hide behind my sunglasses, kept insisting that he wanted to see my eyes. He loved my eyes. Well, at least that explained the looks we kept getting. People thought I was fawning all over a man that had hit me.

  “Ready, mami?”

  I nodded, taking the sunglasses from the side pocket on our bag. We stepped out in perfect time to catch the desert’s sunset. Ripe and brilliant, the hues of red and orange stretched across the horizon.

  “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

  “Yes,” he whispered, brushing his hand against my shoulder until the strap of my tank top fell exposing inches of skin.

  “Let’s get a cab.” His bicep flexed against my chest as he shifted the bag from his left to right hand. His fingers settling underneath my bosom.

  “Kem.” I tried again, but he just moaned in reply, words were too much work. Sounds were all he could manage. “There’s one.” I waved it down, dragging him along. But once inside what little self-control we had evaporated. I’d never seen him so publicly affectionate and never been so grateful to be wearing jeans as I playfully fended off his advances.

  “I want to touch you.” He seized the bottom of my tank. “I want to touch…my wife.”

  “But I’m not—” My body shuddered as his attentions infiltrated my brassiere, and I gave up the pointless resistance, instead pulling his body on top of mine.

  We arrived at the hotel fifteen minutes later, flushed and moist. My breasts, which had been exposed in the cab, were now covered, but when the air conditioning hit the recently suckled skin, I felt like sex walking. Didn’t help that Kem was enjoying every step I took, staring at the puckered knots that stood out so proudly.

  “Cold?”

  “Shut up.” I made a move to search the bag for a jacket but lying on top was the bra I’d happily discarded in favor of fifteen minutes of pleasure. I blushed instead.

  “Here. Let me hold you.”

  We stepped into the check-in line with Kem facing the clerk and me pressed against him.

  “Well, you’re happy.”

  “Si, mami. Never been happier. Tonight will be the happiest night of my life.”

  “Tonight? You don’t want to wait until tomorrow?”

  “I cannot wait. The next time I make love to you, you have to be my wife. And for that I cannot wait much longer.”

  “Or what? You’ll turn to dust?” I was clearly joking, but Kem didn’t look amused. Must’ve been the altar boy in him. We’d hit our threshold of premarital sex, and there was no going back. The line moved along until we were next, and I realized what was coming. They would want to know whom they were renting a room to—mister and missus or a mister and a miss. Could it really be that big of a difference?

  “Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”

  “Delgado.”

  “And how long will you two be staying with us, Mr. Delgado?”

  “Just one night.”

  “I see.” She smirked. “Will one key be sufficient?”

  “Yes.”

  “Two,” I corrected him. Wasn’t that I planned on going anywhere without him, but the helpful little clerk with all her assumptions needed to be put in her place. I wasn’t his one-night stand or worse. “And can you recommend a chapel nearby? Please. My fiancé and I would really appreciate it.”

  With room keys tucked in our pockets and a map of the strip unfolded before me, Kem and I made our way to the elevators. The doors closed quietly, and he pressed the button labeled 5.

  “You did not like her.”

  “I didn’t like what she was implying.” I replied, scanning the map for the intersection nearest the hotel.

  “What was she implying?” Kem frowned, watching the numbers flash over the doors.

  “That I’m a slut.”

  “I don’t think she was implying that. Why would she think that?”

  “It’s just how women are.”

  The elevator chimed, doors parted, and off we went in search of room 522.

  “What brings you both here today?”

  Despite the fact that Dr. Abbott came highly recommended and that she passed Jean-Louis’s personal screening, he didn’t appear at all relieved to be sitting across from her.

  “Nikki? Why don’t you start?”

  “I-I’ve been staying with my foster parents the last two days. Because he and I had a fight. But we…umm…we want to work it out.”

  “Jean-Louis. Can you tell me what the fight was about?”

  “I try to be a good husband to her, but nothing I do is good enough. Her family hates me, and they are trying to turn her against me.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “They do not hate me? Her sister attacked me! In my home, she attacked me!”

  I don’t know what bothered me more that he wanted to make it all about my family or that he was forcing me to fill in all the gory details.

  “Is this true, Nikki?” Dr. Abbott studied me over the rim of her glasses.

  “Technically. But…”

  “Yes?” She prodded.

  “Mya was only protecting me.”

  “She burst into our bedroom! Threw me against the wall! She’s homeless, you know.” He shook his head in mock disbelief. “It is a sad story, I admit. This is why I let her stay in our guest room, but—”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong. She was just protecting me. That’s how my sister is.” Couldn’t help glaring at the man I’d married. If he said one more word that was more false than true, I was gonna scream. “He’s the one that owes her an apology. And…and me too. He hit me. That’s why Mya came bursting in…”

  I watched as Dr. Abott’s demeanor changed. The reservation melted, her features softened, she glanced from him to me and down at her notebook. “I see,” she replied to buy herself some time to find the objectivity that her profession required. “Is this the first time that you’ve hit your wife?”

  “It was a mistake. I do not hit my wife.”

  “Except for this one time? Correct?”

  “She can tell you. I do not hit her. I have never hit her.”

  “Except for this time.”

  “Yes.” He shifted against the love seat’s cushions, uncrossing then recrossing his legs. “It was a difficult night.”

  “Well, it’s good that you both have decided to engage in couple’s therapy.”

  “Can you help us? Help us save our marriage? I don’t believe in divorce. My parents got divorced, and I don’t want that for us.”

  “What do you want, Nikki?”

  “I just want him to love me, so we can be happy.”

  “And Jean-Louis?”

  “All I want is for my wife to be happy.”

  She nodded, walked to her desk, and returned with a planner. “Then let’s schedule your next appointment.”

  ◼︎

  Silence filled the car on the ride home. I had been right to tell Dr. Abbott the truth, but I couldn’t deny the morsel of guilt that had wedged itself into my moment of common sense. Her job was t
o help us. She couldn’t do her job if she didn’t have all the facts. I gazed at my husband wondering if he was going to hold a grudge against me. I didn’t wanna turn into Mama. Everything I’d done had been in effort to not be Mama. I doubted Mama had ever really loved Daddy, and she wasn’t the follow-my-heart type of woman. But I had. I’d followed my heart. Followed my faith. And they both led me to Jean-Louis.

  “Honey?” My fingers softly caressed his hand as he changed gears. “What did you think of the doctor?”

  “If you like her, then I am happy.”

  I nodded. He was happy that I was returning home. He’d missed me like I missed him.

  “Welcome home, Mrs. Delgado.” Kem lifted me by the waist and carried me over the threshold with my bosom nestled against his chin. And before my feet hit the floor, his lips met mine.

  “Mmm, now wait a minute.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Kem!” My cheeks had begun to hurt from smiling so hard. “I don’t remember saying anything about changing my name.”

  “Oh?” He matched me step for step as I walked backward into the apartment. “You must take me for some new-age hippie sort of husband.”

  “Call it what you like. But I’m a Morrow girl. Always have been, always will be.”

  The sweetness of his moist lips returned, and the flutter in my heart was almost enough to make me forget what we were discussing.

  “The bag.”

  “It’s not going anywhere.”

  “You never know. It might just sprout legs and walk off.”

  He chuckled and returned to the doorway to collect our things. A few seconds was exactly what I needed to catch my breath. Maybe this was what people were talking about when they said honeymooners. Eventually, it would wear off and I’d be able to think clearly around him.

  “You really do not want to take my name?” He locked the door and joined me on the futon. “I think I’m hurt.”

  “Don’t be hurt, my love. I did just marry you.”

  He nodded. “I get it, intellectually. I mean why should you change your name? Maybe we should pick a new name. And we’ll both change our names.”