Don't Ask My Neighbor

by Kristofer Clarke

  “Now that we both know it’s not from me, are you going to tell me who your admirer is?” Jelani asked, moving closer to me. “I’m not sure if that’s the proper name, after your wide-eyed reaction.”

  You calculating son-of-a-bitch, I thought. I knew exactly who I was directing my tantrum toward, but I couldn’t deal with him until Jelani was gone. Vincent, you damned bastard. What the hell are you trying to do? I thought, asking myself the million-dollar question. But I knew exactly what he wanted. You wanted Jelani to see these when he came home. You wanted me to be standing here, as I am, searching for words I need to explain things I should have told him a long time ago. You knew I would be busy trying to figure out this morning’s shocker, and couldn’t really wrap my mind around anything else.

  A few years earlier, I walked from a conversation I was having with my mother in her first floor bedroom and right into Vincent Malloy. He should have been heading out with my stepfather, but there he was, listening to what I thought was a private conversation between my mother and me as I was outlining my plans to leave him. He just looked at me and shook his head. He said as long as leaving him didn’t include any plans to keep his daughter away from him, he wasn’t going to fight. Little did he know he had no claims to her. I wasn’t going to make him any wiser. That fight was going to be an easy victory and one I could have with both eyes closed.

  “Someone from your past still hasn’t gotten over how you put it on him,” Jelani assumed. He removed the card and envelope from my hand and placed them on the counter behind me. My heart skipped two beats. “Well, you make sure he knows that J. B. Graybourne is about to marry this woman, and he’s going to have to come a hell of a lot better than roses and crystal, if his intentions are to get you back.”

  I wasn’t going to argue against Jelani’s supposition. If it sounded good to him, it was music to my ears. I was going to take any relief I could get, and buy whatever time I could to figure out what was slowly unfolding. So V.I.M. had been given an intention, and for now, it was better than I could have come up with. Everything I’d left in my past was slowly starting to resurface. Anything I’ve lost then was because I purposely wanted to lose them. I had no intentions of losing Jelani Graybourne, and if I didn’t act or think fast, I may not have any say in how this played out.

  Twenty-Six

  _______

  What Dreams May Come!

  Samantha

  I HUNG OVER A CLIFF. THERE were many people gathered below. Unfortunately I couldn’t recognize their faces. I knew they were there for one reason or another, but I wasn’t sure who was there to save me or who was there to witness my free-fall. I was certain the latter outnumbered the others. I tried to turn back, but I was stuck, as if my feet had been encased in cement blocks. The one man I thought would rescue me just stood there with his hands in his pockets. I cried out to him for help, but sound had escaped my body. I could see a figure walking up toward me, forcing me even closer to the edge. Its face was never visible, and somehow I found myself falling.

  I woke up wheezing, my face covered in fright. I wish I could say I couldn’t figure out what my dream meant, but I had a pretty damn good idea.

  “Bad dream?” Jelani asked, pulling me closer to him in an attempt to quell my fears. “If it’s the wedding you’re worried about, everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

  Unfortunately, his promise provided no comfort, because unless I found a way to circumvent Ryle’s plans, whatever they were, there wasn’t going to be a wedding, and everything I’d done to these people since coming back would’ve been done in vain. I couldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t that I had a bad dream, it’s that I’ve had the same bad dream since my encounter with Ryle. I prayed that my past didn’t unveil itself before I was officially Mrs. Jelani Brennon Graybourne. I was not paying too much attention to my actions since I came back into Ryle’s life, but it was those latest involvements that now had me in a tight corner. I bet my father was doing backflips in his grave now, toasting to my impending demise and me with shots of whatever they served in hell. I went from waking on Thursday morning ready to share my joys with Felicia, though I knew she wouldn’t be interested, to waking up in a cold sweat on Sunday morning. I probably should have been in somebody’s church praying that God would keep a lid on all this shit, but I could hear him now, “Who are you, my child?” as he struggled to recognize the voice of a complete stranger, since I infrequently spoke to him. I needed to have a take-me-to-the-king moment, but with my list, I wouldn’t know where to even start.

  I kept my visit from Ryle to myself, even when it appeared obvious to Jelani that something had been bothering me since Thursday night after I denied his request for a sleepover. We talked about me moving into his place soon, but that wasn’t looking like such a good idea, especially now that Ryle had proof that my claim about him forcing himself on me was a lie. It wasn’t so much that I was worried about the wedding, because if my past had anything to say about it, there wasn’t going to be a wedding. Everything I knew about Jelani had me all wrapped up in him. Once again, I was the woman I was before R.J. left me in a cloud of embarrassment.

  I felt it that morning from the very moment I opened my eyes. It was all going down hill from there, and there was nothing I could do about it. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. I still had Jelani Graybourne in my bed next to me. Regardless of what Ryle said, I was still in control. I loved this version of my life no matter what lengths Ryle or Felicia planned on stopping me in my pursuit of happiness with Jelani. I was ready to spend my life with him, but if I allowed Ryle to have his way, I won’t even see Christmas.

  I talked myself into feeling confident. The weekend was over and I hadn’t heard from Ryle or about him. I turned my body into Jelani’s and nestled my head in the center of his chest.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked, as my head rose and fell in sync with every breath he took. He’d been quiet since making his promise that everything was going to be all right. I questioned if he believed that, but I was certain he thought it provided some comfort, if even temporary.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. I was convinced now he had something on his mind, and it was weighing heavier than he even cared to admit. Had Ryle gotten to him? I thought, and immediately regretted asking him his thoughts.

  “Did you see Ryle on Thursday?”

  I could feel his stare into the top my head. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and thought about my response. I wasn’t sure if Jelani was the type of man who asked a question only if he already knew the answer, and would be able to tell if I was lying. I guess there were some things about him I still didn’t know, which would be fair, since I hadn’t been forthcoming. Jelani had fallen in love with exactly who I wanted him to fall in love with.

  “No, I didn’t. Was I supposed to see him?” I asked matter-of-factly.

  “Well, Parker said he ran into him at the office after work. I was just wondering if you saw him, too,” Jelani said, rubbing my arm. “I wish I was there to see him. He hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

  I didn’t know Jelani had been trying to reach Ryle. Why? Ryle was the same man he condemned, even when Ryle damn near cried his pleads for Jelani to believe him. He was the same person who was shown no remorse even when he was swearing on God and all of his disciples I was lying. Thank God, Jelani didn’t know me to be someone who didn’t think honesty was the best policy.

  “Why are you trying to reach him? Have you forgotten what he did to me?”

  His rubbing stopped. “No, I haven’t forgotten what he did to you. But I did want to ask you about that.”

  Oh, shit. I thought. He knows. But why does this man keep testing me? His voice had taken on a different tone, one he’d never used during in any of our previous conversations. It’s the same tone I’ve heard him use in cross-examination, or in his closing arguments, as if he were going in for a kill.

  “What’s that?” I asked. My breath quickened, and I hoped
he hadn’t noticed.

  “Why didn’t you press charges against him?”

  I could go through a list of familiar reasons why I didn’t press charges, but Jelani wouldn’t understand, after all, he’s never been a victim. The truth is, I knew the burden of proof would be on me, and besides my words, I had no other way. Everything would have led to Parker, but what we did was consensual. I didn’t want to feel shame or embarrassed, and I damn sure didn’t want Ryle to retaliate, but I knew that was inevitable. I had falsely accused this man, so I expected nothing less. But since Jelani was still in the dark, I continued to play the role of victim.

  “It was bad enough I had to tell you and the other partners. The last thing I wanted to do was relive the ordeal in front of a room full of strangers and leave it up to them to decide if what I said he did was exactly that. I just wanted to put the whole nightmare behind me. As far as I’m concerned, he got the punishment he deserved.”

  “And seeing him again would?”

  “Would do nothing but remind me of the mistake I made trusting him to even be in the same room with him,” I interrupted.

  Ok, this motherfucker knows something, I thought.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Jelani said, holding me tighter, and then kissing my forehead. “I should have been there to protect you.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for something Ryle did.” I lifted my face toward his and kissed his lips. “There’s no way you could’ve known he was capable of such a heinous act.”

  “He was my best friend, baby. I know everything about him. Ryle could have any woman he wanted.”

  I felt like I had been connected to a ventilator and someone pulled the plug without asking me if I was ready. Ryle and Jelani were best friends and I was just hearing about this now? Where was he when Ryle and I first met, during our first go round? Why didn’t Jelani say anything then, when Ryle stood as an accused rapist? I wondered if Jelani’s interest in me, the ease in how he fell in love with me, or his proposal was part of Ryle’s seamless scheme for retaliation. I thought about Parker and Felicia and where they fit into his plan, if they did in fact fit into his plan.

  “What are you saying?”

  He laughed.

  I didn’t find anything funny. I sat up in the center of the bed with my feet hanging close to the floor. I looked at him over my left shoulder, and waited for him to respond.

  “Ryle was ladies’ magnet. He didn’t need to turn to rape or force himself on any woman.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re hinting that I might have made up the whole thing.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to say, but the words were already floating in the universe, and there was nothing I could do to take them back, though I sat there wishing I could. I felt his pause, his careful contemplation.

  “I’m not implying that at all, Samantha. I’m just saying, guess that girl really messed him up.”

  “Girl?”

  I tried to disguise my disbelief, but failed at that attempt. I looked away, not wanting to give any indication that I had even the slightest idea who Jelani was talking about. But I was more than familiar with that story. There had to be a reason Ryle hadn’t told Jelani about me. Maybe he was ashamed because he fell for an old trick. Still, I wanted to know exactly what Ryle had told him.

  I got up and walked across the room, down a short hallway, and into the bathroom. I stood, with my back against the sink, and stared at my feet. I listened to hear Jelani’s voice in the distance, but when he spoke, he settled against one side of the bathroom and peered at my reflection in the mirror.

  “Long story short, he met a girl a few years ago and married her. She had a child that turned out not to be his. I think the baby’s name is Gari, or something like that. He doesn’t talk about either of them much. He’s actually never told me this woman’s name. He came close to disclosing it a few times, but every time…” he paused.

  This time his eyes met mine, but I couldn’t look away. He straightened and then started back toward the bedroom. I stayed in the bathroom, still leaning on the sink, with a troubled look that appeared on my face just as quickly as Jelani left.

  “Every time, what?” I asked, following his lead into the bedroom. “Every time, what?” I repeated, since he didn’t respond.

  I should have concentrated on his response, but his naked skin in his drawstring pajama pants, and the imprint of his ass, had my attention. It hung just below his waist. I stared at the very pronounced dent down the length of his spine. He turned and caught me staring. I expected a smile from him, but his seriousness persisted.

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you mean, nothing?”

  “Look, Samantha. I might be a little late with this request, but why don’t you tell me how is it that you knew Ryle. I mean, one minute you show up with him at the firm, and the next minute you’re standing in my office, accusing him of rape. Something just doesn’t add up.”

  “What was it supposed to add up to? I was a friend who needed his help. Sex with him wasn’t a freaking tradeoff.” I walked past him and stood at the bedroom door. I stopped. “Anything else you want to know about me and your best friend, the rapist.”

  “Are you done?”

  “Good. Now, why don’t you tell me of the relationship you had with my best friend, or as you called him, the rapist?”

  I immediately began concocting my story in my head, switching out names and places and replacing them with Ryle’s and anywhere that would have been associated with him. I stayed at the door and got caught in a stare game with Jelani. My mind worked overtime, and I hope the story that emerged was as believable to him as it sounded in my head. He looked at me as if at any moment he was ready to cry bullshit the moment my first words were spoken. I put on a confident face and let the story I wanted him to believe come from my mouth.

  Twenty-Seven

  ________

  Big Mistake

  Ryle

  YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY: BETTER prepared than never. I didn’t expect Judge Gabriel Milsap to throw the book at my client, DeVince Paxton, but I didn’t suppose she would be as lenient as she was when she rendered her verdict. I heard she carried a special place in her heart for young black men, especially those who presented a biography like DeVince’s. I just didn’t know that place was a sinkhole. You were considered lucky if you had the opportunity to defend a client with judge Milsap presiding. Trouble always had a way of finding the son of a preacher man or, in Judge Milsap’s case, the son of a judge. It wasn’t a secret that her son was currently serving a ten-year sentence at the Eastern Kentucky Correctional Complex, sent there by a judge who she said had no mercy.

  I spent the better part of the Thanksgiving week in Judge Milsap’s courtroom presenting my best argument, trying to keep a good kid out of someone’s cell. Priscilla and I exchanged stares, keeping our elation subdued. Judge Milsap also frowned upon attorneys with visible displays of victory, because her decisions were not for us to make another mark in the win column—though I quietly noted my victory—but to help a young man pursue his dreams without a blemish on his record, all because of his moment of stupidity. That’s what she called it, because in DeVince’s case, nothing about him said stupid.

  I was more than satisfied with the outcome of this case, but my delight was short-lived. At the light at the corner of 3rd and Indiana, I stared at my image in the side mirror.

  I’d put Samantha on the back burner since my unexpected visit. I kept a low profile, waiting for her to make her next move. I left her with her only directive, but I knew her too well to even think I had done anything more than rattle her cage. She could sit around and call my bluff, since, unbeknownst to her, after I left her office my next stop was to the closest FedEx to send J.B. his personal copy of his fiancé’s sexcapade. I expected him to call, which he did, and this time I actually listened to his long-winded apology, which was not needed. I stopped being upset with J.B. soon after the ordeal ended. I knew him and how easy it
was for him to be blinded by love—if that’s what you want to call it. I knew eventually he would come to his senses, even if it meant I had to help him get there.

  I knew meeting Samantha was going to bring changes to my life, but the chaos she brought was not what I bargained for. She wasn't supposed to disrupt all the things that were already going right for me. It wasn't much, but the plans I made for myself—for my future—were still unrealized even now, years after meeting her. I worked my ass off at Boston University, and even earned my J.D. degree at Harvard like I had planned, following in both my parents' footsteps. Then Samantha happened, and although I’m ashamed to admit it now, I was love-struck when we first met her. The disaster she was then led me to Georgetown Law, convinced I would still graduate on my own merits—I had the transcript to prove it—and not because my great grandfather's name was etched in stone above the entrance of a freshman dorm. My grandmother had directed me to the good women in the church, but she forgot to tell me about the devil’s reject that was Samantha Wells. I guess I can’t blame my grandmother for my choices. The world didn’t owe me anything. “The man” who usually gets blamed for every adversity in a black man’s life wasn’t keeping me down. But everything that was given to Samantha—everything she took—came at my demise, and she single-handedly orchestrated my defeat. She stood aside with a ruthless smirk on her face, and watched me lose everything I labored for.

  The only thing wrong with what would have been an otherwise perfect day was the traffic heading back across town to the office. Priscilla sat on the passenger side of the car with a look of relief on her face. The car window was down slightly to enjoy the fifty-seven degrees that displayed on the dash; all sun, no clouds. I finished up my conversation with the receptionist at the office, and disconnected from the Bluetooth.

  “Did she really say community service?” Priscilla questioned, throwing her head back in the seat. She laughed—something she wanted to do from the moment those words escaped from Judge Milsap’s mouth. Fortunately, she had been able to contain herself.