by Tiana Laveen
She waved her hand and choked out a choppy laugh. All he could do was offer a watery smile. “Regardless of all that, what I do know, Cameron, is that you tried to find my baby again in this woman, at least initially.”
“Actually, I—”
“Shhh.” She shook her head and placed her long finger to her lips. A thin silver band was wrapped around it, catching the light in just the right way. “Did I say you owed me an explanation? Is this relationship of yours a crime? Did I say it’s a bad thing?”
He swallowed and turned away, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline.
“No. You said none of those things.”
“All right, then. I think that however a person heals, as long as they’re not harmin’ nobody, is their own business, Cameron. Some people get over a loss by keepin’ busy. Some develop unhealthy addictions. Some fall in love again. Of course you’d eventually start dating sooner or later. You’re young. I never expected you to mourn Brooke forever.”
“But I still miss her, despite having moved on.”
“I think honestly that’s mostly because her killer is still enjoying his freedom. Makes it kinda hard to fully commit to the future knowin’ he’s out there living his best life, you know?” She took a peek out the side window. “We can’t step into what’s in front of us if what’s in back of us isn’t clearly defined. You ask yourself, ‘Where have I come from?’ If you don’t know, you may accidentally take steps backward, thinkin’ it’s a new course or path when you’ve already done that a million times over. It’s like reading chapter five and you haven’t even seen chapter two and three. Then, to add insult to injury, you get tested on the chapters you hadn’t even seen. That’s what this feels like to me.”
“It does.” He nodded. “That’s a good analogy. I wanted to talk to you about this for the longest.”
“Well, why didn’t you?”
“I was worried about how you’d respond. To both aspects.”
“Don’t be. Is it awkward for me thinking about it, like, in full detail? Somewhat.” She shrugged. “Do I believe this woman is your pacifier? Maybe, but again, even if she is, that’s none of my business.”
“You find it weird that I’m dating the lady with my deceased girlfriend’s heart, don’t you? You can tell me the truth.” He smiled.
“Do you?”
He took a deep breath and reflected on the question he’d so easily posed to her.
“Honestly? I used to believe that. Now? Not really.”
“Cameron, I’m not saying that you don’t care about this woman either. I am just saying that had she not been who she is and received what she got from Brooke, you two wouldn’t be together. Like, had you and Brooke just broken up, organically, went your separate ways, and you ran into this woman, I just highly doubt you’d be with her now.”
“I can’t deny that, but this did in fact happen organically, too. Brooke’s heart being inside of her is, well, you can’t get any more organic than that.”
She smiled at his play on words.
“Well, I am not who you have to convince. That’s between you and God. You explained enough about her already to let me know that this had to have been a struggle for you at first, especially knowing you as well as I do. But you were hoping for a certain outcome, probably crossing your fingers that your prayers would be answered, and apparently, you got it. Doesn’t matter how it started though anyway, right?” She smiled sadly at him, shaking her head. “It only matters how you live it day by day.”
Soon, he pulled up in front of her apartment building.
The red maple saplings, cherry blossom trees, and American elms that lined the street in their full splendor in the spring and summer now consisted of half bare, dark, sprawling branches, their fallen leaves strewn all along the cold concrete. The sun set in the sky behind a thick veil of red brick walls, amethyst shadows, and fading golden light. Cameron cut the car off and helped the lady get her few bags into her brownstone.
The place still felt like home away from home. As always, it was clean as a whistle, floors so spic and span you could eat off them. The air in the place smelled like clary sage, Pine-Sol, and peppermint with a hint of thyme and basil.
“What you been cookin’ in here, Mama?” he asked with a grin as he set her bags on the kitchen counter.
“I had made some mint tea earlier, a whole decanter of it.”
“That sounds good.”
“You want some before you head home?” she offered as she opened the stainless-steel refrigerator door and showcased a glass pitcher of tea garnished with a few mint leaves and thinly sliced lemons floating atop the golden liquid. “Come on. Your milk won’t spoil. It’ll only be five minutes. Besides, I miss your company and your beautiful smile.”
Chapter Twenty
Airing Out Dirty Laundry
The slick streets and sidewalks were like shimmery white and silver skating rinks. Emily tightened her grip on her yellow leather purse as she made her way from the Uber to Queens Center, an indoor mall. Flicking off snowflakes from the lapel of her red fur jacket, she entered the shopping center and was greeted with the bouquet of hot, sweet cinnamon buns and buttery pretzels. Her thigh-high, black boots clicked along the glossy floors as she moseyed on over to the shopping mall map detailing the layout of the place.
After speaking to her father, whose memory failed him regarding her teenage pal of yesteryear, she took it upon herself to hunt her old nameless comrade down via other means. In her mind, where there was a will, there was a way, and she never backed down from a challenge, especially one that caused her so much excitement and distress at the same exact time. So last night, while Cameron lay in her bed fast asleep, she sat at her desk and got busy.
The guy was out like a light, snoring. He’d been so exhausted. Yet, his simple presence as she went through the motions, making calls and looking up information, gave her both a sense of comfort and fueled her to keep going. She made various social media posts on networks she’d not ventured into in what felt like forever, but she knew it was her best bet in regard to tracking the young lady down. These messages, some sounding rather unintentionally cryptic, went out in droves. She responded to all replies, but came upon dead end after dead end.
Days passed with no answers or resolution in sight. She was coming to accept the fact that this might be it. She just might have to let this crusade go.
As soon as frustration hit an all-time high and she considered throwing in the towel, finally, someone in her old circle of friends recalled the woman’s mother, too. Apparently, she’d provided the same service to them as well for a short duration, and though she had no information about her whereabouts, she believed that her daughter was a manager at an AT&T store. She’d run into her just a year or so earlier when she’d gone to sort out her teenage son’s cell phone issues.
Her old friend might have gone on to bigger and better things, but Emily decided it was at least worth a shot, if not to get her hopes too high. She immediately called the place of business and lo and behold, she got a name.
Sasha Tabar.
That was it. Her name was in fact Sasha, but the employee on the line stated that Sasha wasn’t in; it was her day off. After inquiring when she’d return, Emily made plans to pay her a visit. Now here she was seeking out what she’d needed for so long, to gain closure, or perhaps, to say hello and rekindle an old friendship that hadn’t lasted very long, but had hit her in a profound and meaningful way. With eyes narrowed as she let her finger roam about the map in search of the store, she finally spotted it.
There it is. AT&T is on the lower level. Making quick work of getting there, she ignored a luggage display showcasing leather wares. Mall shopping wasn’t her thing, but she loved a good deal on some attractive gear. Besides, in her mind she was planning a vacation for the following spring, feeling in desperate need to get out of New York for a spell to clear her mind and regroup after one of the most troubling, exhausting, and profound years of her life.
She and Cameron were already in discussions regarding their tropical getaway. It would be epic.
I’ll double back over there later and check it out.
As soon as she entered the place, she took note of a long line near the entrance for customer service and several glossy posters on the walls featuring smiling models pretending to be patrons who were happily spending their cash on the latest gadgets. There were a host of brochures and bulletins placed in strategic areas, which gave it a bit of a travel agency vibe.
“Excuse me. Sorry.” She negotiated her way through the crowd, ignoring the smattering of expletives thrown her way as she cut the line. “I’m not here to order service or pay a statement. I’m here to speak to Ms. Sasha Tabar.” Placing her hand flat upon the counter, she addressed a young Hispanic woman whose thick, black eyeliner made her look like a cat.
“Is she expecting you?” the lady asked without making much eye contact, her eyes glued to her computer screen as she helped a patron standing nearby. Said patron was now glaring at her.
“Not really, but I need to speak with her. It’s important.”
The young woman gave her a glance, then nodded. “Mr. Fresno, I’ll be right back to finish helping you. I don’t see your last payment though. You might want to call your wife about this.” The man standing before the register was gripping a stack of wrinkled papers and looked rather frazzled.
“I don’t need to call my wife. She’s the one who told me that ya billed us twice. Jesus H. Christ,” he yelled as the woman walked away, leaving them there.
Emily tossed him a half-baked grin, the most she could muster. The guy didn’t smile back. His bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows dipped, framing deep grooves at the top of the bridge of his nose as his rather short forehead wrinkled up like a mastiff’s. He crossed his thin arms over his small chest, resting them over his protruding belly. It had to be only thirty-five degrees outside, and yet this guy was standing there in a flimsy white T-shirt and baggy, worn jeans.
After a while, Emily turned in the direction of two feminine voices speaking in the distance. The young Hispanic lady she’d originally spoken to came out from a back area, a big smile on her face with someone trouncing behind her.
A heavy-set African American woman with huge breasts shoved in a long-sleeved pink sweater and long luscious black curls that draped over her shoulders and back approached with a big, pearly white smile.
“Hi, I’m Sasha. I understand you wanted to speak with me. How can I help you?”
She looks different, but it’s her. I remember those eyes, that voice, that smile.
“Yes, I’d like to speak to you about something that happened a long time ago.” Emily removed her black fur-trimmed gloves and set them aside, trying to steady her shaking hands. Emotions flooded her so fast, she thought she’d drown. “My name is Emily Windsor and you and I used to be associates, I suppose you can say.” She laughed nervously. “No, that’s not accurate. We were friends, actually. Teenagers who spent quite a bit of time together.”
“Oh, really? I don’t remember you.”
Emily’s heart sank like a brick thrown in the Hudson River. She looked about the place, seeing far too many eyes on her and people eavesdropping.
“Do you mind if we step over here?” She pointed to a few feet away.
“No, not at all,” the woman said in a cheery tone.
They made their way over to a more private area next to a messy desk with a couple of chairs facing it.
“You don’t recognize me at all? I’m told all the time that I look pretty much the same.”
She shook her head.
“Your name isn’t familiar to me, either. Did you go by something else?”
“Uh, no. My parents lived in Midtown Manhattan, Fifth Street. My father still owns the property and resides there, but owns other properties as well. See, your mother used to collect my mother’s expensive garment pieces—her furs, silk blouses, things like that. You were always with her and you and I struck up a conversation. Before long we were calling one another on the telephone and you’d come to visit. You even spent the night a couple of times.”
“Hmm.” Sasha placed her finger to her lower lip and her eyes narrowed as if she were giving it deep thought. “It doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry. That was a long time ago if you say we were teenagers.” She smiled sadly and shrugged. “Is there something else I can help you with? Are you interested in an internet and television package?” Sasha reached for a brochure off a wall display.
“Huh? Uh…No…” Emily shook her head, feeling out of sorts, disconnected, shocked, let down, and perhaps humiliated, too. “Okay, just so I can ensure I’m not totally out of my mind, going crazy,” she said. “Your mother did in fact work at a dry cleaners, right?”
“Yeah.” She stood straight and crossed her arms. “She did for many years. There were a lot of people we came across, though. My mother had probably over fifty clients at any given time. Her schedule was very tight, especially when she picked up more hours.”
“Well, uh, maybe your mother remembers me and my family? My mother’s name was Juliet. Juliet Madeline Windsor. If you want, I’d be willing to take you both out to dinner sometime soon so we could catch up.” Emily was hanging on by a tattered thread. She tried to hide the desperation in her heart, her voice, her soul, but she was certain she failed. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. Not the reunion she’d envisioned at all.
“Well, my mother actually moved to Florida. Been there for twelve years, so I can’t just go and see her whenever I want. But I can ask her when I talk to her today or tomorrow. Thank you for the dinner offer, though. Do you want to leave your name and number for me?” She quickly snatched a piece of paper with the company logo and an ink pen off the desk. Emily swallowed and clutched her bag. She displayed no hint of remembrance. Not a clue that she had any idea who the hell she was. It was almost as if she’d dreamed all of this up—but she couldn’t have. It was real. Wasn’t it?
“We talked about swimming at Coney Island, Sasha. See, for the longest I couldn’t remember your name but I do recall all of these details, see? You told me about some boy; his name escapes me now, too, but you adored him, had the hugest crush on him. You said he wore an orange scarf all the time and you had tried to take it so you could smell him. Your favorite food was cheeseburgers loaded with pickles and onions and I thought that was really strange but funny. Our chef used to make it for you too, and you had a big collection of nail polishes. I even purchased some for you for your birthday. Your birthday is in July.” Emily had no idea how she’d recalled all that just then. “I’d gotten you some nice ones from Europe. They had glitter in them.”
“This is strange to me because I don’t remember any of that. Wow. I mean, I do recall the boy with the orange scarf.” She chuckled. “His name was Ronald Rodriquez.”
“Yes. That was his name.” Emily clapped her hands enthusiastically, hoping that this would unlock more hidden memories.
“We actually dated for a short while in high school and yeah, I did like nail polish a lot. But you? I don’t remember you.” She shrugged.
“But you’ve got to. Your favorite color was burgundy, Sasha. You told me you were a terrible dancer as a little girl, but amazing at gymnastics. You had gotten many trophies in competitions. And we talked all the time on the phone. How could you not remember?” Her voice trailed as they looked into each other’s eyes, but they were miles apart. “You listened to my problems, the stuff I told you about my mother that I hadn’t talked to anyone else about, private things, and then one day it all stopped. It vanished. I quit speaking to you because of dumb shit. I’m so stupid.”
She hit her head with her palm and spun around as hot tears burned her eyes.
“Hey, don’t do that. It’s all right,” Sasha said, trying to soothe her.
“I’m sorry.” Emily’s voice cracked. I’m falling apart. I’m losing it. “Sorry for wasting your time. I was going to come up here, ready to apologize
for being such a little bitch to you due to peer pressure, but it looks like I’m saying sorry for something else altogether. I feel like a fool. I’ll let you get back to work. Sorry for wasting your time.”
Without waiting for a response, she flew as fast as she could out of there, mortification swimming inside her like a goldfish in a bowl. She felt hot all over with the overwhelming sense of self-loathing and regret, and her eyes burned from her running mascara. Making her way into a nearby public restroom, she quickly freshened up at a sink partially clogged with paper towels, not willing to make much eye contact with herself. She simply couldn’t muster it.
How embarrassing. I really bungled that up. I looked like a lunatic to that lady. It’s a surprise she didn’t call the cops. She snatched a paper towel and dabbed at her face. After washing her hands, she made her way out of the restroom and reached in her purse to call Cameron, praying he’d answer so she could fall apart and have the pity party of a lifetime.
As she rounded the corner to do just that, she saw Sasha standing not too far away, looking in various directions, as if searching for something lost.
Emily stopped dead in her tracks like a deer caught in headlights until finally, their eyes locked. Sasha drew closer until she could smell the woman’s light, airy perfume, see every beauty mark on her face, and take in the deep concern on her face. Worry, perhaps pain, taking the place of her stunning smile.
“I remember you.”
Emily’s lips curled in a smile and she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. It came to you, huh? I’ve thought about you on and off over the years and—”