by Tiana Laveen
“I didn’t want a scene at my place of business. I’m a professional and didn’t want my employees to see anything they didn’t need to, but yeah, I know exactly who you are.” Sasha’s eyes grew dark, and Emily sank inside of herself. Here was the part where she’d be cursed out, told what a horrible human being she was. How she’d left her high and dry.
“I’m sorry, Sasha.”
“Sorry for what? This isn’t about you. I could tell with the way you were rambling on, you have no clue.”
“Clue about what?”
“Your sick ass father harassed my mother, Emily.”
“What?”
“You heard me. That man kept making sexual advances all the damn time. It was nonstop, like some sort of obsession. My mom refused to keep going over there after a while, especially after your mother stopped paying her and started talking to her all crazy.”
“My mother knew?”
“Yeah, she knew. She walked in on your father tryna kiss my mother. She was blamin’ her instead of her nasty ass husband, but leave it to you to think I stopped coming around because of you or anything you did. You were always a little self-absorbed, but no, that wasn’t it. We stopped comin’ because of him.”
Emily’s heart began to beat slower and slower and s l o w e r…
“I…I had no idea.”
“And my mother wasn’t the only one, either, all right? She found out your father got around quite a bit. He was a big-time cheater.” Sasha sneered, then sucked her teeth.
“I can’t believe this. All of this time, I thought it was because of me, because I’d driven you away after caring too much what other people thought.”
“I already knew your stuck-up ass friends didn’t like me. I didn’t hold it against you. I liked you anyway, thought you were nice and generous, strange and awkward like I used to be. We had a lot in common, regardless of the fact that you were White and rich and I was Black and poor. You were smart, and I liked that, too, but your father ruined everything. The final straw was after my mother was gone from y’all house, that still wasn’t enough. Your mother blackballed her.”
“Blackballed? I don’t understand.”
“That bitch told people that my mother stole clothing from her, never turned it in, and my mother ended up getting fired from a job she’d had for five years. See, before that, when she was younger, she had gotten into a little trouble for stealing some food in a store, so she had a record. My mother had gotten on her feet, finally had a job that was payin’ the bills and keeping our family afloat. That all came crashing down, all ’cause your father was doing what he was doing, thinking he could have anything he wanted. My mother worked hard. She’d forged great friendships and built a reputation for being dependable and trustworthy and your mother made sure it all came crashing down.” Sasha’s voice rose and people began to glance their way. “Even after she wasn’t working for your mother anymore, your father still didn’t let up.”
“What did he do?” Emily leaned against the wall, her mind throbbing, her ears buzzing as anxiety and pure anger burst from her core.
“He would send my mother flowers, gifts, nasty letters about the stuff he wanted to do to her, all kinds of crazy shit, and told her she was stupid for not taking him up on his offer when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested and never would be and to leave her the hell alone. I guess nobody can say ‘no’ to Mr. Windsor, huh?” She smirked. “So yeah, I remember you, Emily, but I sure as hell wish I didn’t. Funny how you can remember all that shit about finger nail polish, but couldn’t even remember my damn name. Maybe you blocked it out. Maybe something inside of you knew the damn truth, too.” Sasha turned away and marched off, her broad shoulders swaying with each determined step.
“Sasha, I didn’t know. Please, you have to believe me.”
She stopped and turned. “But if you had known, Emily, would it really have made a difference?”
*
“Awww, baby. Don’t do this to me,” Cameron pleaded.
“I apologize, honey. I have to take care of something, though.”
“But I told her that you were coming by tonight, Emily. Mama was looking forward to it.”
“Cameron, it’s not like I’m meeting your parents. This is Brooke’s mother.”
“That’s not fair and right now, it’s beside the point. I want you to meet my parents, too. It’ll happen soon.”
“I know you do; that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not saying it’s not important, okay? It is, but something has come up. I promise to—”
“You can’t just cancel like this.”
Emily sat in the Lincoln town car outside her father’s residence, a tight grip on her phone.
“I’m sorry, Cameron. You know it’s not like me to break plans.” After the whole sordid Sasha debacle, the last thing on her mind was going on with her plans for tonight. At this moment she had bigger fish to fry, particularly one big shark she ought to nickname “Father Fin.”
“Well, where is the fire? Why do you have to reschedule?” he said with a huff, clearly irritated. “You could at least tell me what’s going on and stop talking in code. I hate when you do that.”
“I will tell you as soon as I’m finished. Baby, I have to go. Call you as soon as I can.”
She disconnected the call before Cameron could reply, stepped out of the car, and made her way inside the building. Several minutes later, she was sitting on a cream couch in a high-ceilinged room, the wall-to-ceiling bookcases filled with hardbound books and the fireplace roaring. Father came in wearing a tailored black suit, his expensive shoes catching the light just right as he walked. He closed the double doors behind him. A smile on his face, he went around a liquor cabinet and approached her. Emily smiled, staring at the jumping flames as he bent down and kissed her forehead.
“So, you said you wished to see me this evening. First and foremost, how are you?” He returned to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a glass, and poured something the color of wheat inside it.
“Never better.”
“I know you have to watch your alcohol intake, but would you like something else? Perhaps some tea?”
“No. I think things will be hot enough as it is.”
Curiosity shone on his face, but he kept on busying himself with preparing his beverage.
She crossed her long legs and rubbed a hand over the smooth material of her black pants. Her form-fitting silky black turtleneck was adorned with a silver seashell pearl necklace, a gift from her mother. Running her fingers along the length of it, she observed her father through hooded eyes as he took the first sip of his liquor, looking much like a dignitary, then toast on the love seat across from her. In between them was a refurbished antique wooden table made with impeccable craftsmanship in 1890. It was one of his favorite pieces in the entire house.
On it sat a carved marble chess board and matching pieces, a one-of-a-kind set from an Italian sculptor known for his attention to detail. The thing had to be worth thousands of dollars—perhaps even the board alone. Emily leaned over and picked up the white marble king. She studied it from various angles. Running the cool piece of marble against her skin, the smoothness of it felt rather therapeutic, even the knobs and knots at the tip of the crown, but nothing could extinguish the fire that burned within.
“So, what is it you wished to speak to me about?” he asked.
“Remember when I asked you about my old friend? Her mother?” He nodded. “You told me you didn’t recall their names.”
“I don’t,” he said matter-of-factly, not flinching as he matched her posture.
“Well, let me refresh your memory.” She looked for any tell-tale signs of distress, perhaps discomfort, but he showed none. “Her name is Sasha. Her mother’s name is Samantha.” She rotated the chess piece back and forth, back and forth. Faster and faster it twirled as she sandwiched it between her hands. “Samantha’s family originally came from Jamaica, but she was born here, a U.S. citizen.”
/> “All right. I take it you read up on her? Did you find her?”
“I’ll be getting to that in just a bit. Anyway, Samantha took care of her ailing father for years, and her own family, too. Her husband had gotten sick when Sasha and her brothers were quite young. Samantha’s mother had passed away quite some time before that. It had been rather rough for her. In need of obtaining more work, she applied for a job at a laundromat, doing pickups to make it easier for clients. At first it was a part-time gig, but then, demand increased. People enjoyed this sort of service and would pay for the convenience. For Samantha and her family, this worked out great.”
“Can you please tell me the point of this tale, Emily?” he asked dryly.
“Oh, Dad, the point is about to be crystal clear in just a moment. Be patient. Isn’t that always what you used to tell me?” She winked at her dad and grinned, but he didn’t seem amused. “Samantha met some amazing people along the way.” Dad took another sip of his drink, his face unreadable.
“But one person she met, well, things didn’t go too well with that. Now, don’t get me wrong, things started out amazing with this person.” Emily laughed mirthlessly. “Samantha was given huge tips by this customer. She was given gifts, too, and the couple was so, so, so polite to her—just Mr. and Mrs. Manners times one thousand. They even had an awkward daughter who was desperate to be noticed, needed attention, and wow, by golly, their prayers were answered. Samantha just so happened to have a daughter around the same age.” She threw up her hands, still holding on to the white king between her thumb and forefinger. “And they hit it off amazingly.”
Dad cleared his throat and looked away as if uninterested, but she wasn’t discouraged. She kept right on.
“Well, this amazing couple with the awkward kid didn’t have a care in the world when compared to many others. They were enjoying life. Family vacations, luxury cars, fancy clothing, the best schools, amazing clients. Whatever the husband wanted, the husband could get. Money could solve all the problems one had. Isn’t that right, Dad?” He took another sip of his drink and glared at her, not a word coming out of his mouth. “Well, the daughter did in fact recall her father having a roving eye, but never knew of him actually cheating on her mother. She figured,” Emily shrugged, “that’s just the way men are. Dad treated her great though, and her mother never wanted for anything.
“But Dad did. Dad wanted Samantha. But much to his dismay, Samantha didn’t have a price tag. Things ended badly. Very badly. So much so that when this guy’s daughter asked him repeatedly whether he remembered her old friend, his memory was suddenly erased, as if he were in the Men in Black movie and Will Smith had waved that little do-hickey, that wand with the light, in his face. That girl, now a woman, realized that her father is full of shit.”
She tossed the white king down onto the floor and heard it roll someplace away from her. Grabbing the white queen, she shook the thing as angry tears welled in her eyes.
“He let her jump through a bunch of hoops when all he had to do was tell the truth. What about me? What about Mom?”
“You have it all wrong, Emily. Samantha was the one hitting on me, okay?” he stated matter-of-factly. “She was asked to not return to our home because of it. It was rather inappropriate. She needed money and offered herself to me. I refused. That woman was very troubled.”
“She sounded perfectly sane to me. I spoke to her on the phone today!” Emily yelled, gripping the chess piece with all her might until it hurt. A piercing pain radiated throughout her fingers, but she didn’t let up; she squeezed all the tighter. “After all these years, that woman remembered Every. Dark. Hideous. Horrible. Detail. She told me everything you did. Everything you said. The way you made her feel.”
“And you’re going to believe her word over mine? A woman who had a criminal record, I might add?”
“Oh, you suddenly remember now, don’t you? As if I had a doubt. I finally found Sasha and after a pretty emotional discussion, some of it steeped in blame, misunderstandings, and accusations, we both comforted one another and calmer heads prevailed. I went into her office with her and she called her mother. That woman knew things about you that she shouldn’t have. I am too disgusted to repeat them, but trust me, you did exactly what she said you did and probably then some.”
“She was a thief,” Dad roared, then slammed his glass on the table, forcing the liquor to slosh about. “She stole clothing from your mother, and jewelry, too. Your mother trusted her and she took advantage. We paid that woman plenty of money. There was no excuse.”
“Then why did you lie when I asked you about her? You said you didn’t recall her name because you had something to hide. I don’t care about the misdemeanor she had gotten in trouble for. That doesn’t make her story false. That’s like saying a drug addict can’t be physically assaulted. Or a thief can’t be murdered. She was neither of those things. She didn’t steal from Mom, I don’t believe that. Still, even if she’d made mistakes in her past, this doesn’t mean she couldn’t be a victim of someone abusing his power. I am so sickened by you.”
Dad swallowed. “You’re believing a false narrative, basically fake news. I never flirted with that woman, or hit on her. Now am I going to sit here and tell you that I was one hundred percent faithful to your mother? No, I wasn’t, but I never tried to sleep with Samantha! I never did anything of the sort. Now maybe she took my kindness as flirtation.” He shrugged. “It’s certainly possible, but I’ll tell you this, Emily, your mother and I had a rather difficult marriage at times. It wasn’t easy. Instead of working it out amongst each other, we both sometimes ran to others. Your mother wasn’t innocent, either, I’ll have you know. These were things we were not going to discuss with a child, private matters between the two of us. But let me make something perfectly clear. I loved your mother and I would have never done such a thing.”
“Lies.” She shook her head. “She told me about your business trips, the schedules you kept, and the way you tried to get her to come with you on some of them. She knew about your property in the Hamptons. You’d described the bedroom in great detail to her. She’d never been there. How would she have known? I remember those trips. There is no way she would have known about them had you not told her, and how in the hell are you sitting here lying to my face, over and over again? My God! What kind of a monster are you? How could you?”
“I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“How could you do that to Mom? How could you do that to that lady? To our family? I thought you were a man of honor.”
“Emily, you are losing your mind. This is preposterous. That woman wasn’t even my type. None of this is—”
“You must think I’m an idiot. She was very attractive, Dad. I remember her, and even if she wasn’t, that has little to do with it. You think homely women don’t get sexually harassed? Give me a break.”
Emily gently placed the white queen down. She reached for the black king and brought it up close to her heaving chest. “I’m leaving and going to go see my boyfriend tonight. He’s Black. See, unlike you, I’m going to stand in my truth and claim it. I’m not going to hide behind my title, my money, my prestige.” Dad grimaced and shook his head, as if she were some lost cause. “Mom had a lot of flaws, but she tried to be as authentic as possible. She became so enraged at what you’d done, she acted out and got Samantha fired. That was a horrible thing to do, but Mom was probably so desperate to keep you that she was hellbent on getting what she saw as the competition out of the way.”
“Your mother was no angel.”
“You’re right. She wasn’t. Not in the least. I know she liked Samantha, though, and I know Mom was lonely. And I know she sometimes drank too much while you were out and about, doing Lord knows what. And I also know she only started saying horrible things about Black people after I no longer saw Sasha coming to the house. That’s no excuse, but it makes perfect sense now. Her hatred was based on a broken heart. She believed you when you told her that it was Samantha hitting
on you, not the other way around, so she made up a lie as revenge. She believed your bullshit when she confronted you about it, but deep down, I bet she didn’t really buy your story. Yet, she was too afraid to really give it much thought because she wanted me to have what she didn’t have—an unbroken home.”
Emily placed the black king down gingerly, ensuring it was perfectly positioned. She snatched her purse up from the couch and slid the strap over her shoulder. “I must be going now. I have a dinner date this evening and I’m running late.”
“With your boyfriend that you’ve not told me about. I don’t care that he’s Black, Emily. You must’ve, though, since you didn’t tell me before now, so if that was said to cause a shock, it doesn’t. I honestly am not concerned about things like that.” He placed his lips to the rim of the glass, but didn’t drink.
“Nope. His skin color has nothing to do with why I didn’t tell you. The story is far more complex than that. At this point, you’re not worthy of hearing it.”
“I take it you won’t be at work tomorrow?” He sighed languidly as he reached for his glass and took another leisurely sip.
“Oh, I’ll definitely be there. I have far too many meetings. However, you and I have nothing further to say; that is, of course, unless you’re ready to come clean and finally tell the truth.” Father simply sat there. Emotionless. “I didn’t think so. That would’ve required courage and concern for others. Something you clearly lack.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The Memory of You
Feathery snowflakes drifted along the street like cotton filled with bubbles, kicking up from the ground and branches with the help of a burst of cool wind. The snow was no longer falling from the sky, but Old Man Winter had coughed up enough of the stuff to last New York several lifetimes. The area appeared deserted, lacking proof that civilization was still breathing, living to see another day. It was such an eerie image for the eye to behold, as if Brooklyn were suddenly some urban ghost town, existing as a mere frozen memory in the late hours of a starry night.