“Hi there Beautiful!” He said putting my plate and fresh squeezed orange juice on the breakfast bar, as I sat on one of the stools.”
“Hi there to you”, I said giving him a big smile.
He put his plate and orange juice on the bar and walked around to sit on the stool next to me. We kissed and enjoyed our meal together. It felt comfortable like this was something we had done before…many times. I reminded him how I had to head home at about noon to work on a presentation for Monday.
“No problem,” he said. “I understand.”
I leaned over and kissed him. “What was that for,” he asked.
“Just for being you,” I answered.
“I like that,” he said with a smile.
After breakfast, I sat on the living room couch while Charles went to get my overnight bag upstairs in the master bedroom. I heard his cell phone ring. He answered. I could hear him talking to his personal assistant about one of the rental properties he owned.
A minute later he yelled out, “Babe, I’m sorry. I’ll just be another minute. O.K.?”
“No problem,” I yelled back. Babe? Oh yea, I could get use to this.
Just then the house phone rang. I could hear Charles still talking on the cell. I wouldn’t dare pick up his phone. The answering machine picked up. I heard Charles’ voice tell the caller what to do and then a woman’s voice spoke.
“Charles, are you there? It’s Caroline. (Pause) O.K., I just wanted to remind you that my flight gets in at 7:00 tonight. Please be on time. I hate waiting. Oh and I have a surprise for you!” she said teasingly. “Love you, Babe. Can’t wait to see you!” And she hung up.
Love you, babe? Can’t wait to see you?
What the hell was going on? What kind of game was he playing? Was he just passing the time with me while his woman was away?
That’s it! I’m done with men.
As I was debating whether to walk out the door without a word or stay long enough to give Charles a piece of my mind he came down the stairs.
“There. I’ve turned it off. Now there’s nothing to interrupt us.” He put the cell phone down and reached for me on the couch.
“You had another call,” I said trying to keep it all together.
“Oh yeah?” he said trying to pull me closer.
“Aren’t you going to see who it was?”
“I’m not interested,” he said while about to kiss me.
“It was Caroline, Babe.”
He stopped in mid-stream, “Oh?”
“Yes. Oh!” I hesitated a moment. “Don’t you want to know what she had to say?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Not really,” he said looking into my eyes.
“Well, I’ll tell you.” I counted off on my fingers. “She called to tell you her flight is coming in at 7:00 tonight; don’t be late, because she hates to wait; she has a surprise for you and she loves you ‘babe’! I think that covers it.”
Charles sat back on the couch, not saying a word. He just stayed quiet and still.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” I said.
“No,” he said in a very calm voice.
“No?” I repeated in disbelief. “So what’s going on here, Charles?” I said standing up and beginning to pace.
“You tell me,” he said just as calm.
“I’ll tell you alright. It sounds like your little girlfriend was away. And so to pass the time you took up with me until she returns. What was your plan, Charles, seduce me this weekend and then dump me in time to make the 7:00 plane?”
Charles looked up as if looking for an answer from the heavens.
That’s right buddy, make it a good one, I said to myself.
Charles looked at me with hurt filled eyes. “Is that what you think?” he said. “Even after last night?”
I hesitated. “What else am I to think?” I said, not as sure as I was a moment ago.
Charles got up from the couch. Walked over to the house phone and dialed a number while on speaker.
The voice that had just left a message picked up. “Hey babe!” she said.
“Hey, sis, it’s your little bro,” Charles said into the speaker, but looking directly at me.
What? His sister?
“What’s this message you left about me being late?”
“You know how you are, Charles, you get involved in one of your little projects and leave me on the tarmac.”
“I wouldn’t do that to my big sis.”
“Yeah, right. Listen be on time. I’m tired of traveling. I want to get back to my loft and to my own bed. These months in Japan have left me worn out. Mom and Dad still do not know that I’m coming in, right?”
“Yes, it’s still a surprise. It was a good idea to stay in L.A. for a few days to get a little rest.”
“Yeah, but Aunt Judy is driving me crazy! She’s convinced I’ve only been eating fish and seaweed while away. She’s trying to fatten me up!”
“I’ll let you run by the side of the car so you can work it off.”
“Very funny!” He continued, “Did you get to see Daniel while you were there?”
“Yes, he’s still a kick ass attorney,” she laughed.
“Yea, it runs in the family,” Charles laughed.
“True, true,” she replied.
“OK. I’ll see you tonight. Seven sharp!”
“I’ll be there when you get off the plane…I promise.”
“You better be. Love you, Charlie.”
“Love you, too, Caroline.”
Charles disconnected the line and looked at me.
Where the hell was that hole in the floor I keep looking for?
“I don’t know what to say,” I said quietly.
“Contrary to popular belief,” he said sarcastically.
He walked over to the couch and sat down. I sat on the opposite end.
“I’m sorry, Charles. I was wrong.”
“Yes, you were,” he said.
There was an uneasy silence in the room.
“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
More silence.
“What you should have done,” Charles begun, “was ask me who Caroline was. I would have gladly told you she’s my sister, who has spent the last six months traveling throughout Asia on a special project for her firm. She is now in the states, in California, and flying home tonight. The surprise she has for me is probably something jazz related. I love jazz and I have a bit of a collection.”
“How much do you love jazz?” I asked.
“Enough. I play the trumpet so….”
“Wait. You play the trumpet?” I interrupted.
“Yes, but you’re missing the point,” he said getting back on topic. “You shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that. I told you before; I don’t play those kinds of games. There’s no woman in my life. I told you that as well. I also told you that I don’t make a habit of inviting women to my home, other than family. So this weekend was special to me. I thought you understood that. I thought we were starting something good here?”
“We were, we are,” I said looking down at my hands.
“Then you’re going to have to start trusting me and stop jumping to conclusions,” Charles said moving to the middle of the couch. “We’ve got to communicate.”
“Yes,” I said still looking at my hands.
“I’ll tell you what. Trust me until I give you a reason not to.”
“That’s not so easy for me,” I said.
“If you’re willing to try I’ll help you,” he said, moving closer.
“That may not be so easy for you, too,” I said still looking down at my hands.
“Maybe not, but maybe we can help each other.” He lifted my chin with his hand. “You can start by looking at me and not at your hands.”
As I looked into Charles’ eyes I was relieved to see the hurt in his eyes was replaced with compassion and something else I couldn’t quiet name.<
br />
“I’m really, really sorry I yelled at you,” I said moving into his arms.
“It’s a good thing one of us knows how to control his temper,” he rubbed my back as his chin rested on top of my head.
We stayed that way for a moment.
He kissed me gently and said, “I never had a chance to show you the rest of my place.”
“There’s more?” I asked.
I could have easily stayed in his arms, but I reluctantly got up and followed him as he took my hand.
“Let me show you the media room.”
“Media room?” I asked. “Ok.” Actually I was wondering if we had time to go back to the bedroom before I had to leave at noon.
I walked into the media room forgetting all about my train of thought. It could have been a haven for most men. The room was huge. Directly across from a plush leather couch that reclines was a big screen Smart TV. Football season had just begun. I knew where I’d spend my Sundays. There was a fully stocked bar with stools. A snack table with jars of different candies, a movie style popcorn machine, and a poker table.
On one wall there were pictures and posters of jazz musicians like Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Duke Ellington, Wynton Marsalis and others I wasn’t familiar with. He had stacks of vinyl jazz albums displayed and an actual turntable to play them on.
“I recognize some of the people but who are the others?” I asked looking at his collection.
Charles answered his eyes glowing as he spoke, “Here we have Dr. John and “Buckwheat” Zydeco and…”
“Buckwheat?” I asked.
Charles laughed. “Yes, you know that song ‘Hey good lookin’ what you got cooking?” He sang off key.
“Oh Lord,” I said laughing and shaking my head.
In addition there were pictures of Charles in his college days playing a trumpet on stage. “This was one of the best nights of my life,” Charles looking longingly at the picture, “playing on the stage of ‘The Bayou Café’. I almost decided not to go to law school and pursue a music career.”
“Really?” I asked. I couldn’t picture it.
On another wall were football memorabilia. There were autographed jerseys and footballs….autographed pictures of Dallas Cowboy’s Troy Aikman, Emmitt Smith, New York Giants’ Michael Strahan and others. But the thing that caught my eye was an autographed picture of Charles standing with Lawrence Taylor of the New York Giants. LT himself!
I turned and looked at Charles. He stood there with a wide grin on his face.
“But I thought you didn’t like LT?”
“I didn’t say that. I said he wasn’t the best defensive player of all time.”
“Then who is,” I said getting my back up again I squinted my eyes at him.
“L.T.,” he said laughing. “You have no idea how sexy you look when you get defensive over your New York Giants. I just had to keep you worked up over it; I couldn’t help it. I never knew arguing over football could be an aphrodisiac.”
Laughing I reached over and hit him on the shoulder. “You idiot,” I said.
Charles grabbed me and held me tight. “Now that’s the second time someone’s called me that!”
1
Chapter 5
A New Start
A couple days after I escaped from Queens I was able to reach Thomas at his parents’ house to let him know that the boys were fine. I thought it was the least I could do since I had his sons. At first he was angry but then began pleading with me to come back. He said that we could work things out. But he wasn’t going to move out of her place until he knew for sure that things were going to work out between us. So the boys and I could come home and everything would be as it was, him doing our grocery shopping and us staying where he could find us. I couldn’t believe it. The scary part is that I actually thought about it for a few seconds. But no, I hadn’t lost that much pride to know that wasn’t an option.
I told Thomas I wouldn’t move back to Queens and to that crazy situation, and that I wanted to raise the boys in Westchester County near my family and friends. He said, “It’s always all or nothing with you, bitch!” and hung up on me.
A week later I called Thomas’ mother asking her to let him know I need to speak with him. I had gotten a post office box and he was supposed to send me money for the boys. Each day I pushed the boys in their double side-by-side stroller, or the “18 wheeler” as I called it, to the post office and each day it was filled with nothing but junk mail. Even though I didn’t want to leave the boys, I looked for a babysitter so I could work but it was way too expensive. Because the boys were so young any money I made would go right to the babysitter. So I waited for Thomas to send me the money he promised me. But he didn’t so I reached out to his mother. She, of course, didn’t want to get involved. She said IF she heard from him she would give him the message.
Another week went by and no word or money from Thomas or his parents. So with the boys in their “18 wheeler” I sat in the crowded waiting room of the Department of Social Services. I handed each of them the last bit of crackers I had, hoping to keep them quiet. Although we had a set appointment we had been sitting there for over an hour waiting for my name to be called. I looked around at the other people sitting there and I wondered, “How did I get here?” Raised in an upper middle class home, by hard working, amazing and supportive grandparents, a college education, “How did I let this happen”? As Aiden began to fuss I put the bottle in his mouth. How did I end up like all these other single mothers who didn’t have half the privileges I had. Choking back tears as they called my name I somehow maneuvered the double stroller through the crowded room into the back room and cubicle.
An African-American woman sat behind the desk. The nameplate on her desk read Mrs. Humphrey. Without looking up she pointed to the chair in front of her desk, “Miss Cameron, do you have the paperwork?”
With a shaken voice I said, “Yes, I do,” and handed her the enormous pile of forms needed to apply for food stamps and other public assistance.
Still not looking at me she said, “Do you know who their father is?”
“Yes,” I said straightening my back, “My husband.”
She then looked at me. “Oh. For both of them?” She pointed to the boys.
What the….”Yes,” I said lifting my chin.
“Do you know where he is?”
Putting my head back down, “Not really.” I said.
After years of trying to hide my situation from my family and what friends I had left, here I was at the Department of Social Services. I now had to admit to the county, the state and the Federal government that I had no idea where my husband, the father of my children, was; that he didn’t care about us at all; that I needed help desperately and that I had failed. So I continued to answer Mrs. Humphrey’s intrusive questions while wishing that somehow I could wake up from this nightmare and it would all be over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One of the many things my grandparents taught me over the years was the power of prayer. My grandfather, the Lay Reader for our Church, was well known for the length and strength of his prayers…whether it was during grace before a meal or during the “prayers of the people” section of mass every Sunday, you could always feel his heart and the Word of God in his prayers. In addition he spent a lot of time up in the attic in private prayer.
I also had a friend named Kay who I met through friends shortly after “my escape”. She taught me the power of making a “Wish List.” I had made it a practice and then a healthy habit of praying first thing in the morning just before the boys woke up. I’d start with the Lord’s Prayer; reading a few Psalms, then quiet time with God…trying to hear what He had in store for me. I would then add those things to the list. At first I saw no movement but as time went on I found myself crossing things off my “Wish List” as my “wishes” came true. One such thing was to have my own place.
Fortunately when I first contacted our family friend, Shirley, she told me to apply for
Section 8. A program that helps pay the rent of a low or no income person. At the time I applied, I thought it wouldn’t be needed. But thank God I listened to her and applied. I was on a waiting list. Five months after “escaping” I received notice that my name had come up on the list and I would receive a Section 8 voucher. Having no idea what that meant I quickly went upstairs and showed Shirley the letter. She was so excited because it was a Section 8 voucher not just regular Section 8. Not knowing one person who had any dealings with that I had no idea what she was talking about. But I quickly learned that it was another blessing the Lord had sent my way. Apparently with regular Section 8, a very small amount was allotted for rent but, with the voucher I had a bigger allotment so I had a bigger budget to play with. This meant I would not have to raise my sons in a poor neighborhood. I would be able to stay in the same small town and practically right around the corner from where we were staying with Shirley. If we could find a house in the area where the landlord would accept the voucher and the apartment passed inspection I would be able to rent the place.
Till We Meet Again Page 6