by Stacy-Deanne
“I can’t take the credit.” He rubbed her hand. “You’re coming into your own. This is the real Layla coming back.”
“It’s about time. I’ve missed her very much.”
“I can see why.” He stroked her cheek. “She’s amazing, bright, and loveable. I haven’t known her long myself, but I’d miss her too.”
He went in for a kiss and she turned away.
He reluctantly moved back.
“It’s not you,” she whispered. “Don’t think that.”
His voice cracked. “Is it too fast?”
“This isn’t the right time for me to even think about a man.” She placed her hands between her thighs. “I need to get myself together. For twenty years I had a man controlling me, and I finally got my life back.”
“I’d never control you.”
“I know.” She touched his cheek. “But I can’t lose sight of what’s important. I need to focus on my life. I gotta make things right with Aliyah before I lose her forever. Please try to understand.”
“I understand.” He kissed her hand. “Doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed, but I understand.”
“You’re so sweet. You seem to be so into me. Patrick was never like that. After a while, it was like he saw my illness and nothing else.”
“He’s a fool. If you were my wife, I’d cherish you every day. Women like you don’t just fall off trees. You’re special, Layla. And don’t ever let another man make you feel like you don’t deserve the best…because you do.”
She smiled and exhaled. “I wanna read for the rest of the evening.”
“Sure.” He stood, still staring at her. “But the invitation still stands. You might not want to kiss me. But you can dance with me, right?”
She giggled. “What do you mean?”
“The party is tomorrow night. You gotta come.”
She groaned.
“Please.” He put his hands together. “I promise that you’ll have a good time. When have you not had a good time with me?”
“You do have a point.”
“So you’re coming?”
He backed up out of the door as Layla’s cell buzzed.
“Excuse me,” she Cross as she got it from the table by the bed and checked the ID. It flashed “Patrick Sham.”
“Jeez,” she whispered.
“Is everything okay?” Cross asked.
“I have to take this. I’ll come to the party tomorrow.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
She waved. “See you in the morning.”
He closed the door behind him as Layla answered the phone, “Is something wrong with the girls? Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” Patrick said. “I’m just calling to check on you.”
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Why?
“Why?” she asked, reflecting her thoughts.
“Why?” The line filled with static when he grinned. “I can’t be concerned about you?”
“I remember many times when I came into Wellington. I was lonely and depressed. Half the time you wouldn’t even come to see me, let alone call.”
“That’s not true, Layla. I saw you when I could.”
“When you could?” She scooted up in the bed. “I was your wife.”
“I had to work and take care of the girls every time you went away. I saw you when I could.”
“Fine.” She turned her Kindle on. “I don’t want to argue. I’ve had a nice day.”
“You sound happier. What have you been doing?”
“I had a picnic outside with a friend.”
“I see. Is this a woman friend or a man friend?”
“Does it matter? You said you called to check on me, and I’m fine. Goodbye.”
“Wait. Come on, Lay.” He chuckled. “Is that it?”
“What do you expect? We’re divorced now. Isn’t the point of that so we don’t have to see each other or speak to each other unless absolutely necessary?”
“Does it have to be so rigid?”
She scoffed. “You wanted the divorce first, remember?”
“No. I mentioned it first. But then you went on about how you didn’t love me anymore. You were the one who thought it was a good idea.” He huffed. “That’s what happened.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re once again blaming me?”
“I’m just saying that things didn’t work out like I planned.”
“You planned to bully me and scare me with the divorce threat. But it backfired on your black ass, because I really wanted a divorce.”
“I miss you, Layla. I didn’t know it would be this hard.”
“Excuse me, but you don’t know what hard is.” She propped up her knees. “You try being mentally ill and feeling like the walls are constantly closing in on you. Try having no control over your thoughts or actions from one moment to the next. What do you know about how it feels to go in and out of institutions for half your freakin’ life? Don’t talk to me about hard, Patrick. You don’t know the meaning of that word.”
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I didn’t treat you right. But, I loved you more than anything. Please know that.”
“I never doubted that you loved me, but your kind of love isn’t what I need or want.”
“Lay—”
“Goodnight, Patrick.”
She hung up.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Valerie grabbed the piece of strawberry shortcake from the kitchen counter and went into the living room. David sat on the couch watching the nine o’clock news and smiling like the cat that ate the canary. Corrine and the male newscaster spoke about some new plan of Mayor Parker’s. David tilted his head, staring at Corrine as if she were dancing around a pole.
Valerie cleared her throat.
“Damn.” He jerked. “You scared me.”
He grabbed the remote and turned the channel.
“Just bringing your strawberry shortcake.” She held the cake out to him. “Did you want some milk?”
“No, this is fine, babe.” He took the saucer. “Ooh wee. What did I do to deserve this lovely dessert?” He plunged his fork through the foamy cream and strawberries. “You’re not having any?”
She cut her gaze to the television.
“No.” She faked a smile and sat beside him. “I’m still full from dinner.”
“This is delicious, babe.” He licked cream off his lips. “You haven’t made dessert in a while. Why tonight?”
She shrugged and played with her hair. “Just felt like it. Why did you change the channel?”
He licked strawberry filling off his fork. “Hmm?”
“You heard me.” She left her hair alone. “You were watching the news and seemed to be having a lot of fun doing it before I walked in.”
He sat back. “Are you getting at something?”
“Nope.” She stretched her arm on the back of the couch. “I happened to notice how much attention you were paying to my sister and how you turned the channel when I came in.”
“I was watching the news,” he grumbled. “Don’t start.”
“Start what?” She crossed her legs. “Sure is funny how you were loving the news a minute ago and now…”
“Fine.” He turned it back and laid the remote between them. “Happy?”
Corrine giggled at some lame joke her co-anchor made about the humidity, breasts and all hanging out.
“I can’t believe they let her dress like that to tell the news.” Valerie bounced her leg. “All of these newswomen dress like tramps now. And they have so much makeup on its ridiculous.”
“Val.” David chewed. “Please cool it.”
“I’m just saying.” She pointed to the television. “Is she there to tell the news or show her tits? Is that what she has to do to keep her job?” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Sad if so…then again, she’s been flaunting what she’s got since the tenth grade.”
“Stop it. She looks fine.”
/> “I’m sure you’d know, the way you’re ogling her.”
“For God’s sake.” He put another piece of cake into his mouth. “For the last damn time, I was watching the news. Can I please just eat my fuckin’ cake without a damn argument?”
“I just asked why you turned the channel, David.”
“Let me just eat, please.” He focused on what was left of his cake, cutting his gaze to Corrine along the way.
Val grimaced. “You’re attracted to her aren’t you?”
“Oh goddamn, Val.” He slammed the saucer on the table. “Just stop it, all right?”
She ignored him and pressed on. “You think she’s pretty?”
“What the fuck?” He wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Where is this coming from?”
“I saw how you were looking at her just now.” She pointed to the television. “Watching the news, my ass. I bet you can’t tell me one thing she said unless it came from her tits.”
“We’re not doing this shit tonight.” He stood, snatched up the leftover piece of cake, and went into the kitchen.
She stomped in behind him. “Not doing what?”
“Fighting.” He scraped the cake into the sink. “I’m not having it tonight.”
“You think she’s pretty? Of course you do, right? Hell, I know she’s a goddess.” She walked to him. “But I wanna know what you think.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Tell me what you think!”
“Yes, she’s pretty, damn it!” He moved from the sink. “But that doesn’t mean I wanna fuck her.”
“Oh.” She gaped. “That’s an interesting statement, David.”
“Val, please.”
“No, how did we get from me asking if she’s pretty to you fucking her? You must wanna fuck her, if you thought about it!”
“I don’t wanna fuck her.” He clenched his teeth. “I think she’s pretty, and that’s it. Don’t try to turn this shit on me. You came into the room looking for an argument, and it’s pathetic.”
He headed out of the kitchen.
Valerie marched behind him. “Get your black ass back in here.”
He stopped at the kitchen sink and turned around. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“I’m talking to you.” She put her hands on her waist. “You think I’m stupid? Maybe you are when it comes to Corrine, but I’m not.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Come on, David.” She frowned. “Stop being so dumb. I know you like running to Corrine for advice. You think she’s there just to be there, but she’s not. She has it in for me, and she always has. She’d use you to hurt me.”
“God.” He laughed. “Everything is not about you, Val. I know that’s hard to understand.”
“Why did you mention you didn’t wanna fuck her unless you want to?”
He held out his arms. “Maybe I should fuck her.”
“What?!”
“Fucking Corrine might be the only way to get you to pay me some attention.”
“What do you mean?”
He stood by the stove. “The only time you pay attention to me is when we’re arguing.”
She dropped her hands from her waist. “That’s not true.”
“It is true! Shit, if you’re not talking about a baby or arguing, it’s like you got no reason to talk to me at all.”
“David…”
“When’s the last time you asked me about work?” He stood close to her. “I’m putting together one of the biggest ad campaigns of my career. So far, you’ve said nothing about it.”
She went to touch him.
“I—”
“Do you even know what’s going on with me, Val? I feel like a part of the furniture. Like something you expect to be here. Something you take for granted.”
She leaned against the kitchen chair. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“That’s my point. You’d know if you paid me some attention.”
“You should’ve told me how you felt, David.”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you.” He gripped his head. “You’re so wrapped up in everything but me that I’m not even on your radar.”
He turned his back to her.
“You are on my radar.” She touched his back. “You know I love you.”
Turning around, he said, “Then show it like you used to, Val. You didn’t get upset just now because I was looking at Corrine. You got upset because you’re jealous because she’s been there for me when you haven’t.”
“You can sing Corrine’s praises all you want, but it would be stupid to trust her. Must I remind you of what happened to our baby?”
“Corrine did not push you down those steps.”
“She did!” She waved her arm. “She’s wanted you since I introduced your ass to the family. She hated it when we got married, and she didn’t want us to have a baby.”
“It’s sick to think that way, Val.”
“It’s the truth. You can’t trust her.”
“Okay, say she is using me. Honestly, I don’t care. I’m so starved for attention that I’m happy to get it any way I can. It feels good to have someone concerned about me again.”
“She’s perfect?” She balled fists. “If you think that then maybe you should just be with Corrine then.” She pointed to the doorway. “Go on!”
“I don’t want to be with Corrine. I want my wife back.” He grabbed her and placed his hands on her cheeks. “I want us back the way we used to be. I want some attention, Val.” Tears filled his eyes. “I want you to think about me sometimes and forget all the other shit.” He laid his forehead against hers. “I love you so much, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” She kissed him. “I never meant to make you feel unimportant.” She stroked his cheek. “You’re my whole world. I’d do anything to make you happy.”
“Then you need to start showing me that, Val.” He pulled away from her. “If not, then I don’t know how much longer we’ll last.”
He left the kitchen.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next night, Patrick strolled up to the front desk of the Wellington Center with a bouquet of white carnations.
“Gertie.” He smiled at the old, large-hipped white woman behind the desk. “How are you?”
“Mr. Sham.” She stood. “How are you? I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to drop in and check on Layla.” Then he waved the flowers.
“My, those flowers are gorgeous.” She swerved her gigantic hips from behind the desk. “And may I say, I’m sorry about the divorce. Around here, we assumed everything was great between you two. You guys seemed like a fairytale romance.”
“That’s why it’s best not to make assumptions from the outside.” He shrugged. “Is she in her room? I can go on myself.”
“No, she’s at the party.” Her chubby cheeks spread when she smiled. “One of the nurses is turning sixty today, and the staff decided to do a little celebration in the rec room. Some of the residents were allowed to attend.”
“Really? That sounds like fun.”
“It’s in the gym. I’ll show you.” She skipped back behind her desk. “Just let me put my computer to sleep.” She hit a button on the keyboard. “There we go.” She rushed to Patrick and took his arm. “Right this way.”
He looked left and right, as they went down one massive hall after another. They turned three corners then came to the gym. The double doors were wide open. Instrumental Latin music and laughter spilled into the hall.
“Whoa.” Gertie stopped in the doorway. “They’re having a ball.” She laughed.
About thirty people occupied the small gymnasium. A group of men, who appeared to be patients, sat on the bleachers playing cards. Three women scrambled around, giving cake to people. Others danced in circles and twisted to the festive music. A man, who appeared to be another patient, danced with a woman who by her name badge, seemed to b
e a nurse or some other attendant. A long table—covered with a paper runner decorated with drawings of candles and birthday hats, and displaying a huge cake and bowl of punch—sat in the center of the room.
“There’s Layla.” Gertie pointed to the corner of the room.
Layla sat tucked away with a blond, white guy. He whispered something in her ear. She laughed, nearly spitting out punch. Patrick deflated as if all the breath he owned had leaked from him. He lowered the flowers.
Gertie wobbled her head and clapped to the music. “Layla looks like she’s having fun, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Patrick muttered. “That’s good for her.”
He tried to swallow, but there was a lump the size of Texas in his throat.
The fast music ended, and a slow song started to play. The blond guy set down their punch cups and held out his hands, as if inviting Layla to dance. She bowed her head, took his hands, and they started dancing. She placed her hand on his shoulder. He slid his down her side and perched it on her waist.
Patrick clenched the flowers tighter.
They danced so close they seemed glued together. The man stared into Layla’s eyes. She smiled back at him, in a way Patrick hadn’t seen in years. Patrick gestured with the flowers.
“Who’s that guy she’s with?”
“That’s Cross.” Gertie smiled from ear to ear. “They’ve really hit it off.”
“Have they?” Patrick groaned.
“Uh-huh. They’ve been stuck together like glue since Layla got here. He’s the only one she seems to talk to outside of Dr. Livingston or the nurses.”
“Cross?” Patrick whispered. “What kind of name is that?”
“Go on in.” She pointed. “There’s plenty of cake and…”
“No.” He pulled back. “I think I’d rather wait until she’s through.”
“It’s no problem. You can mingle and have a little fun too, if you want.”