by Stacy-Deanne
“No.” Patrick kept his gaze on Layla and Cross. “I’d rather wait and talk to her in private.”
He tried to fight the sadness of what he’d seen, but it didn’t work. “She’s having fun. I don’t want to disturb her. I can wait outside of her room.”
“Okay.” Gertie acted as if she sensed Patrick’s apprehension. “If that’s more comfortable for you, that’s fine.”
Patrick looked at Layla and Cross one last time and then went down the hall.
****
Layla followed Cross into the dark courtyard.
“I don’t think we should be out here without them knowing.”
“It’s cool.” He convinced her as they walked down the steps. “I come out here all the time at night. They don’t care. We’re not the craziest of the crazy.”
When he made another silly face, she nudged him and said, “Stop. We can’t throw stones.”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between us and the people on the fourth floor, Layla. That’s why they’re shackled to their beds and locked in.”
“Be quiet.” She nudged him again, grinning. “They don’t lock folks down in here.”
They walked underneath the security lights, which lit up selected spots of the courtyard.
“You’re talking about one of those psychiatric hospitals like they show on movies,” Layla said. “I’ve never been in one of those, thank God. Luckily I never got that bad.”
“I’ve been in one of those.”
She watched him as he walked. “Did I offend you?”
“No.” He poked her arm. “A woman as beautiful as you could never offend me.”
She grew warm like she always did when he complimented her. “The party was fun. I’m glad I went.”
“I’m glad you went too.” He rubbed up against her. “You smell good.”
She tingled, saying, “Thanks.”
“I wanted to tell you that when we were dancing but didn’t know if it was appropriate.”
They walked to what seemed to be Cross’ favorite tree—the spot where he’d spread out the picnic for her.
She stood beside the tree. “Why do you feel it’s appropriate to say now?”
“I guess I wanted to say it so bad that I didn’t care.” He sat on the grass and lay down, with his hands behind his head. “Come on.”
“Come on what? I’m not lying on that nasty ground.” She touched her skirt. “I’d mess up my clothes. Plus, it’s disgusting.”
“Who cares if you mess up your clothes?” He leaned up on his elbow. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment to meet the Obamas.”
Layla smirked. “Funny.”
He grabbed her and pulled her to the ground. She stumbled as he pulled.
She continued to fight, “Cross.”
“Lie down and stop whining.”
He lay back down as she straightened out beside him.
Layla was in awe as she looked up at the sky. “Look at all those stars.”
“Mmm hmm.” Cross pointed to them. “That’s why I like to come out here at night. I love looking at the stars. I told you I was an outside person.”
The stars collided together, presenting a chaotic collage of bright dots.
“It’s so beautiful,” Layla said.
“So are you.”
She wiggled against the grass. “Cross, stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop saying I’m beautiful.”
“Why?” He propped up his leg. “You are.”
She turned over on her side, facing him. “How come you don’t ever talk about yourself?”
He kept his gaze on the stars. “What do you mean?”
“Every time we’re together, we talk about me.” She put her hand under her head. “How come you don’t talk about your life?”
“I don’t know.” He turned over on his side and faced her. “You got the prettiest dark brown eyes.”
“Don’t change the subject.” She pinched his arm. “Tell me something about you. Tell me about your childhood.”
“I spent most of my childhood in foster homes.”
“You didn’t have parents?”
“I was with my mom until I was eight. She was an alcoholic. She could barely take care of herself, so she certainly didn’t know what to do with a bipolar kid. She was afraid of me when I started having the mood swings.”
“What about your father?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I never met the man, and my mom didn’t even know his name.”
“What?”
He hunched one shoulder. “He was just some guy she screwed one night when she was drunk, like she always was.”
“Are you serious? Your mother didn’t know your father’s name?”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Layla.”
“Cross.” She stroked his arm. “I’m so sorry. It must be horrible, not knowing anything about your father. Do you even know if he’s in Houston?”
“I don’t know anything about him. He could sit right next to me, and I wouldn’t know him.”
She studied his empty expression. “That’s so sad.”
“Hey, I’ve accepted it.” Then he made a silly face.
“Here you go again. I’m starting to think you use jokes and laughter so you don’t have to deal with things. I’ve noticed that about you.”
“I just like to have fun. Life is too short.”
“You were taken from your mom when you were eight?”
“No, she gave me to the system. I told you she was scared of me, and I don’t think she ever wanted a kid anyway. Being a foster kid wasn’t bad at all. You know how on TV they make it sound like foster families are always abusive or something?”
She nodded.
“That’s not true. There are many great foster families. I lived with three different families. One was a black family.” He chuckled. “Now that was fun.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you had a good experience, at least.”
“When I turned eighteen, I went to college. The rest is history.”
“Do you see your mother?”
“Yeah, she lives on Post Oak. We talk on the phone now and then. We’re cool.” He scratched his head. “I don’t harbor any bad feelings toward her. She had her own sickness. How could I expect her to handle mine?”
“I’ve heard it can be rough being bipolar.”
“It’s very hard to deal with. One minute you’re happier than can be, and the next you’re so angry you feel like you’ll bust. Then you get so depressed that you wanna just lock yourself away and forget everything and everyone.”
“It’s a different kind of rollercoaster,” Layla whispered. “I think of schizophrenia as being like a rollercoaster because you can’t control it.”
“People choose to get on rollercoasters. We didn’t choose to be bipolar or schizophrenic.”
“You know how you said you investigated me when I first got here? I’ve been asking around about you. You’ve been here six months, and no one feels you need to be. I’ve heard the doctors would’ve released you three months ago. What’s the deal, Cross?” She leaned up. “Why are you here? Are you afraid to go back into the world? I can understand if you are, but you can’t hide in here forever.”
He looked away. “I’m not hiding.”
“Yes, you are.” She put her hand on his cheek and turned his head toward her. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’re an extraordinary man. I’m convinced you can do anything you put your mind to.”
“Maybe I am scared.” He touched her hand that lay on his cheek. “It’s funny that I can give others insight and confidence. But when it comes to myself, I’m afraid of falling off that horse again. I want a sure thing this time, Layla. I wanna know that things will be all right.”
“There are no sure things when you have a mental illness.” She took her hand from his face. “That’s what’s so hard to accept. You need to get out of here and live your life, Cross.
That’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t be so scared if I knew I had someone on the outside who understood how it feels to go through things.”
“You do have someone like that.” She put her hand in his. “Me.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
He pulled her close as if he’d kiss her.
When he stopped, Layla asked, “What is it?”
“I forgot you said you didn’t want me to kiss you.”
“I never said that.” She stroked his hair. “I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I never said I didn’t want a kiss.”
“You…” He turned toward her. “…you want me to kiss you?”
“I’m not pulling away, am I?”
He leaned over her and planted his succulent mouth on hers.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Shit.” Layla stopped midway in the hall before getting to her room.
Cross stood beside her. “Got a visitor, huh?”
She sighed. Patrick watched her with that accusatory expression he always had before they got into an argument.
“You all right?” Cross whispered.
“I’m fine,” Layla assured as they approached Patrick.
He greeted her with, “Hey, beautiful,” and held out the carnations. “Your favorites.”
She hesitated before taking them. “Thanks. I…uh…didn’t expect to see you tonight. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“Thought it would be nicer if I just stopped by.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Who’s your friend?”
She gestured to Cross with the flowers. “This is Cross Evers.”
“Hey.” Cross held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Patrick didn’t take his hand. “Is it really?”
Layla glared at him.
“Yeah,” Cross said. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be glad to meet you?”
“Don’t take the bait, Cross.” Layla held the flowers to her side. “I had a nice time tonight.”
“Me too.” He rubbed her arm. “You’re a great dancer.”
She giggled as she said, “Thanks.” Then she glanced at Patrick. “Almost forgot how good I was since I haven’t been dancing in I-can’t-remember-when.”
Patrick cleared his throat.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” Cross kissed her cheek. “Oh, I forgot. My son’s coming tomorrow to visit me. I’d love for you to meet him.”
“That would be lovely.” Layla smiled. “The next time my daughter comes, I’ll introduce you.”
Cross smiled. “Great.”
Patrick cleared his throat louder.
“See you, Layla,” Cross told her.
“Goodnight, Cross.”
He went down the hall. A condescending smirk spread across Patrick’s face.
Layla opened the door and went inside her room. “What?”
“Nothing.” He followed. “It’s just that I pictured you in here depressed and miserable, but instead you’re acting like you’re at Club Med. How’s this supposed to look to me?”
Layla set the flowers on the dresser. “I don’t give a damn how it looks.” She lowered her voice when a nurse passed her door. “We’re not married anymore. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Who is that guy?”
She sat on the bed and kicked off her flip-flops. “Cross Evers. Is your memory that bad?”
“You know what I mean. Who is he to you?”
“He’s a friend.”
“A friend?” He leaned against the dresser. “None of my friends kiss me on the cheek or feel me up when we’re slow dancing.”
“You saw us in the gym?”
“You damn right, and don’t play me like a fool.” He nodded. “It looks like a lot more is going on here than friendship.”
“What do you want?”
He walked to the bed and started to sit down.
“No.” She gestured. “What do you want, Patrick?”
“I missed you. I told you that on the phone.”
She took the clamp out of her hair. “Why do you miss me?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? Don’t you miss me, even a little bit? I just didn’t think it would be so hard to live without you.”
“How are the girls? How’s Aliyah?”
“I didn’t come here to talk about the girls.” He sat beside her and took her hands. “You know, I’m a man of pride, and I’m stubborn as hell...”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that.”
“I made the biggest mistake of my life when I let you go.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” She slipped her hands from his and stood. “Are you saying you want to try again? You can’t be serious.”
He stood and pulled her to him. “I love you so much, Layla. There’s no other woman I’ve ever loved as much as you.”
“I don’t believe this.” She paced, stroking her hair. “I cannot believe that your ass is standing here saying this shit to me now. We just got divorced.”
“I know, and it’s killing me!”
“Well that’s just tough, Patrick! You shouldn’t have always been so busy treating what we had like some competition you had to win. You should’ve been a man and admitted you were wrong.”
“Would it have mattered if I said I hadn’t wanted a divorce, since you were so quick to throw things away?”
“I refuse to even entertain this, Patrick.” She walked to the door. “It’s over.”
He sighed. “Layla.”
“I’m not in love with you anymore.” She held her breath. “I haven’t been in a long time. What I felt for you is gone, and I don’t think it’s ever coming back.”
He approached her. “I won’t let myself believe that, Layla.”
“It’s true.” She closed her eyes as a tear fell. “You took who I was away. You chipped at me—little by little, for years—until I had nothing left. I already didn’t have my sanity, and you took everything else away.”
“What the hell did I take?”
“My independence, my job, my confidence … everything.”
“I did what I felt was best for you.” He held her by the arms. “Please know that.”
“I think you believe that’s true.” She sniffled. “But in the process, you killed me, Patrick. I’ve been a shell of myself. I’ve been alive but not living. I can’t do that anymore.”
“I’m supposed to believe that after twenty years and two beautiful daughters…it’s over? Papers and a court doesn’t mean it’s over, Lay.”
“I’m telling you it’s over.” She grabbed the doorknob. “Goodbye, Patrick.”
“I want you back.”
“I’m sorry. I feel nothing for you.”
His voice cracked. “Nothing?”
“I mean—not outside of you being my kids’ father—no. I feel no desire or passion or anything else for you.”
“Are you sleeping with Cross?” He inhaled with his jaws puffed out. “Are you fucking him?”
“No, I’m not. But if I were, it’s not your business.”
“You can’t throw us away.” He grabbed her. “I won’t let you.”
“Let go of me!” She pushed him. “You don’t run me anymore, Patrick. I’m not going back to you. It’s over! If you had treated me right the first time, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Sure is convenient that you feel this way with your new friend around.”
“He has nothing to do with this.” She stuck her finger in his face. “For your information, Cross has given me more support and encouragement in the few weeks I’ve known him than you did in our entire marriage.”
“Is that so?”
She put her hand on her hip. “It is so.”
“You’re making me out to be the bad guy?” He touched his chest. “Yet I was the one who held everything together while your ass spent most of our marriage in this place!” He hit the door. “I practically
raised the girls. I kept things going when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn’t even comb your damn hair.”
She started to speak, but disgust willed her against it.
“If it weren’t for me, we’d have lost everything. You’ve played the victim ever since we got married.” He looked her up and down. “And you wonder why Aliyah resents you so much.”
“Get out.” She held on to the door. “Get out!”
People peeked in from the hall.
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Patrick said.
“Get your ass out of here right now!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him the door. “How could you say something so cruel to me?” Tears ran down her face. “Talking about how I couldn’t do something during a breakdown and throwing it in my face that my daughter hates me?”
He reached for her. “Layla.”
“No!” She slapped his hand down. “This is the real Patrick. Right here. It’s not the one who brought me these damn flowers.” She yanked them off the dresser and threw them at him. “Thanks for reminding me why I shouldn’t regret the divorce.”
“Layla…I…”
She slammed the door in his face.
CHAPTER SEVETEEN
Three Weeks Later
Someone knocked on Layla’s door at Wellington.
She laid another blouse in her suitcase as she said, “Come in.”
Cross came in. “Hey…I…” He stared at the suitcase and the rest of the clothes stacked on the bed. “What’s going on?”
“She’s leaving.” Gertie stuck her head in the door. “Yup, party time is over for Layla.”
“I don’t know about it being a party, Gertie.” Layla put more clothes in the suitcase. “But thanks for having me.” She winked.
“Always a pleasure, but I hope you don’t have to come back anytime soon.” She smiled.
“Me either.” Layla avoided looking at Cross. “Can you give us a moment, Gertie?”
“Of course. I’m sure you wanna say goodbye to each other.”
As Gertie walked out, Cross slumped to the bed with a dumbfounded expression.
“You were getting ready to leave, and you weren’t gonna tell me?” he asked.
“Of course I was.”
“Exactly when were you gonna tell me? When you’re getting in the damn car?” He picked up a blouse and threw it down. “You were gonna shout out the damn window?”