[18]
Leads, Leads, Leads
“Mommy, I want pizza!”
“You do? Jerry, how about something from the house?”
“Awww, Mommy!”
Aruba tickled Jeremiah’s stomach in the Angels in Halos parking lot. After interviewing Lasheera, conducting a meeting, and helping Bria crunch numbers, there was no time to respond to Winston. Maybe he’d think she was pondering the notion.
Aruba lifted a flyer from her windshield and placed Jeremiah in his booster seat.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s home, Jerry.” At least that’s where he’d better be.
Aruba’s heart sank when she unfolded the flyer. She knew she should be happy for the success of others, but announcements like the one in her hands kept her stuck in the past, constantly wondering what if. Mitch Coleman, the father of one of Jeremiah’s classmates, was on tap to open a third salon in the city. The others were adult hair salons; the current opening was a kiddie salon, specializing in hair care for girls only. Divas in Training promised to be the one-stop shop for girls ages five to seventeen for hair care services, nail and spa treatments, and free promotional items. She remembered James mentioning the idea of a kiddie salon years ago, but never following through on the seed. She forwarded him business plan information, funding sources, and found a few contacts through Bria’s husband, Sidney, but nothing ever came of the effort. She looked at Jeremiah in the rearview mirror and hoped her son would grow up to be a more responsible man than his father. Aruba called James at least seven times after leaving Winston and returning to the office. Her calls went unanswered, her text messages ignored. She wanted him to pick up Jeremiah so that she could run a few errands before returning home. He finally called at five-thirty to say he’d been out paying bills. His curt tone managed, “I made baked chicken and seasoned green beans” before hanging up. A twinge of guilt rose in Aruba. Had she been supportive enough? Had she done all she could to back him up, to bring his goals and dreams to fruition?
When she looked back over the years they’d shared, the emotional war inside resumed. James had experienced so many false starts and setbacks, many of which were self-imposed. Their early conversations over Chinese take-out brimmed with the possibility of owning a business or two, buying a home, purchasing rental properties, and traveling. People who saw them together always told her how lucky she was, that she had snagged a fine husband. Where were they when she was left to pay the bills when he was unemployed, or field calls from other women who said they could love him better? Or when, in a surprise show of generosity, Victoria had allowed them to use her Brown County cabin as a wedding anniversary gift and James spent most of the night on the phone with a woman whose name she didn’t know. It was definitely time to pitch a new tent elsewhere. Winston was the perfect camping partner.
Aruba pulled into the garage, lifted Jeremiah, and went inside. The smell of James’s famous chicken permeated the house. She would eat salad and drink a raspberry Crystal Light green tea for dinner. She was full from lunch and had shared the leftover food she’d cooked for Winston with her coworkers.
“Hi, James, how are you?” Aruba’s attempt at small talk was met with silence.
“Daddy, did you miss me?”
“You know I did, little man,” said James. He smiled at Jeremiah, then rolled his eyes at Aruba.
“What’s the problem, James?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. It’s time to eat. You and Jerry should get ready for dinner.”
Aruba headed upstairs with Jeremiah, changed into comfortable lounging gear, and carried Jeremiah on her back to the dinner table. She was in no mood for James’s games, his silence, or his pity party. He was probably in a sour mood about being unemployed. She didn’t know what he’d been doing all day, but he must have been honest about paying the bills. The lights were on and she knew this was disconnect day. She was tempted to call IPL to see how he paid the bill, but she decided to back off, let him exhibit responsibility, since he swore she didn’t trust anything he did. The house was spotless as usual, so maybe he’d spent the day cleaning. Either way, he had no right to give her attitude. Lately, he seemed more miserable than she remembered. Maybe it was time they both admitted their marriage wasn’t working, admit they should call it quits.
Jeremiah jumped in his favorite seat next to James, and said grace. The table was set, a candle lit, and the food splayed about as if they were in a restaurant. She eyed James as he cut a breast in small pieces and stacked roasted potatoes atop his green beans. Stacking food was always a bad sign. She’d grown accustomed to his habits over the years and knew sinister thoughts were lurking.
“Would you at least talk to me?”
“Not right now,” James said.
Clinking silverware was the night’s conversation. After dinner, James cleared the table as Aruba retired upstairs. She hated the silent treatment, but refused to be the peacemaker tonight. She bathed Jeremiah, then went to bed. Throughout the night, she felt James’s presence in the bedroom. He walked in, stared at her, and walked downstairs again. Her heart raced. She gawked at the alarm clock. Two-fifteen in the morning. She had to get up at seven. She slipped into a robe, then headed downstairs. The smell of coffee hit her nose. When she reached the dining room, the sight of the contents of her purse strewn about enraged her. She approached James with quick steps, her fists balled in a tight knot. James sat at the head of the table, rifling through her wallet, sipping a cup of coffee.
“James, what are you doing with my purse?” Aruba snatched her bag from James.
“I don’t know. Trying to figure out why my wife feels the need to open a separate bank account without my knowledge.”
“What are you talking about?”
James stood in her face, waving a business card. “Who is Mitch Coleman? Is he the reason you need to hide money from me?”
Aruba snatched the business card. “He is the father of one of the boys who attends Jeremiah’s daycare. He opened a new salon and I thought he might be someone you could hook up with for work. Work! You know, that thing you do so very little of these days?” Aruba gathered the items from the table and stuffed them in her purse.
“Answer me, Aruba, why are you hiding money?”
“Answer me, James. Who is Ms. T. and why is my son mentioning her?”
“I don’t know a Ms. T.! Don’t try to put this back on me.”
“James, you are such a liar. I guess the thong I found under the sofa just walked in here and decided to take a nap, huh? My ass isn’t that big, so I know it doesn’t belong to me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Of course you don’t. I found it the night of the accident when I came home. The thong is the reason I opened a new account. Bounced checks, no savings, and no unity are the reasons I opened a new account. As soon as I get enough money, Jerry and I are out of here!”
James advanced a few steps and stood in Aruba’s face. “You’re not leaving me!”
“Why? It’s not like you want to be married, James. You have more than enough women to step in and take my place. I’m sick of putting up with your bullshit, James. I should have left years ago!”
Aruba walked away from James, surprised by his swift footfalls. He jerked her left arm. “Don’t fucking walk away from me! You’re not leaving me and you’re not taking my son away from me!”
“Don’t touch me, James!”
Aruba headed upstairs with James on her heels. She walked into their bedroom, stepped into the closet, pulled down an armful of clothing. She dragged a set of luggage from the closet. The most she managed to do was unzip the first bag when the first punch met her face, knocking her to the floor.
“I said you’re not going anywhere, so let me see you try it!”
Aruba held her face, kicked James in the groin, and ran to Jeremiah’s bedroom. She gathered him, a few of his things, her purse, then zipped to the garage while James
was still down. She backed out the driveway, her hands trembling, Jeremiah crying. She didn’t know where she would go, what she would do, but she was thankful she had enough money to hide out for a while. She exited the subdivision, then pulled into a gas station parking lot. She took a deep breath, knowing now was the time to make her move. There was no way she could go back home again. It was time for Jeremiah to get used to the new life he was entitled to. From her BlackBerry she texted:
Chicago will have to wait. James and I had a fight. Jeremiah and I are going to the Conrad. Please get in touch with me as soon as possible. Please don’t tell Victoria.
[19]
Protector, Provider
“Tori, the hospital just paged me. I need to go in.”
Victoria peered from her eye mask and waved her arm as she always did. She never questioned his whereabouts, pages, or practices. For that, Winston was grateful. Aruba’s text infuriated him. Had he not been so consumed with her safety, he would have driven to her home and settled matters with James, man to man. How could he mistreat her? Aruba was the kind of woman men dreamed of having. To watch James handle her the way he did . . . forget James. Aruba was his main concern.
Winston headed downtown to the Conrad. He made a note to pay for her stay at the hotel for two weeks. That would give him enough time to help her find a safe haven. How ironic that Victoria prattled on and on about volunteering at a domestic violence shelter but never tried to shield her friend from abuse. In eight years of marriage, he’d never been unfaithful. He prided himself on avoiding compromising situations that would make him appear a hypocrite. So many of his friends and colleagues were either separated or divorced. When they turned to him for advice or a listening ear, he held fast to the same answer: “I’m committed to my wife and my daughter and nothing can come between us.”
Never say never.
Winston thought of Aruba and Victoria. The difference between the two was that one needed protection; the other, showcasing. His intention was to have a life partner, not a trophy wife. He couldn’t remember the last time Victoria needed him, embraced him, or initiated lovemaking. Aruba, a woman he’d met through his wife, made him feel more wanted in the five months they’d gotten to know each other better than Victoria did in the ten years they’d been together. How could he handle his feelings? He smiled as he eyed the CD Aruba placed in the gift bag with Take the Risk. He flipped open Kenny Lattimore’s Timeless, read the note in Aruba’s handwriting above Kenny’s silhouette: Whenever I hear track three, I wish you had this place in my life. You are so important to me. He placed the CD in and skipped to track three. Aruba was too much. Norman Connors’s “You Are My Starship” was the only song his parents danced to when he was younger. Now, Kenny put a passionate spin on the song, causing Winston to reminisce about stolen moments his dad shared with his mom. His dad took his mother in his arms as they swayed together on the patio of their summer home, laughter rising and falling as his dad whispered seductive thoughts in his mother’s ear. Winston had waited to call Aruba because he wasn’t sure what to say. He reached for his cell, then dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.
“What do you need, Aruba? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m about twenty minutes from the hotel. What happened?”
“I’d rather talk about it here. My eye is swollen from the punch James gave me.”
“Punched you? Do you want me to take you to the ER? Is Jeremiah safe? Do I need to bring anything to the room?”
“No, I’m too tired to go to the hospital. I ordered room service. Jeremiah is asleep. He slept through the entire incident.”
“That’s good to hear. Aruba, everything will be all right. I give you my word.”
“Thank you, Winston. I’m in room eight seventy-one.”
Aruba hung up her phone and strolled to the bathroom. She placed a bag of ice on her eye, returned to the bed, plopped down. James had hit her in the past, but there was something different about his rage tonight. He’d never gone through her things, never been that silent. She’d tried so hard in the past to reach out to him emotionally, to accommodate his needs. She was certain of two things: she didn’t deserve to be beaten and she could no longer make excuses for his issues. Her desire to help him work through those issues had disappeared years ago. She still loved James, but she was no longer in love with him. Her head was spinning at the prospect of getting a divorce. There was the cost of filing, mediation, counseling if a judge felt it necessary; the list went on and on. One good thing about the time they’d been together was the fact they’d accomplished little. There would be no division of assets, no lengthy back and forth about furniture and other items couples who worked together enjoyed. They would simply share custody of Jeremiah. Damn, I won’t even get child support. A knock on the door reminded her that James’s money or presence didn’t matter anyway. Aruba opened the door for Winston, then fell into his arms. Her light sobs were met with the tightest hug she’d felt in a long time.
“Hey, hey, come on over here,” said Winston, leading Aruba to the bed.
He motioned for her to sit. He joined her, careful not to wake Jeremiah. Tonight would be the night the slightest sound would awaken him.
“Let me look at your eye, Aruba.”
Winston kept an array of medical supplies in his vehicle for times like this. He’d brought ice packs and meds to help her through the night.
“Did you call in to work?”
“I plan on calling Bria around seven or so to let her know I’m under the weather and won’t be in for a few days. I have a new employee to train, but she doesn’t report to work until Monday.”
“Do I need to take Jeremiah to daycare in the morning? I plan to nurse you back to health today. I don’t think you need to go out. James gave you a huge black eye.”
“Actually, you can. You and Victoria are listed as relatives or friends who can pick Jeremiah up or drop him off.”
“Do you plan to press charges against James?”
“I’m still thinking. Winston, I don’t know what to do.”
“Your room is paid for, for two weeks.”
“Winston, you didn’t have to—”
“Shhh . . . I’m not finished.”
“Victoria told me the house is in your name only. I can pay off the mortgage and quit-claim deed it to James. You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it.”
“Winston, I don’t know what to say.”
“You never answered my previous question. What do you need? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
Aruba looked at Winston and could only think of one thing. “Hold me. Lie next to me in bed and hold me ’til day breaks. It’s been a long time since I’ve been held.”
[20]
The Well’s Running Dry
James threw the covers from the bed, unable to sleep for the third night in a row. He stared at the alarm clock. Nine a.m. He wondered where Aruba was and why she wouldn’t answer his calls. In the past, he’d cruise by Bria’s, Renee’s or Victoria’s houses and find her there. They’d go back and forth; she’d pack her things, Jeremiah, and come home. He camped out at all three houses the past few nights, but saw no sign of Aruba. He rode past her job with no luck. He didn’t know what to do because every move she’d made lately deviated from her old ways. Perhaps she meant it this time when she said she couldn’t take it anymore, that she wanted to start a new life without him. For the first time in their ten-year marriage, he thought of what life would be like without her. The thought sickened him.
Three days had passed since the scuffle and being without her had caused an unfamiliar mix of emotions to well inside of him. There were so many things she did he took for granted. As much as he loved to cook, he was startled to open the deep freezer and find she’d prepared and frozen his and Jeremiah’s favorite things. Among the labeled Tupperware bowls were black-eyed pea casserole, champagne salad, braised beef short ribs with rice, and his all-time f
avorite dessert, sweet potato cheesecake.
The last time he’d ventured out to find her, he’d slipped on some jeans and a hoodie. He had fished through his pocket and pulled out a note from Aruba that read: No matter what happens, I’ll always believe in you. Through all their ups and downs, she never stopped encouraging him.
“What have I been doing? What have I been thinking?” James asked to no one in particular.
The phone rang, bringing James back to reality.
James snatched the cordless phone from the wall. “Aruba, baby, where are you?”
“Mr. Dixon? Is this Mr. James Dixon?”
James composed himself. “This is James Dixon. Who’s speaking?”
“This is Sloan Marks. I’m calling from Franzen Industrial Staffing. You put in an application sometime ago and I was calling because we have some available positions. Are you still interested in employment with us?”
“Absolutely! What do I need to do?”
“I’ll be sending some people out two weeks from today on assignment to various sites. Give me a call back next Friday and I’ll have a specific location for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Marks.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Dixon.”
James hung up the phone, elation and sadness covering him in equal measure. He’d been out of work for months and the moment he found something promising, Aruba wasn’t around to rejoice in the good news. He decided to try her once more to let her know what was going on. He dialed her phone, disappointed that it went straight to voicemail again.
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