“Good afternoon, cave,” Tess whispered. Her voice was somber and her mood was even worse. Normally when she walked into her writing cave a blanket of peace covered her body that sparked creative ideas, ignited her vivid imagination, and fueled her adventurous spirit. But not today. This afternoon, all those wonderful feelings had been replaced with an overwhelming sense of defeat that draped her from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet.
“I’ve got to put that bastard and his bitch out of my mind because they’re interfering with my muse and fucking up my flow.” Tess walked over to the window and looked out at the snow-covered sidewalk. It was bitterly cold, and as she placed the palm of her hand against the glass, she couldn’t let go of the hard but true fact that she wished it was she who was lying on the beach beside Antwan, sipping a fruity drink while playing footsie with him as the Caribbean sun beat down on their skin.
“I need to pull it together,” Tess huffed as she shuffled over to the box of pizza she’d left from the night before. She opened it up and looked at the lone slice with its congealed cheese and cold vegetables. “It’s a damn shame when you order an extra-large pizza and you eat it all by yourself in less than twenty-four hours,” she said as she bit into the hardened crust. She reached for the bottle of red wine beside it and pulled out the cork. “I need to get cracking on this manuscript. Focus, focus, focus,” she told herself as she turned the bottle to her mouth and drained what was left of the Cabernet Sauvignon.
Tess finally made it over to her desk and sat in her chair where the magic happened, and where she hoped she would be able to cast her sour mood to a faraway place. She was already past her deadline to turn in her manuscript to her editor. This book was the sequel to her last best seller that she’d released last year, and her legion of loyal readers was anxiously waiting to see what would happen next to the characters she’d created. To say that she felt pressure was mild, but, she’d done it eleven times before, and she was hoping she could make it an even dozen. She booted up her computer, stretched her neck and shoulders, and then settled in for a long afternoon of writing.
Six hours later it was dark outside and frigidly cold, and Tess was exhausted. She stared at the screen of her twenty-seven-inch monitor and squinted at the single paragraph she’d written. “An entire day down the fucking drain,” she said in a weary voice. She’d tried to get into the zone, the space where nothing mattered except her characters and the scenes they led her to write as she’d create an entirely new world from her imagination. But her creativity was on hold because the only thing she could think about was the fact that Antwan was someone else’s husband.
She’d gone back to his Instagram page and then moved on to Facebook, where she’d spent hours reading posts and scrutinizing the happy pictures that the loving couple had tagged each other in. She tortured herself with the thought of what could have been if Antwan had chosen her, and she racked her brain with the question of why he hadn’t.
“What’s wrong with me?” Tess asked herself. “Where did I go wrong? I gave that bastard my love and he trampled all over it like it was nothing.” Tess knew she had to break through the fog of her self-induced pity-party. She needed clarity, so she called Bernadette.
“Hey, cuzzo,” Bernadette answered on the second ring. “I saw that it’s only five degrees in Chicago and the windchill is negative ten.”
“Yeah, that was the high earlier today. It’s below zero now and the forecast is calling for the temperature to dip even lower.”
“That’s crazy. How in the world do you stand it?”
“That’s a good question, and I’ve asked myself the same thing. I thought I’d get used to it after being here for more than ten years. But every year after the first snowfall I still feel like it’s my first Chicago winter.”
“That’s why you need to come down South.”
Tess laughed.
“I’m serious. It’s the dead of winter here and even though it’s cold, it’s the South kind of cold, which isn’t that bad. I’ll take this thirty-degree temperature any day. As a matter of fact, I can’t wait until spring because I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful here.”
“I bet it will.”
“You okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“I know you’re under deadline with your book, but take the night off. You wrote all day and night on your birthday, so at the very least you should celebrate before the weekend ends, and knowing you, I have no doubt there’s any shortage of men for you to chose from.”
Tess wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Bernadette was right, there were at least seven men she could call at the very moment who would drop what they were doing, bundle up, and brave the cold to come see her for a little late-night fun. The only problem was that none of those men meant anything to her, and she knew that beyond their shared connection of wanting good sex, she meant nothing to them either. The thought of being a forty-year-old booty call babe made Tess want to cry. But she sucked up her emotions and changed the subject. “So, what are you up to tonight?” she asked.
“I’m actually getting ready to get dressed and go out to a party.”
“Really?” Tess was surprised that Bernadette was going out, and to a party at that.
Tess carefully listened to her cousin and noticed there was something different in Bernadette’s tone. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but there was definitely a lilt of excitement in her voice. Usually, the only thing that elicited that type of emotion from Bernadette was when she was talking about a business strategy, finances, or something related to work. Bernadette was a serial workaholic, and ever since she’d given up on love, she’d plunged full throttle into her career, and she had great success to show for her efforts. But Tess knew they hadn’t remotely broached any discussion about Bernadette’s job, so she wondered what had her cousin sounding like she’d just gotten a bonus on top of a raise. Now it was Tess’s turn to ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yes . . . don’t I sound okay?”
“You actually sound great. Like you’re happy.”
“I guess that’s because . . .” Bernadette paused for a moment. “I guess I am.”
“Oh, you must have scored a major deal at work. Don’t tell me they’re getting ready to make you CEO of the hospital.”
“You know me very well, but actually, the way I feel right now has absolutely nothing to do with work.”
“Okay, wait a minute. Have you found a friend with benefits?”
“Girl, please! My good mood has nothing to do with Bourbon General or a man, however, give me a couple years and I will be the top dog in charge, in and out of the boardroom,” Bernadette said with confidence. “But tonight, I’m just happy because I’m alive and I’m free.
Now Tess definitely knew something was up with her cousin. She rose from her plush, velveteen tufted office chair and began pacing the floor. Bernadette had always been pragmatic, serious and focused. She wasn’t the type who said things like, I’m just happy because I’m alive and free. Tess didn’t even know what that statement meant, or what had caused Bernadette to say it.
Initially, Tess thought about the possibility that Bernadette had met someone last night when she’d gone to dinner to celebrate, and that was why she’d made the friends with benefits comment. But Tess had quickly dismissed the thought, not because Bernadette had denied it, but because she knew that even if her cousin had met a tall, educated, and handsome CEO type—which had always been her weakness—he’d have to have done a whole lot of work to bring Bernadette to this point of happiness.
Tess knew Bernadette’s hard-shell coating all too well, and she knew there was no way a booty-call hookup was going to happen after just one night. Tess had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach because she knew what could make Bernadette, or anyone for that matter, act the way she was now. She sucked in a deep breath and hoped she was wrong about what she was about to ask.
“Bernadette, are you using drugs?”
“Have you lost your mind? What would possess you to think or even ask me a ridiculous question like that?”
“Because you’re either smoking, snorting, or swallowing something that’s making you sound like a completely different person.”
“You left out shooting up,” Bernadette said sarcastically.
“I know you’re terrified of needles.”
“I should reach through this phone and choke you. It’s a shame that you think the only way I can be happy is to use drugs. Do you really think I’m that pathetic?”
Tess had just come to the sad realization that her own life was pathetic, and she now felt bad for making her cousin feel the same way. Unlike her, Bernadette had always walked a path so straight she didn’t need a ruler. Bernadette colored inside the lines, and Tess knew she had to apologize. “I’m sorry, Bernadette. What I said was completely out of line. The only reason I thought that is because what you just said sounded very unlike you, almost like it was coming from a person who was pretending to be you.”
“Apology accepted. And I admit that I probably sound different, and honestly, the feeling I have is still kind of foreign to me, so I can understand why you think something’s going on with me.”
“Tell me what happened, and why you’re suddenly so happy and free?”
Tess listened intently as Bernadette told her about a woman she’d met while dining at the restaurant last night, whose birthday also happened to be yesterday as well. The woman’s name was Arizona, and she and Bernadette had hit it off so well that they’d talked until the restaurant closed. Bernadette said that even though Arizona was young and had never lived outside Bourbon, she had a unique perspective that made her rethink many things in her life, and at the top of the list was her desire to have a relationship.
“I didn’t get into bed until one a.m.,” Bernadette said, “but when I did, I slept like a baby. I drifted off and when I woke up this morning I felt relaxed, free, and happy . . . you want to know why?”
“You found a new vibrator and it took the edge off?”
“The only reason why I’m not going to hang up on you is because that’s not a far-fetched theory. But no, Miss Smarty Pants. I feel good because I forgave Walter.”
Tess walked back to her comfortable office chair and sat down to regain her balance and rewind the words that Bernadette just said. Before she had a chance to ask the first of several questions swirling around in her head, Bernadette gave her the answers.
“I know you’re wondering what in the hell brought this on, and it all started when Arizona asked a simple question that stunned me.”
“Which was?”
“Had I forgiven Walter.”
“Forgive him for what? That maggot should be the one asking for your forgiveness, not the other way around,” Tess huffed in disgust.
“That’s what I initially said. But Arizona looked at things from a different angle.”
Tess smirked on her end of the phone. “Listen, I’m sure this Arizona woman is a lovely person, otherwise you wouldn’t have spent your entire evening at dinner talking with her. But she’s off her rocker. How could she even ask you that question after you explained what that dirty little rat-bastard did to you?”
“In her youthful wisdom she told me something that I’ve heard and read a million times from self-help gurus, but it didn’t click until Arizona broke it down. She told me that if I didn’t forgive Walter, there was no way I could go on to find happiness, and then she told me to pray about it and give it to God. Before I got into bed, I bent down on my knees and prayed, and I asked the Lord to change what was in my heart. I asked him to let happiness walk into my life, and then I climbed into my cozy bed and was asleep so fast that I don’t even remember drifting off. When I woke up this morning, I felt better and less stressed than I have in years. I haven’t completely let go of the anger I have for Walter’s sorry behind, but I know that I’m on the road to getting there and, Tess, it feels good. I finally feel like I can be happy again.”
Tess leaned back into her chair and digested Bernadette’s words, the same words she’d heard from self-help gurus as well. She secretly envied Bernadette for her newfound clarity, but she hoped her cousin wouldn’t try to sway her into forgiving Antwan because the wound he’d inflicted had reopened and the blood was still fresh.
“Right now as we speak,” Bernadette continued, “I’m getting ready to slip into a cute outfit for Arizona’s birthday party.”
“I can’t believe you’re going out two nights in a row,” Tess said. “I guess God did step in.”
“Very funny.”
“Thank you. I try.”
“Arizona’s fiancé is throwing a party for her at the hotel where he works and she invited me to go, so I’m going to get out and have a little fun. And who knows, I might just meet someone.”
Tess didn’t want to sound skeptical, especially because it was clear that Bernadette was excited about her shiny new outlook on life. But she also wanted to give her cousin a little dose of reality mixed with middle-age wisdom. “I hope you have a wonderful time tonight, cuzzo. But remember, if you haven’t roller-skated in years and you quickly lace up and take off, you could be in for a quick fall. Take your time, go slow, and protect yourself. I’ve heard folks are crazy in small towns like Mayberry.”
“It’s Bourbon, and no, they’re not,” Bernadette said through laughter. “Just be happy for me, Tess. And by the way, you should try letting go of the pain you’re holding on to from your relationship with Antwan.”
The mention of her ex-lover’s name sent a sharp pain to the pit of Tess’s stomach. She wanted to let go, but right now she was in a tug-of-war with doing the mature thing and being as messy as a schoolgirl. Unlike Bernadette who had released anger in her sleep, Tess was plotting while wide awake. She’d thought about creating a fake profile on Instagram and then bombarding Antwan’s posts with comments about his lying, cheating ways, filled with warnings for his new bride. And because his page was public, for what he’d once said was strictly for media purposes, she knew it would be easy to do.
“Tess, are you still there?” Bernadette asked, drawing Tess back into the present.
“Yes, like I said, I’m sleepy from a long night in the cave,” she lied. “I know you need to start getting dressed for the party and I need to get back to my manuscript, so let’s call it a night.”
“Okay, cuzzo.”
“Have a great time and remember, take it slow.”
Bernadette laughed. “Yes, ma’am, I will.”
“And call me tomorrow because you know I’ll be waiting to hear how things go.”
“You got it, and I hope you have a great writing night on what I know is going to be another best seller.”
After Tess hung up the phone she logged onto her computer and went straight to Antwan’s Instagram page. She knew she shouldn’t do it, but her curiosity mixed with mild obsession drove her to see what her ex was up to. He had just posted a picture ten minutes ago of him and his wife having dinner for two in what looked to be a luxuriously decorated, five-star hotel suite. The soft glow from the light of dozens of candles filled the room with romance that was oozing through the computer screen. The happy couple had obviously gotten a waiter to snap a magazine-worthy picture of them sitting at a well-appointed table for two as they clinked their champagne flutes while they starred into each other’s eyes. “This is some bullshit!” Tess grumbled.
But even as Tess spewed those words, she knew it wasn’t true. She knew deep down that what Antwan and his new wife had was love. As a writer, she had the ability to use her vivid imagination, but she also possessed the uncanny knack for spotting what was real from what was made up to craft the perfect story. She’d become skilled at looking into people’s eyes and knowing what was phony and what wasn’t, and as she clicked back through pictures that the couple had taken earlier today, what she saw was happiness. Genuine happiness. And what T
ess realized once again was the bitter fact that it wasn’t that Antwan hadn’t wanted to make his business public, or that he couldn’t be faithful, it was that he hadn’t wanted to and couldn’t be those things with her.
Chapter 10
BERNADETTE
“New view, new you,” Bernadette said to herself as she sat at her lighted vanity inside her spacious master bathroom. Ever since she’d opened her eyes that morning she’d been practicing how to speak, think, and act with a different outlook on her life. “I can choose happiness,” she said as she reached for her MAC pressed powder. She dabbed the foundation with her fluffy makeup brush and stroked it onto her smooth, deep pecan-colored skin. “I can have happiness, because I deserve it.”
Bernadette finished applying her makeup to the best of her ability, then topped off her look with her signature MAC Ruby Woo lipstick. She wished she could have enlisted Arizona’s makeup expertise because the woman knew what she was doing. Bernadette wanted to enhance her plain features and she wished she could bring out her eyes, which she’d always thought were much too big for the slender shape of her face. She surveyed herself, turning from side to side, inspecting her amateur handiwork at different angles. She sighed. “I look okay, but I’m realistic and I know I need some help.”
Bernadette was fifty years old and she still couldn’t determine her best side profile. She envied women who possessed natural beauty and didn’t need the aid of what one of her ex-boyfriends had called “war paint.” But as Bernadette had just said, she was a realist, and she knew that the canvas she was working with required a little help if she wanted to have a fighting chance of being physically attractive.
But as much as she knew her overall looks were six on a scale of ten, she also knew that her skin was without a doubt in double digits. From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, Bernadette’s skin was a smooth, evenly pigmented deep brown color that was so rich it looked and felt like silk. She’d been blessed to have never suffered from pimples, blemishes, scars, stretch marks, or even the dreaded cellulite that most women battled with creams and pills.
The Other Side Page 9