“Bernadette, you know I love you dearly and I only want the very best for you. But I have to be honest. I’m worried about your involvement with Coop.”
“My involvement? You act like I’m deep into a relationship with the man. It’s just a date, Tess. And as a matter of fact, tonight will only be our second date, so that hardly qualifies as being involved.”
“You said that you two talk and text several times a day.”
“And?”
“He’s the first person you talk to in the morning and the last person you speak to at night. It may only be your second date, but you start and end your day with the man, and that’s serious.”
“I know that you create stories in your head, but please leave me out of the plot you’re cooking up.”
Tess let out a loud, overly exaggerated sigh and folded her arms across her chest. “Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself? I see the way your eyes light up like the sun and your voice gets high like a kite in the wind whenever you talk about Coop.”
“You and your words. You’re so dramatic.”
“No, I’m real, and you know it. Just admit it.”
“You sound ridiculous. With the exception of last night, you’ve been locked away in the guest room ever since you got here, so how would you know?”
“Bernadette, I knew by the way you sounded over the phone last weekend that you were into that man. And now that I’m here and able to see you up close in real time, it’s obvious.”
“Oh, just stop, Tess.”
“No, you stop,” Tess countered. “It’s obvious that you’re into him, and trust me, if I can see it, Coop damn sure can.” Tess looked directly into Bernadette’s eyes. “I love you, cuz, and I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Bernadette took a deep breath and lowered her head. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
“I don’t want this man to take advantage of you.”
“Hell, neither do I. But at some point I’ve got to get back out there and start living again. How am I ever going to find love if I don’t open myself up to it? I’m tired of living life in a coffin.” Bernadette’s chest began to heave up and down. “I closed myself off from the possibility of love or a relationship, and I shut down my feelings for five long years. I threw myself into what I could control, which was my career and my choices. I chose to fill my time with work in order to stay away from any emotional involvement, whether it was romantic or just simple friendships, because I knew I couldn’t control anyone other than myself. But you know what I discovered? I couldn’t control anything at all. Life moves forward, and you can either quietly stand on the sidelines or jump into it with a big splash. I’ve been standing on the sidelines for way too long and now I’m ready to start living again.”
Hearing her pragmatic, logical-thinking cousin talk like a pie-in-the-sky dreamer made Tess wonder if Coop had slipped Bernadette some drugs. Maybe he’s still dealing, Tess thought, and that’s how he’s been able to accumulate so much wealth. She’d never heard Bernadette talk the way she was speaking now, and it gave her cause for even more concern. “Did you sleep with him after you two had lunch?”
“What?”
“He either got to you with the dick or some drugs. But he’s definitely done something that has you talking crazy. Antwan used to do the same thing,” Tess said with a huff. “He used to have my head so far in the damn clouds that I couldn’t see what was really going on. Love can blind you to the truth.”
Bernadette removed the linen napkin from her lap, neatly folded it, and calmly placed it on the table. Tess could see that her cousin’s entire mood had changed, and she braced herself for what Bernadette was about to say.
“Tess, I love you, but right now I’m on the verge of not liking you.”
“Don’t be mad at the messenger. I’m just telling you the hard truth, and sometimes the truth hurts.”
“Will you shut up for once and let me talk!”
Tess couldn’t remember Bernadette ever raising her voice at her, and it rendered her speechless as her cousin continued.
“I knew that somehow, some way, the conversation was going to jump back to your relationship with Antwan. Everything always has to revolve around you and how you’re the victim. Even last night you couldn’t give Arizona advice without bringing up your relationship with Antwan and how he wronged you. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe Antwan wasn’t the only asshole in your relationship?”
Tess huffed, leaned forward over the table, and craned her neck. “Excuse me, but did you just call me an asshole?”
“What I’m saying is that Antwan showed his ass one way and you showed yours in another,” Bernadette shot back. “Last night you said that love is blind, and just now you said love can blind you to the truth. But honestly, you don’t have a clue,” Bernadette said as she looked directly into Tess’s eyes. “The truth is, love sees what it wants to see. You knew that Antwan was cheating on you and you knew that he was lying about it, but you chose to look the other way and believe his paper-thin excuses even when deep down you knew they weren’t true.
“You suffocated that man with your relentless need for attention and your toxic view of life. I remember one time when I went out to dinner with the two of you while I was visiting shortly after you guys started dating, and the entire evening you talked about yourself, and anytime Antwan managed to jump in, you cut him down and cut him off with sarcastic remarks that you thought was funny.”
“You’re one to talk. How the hell are you gonna sit here and lecture me on how I fucked up my relationship when you’ve been a doormat that men wipe their feet on and keep steppin’? You might call it bitchy behavior, but I call it taking control, and unlike you, I don’t think having control in a relationship is a bad thing.”
Bernadette shook her head. “You didn’t have control then and you still don’t have it now. Besides, what has being in control gotten you, other than ending up frustrated and alone?”
“I’ll take being alone and having control any day over being with someone who’s gonna walk all over me, use me for what they can get, and then leave me hanging out to dry . . . like a fifty-year-old doormat.” Tess knew that what she’d said was beyond mean, but at the moment she didn’t care.
“You’re exactly right, Tess. But I have to correct you on one thing. You’re describing who I used to be. I’m no longer a doormat. I’m walking a very different path that’s going to lead me in a new direction, but I can’t get there if I continue doing what I’ve always done.”
Tess threw up her hands. “You’ve been reading way too many O Magazine articles.”
“I know that you bleed sarcasm, but can you please stop for one minute so we can have a real conversation?”
“You’ve already told me that I’m a callous, selfish bitch, and it doesn’t get any more real than that.”
“Tess, the same way you said that you want the best for me, I also want the best for you, and I wouldn’t be showing you genuine love if I didn’t tell you the truth. I believe you hunger for attention for the same reason that you talk so much junk, and that’s because deep down you’re scared. You write books about adventure, love, and faith because you have none of those things in your life, and the reason you don’t have them is because you’re scared. You’re afraid of getting hurt. Well, guess what? You’re hurting right now, and that’s part of the reason why you’re so negative. You’re still standing on the sidelines of life, afraid to jump in. Booty calls with twentysomethings is a slow and lonely road that’s gonna lead you nowhere, Tess.”
Both women sat across from each other saying nothing, but Tess knew that Bernadette was right. Just as Bernadette had buried herself in her work over the past five years, Tess had buried herself in her writing practically all of her adult life. She’d written her first manuscript while she’d still been in college, and one year after graduation that same manuscript became her first book, which went on to top several
bestseller lists. By her twenty-fifth birthday, her second novel became a New York Times best seller, and since then she’d had a string of chart-topping books that had won her legions of loyal readers from all over the world. She was a big deal in the literary world, but in her own world, she didn’t feel nearly as accomplished. She held deep rooted fears of insecurity and self-doubt that she’d been able to mask by acting tough, talking shit, and in many instances, acting out.
Bernadette had hit a particular nerve because she’d said some of the same things that Antwan used to say about her behavior.
Tess wanted to come back with an in-your-face response to Bernadette’s brutal words, but she couldn’t because her mind was overloaded with so much emotion she could barely hold on to it, and she knew she needed to do something before she exploded. A little voice in her head told her, Put Bernadette in her place, curse her high-and-mighty ass out, then pack your bags and fly back to Chicago so you won’t have to put up with this bullshit. But the calm, more reasonable voice told her, Take a deep breath, then listen and learn from your cousin’s words because she’s telling you what you need to hear.
Tess looked out of the big floor-to-ceiling window beside the breakfast table and wished that she could fly away like the bird that had just breezed by. Being on the receiving end of criticism wasn’t something she was used to, and it hurt. She knew she needed time to think things over before she spoke another word or made any impulsive decisions.
She pushed her now-lukewarm bowl of oatmeal to the center of the table and rose from her chair. “I’m going upstairs to get back into my adventurous love- and faith-filled writing.”
* * *
It was seven o’clock, and Tess was staring at a blank screen, trying to gather the strength to focus so she could write. “Damn,” she whispered. She was startled by how angry her voice sounded. Her mind had been cluttered with complicated thoughts that had put her heart through a variety of emotions ever since she and Bernadette had their conversation that morning at the breakfast table. They had each said things that had hurt the other’s feelings, but Tess knew that Bernadette’s words had been rooted in truth and love, while hers had been based in love mixed with anger. “How can I love if I’m angry?” she asked aloud.
Tess typed the word “love” into her online dictionary.
Love: noun: love; plural noun: loves
1. An intense feeling of deep affection; synonyms: deep affection, fondness, tenderness, warmth, intimacy, attachment, endearment verb verb: to feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone).
Tess read the definition over and over as she stared at the screen, digesting what the words meant. For the first time in her life, she realized the immense power those four letters carried, and she once again knew Bernadette had been right.
Tess rose from the desk and walked over to the plush armchair near the window in the corner of the room. She smiled and nodded as she looked around the room. “This is just like my cousin.”
Bernadette had decorated and designed the room with the comfort of her guests in mind. From the basket filled with bottled water and snacks to the closet containing extra sheets and blankets, to the fluffy towels and toiletries packed with essentials such as shampoo, toothpaste, body gel, and cotton balls, her cousin had put thought and care into anticipating the needs of her guests.
Tess settled into the comfortable chair and thought about the meaning of love and about the things that Bernadette had said to her earlier today. It was true that Tess’s books were filled with adventurous characters who loved deeply and had faith that their lives would be better because of it. “I’m such a fucking phony,” she said. “There’s nothing about me that’s adventurous, or loving, and I certainly don’t have faith. I guess I’m writing about what I want but don’t have.” As Tess thought about the state of her life she felt defeated, and she knew she needed to leave the confines of Bernadette’s home before she went stir-crazy.
* * *
It was just evening, but Tess felt as though it was midnight. Bernadette had left two hours ago—Coop had picked her up at exactly five o’clock—and although she hadn’t spoken to her cousin since their breakfast blowout, the house felt empty and cold. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Tess sprang from her chair and walked over to the chest of drawers where she’d stored her clothes. She’d only packed sweaters, sweatshirts, and leggings because she hadn’t anticipated getting out much. But now that she was looking through the boring selection, she wished she’d packed more stylish outfits. If Bernadette was her size she could go downstairs and search her closet, but Tess was nearly five inches taller, so nothing of her cousin’s would be a good fit.
Tess pulled a black sweater over her head and stepped into a pair of black and white checkered leggings. She went into the bathroom and rummaged through her makeup bag. After applying foundation, brow liner, mascara, and lipstick, she slathered curling mousse through her medium brown tresses and then headed downstairs.
It was frigid outside, but unlike the Windy City, there was no snow on the ground. Tess couldn’t believe that the grass still had a semblance of green color, even during the winter. “I guess the South refuses to yield to Mother Nature,” she said. She was hungry, so she set her GPS for Sue’s Brown Bag. She’d devoured the food that Bernadette had brought home and she hoped that a good meal would squelch her bad mood.
“This place reminds me of a mini version of South Side Chicago, only cleaner,” Tess said as she navigated her way through the Bottoms. After circling the block two times, she finally found a parking space down the street from the restaurant. Normally, she would have been leery about walking around a strange neighborhood by herself, especially at night, but given the mood she was in, she knew that if anyone approached her it would be them who’d be in trouble. Tess grabbed her handbag from the passenger seat and braced herself for the cold walk to the restaurant.
“Welcome to Sue’s Brown Bag,” the hostess said.
Tess nodded, noting how bubbly and friendly the woman seemed to be. She looked beyond the hostess stand and into the restaurant, which was much more stylish and modern than the exterior implied. The place was packed, which was why it had been so hard for her to find a parking space.
“Are you waiting for the rest of your party to arrive?” the hostess asked.
“Um, no,” Tess responded. “It’s just me.”
The woman looked confused and surprised. “You eatin’ all alone?”
“Yes.” Tess ignored the hostess’s comment. “How long is the wait?”
“Why you all alone on a Saturday night? You pretty, tall, and classy lookin’. I know you could get a date if you wanted one.”
“Excuse me?” Tess couldn’t believe the nerve of the woman.
“I’m just sayin’ you could easily get a date.”
“I know that, but tonight I want food. So I’m gonna ask your nosy ass again, how long is the wait?”
The server rolled her eyes. “You ain’t got to be rude, cursin’ and whatnot.”
“You’re calling me rude?” Tess scoffed. “You’re asking me questions that’s none of your business when you should be doing your job.”
The woman huffed. “We have seats at the bar.” She pointed across the room. “Help yourself.”
If Tess wasn’t so hungry she would have strutted straight out the door and into the cold night to find another restaurant, preferably back on Bernadette’s side of town where manners mattered. But the fact was that she was hungry, and the aroma floating through the restaurant was so mouthwateringly good that she was willing to put up with rudeness in favor of a delicious meal. “I’ll seat myself, but trust and believe, I’ll be back.”
Tess walked over to the bar and sat on a stool that was tufted with the softest leather she’d ever felt in a restaurant. The bar in front of her was brightly lit from the floor to the ceiling and was filled with shelf after shelf of premium alcohol.
“Hey, pretty lady,” the bart
ender said with a big smile. “How can I help you tonight?”
“I’d like a glass of Chardonnay, a menu, and a conversation with the manager.”
“Is everything aw’right?” the tall, chubby man asked. He had a clean-shaven face and his smile was genuine and friendly. “You too pretty to be upset. Is it somethin’ I can help you with?”
“Thank you, but no. I need to speak to the manager about the way I was insulted by the hostess.”
“Oh, you must be talkin’ ’bout Sandy. She good people, she don’t mean no harm, she just put her foot in her mouth all the time.”
“It’s great that you have team loyalty, but I still want to speak to the manager.”
The bartender smiled. “I understand.” He reached for a bottle and a glass and then handed Tess her Chardonnay, as well as a menu. “I’ll go get the boss for you, ma’am. In the meantime, do you want somethin’ to eat on while you wait?”
Tess was so hungry that her stomach jumped. “An order of wings, please.”
“Comin’ right up. I’ll put in your order when I go back to get Maceo.”
Maceo? That name sounds like a pimp from a 1970s black exploitation movie, Tess thought to herself. Now it made perfect sense as to why a rude, loud-talking hostess with no couth was employed there, and as someone who was charged with greeting people, no less. As a writer by profession, Tess always observed her surroundings because any location, person, or situation was fair game to be included in her stories. As she looked around the restaurant she found it strange that an establishment this nice would have a rude hostess and a pimp managing the place. With its leather chairs, custom-made tables, and modern pendant lights and chandeliers, Tess was impressed by the ambience and sophisticated feel of the place. And the fact that it was packed to capacity was no surprise, given the great food and atmosphere.
As Tess observed, she discovered another interesting contradiction. The overwhelming majority of the patrons looked like blue-collar working-class folk, which matched the outside of the building, but certainly not the inside. Tess looked down at the menu and saw that the prices were unbelievably low. She knew that things were less expensive in the South, but the prices on the menu were just a step above what one would pay for a combo meal at a drive-thru window. It made Tess wonder how the establishment could possibly earn a profit. Her mind immediately went to work trying to figure out what was really going on. She knew that organized crime—which was big in Chicago—often used restaurants as a front through which to launder money, and she wondered if Bourbon had its own tiny version.
The Other Side Page 19