No One in the World

by E. Lynn Harris; RM Johnson

  61

  Eric parked the car in the Fifty-third Street Haynes Point parking lot and got out. The day was overcast, but a couple of college kids from the University of Chicago dorm building across the street were tossing a Frisbee in the grass and a few people were walking dogs. Otherwise the park was calm.

  Jess had told Eric she would be waiting by the bench just before the bridge that led to the lakeside.

  The call had come this morning, waking him out of his sleep.

  “Meet me today at eleven-thirty. There’s something I have to give you.”

  “Where?”

  She gave him the location.

  “You bringing Maya?”

  “Eric, I have to go. I can’t talk right now.”

  “But you called me. I wanna talk.”

  “Just meet me, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  Eric stepped out of the parking lot and walked down to the path leading to a grassy area with wooden park benches. There he spotted Jess but saw no sign of his little girl. Instead, Jess was with a tall man wearing slacks and a sport jacket. Jess’s back was to Eric. The man was facing and speaking to her. When Eric walked up, the man’s eyes focused on him.

  Jess immediately turned around. She wore business clothes: a skirt, jacket, and short heels. “Hello, Eric.”

  “Where is Maya?”

  “Eric, this is Quentin,” Jess said, gesturing toward the good-looking, clean-shaven, dark-skinned man beside her.

  “I don’t care who that is,” Eric said, guessing this was a guy Jess had been dealing with and the reason she wouldn’t talk about them getting back together. “I want to know where my daughter is.”

  “Quentin and I thought it best we not bring her.”

  “Jess, what are you doing?” Eric said, taking a step toward her. “What happened to us? We used to love each other, and now—”

  “Eric, stop,” Jess said. “That’s disrespectful to Quentin.”

  “What?” Eric said, angry that she even brought the man to this meeting, but to put him before Eric, the man she had been dealing with for years—the father of her child.

  “Jess,” Quentin whispered, but it was loud enough for Eric to hear. “Maybe you two should speak alone. I don’t think I should be here.”

  “No,” Jess said, grabbing Quentin’s arm, then turned back to address Eric. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “I want Quentin to adopt Maya. That’s why I brought him for you to meet.”

  It felt as though Jess punched Eric through the chest, reached in, grabbed his heart, and was trying to rip it out. He felt dizzy all of sudden and took two steps toward them, still not believing what he had just heard. “You don’t . . . you don’t mean that.”

  “Eric, you were in prison most of Maya’s life. Biologically, you’re her father, but you don’t even know her. Quentin does, and he’s ready—”

  “Ready to take my little girl away from me?” Eric turned and appealed to Quentin, emotion heavy in his voice. “Is that true? You, as a man, who should know what a little girl means to her father—you trying to snatch my child from me? Or is Jess putting you up to it?”

  Quentin didn’t respond, but Eric believed he saw what could’ve been sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

  “No,” Jess said. “It’s what we both want.”

  “Well, it ain’t gonna happen,” Eric said, shaking his head. “I’m that child’s father. You even said it yourself, and you can’t do nothing about it.”

  “That’s why I’m filing to terminate your rights, Eric,” Jess said, digging in her purse and producing an envelope. “The date and place for the hearing is in there.”

  62

  Austen drove out of a Mercedes dealership with a seven-year-old beige Honda Civic that cost eight grand. Sissy had given Austen an allotment of $90,000 and told her to buy something befitting her status as Cobi Winslow’s wife.

  Julia sat beside Austen, her face screwed up, looking around the tiny cabin. “This looks like the car I drove in college.”

  “And that’s exactly the way I like it.” Austen smiled, whipping the car into the flow of traffic. “I just had a seventy-thousand-dollar car repossessed. That’s not going to happen again.”

  “The Winslows aren’t going to take your car from you, Austen. If that were the case, why would they have bought it?”

  “Whether they take it from me for some reason, or I decide to give it back, either way, I won’t miss this little thing.”

  “And why would you want to give it back?” Julia asked. “You thinking about backing out on this?”

  “I hate to say it, but the thought has crossed my mind,” Austen said, braking at a red light. She turned to Julia. “The upside is, I would have my freedom. The downside, I would still have to pay my mother’s mortgage, and I would need to earn money till this housing thing blows over.”

  “Yeah,” Julia said. “Money you don’t have.”

  “Then maybe I should get a job.”

  “Girl,” Julia said, “nobody’s hiring out there.”

  The light turned green. Austen sped the car along, smiled, and said, “We won’t know for sure until I try.”

  63

  Three hours later, Austen sat in the family room of the Winslow mansion, watching Oprah. She was startled by Sissy’s voice.

  “Can I speak to you a moment?” Sissy asked.

  Austen turned on the sofa to see the woman standing in the doorway, dressed as always in a business suit and high heels.

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  Sissy walked into the room, lifted the remote from the coffee table, and clicked off the TV. “What is that thing in the driveway?”

  “It’s the car I bought from the dealership. It’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

  Sissy did not look amused. “I thought I told you to buy what Ken, the salesman I directed you to, recommended. We cannot have you driving around in—”

  “But I’m the one driving it, so shouldn’t I be able to—”

  “No, Ms. Greer. The answer is no,” Sissy said. “I’ve spoken to Ken, and someone from the dealership will be by tomorrow morning to drop off the car you were shown.”

  Austen shot up from the sofa. “But—”

  “There is no but. It’s already done.”

  “Fine, it’s your money.”

  “You’re absolutely right about that.”

  “I’m going to finish Oprah in my room,” Austen said, on her way out.

  “Hold it. There’s something else.”

  Austen stopped and turned. “What?”

  “Why were you filling out job applications today?”

  Austen froze. “Were you fucking following me?”

  Sissy chuckled. “Do I look like someone who would be driving around, following a Honda?”

  “Did you have me followed? What the hell do you think this is? I am not your property!”

  Sissy smiled coolly. “You’ve signed a contract. But to me it seems you’re looking for a job, because you’d rather not go through with what you promised. Understand, if you don’t want to be here, there are plenty of women who would be more than happy to accept the deal we presented you with.”

  “Are there?”

  “You aren’t the only one who has lost everything and is desperate to be saved.”

  Austen was sure that remark was supposed to hurt. It did.

  “Sissy, you need to understand—”

  “From now on, it’s Miss Winslow to you, and the only thing I need to understand is if we still have a deal. What will it be, Miss Greer?”

  Angrier than she had ever felt, Austen took the seconds she was given to make a decision. “Yes, Miss Winslow, we still have a deal.”

  64

  As he sat in the living room, staring down at the papers Jess had given him, Eric still couldn’t believe what she was planning. Didn’t she know that he wasn’t going to just let her snatch his chil
d from him to let some other man raise without putting up a fight?

  “I said, are you okay!”

  Eric looked up to see Cobi standing in the living room doorway, after he finally heard him practically yelling at him.

  “I’ve been standing here for like thirty seconds calling your name,” Cobi said, walking over and reaching for the legal papers Eric was holding. “What’s got you all in a trance?”

  Eric handed him the papers. “Jess says not only does she want to strip my rights to see Maya, but she wants her fucking boyfriend to adopt him. This can’t happen, Cobi,” Eric said, standing.

  “Just try to be calm,” Cobi said, glancing over the document.

  “I’m done with calm,” Eric said, pacing, his fists clenched. “This can’t be legal.”

  Cobi looked up at Eric, shaking his head. “I’m afraid it is. But I called my friend, the family law attorney. We’re meeting him tomorrow. And don’t you worry, Eric. We’re going to make sure we’re ready for this.”

  65

  After calling Tyler several times to discuss all that was going on and getting nothing but his voicemail, I broke down and called Blac back and agreed to meet him at Shady’s, a relaxed little restaurant with a two-level outdoor patio, on North Halsted Street.

  When he walked in, I was already stationed at the bar, sipping from a short glass of cognac and a glass of ice water.

  He wore a sparkling, crisp white-collared shirt that made his dark skin look amazing, a pair of jeans, and black leather shoes. When he saw me, his smile was as brilliant as the shirt he wore. He came over and without hesitation, gave me a hug as though we had known and loved each other for years.

  “I’m glad you called me back,” Blac said, sitting on the stool beside me. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”

  I turned to him. “I really wasn’t going to. I didn’t think it was a good idea meeting you like this. But then I said, why not? You seem like a nice enough guy.”

  “Why isn’t it a good idea?”

  “It’s a secret I’m keeping from my brother. There’s a lot of stuff going on with him right now, and I’m not sure if this is right.”

  “I understand, but why is it a secret just because you don’t tell him about meeting me? It’s not like you tell Eric every time you go out for drinks with a friend. Are those secrets, too?”

  “He obviously doesn’t know you’re gay,” I said.

  “Does he have to? He obviously doesn’t know you’re gay either,” Blac said. “You didn’t tell him, why should I?”

  I felt more comfortable about the meeting, seeing that Eric hadn’t let slip what he had found out about me. I figured if he hadn’t told his best friend, then he hadn’t told anyone. “I guess you’re right.”

  We talked more, had a few more drinks, then moved outside to the crowded patio.

  During our conversation, I noticed that Blac seemed to know everything there was to know about me. “Gee, do you know the day I lost my virginity, too?” I said, a little concerned.

  “Okay, I’m not some stalker or anything,” Blac explained. “Eric said you were a great man, and I wanted to know what made you all that, so I Googled you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, I guess I don’t,” I said, a little flattered that he had taken such an interest.

  “Prove you don’t mind.”

  “How?” I said, smiling. Blac was standing in front of me, not six inches away. He was staring right at my lips.

  “Can I have a kiss?”

  By now, I had forgotten how many drinks I had. I wasn’t sloppy drunk, but I was a little tipsy and feeling somewhat playful.

  “You’ll have to take it.”

  Blac smiled, leaned in, and among the dozens of people on the patio having drinks and enjoying music, Blac gave me a kiss. I parted my lips, invited him to probe deeper, and by the end of it, my head felt light. We had shared a beautiful kiss.

  Breathless, I said, “Wow. That was nice.”

  “There’s more,” Blac said. I felt him take my hand, pull on my middle finger. “Maybe we can walk back to your car.”

  My imagination started to go crazy, forcing a smile on my face. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Let’s go and find out,” Blac said.

  66

  Eric sat at the kitchen table, the overhead stove lamp barely giving enough light for him to see what was on his plate. He was worrying again about the hearing the papers said he had to appear at. Cobi told him he would hire a family law attorney to represent him, and he was thankful, but to Eric, none of this was making sense. It felt unreal. Eric did nothing wrong, yet he was still going to be dragged before a judge. All he wanted was to see his little girl.

  Eric took a bite of his sandwich, chewed it, and stared blankly at the space before him, when he heard a sound by the kitchen door.

  He looked up and saw a figure standing in the dark space fifteen feet in front of him.

  It was the woman from the other night. She walked over.

  “Remember me?” the woman asked. “Austen,” she said, leaning forward on the table.

  “Yeah, I remember,” Eric said, staring at her and offering nothing else.

  Austen’s eyes landed on his food. “Sandwich looks good.”

  Eric took half of the sandwich, set it on the napkin beside his plate, and slid it to the other side of the table. “Have some.”

  “No. I don’t want to take your food. I shouldn’t be eating this late anyway.”

  “Sit down. Eat.”

  Austen pulled a chair out and sat down in the dimly lit kitchen. She grabbed the half sandwich, took a bite, and smiled as she chewed. “So let me apologize for barging in on you the other night.”

  Eric paid the apology no attention.

  “If it matters, I think you have a really great body,” Austen said. “I really do.”

  “Thanks,” Eric said, showing no emotion.

  Austen looked anxious and uncomfortable. She shifted nervously and looked around the room as though waiting for something to happen.

  “Don’t worry, we’re not being watched.”

  “You sure? Your sister had the nerve to have me followed today. Can you believe that?”

  “I can believe that. She’s not very nice.” He wanted to tell Austen that Sissy wasn’t his sister, but what difference would that have made? “Why did she follow you?”

  “You tell me. She tells me to buy a car, I buy one. She should be happy I didn’t spend the ninety thousand dollars she allotted. Then she follows me, sees that I’m putting in job applications, and tells me that I can’t do that. ‘Either you stick with the contract, or we’ll put you out on the street.’ Sorry, but I can’t stand her.”

  “So are you going to stick with the contract?” Eric asked. He had no idea what this woman was talking about, but he decided to keep fishing for information.

  “You know, it’s not like I don’t appreciate you guys making me the offer of marrying your brother.”

  “Marry Cobi?” Eric said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You know he’s gay.”

  “Of course, I do. He’s my fiancé, right?”

  Eric stared at Austen, wanting to know more but not wanting to sound as though he was interrogating her.

  “I just . . .” Austen started to say, then wiped at her eye. Her voice cracked with emotion. “This is hard for me, you know. I’ve lost everything. I’m used to being independent, and the idea of some man controlling me . . . you just don’t know how much I can’t stand that.”

  “Cobi’s trying to control you?” Eric said, feeling some compassion for her and remembering how his brother forced him to tell things Eric didn’t want to say.

  “No, no, not really. I’ve barely spoken to him. But your sister . . . I just don’t know how I’m going to go through with this.”

  Eric kept his eyes on Austen. She wiped at her eyes again, and he handed her the last napkin he had near his plate.

 
“Thank you,” Austen said, dabbing the corners of her eyes. “You’re much nicer than your sister.”

  Eric didn’t respond.

  “And your brother. I don’t think he’s mean, but I like you a little better.” Austen smiled, standing from the chair.

  Eric stood and offered his hand.

  Austen shook her head, then came around the table toward him. “What’s this handshaking business?” Austen said, giving Eric a warm hug. “I’m marrying your brother, right? We’re all going to be family in a minute.”

  It had been years since Eric had held a woman in his arms. It felt almost foreign to him. His hands on her tiny waist, her hair brushing against the side of his face, he breathed in her womanly scent, and said regretfully, “Yeah, we’ll be family.”

  67

  The next morning, Eric wore the shirt, tie, and slacks I suggested. He sat looking uncomfortable in the chair next to mine as we waited for Paul Jennings, the records department manager, to meet us in his office.

  On my phone call with Paul the other day, we had a great conversation. I asked him if there was anywhere he thought he could fit my brother.

  “Sure. Tell you the truth, John just left for graduate school. I was about to post his job, but if you say your brother is interested, now I guess I don’t have to.”

  “That’s great,” I said, smiling, excited about telling Eric the news.

  “I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Paul said.

  “Yeah, I rarely mention him.” I paused for a long moment, knowing there was no way around saying what needed to be said. “He’s been in prison for the last three years.”

  “Tough breaks, huh,” Paul said, not making the big deal out of it I thought he would.

  “Yeah, you can say that. Will that be a problem, Paul?”

  “If you’re vouching for him, it won’t be.”

  Now sitting in Paul’s office, I looked over at Eric and said, “Relax. I told you, you’re already hired. Why are you so nervous?”