“You’d better have a good reason for calling me this early,” she answered.
“Oh, my God, Fran,” I cried. “You’ve got to help me.”
“Felise? What are you doing? Are you crying?”
I couldn’t help it. The waterworks had begun again.
“Oh, my God. You are crying. Who do I need to come jack up? Did Greg do something to you?” she said.
Any other time I would’ve smiled. That was Fran, the ever-protective younger sister who was like a Chihuahua in size but a pit bull in spirit.
“I . . . I’m in a bad situation.”
“What is going on?” she demanded to know.
“You’re not going to believe this! I’m in a hotel—”
“A hotel? So that’s where you went for your anniversary?”
“I’m not with Greg.”
“Shut the front door! What? Is my sister getting her freak on with someone else—on her anniversary?”
“Fran, this is serious,” I cried.
“Okay, okay. Calm down and tell me what is going on.”
“I’m with someone.”
“Who?”
I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words, but if I was going to get my sister’s help, I had to tell her everything. “I’m with Steven.”
Silence filled the phone. “I hope you know another Steven, not Paula’s Steven,” she finally said, “because I know there’s no way in hell that’s who you’re talking about.”
My sob was her answer.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me, Felise? Why are you in a hotel with your best friend’s husband? No, don’t answer that. Tell me instead, why does it have you all worked up like this?”
“Because . . . because . . . he’s dead.”
Another pause before she said, “Come again.”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“Try me,” she said calmly. It was as if she was waiting on the punch line of a bad joke.
“He’s dead. Steven is dead.”
“What? Dead how? Did you kill him?”
“No!” I exclaimed, then lowered my voice. “At least I don’t think so. We just . . . We just did it all night last night and this morning . . .” I slapped my forehead. “Oh, my God, I wasn’t thinking. I’m a nurse. I should’ve known his chest . . . his heart . . . I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Okay, sis, calm down. What happened? Start from the beginning.”
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I don’t know how I made it through the story, but I did, and a few minutes later, my sister had learned the CliffsNotes version of what happened.
“So, let me get this straight,” Fran slowly said. “You just woke up this morning and he was dead?”
Dead. That word had such finality. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Steven was really gone. “Yes,” I managed to get out.
“Are you sure he’s dead? Maybe he’s just a deep sleeper.”
“I’m a freakin’ nurse!” I snapped. “I know when someone is dead and when they’re asleep.”
“Okay, calm down.”
“I was about to call 9-1-1, but I just freaked and called you first.”
Her next words had a harder edge. “Yeah, calling 9-1-1 is something you won’t be doing.”
“But it’s the right thing to do,” I sobbed.
“Oh, okay, then, should I meet you at your house to help you pack your bags so you can get out of town? Because if your husband doesn’t kill you, your best friend will,” she said, her voice full of sarcasm.
“Maybe they don’t have to know,” I whimpered.
She let out a long sigh like I wasn’t thinking straight, which, of course, I wasn’t. “If you’re anywhere near the scene when someone dies, police are going to take your information.”
I glanced into the other room as if, in some kind of way, I was expecting to see Steven’s body gone. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I’m sitting here talking police procedure, and my best friend’s husband is dead in the other room. “I can give them a fake name,” I finally said.
“And do you have fake ID on you, too?”
I groaned as I slid to the floor. “What am I gonna do?”
“Okay, okay, let’s figure this out,” Fran said. She paused, and I knew her devious mind was plotting. “Whose name is the room in?” she finally asked.
“His?”
“That’s good,” she said, sounding relieved. “I don’t have to come help you move the body.” I knew my sister was dead serious. If that’s what I had needed, she would’ve been right there with plastic gloves on.
“I’m not attached to the room at all.” As I said that, a starker truth dawned on me. I was attached to Steven. And now I’d never talk to him again. I’d never see him smile at one of the remarks I made. I’d never feel his body casually flowing around mine, keeping our long-held secret. I felt a pang deep in my heart as I fought back a flurry of tears.
“Okay, that’s good,” Fran said, moving full speed ahead. “Since you were meeting your best friend’s man, I’d like to think you were discreet in coming up to his room.”
I nodded like she could actually see me. I really did feel like I was having an out-of-body experience.
“You were discreet, weren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes,” I said. “No one saw me come up here.”
“Okay. You said it looks like he just died in his sleep, right? Nothing looks out of order?”
“Yes. I mean, he must have had a heart attack. I don’t know.” I was getting more and more worked up.
“Okay, here’s what I need you to do,” Fran said. “Pull yourself together. Clean up any sign that anyone else was ever there. Did you order room service?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else see you together at all?”
I thought about that. “The bartender did. But that’s it.”
She exhaled with apparent frustration—that obviously wasn’t the answer she was hoping for. “Well, as far as the bartender is concerned, you could’ve been some random chick at the bar.”
I let her continue working this out. I was useless to help plan this cover-up. I stood in the bathroom, watching the lifeless body of my one true love. All I could think was my world was coming to an end.
“Just wipe down everything you think you might have touched. If they think the cause of death is natural, there won’t be an investigation. But wipe down everything, just in case,” Fran instructed.
At the mention of a possible investigation, my heart started racing again. I noticed my hand was trembling beyond my control. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Just like I said, clean it up and get the hell out of Dodge.”
Fran wanted me to just up and leave? “Shouldn’t I at least call for help?”
“No! Housekeeping will be there soon. Let them find him.”
“No! This is just too much!”
“Do I need to come over there and help you?”
Of course, I didn’t want Fran to clean this mess up. Through the doorway I stared at Steven. He no longer wore the euphoric look he’d had when we finally went to sleep. All of that was gone. Forever.
I felt like I couldn’t stay in that room one second longer. “No, I want to get out of here now.”
“Okay, then do like I said. Go home and act like nothing ever happened. Wasn’t that what you two planned to do anyway?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing,” she said, cutting me off. “You don’t have any other choice. Now, get up, because I know you’re crouched in a corner, crying, and get to cleaning this mess up.”
I did what she said and started vigorously wiping down everything in the bathroom. I felt like a criminal. I had visions of police bursting through the door at any moment. “What am I supposed to do when Paula calls and tells me what happened?” I asked as I wiped the toilet handle, the shower, and everything else I might have touched.
“You’re going to
be the supportive friend and be there to help her grieve,” my sister said like that was a no-brainer.
That was so easy for my sister to say. She was the take-no-prisoners, hard-core one of the family. I was the emotional one. That’s why I had no idea how in the world I was going to get through this.
I hung up with Fran, promising to call her as soon as I reached my car. After I wiped down everything I could’ve even possibly breathed on, I gathered all my belongings, triple-checked to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything, then tiptoed toward the door. My heard disintegrated into a thousand pieces as I took one last look at Steven. In a voice strangled by years of regret, I whispered, “I’m sorry. I love you. God forgive me,” before easing out of the room.
8
Paula
IN ALL THE YEARS THAT we had been married, Steven had never stayed out all night. We’d had arguments before—some pretty ugly ones —but he’d always come home.
Until last night.
What do you expect when you told the man you wanted a divorce? I heard my mother’s voice in my head. I truly hoped Steven knew I was just mouthing off. That was a bad habit of mine, saying things I didn’t really mean. It had been a source of contention throughout our marriage. I was pretty good about not saying crazy stuff to the kids, but Steven had seen the brunt of my verbal fury on several occasions. I only hoped this time I hadn’t gone too far.
When he came home today, I promised myself, I wasn’t going to be mad about him staying out all night. I wasn’t going to hurl accusations at him, like I’d been prone to doing lately even though he’d never given me reason to suspect he was cheating. I was going to explain why I was so unhappy. We would fix this. As soon as he got home.
With a renewed positive attitude, I made my way into the kitchen and noticed the mess as soon as I set foot in the spacious area.
“What in the world?” I mumbled.
All four of my children stopped and turned to me, looking like I had walked into something major. Then I noticed my favorite tray with the giant sunflower.
“We were trying to make you breakfast,” Stevie said dejectedly, like I’d ruined their surprise.
“Yeah, we know they’ve been a handful,” Tahiry added, pointing at her brothers, “and so we wanted to do something nice for you.”
Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been dreaming about what it would be like to be childless, and now my kids were reminding me why I loved being their mother.
“Don’t be mad at the mess. We’re going to clean it up,” Tahiry hurried to add.
I couldn’t help but smile as I walked over and hugged each one of them. “I’m not mad. I’m actually very happy”
“You don’t seem happy,” Mason said.
I squeezed him tight. “I am,” I replied. “Let’s just enjoy breakfast.”
“You don’t want to eat in your room?” Tahiry asked.
I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, where my mom was sitting, reading the newspaper. “No, I want to eat right here with my family.”
“Where’s Daddy?” Marcus asked, climbing into the chair next to me.
“He had to go into work early.”
My mom side-eyed me. She could tell I was lying. But we all sat down, and they filled me in on the latest news from their school. The meal was less than stellar, but the fact that my kids had cooked it made it feel like a gourmet breakfast.
After we finished eating, Tahiry gathered the boys and announced that she was taking them upstairs to play on the Wii and watch a movie. She would make sure they were quiet so I could enjoy the rest of my day. I studied my daughter and my three sons, who were all standing there looking angelic, and I wondered what they were up to.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Granny just told us that you were sad and so we’re going to be on our best behavior today,” Tahiry said.
“Yeah, but we can’t make any promises for tomorrow,” Stevie added.
I laughed as Tahiry shuffled them out of the room. I picked up my cell phone and called Steven again. I’d already called him twice this morning. He still didn’t answer, but this time I left a message.
“Hey, babe. It’s me. I’m so sorry about last night. I want to talk to you about what’s going on with me and figure out how we can fix this. Okay? Love you. Please come home.”
I hung the phone up and wandered into the living room to watch TV. I started flipping through the channels until I came across the movie Love & Basketball. I smiled because that was Steven’s favorite movie. As the familiar scenes appeared on the screen, my mind drifted back to our first date. He’d done the cooking as we watched Love & Basketball.
“So, how was the food?” Steven had asked.
I smiled and patted my stomach. “You don’t meet many college students that can cook.”
“Yeah, I wanted to be a chef, but my parents weren’t trying to hear that at all.” He grinned. “But I like cooking, and I like having someone to cook for.”
“Well, aren’t I the lucky one?” I had come to his tiny Georgetown apartment. It was sparsely decorated—a sofa, coffee table, TV, and a Muhammad Ali picture on the wall. But that didn’t faze me. I was just enjoying his company.
“I’m trippin’ that we never got to meet in the entire four years I was at UT,” Steven said. “Felise said you guys used to be the best of friends.”
I shrugged. “We are from DC, but my dad moved us to Houston when I was little. Felise and I became best friends in middle school. But then she went to UT, I came back up here to Howard, and we kinda drifted apart. Once my dad remarried, I didn’t go back to Houston much. But that’s the good thing about real friends. You can go forever without talking and still pick up like you were together yesterday.”
Steven and I chatted all evening. He told me about him and Felise, and it sounded like he really cared about her. I recalled the times she’d told me about him, and she’d always made it clear that they were just friends. Watching him, though, I don’t know why she wouldn’t want more with him. He was intelligent, funny, charismatic, handsome, and just an all-around good guy. I made a mental note to get the real deal from her, but in the meantime, I was going to hit him up for all the information I could get.
“So, are you and Felise really just friends?”
He hesitated, long enough that I didn’t know what to make of it, but then he said, “Yeah, we really are. I guess I took your best friend slot. Besides, she has her man now.”
“You talking about Greg?”
“Yeah, she loves her some Greg.”
He had a look cross his face that I couldn’t make out, which led me to ask him, “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. What did Felise tell you?”
“She told me that you guys were just friends. That you were like a brother to her.”
He forced a smile. “See. A brother.”
“So, that means you’re on the market?”
He shrugged. “I’m not trying to get in a serious relationship right now. I want to focus on law school. But I wouldn’t mind having a good friend to hang out with and whip up my meals for.”
I leaned back and nibbled on a raspberry soufflé he’d cooked for dessert. “I wouldn’t mind being that friend.”
Before long our friendship escalated into something more, and before I knew it, we were sleeping together on a regular basis.
When I got pregnant with Tahiry, just two months after we started sleeping together, we decided to do what was right—and that had been the story of my life ever since.
I SHOOK AWAY THE MEMORY. I needed to focus on the positive and stop thinking about what-ifs and what could’ve been. This was the life God had given me. It was time that I learned to appreciate it.
I lay back on the couch as I made all kinds of mental promises of how things were going to change as soon as Steven got home. I could be happy as a wife and a mother if I took my mother’s advice and found something outside my home that gave me purpose. Yeah, I thought. I had a g
ood life. And getting an outside life was all I needed to get myself back on track.
9
Felise
I DON’T KNOW HOW I got down the hallway, down the elevator, and out of the hotel to my sister’s apartment, but here I was, in her living room, trying desperately to pull myself together. I was pacing back and forth across her Berber carpet. The tears hadn’t stopped coming.
“Okay, would you relax?” Fran said.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one that committed a crime,” I said frantically. I was so not a criminal. I’d forgotten to pay for a bracelet when I was fifteen, and I had an anxiety attack until I got my mom to take me back to the store to pay for it. How in the world did I think I’d be able to live with leaving a dead man without reporting it? “I’m such a lowlife,” I moaned.
“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Fran said. “What crime did you commit? I don’t think having a lethal kitty is against the law.”
I stopped and stared at her. That was not what happened between Steven and me. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”
“Okay, okay,” Fran said, raising her hands apologetically. “Sorry.”
I fell down onto her sofa. “I just can’t believe this.”
Fran shook her head. “Me either. Because I can’t understand how Dolly Do-Right,” she said, using the nickname she had given me after the bracelet incident, “would do something so scandalous.”
That had always been a source of contention between Fran and me. I was the perfect one. The one who always did what she was supposed to, and was always where she was supposed to be. Even our older sister, the ultra-religious Mavis, got in more trouble than I did. But Fran was the wild one, and our parents—God rest their souls—never let us forget who they preferred: me.
“I can’t believe I did it either.” I sighed. “I was just so mad at Greg for forgetting our anniversary, and I was so sick and tired of being neglected, and then I bumped into Steven at the bar, and he was mad at Paula, and we both had been drinking and . . . and . . .” I buried my face in my hands. “What have I done?”
Fran leaned back and inhaled. “Well, I’m not surprised that you finally stepped out on Greg. The way he neglects you, I’m surprised you hadn’t done it already. But I just can’t believe you did it with Steven.”
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