“Oh, no,” I said to my mom, who was sitting on the love seat across from me. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that I completely forgot about Felise’s birthday.”
“Honey, I’m sure no one will blame you for forgetting a birthday,” she replied. She had finally been coming out of her grief and surprised me when she’d come and sat in the living room with me to read her latest edition of Ebony.
“Before all of this happened, Greg had mentioned a surprise party for her and I’d promised to help,” I said.
“I’m sure he’ll understand if you don’t help,” my mom said. “He knows you have a lot on your plate.”
I thought about it—and about my continuing misery. “No, it might help me get my mind off of things, and after all that Felise has done, it’s the least I can do.”
My mother looked like she didn’t agree, but she decided not to protest and went back to reading her magazine.
I called Greg. He answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Paula,” he said.
“Hi.”
“How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected.” I hated when people asked me that stupid question. I’d just lost my husband and the father of my children. How was I supposed to be doing?
I shook off those thoughts. There was no need to get upset with Greg. I was trying to get my life back to some semblance of order.
“I remembered you asked me a while back to help with the birthday party for Felise. Are you still going to do it?”
“I had planned to. We’ve kind of been going through a rough patch ourselves,” Greg admitted. “And it probably would be good for us. Of course, I’m not expecting you to do anything.”
“No, I want to,” I replied. “I could use the distraction.”
Greg considered that, and I could sense him going through his usual deliberations. “Well, I’ve already put the deposit down on the restaurant and invited some of Felise’s friends. It would mean a lot to both of us if you came.”
“You know I will. Is it still a surprise?”
“I don’t know. With the way Felise has been acting lately, she might not want to do anything. But I kinda think she needs the distraction as well.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed she’s been aloof with me as well.”
He sighed heavily. “It’s probably . . . You know what, never mind.”
“No, Greg, what’s up?”
“Paula, you have enough on your plate. I don’t want to worry you with this.”
“Like I said, I welcome a distraction.” I managed a terse laugh.
“Well,” he confessed, “I’m a little concerned about us. I know my obsessive behavior is pushing her to the edge, and I’m trying to work on it. I’ve even started seeing a therapist.”
“What? You at a therapist?” I knew that was major. Felise had been trying to get him to get help for years.
“I had to because I could see it pushing a wedge between us. The anniversary was the final straw.”
“What happened on your anniversary?”
He was stumped for a moment. “You mean she didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Oh, wow, that’s strange. I thought she told you everything.”
“I thought she did, too.”
Greg then relayed the story of how Felise had laid our rose petals and he’d cleaned them up because he wasn’t thinking and had forgotten all about their anniversary.
“She was really upset that night,” he said once he was done with the story.
I didn’t know whether to be upset or shocked that Felise hadn’t told me. But then the significance of the date dawned on me. That was the same night Steven died.
“Oh, she probably was going to tell me, but everything happened with Steven,” I said. “I really hate to hear that you guys are having problems.”
“So, you see how I wasn’t in much of a party-planning mood, but I have booked the room, paid for it and everything.”
“Well, don’t worry. I got this, and we’ll make sure she has a fantastic affair.”
I was actually excited. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I felt like my life had purpose outside of the home.
38
Felise
I WONDERED WHETHER THE BANK teller was pushing the silent alarm because I had to look like someone who was up to no good. My hands were shaking, and beads of sweat were trickling down my face.
“Yes, may I help you?” the teller asked, eyeing me suspiciously. I saw her cut her eyes over at the guard as if I were a bank robber. But I guess my nervous demeanor made her nervous.
“Yes, I’d like to make a withdrawal,” I said.
“Do you have an account with us?”
“Yes.” I nodded as I handed her my driver’s license. She handed me a withdrawal slip, and I quickly scribbled down my information. She took the slip back, punched my info in, and relaxed as the account appeared the screen. That let her know that I wasn’t a bank robber.
“Yes,” she read my slip, “so you didn’t write down how much you want. Are you withdrawing it all?”
“How much is in there?”
“Twenty-three thousand, one hundred and forty-six dollars,” the woman said.
I took a deep breath. We’d been saving for Liz’s college education since she was a baby. What kind of mother was I that I was about to wipe my child out in order to cover up my wrongdoing? How low had I sunk to be here about to do this?
“Ma’am, did you hear me?” the clerk said, once again looking at me strangely.
“Y-yes.”
“So, how much are you withdrawing?”
I squeezed my hands together. Greg checked the accounts on the first of every month. That gave me twenty-two days to get the money back in. I shook my head. No, even if I worked triple shifts, I couldn’t get the money back in in time.
“Ma’am?” The clerk was getting agitated.
“I–I’m sorry. Yes, I need to withdraw . . .” My daughter’s college fund. The words would not come out of my mouth. I scribbled on the withdrawal form and pushed it toward her. “Just give me five thousand dollars,” I hurriedly said.
She gave me a fake smile as she began counting out the money. “Would you like an envelo—”
I snatched the cash, along with my license, and hurried out of the bank. I just wanted to get out of that place. I wanted to forget how low I had almost sunk, wiping out Liz’s college account. I told myself I would pay back the money in installments.
I prayed all the way to the Four Seasons. I couldn’t believe Sabrina was making me meet her here, but leave it to Sabrina to continue torturing me. She’d texted me this morning and told me what time to meet her. I had to pray that she would take the five grand and let me send her the rest.
I made my way inside, only to find no sign of Sabrina. I sat in the lobby, nervously drumming my leg for about fifteen minutes.
I was about to take out my phone and call when she came waltzing in.
“Hello, my dear friend,” she said with a big cheesy grin.
I wanted to slap that smile right off her face. “Save it. Where do you want to go?”
“Well, because it is a large transaction, I thought that we’d go somewhere private.” She pointed toward the elevator. “Follow me. I don’t need any of these people around here seeing what I’m doing and getting all in my business. And I definitely don’t want anything caught on tape.” She smirked.
I followed her in the elevator, wondering why we couldn’t duck in a bathroom. This trick had the nerve to put her earphones in and belt out a Mary J. Blige song as we waited on the elevator to go up. Finally it stopped on the fifth floor. She didn’t say a word as she got off the elevator. I followed and was just about to tell her how ridiculous this cloak-and-dagger thing was until she stopped in front of room 527 and put the room key in.
“What are you doing?” I stammered in horror.
“I’m going into a room so we can condu
ct our transaction.”
“I’m not going in there,” I said.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Do you want to do this in the hallway?”
“I’m not going in there,” I repeated.
She had the nerve to pretend to be confused, and then leaned back and looked at the door. “Oh, snap, my bad. I didn’t even realize that this was the room that you killed your best friend’s husband in.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I said through gritted teeth.
“You got that lethal coochie!” Sabrina joked.
“Oh, my God, you are so disgusting!”
She giggled. “Girl, come on. They’ve cleaned the room up. No sign of a dead body.”
“I’m not going in,” I repeated.
“Okay,” she loudly said. “We can stand out here in the hallway and you can give me the money for black—”
I covered her mouth. “Fine,” I hissed as I motioned for her to go inside. She laughed like this was really entertaining.
As soon as we were inside, she turned to me and held out her hand. “May I have my money, please?”
I inhaled. Exhaled. Then said, “Sabrina, I couldn’t get the money.”
“Aww, hell naw,” she said, starting to head toward the door.
I jumped in front of her to stop her. “Please, listen. I couldn’t get it, but I did get five grand.” I reached in my purse, pulled out the wad of money, and stuffed it in her hand. “It’s all I can get.”
She cut her eyes at me, then glanced down at the money. I was hoping it was more money than she’d ever held at one time, and it would be enough to buy me some time. She continued glaring at me as she said, “I thought you were resourceful. I mean, if you can steal my boyfriend and sleep with your best friend’s husband, you’re capable of anything.”
I was surprised at this accusation. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad over some stupid freshman-year relationship? For the thousandth time, I didn’t know Earl was your boyfriend!”
“No, I’m mad because you get everything you want—including my boyfriend—because you think you are so much better than everyone else. You had this whole high-falutin, saddity attitude, and I was just the poor girl from the ghetto that you took under your wing—never hesitating to let everyone know when you’d given me a pair of shoes or some other hand-me-down.”
“Are you serious?” I said. “I did nothing but try to help you, and I only let one person know that you were wearing some of my hand-me-downs.”
“Yeah, but it was the person with the biggest mouth on campus—Shayla Green.”
I couldn’t believe that nearly two decades later we were having this discussion. “So, this is what you’re ruining my life for? Some beef we had in college?”
“I’m not ruining your life. An opportunity just presented itself, and I took advantage of it.” She shook her head. “You’re a prime example of why people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“I didn’t throw stones!”
“Yeah, you did. You said if I was doing my job, I wouldn’t have to worry about my boyfriend cheating.”
“Sabrina, I was nineteen and foolish. And we were fighting. I seriously thought we had moved past that.”
“No, you had.” She rolled her eyes, thumbed through the money, then waved it at me. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Use it to get started. It will cover a couple months’ rent in LA. I will work on getting you the rest.” I knew that I never had any intention on giving Sabrina another dime, but I had to say something. “Please. Just take it for now.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when, after a brief hesitation, she stuffed the money in her purse, which was crisscrossed on her body.
“Can I have the video?” I asked.
“Girl, you must be crazy,” she said. “You get the video when I get my money. All of it.” She started walking toward the door. “I can’t appreciate you trying to play me.”
“It’s all I have,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was groveling to this woman.
“Fine. It’ll do. For now. I won’t send the video. This week,” she added with a chuckle.
“Sabrina, don’t play with me.”
“Don’t play with my money,” she said, losing her smile. “I want another payment in two weeks.”
I nodded, even though I knew that wouldn’t happen. I couldn’t live with her threat of blackmail hanging over me. I knew that I couldn’t continue torturing myself, trying to come up with money. I knew that I couldn’t sink any lower than stealing from my daughter. And that meant I had only one choice—it was time for me to come clean.
39
Paula
I WAS SO HAPPY TO have something to do other than sitting around, wallowing in grief. I hoped that I hadn’t stepped on Greg’s toes, but I’d completely taken over the birthday planning.
“So, do you like this one or that one?” I asked my sister as I pointed at the small sample cakes in front of us. I’d dragged Charlene along to test out the different cake options for Felise’s party. I was using this lady in Baytown who made fabulous cakes. Her bakery was a forty-five-minute drive, but the cakes were really delicious.
“This is some slap-your-mama cake,” Charlene said, biting into another slice of the pineapple-kiwi cake.
“I’ll give you five dollars if you do it.”
“You’re trying to get me killed.” Charlene laughed. “So which one are you going to go with?”
“I don’t know. They are all so good.” My eyes scanned the six different samples laid out in front of me. The baker, Mrs. Barbara, was patiently waiting for us to decide which one we wanted. “I’m leaning toward the kiwi because Felise loves kiwi.”
“Yeah, that one is definitely off the chain,” Charlene said. “But really, I don’t think you can go wrong with any of them.”
I placed the order and paid the extra fee to have the cake delivered to the restaurant where Greg was having Felise’s surprise party.
“So, Felise still doesn’t know about the party?” Charlene asked once we were back in the car.
“No, it’s a surprise.”
She turned up her nose. She hadn’t said much else about Felise, but my friend’s absence had gotten under her skin. “Why are you the one running all over town?” Charlene asked.
“I offered to do it,” I replied. “Felise has been a godsend to me, and this is helping me get up and get my mind off things. Besides, it’s the first time you and I have had a chance to spend any time together.”
As much as she could work my nerves, I loved hanging out with my little sister. She had a way of making me forget all my problems and just enjoy life.
“Yeah, I hate that I have to leave tomorrow,” Charlene replied.
“Me, too. I’ve really enjoyed having you here, although I wish it had been under different circumstances. And thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“Including losing Tahiry?” she asked with a grin.
“Yes, including letting my daughter go off like she’s grown.” I shook my head at that memory. I wasn’t too mad at Charlene. Tahiry could be quite persuasive if she wanted to be.
“There’s a reason I don’t and won’t have kids.” She laughed.
We made more small talk on the long drive home. She filled me in on how things were going in New York. She was scheduled to start working as an apprentice for Vera Wang on the first of the next month. Since I knew how much she loved fashion design, I couldn’t have been more proud.
“So, do you need me to take you to the airport in the morning?” I asked as I turned into my driveway.
“No, this guy I met last week is going to take me.”
I shook my head. “Only you would come to town for a funeral and leave with a man. How did you . . . You know what?” I threw my hand up. “Never mind. I don’t even want to know.”
Of course my sister continued anyway. “Girl, I met him at the store the other day. He lives here in Houston, but he just got dra
fted by the Philadelphia Eagles. You know that ain’t but a hop, skip, and a jump from New York. Baby sister is about to work her magic so I can become a football wife.”
Charlene looked like a taller version of Kerry Washington, with the body of Serena Williams, which was funny considering the closest she got to working out was passing a gym on her way to the mall.
“Just be careful. You know some of those ball players are some big dogs,” I warned as I parked and turned the car off.
“You don’t have to tell me to be careful. I told you, I’m not like you. I believe most men are going to cheat. If you know that going in, you’ll be all right when it happens.”
That casual statement stopped me short. “So, I’m just supposed to be okay with what Steven did?”
“Nah, you ain’t supposed to be okay,” she said. “But it’s not the end of the world. If—and that’s a big if—if he did do something, it probably wasn’t his first time. And if he’d lived, it wouldn’t have been his last. But I don’t think it lessens the love he had for you. Men are driven by hormones. He probably saw some chick there, hooked up with her, she left, and he died in his sleep. I think you can take comfort in knowing that he wasn’t in love with somebody else.”
I didn’t care what she said, that gave me no comfort.
“Cheater or not,” Charlene continued, “one thing I do know is that Steven only loved one woman and it was you. Yes, he messed up, but I don’t think that should change how you feel in retrospect.”
I took in my sister’s words. I’d never understood how a person could claim to love you yet cheat on you. But I did know that six weeks had passed since my husband’s death, and I was getting tired of trying to make sense out of my heartbreak.
Charlene was right. In my heart, I knew that my husband loved me. I just needed to figure out how to make that my primary memory.
40
Felise
I COULD HEAR MY YOUNGER sister’s voice like a roaring cannon.
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