Wrath

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “You calling me a liar?” I asked, through clenched teeth, battling to keep the fire inside at bay. I didn’t give him any time to answer. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Keep telling yourself that lie. You know I know you. I’ve had to check you too many times. And that’s what I’m doing now, checking you so you don’t make this mistake. I’m not saying don’t marry Chastity. I’m saying slow your roll. Give the two of you a chance, and if she’s the one, she’ll be there.”

  A flash again. Of yesterday. Chastity sliding out of the car. But this time, I imagined how I would feel if when I got to her side, she was gone, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

  “And if for some reason, she’s not there in six months,” Bryce continued, bringing me back from what I feared most, “then you’ll both be better off. You hear me?”

  I glared at him. “Well, you need to hear this.” His eyebrows rose in question. I said, “Find your own way home.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I’m out.”

  Spinning around, I stomped out of the space, almost knocking down a nurse as I sped by. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, though I didn’t stop to make sure I’d caused her no harm.

  By the time I hit the front of the hospital, the heat had permeated through every cell of my body. I searched for a release. A place where I could free all that burned inside of me. But the building was brick, and the parked cars had exteriors that were just as tough.

  I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to hurt something, somebody.

  I trotted across Lenox Avenue, and once I got to the other side, I picked up my pace, jogging then sprinting before it turned into an all-out bolt. I ran so fast that people jumped off the sidewalk to get out of the way of the madman in a brown suit, pounding the pavement in a pair of five-hundred-dollar shoes.

  A few people began to run behind me, in front of me—as if they sensed danger and wanted to get out of the way.

  I ran down 135th Street, crossing Frederick Douglass Boulevard, even though the light was red. I dodged cars, causing a couple to screech to a stop, but I didn’t look back, not even as I heard the drivers’ shouts. I ran and ran until my chest screamed, and even then, I didn’t slow down. I didn’t stop until I reached St. Nicholas Avenue.

  At the corner, I rested my hands on my knees. My heart hammered so hard that it was no longer a muscle meant to give me life. If it didn’t stop pounding so hard, death was sure to come.

  But then, maybe that was what should happen. Because without Chastity, it would be like when I lost my mother… There would be nothing left for me.

  19 Xavier

  The phone rang once, then: “Hello, this is Bryce Hamilton. Sorry I’m not available…”

  Even though I wanted to slam my cell down because I could tell he was sending my calls to voice mail, I needed to give Bryce this pass. So I took a couple of breaths, did what I could to settle my blood pressure, and listened to the rest of Bryce’s message, which I’d heard so often since I’d been calling Bryce to apologize.

  “Yo, Bryce, it’s X again. Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times you want me to say that, but I’m sorry, bruh. I shouldn’t have left you at the hospital, but it was the way you came at me…” I paused. “Wait, no excuses. What I did was foul, and again, I apologize…” That word hung in the air for a moment. “So hit me up. Let me buy you a beer. Because no matter what, we’re fam.” My voice was softer when I said, “And you’re the only fam I got.”

  A few silent seconds went by before I hung up, though I didn’t move from behind my desk. It was true. Bryce was my family, the only person who’d been a constant in my life since I’d arrived in New York. But while I was thankful for him and his dad, he had to understand that Chastity was the one I was supposed to build my life with.

  Reaching into my jacket, I eased out the velvet box I’d been carrying around for weeks. When I flipped open the cover, a pinpoint of light burst through the center of the double halo of diamonds and flashed like lightning through my office’s dim light.

  The Tiffany attendant had answered all of my questions about this diamond ring—the color, the clarity, and the cut—convincing me this was worth my forty-thousand-dollar investment. Roxanne had been worth that investment, too.

  With a sigh, I swung around my chair and faced the window. Bryce needed to answer his phone so I could tell him I’d listened to him. That was quite a feat since there were few whose opinions ever mattered.

  But Bryce… he was my man, and so there were times when he got to me. Like that day at the hospital. I hadn’t wanted to hear it, but a few hours after I’d run down 135th Street, a suited madman on the verge of having a heart attack right on the streets of Harlem, I’d calmed and cooled the heat and been able to give thought to Bryce’s words.

  Bryce had spoken the truth. Chastity did love me in the way that I needed. I wasn’t going to lose her; this I knew for sure now…

  Eleven days before:

  This felt like home. We were hanging out in my condo, but with Chastity resting her head in my lap, reading documents on her iPad, while I did the same, this felt like what home was meant to be.

  As if my thoughts had reached her, she glanced up and smiled. “What are you thinking?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing much.” And then I set aside my iPad. “We haven’t talked about yesterday. About your parents… and me.”

  She paused, but I was not concerned. As an attorney, I’d learned to only ask questions where I already knew the answers. But still, I wanted to hear Chastity’s thoughts.

  Her hesitation was part of her answer. “Well, my mother really liked you.”

  I nodded and checked that off in my mind. “I really liked her, too.” Then, “But your dad?”

  Now, she set her iPad aside. “It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, it’s that he doesn’t know you—but he will,” she added with so much hope in her voice. “I promise he will come to feel about you the way I do.” She pressed her lips against mine before she laid her head on my shoulder. “His first concern is your salvation. He’s concerned about everyone’s.”

  I wondered what her father had said about that. “My mother was the same way. She had a close relationship with God and tried to pass that to me. The only time I went to church was with her.”

  She twisted so she could face me. “You’d never told me your mom had died, Xavier. I’m so…”

  Before she could apologize again for situations that had nothing to do with her, I touched her lips. “Yes, her death was bad… but her life…” I smiled. “I wish you could have known her.”

  Chastity tucked her legs under her butt. “Tell me about your mother.”

  My heart always ached, always smiled with her memory. “I don’t remember a lot, but what I do, it was all about love. She was the only person who ever loved me. Once she left, that love was gone, and I’ve never felt it again.”

  Chastity kissed my forehead.

  “She had big dreams, told me how she was going to work hard so she could give me everything. That’s why she moved from Sumner to Natchez, so that she could work.”

  “And she left you with your grandmother?”

  I nodded. “And then…” I closed my eyes before I said, “she died.” I paused, wondering if I had enough in me to tell Chastity the whole story. When she rested her head on my shoulder, I found some of the words. “I missed her, I missed her promises, and after she died, I missed the hope that my life would get better. Most of all, I missed her love.”

  Chastity snuggled closer.

  “You have no idea how…” The words caught in my throat, lodged behind the lump that had suddenly grown there.

  Chastity sat up, and with both hands, she palmed my cheeks. Staring into my eyes, she said, “I. Love. You. I love you. Never doubt that. I’m not going anywhere.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and then with gentle lips, she kissed away my tears that I didn’t even kno
w were there. That was why Chastity cried; she was crying with me. She kissed me until I felt it—all the love I’d been missing.

  I SIGHED. CHASTITY’S love let me breathe; she wasn’t going anywhere. So I could have patience. But still, I couldn’t wait to get this ring on her finger. Roxanne had loved it, and… I blinked, stopping that thought.

  It was hard not to think of Roxanne when I looked at this diamond since she’d been the one to pick it out. Not for the first time I wondered if I should sell it and purchase a new one—something that would belong to Chastity only, just like the memories and the life we were creating.

  But like I’d done every time that thought came to mind, I shook it away. I’d purchased the best for Roxanne, and Chastity deserved the same, even better. It didn’t make sense to change out this ring. It wasn’t like she’d ever find out this had belonged to another woman.

  The tap on my door made me slip the ring back into place, tuck it inside my jacket, and then say, “Come in.” In the split second between my greeting and the door opening, I wondered why my assistant, Felecia, was still here; I’d thought everyone, except for a couple of the partners, had been gone more than three hours before, when the clock struck five.

  My eyes widened with surprise when Chastity peeked around the door. Her face glowed, it seemed. Or maybe it was just the halo that I saw whenever I looked at her.

  I jumped from the chair. “What’re you doing here?”

  She sauntered in, wearing an olive-green pantsuit—the color, the style, a nod to autumn, I supposed.

  “I wanted to make sure my man was okay,” she began, “and to finally check out where you work. I figured both of those were good excuses because I haven’t seen you since last Friday.”

  “Believe me, I know.” I pulled her into my arms. “An entire week.” Our lips met, but we didn’t linger. “I’ve missed you. But alas, your work has kept you away.”

  “Oh, no.” She pointed at me. “I’ve been busy, but which one of us worked even this past Sunday and couldn’t make it to church, much to my mother’s chagrin, I might add?”

  I gave her a sheepish smile, and once again thanked the heavens my career was a good excuse. It wasn’t a defense I’d be able to use forever, but it would get me out of a few Sundays.

  “And tonight,” Chastity continued, “which one of us is sitting in our office after eight on a Friday? And which one of us brought the other dinner?” She raised a small green shopping bag.

  “Nah! Don’t tell me.” I grinned as I took the bag from her hand. “Is this…”

  “Grilled cheese, your favorite. But no fries, just fruit.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” I said, leading her to the chairs in front of my desk.

  But just as Chastity began to lower herself, she moved toward the window with an unobstructed view of One World Trade Center. “I haven’t been downtown since this was totally rebuilt.”

  I eased behind her and nuzzled against her neck, finding such sweet solace in the warmth of her. She tilted her head, giving me more access, before she swiveled and circled her arms around me. We held each other, both of our eyes on the view of lower Manhattan.

  After a few moments, she said, “From one end to the other. Living uptown and working downtown. Your life—the best of Manhattan.” She sighed. “It doesn’t get better than this.”

  “Well, it might,” I said. “If I was sharing both ends of Manhattan with you.”

  My declaration made her turn, made her press in, and we kissed as if time were all we had. For a moment, I wondered if there was anything that would ever make us part. Then the knock on my door made us hop back and away from each other.

  This time, it was a shock of white hair that peered around the door.

  “Mr. Steyer!” I said, moving closer to my boss. “Come in.”

  Jackson Steyer entered, dragging his feet a bit, the way he always did. But then he stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He peered over his gold wire-framed glasses as if he wanted to be sure of what he was seeing. “I didn’t realize you were with a client.”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Steyer,” I said. Long ago, he’d asked me to call him Jackson, but I couldn’t do that. At least my grandmother had passed something positive to me.

  Taking her hand, I said, “This is my girlfriend, Chastity.” Turning to her, I said, “This is Jackson Steyer.”

  “Oh, Mr. Steyer,” Chastity exclaimed. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  His thick snow-colored eyebrows rose high. “Girlfriend.” He paused as if he needed a moment to digest that word in relation to me. “Well, Chastity, the pleasure is mine.” As he reached to take her hand, Mr. Steyer turned to me. “Where have you been hiding this beauty?”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “I haven’t been hiding her at all.”

  The eighty-one-year-old Jackson Steyer always spoke the first words that came to his mind, understanding little about today’s work environment and the interactions between men and women, which had changed since he’d opened this firm in 1965. He didn’t handle cases anymore, though he still roamed the halls, and he remained active on the board of the now-250+-attorney firm. His key role was he continued to be an active player in the selection of partners with Steyer and Smith.

  “Well, I’m glad he hasn’t been hiding you,” Mr. Steyer said to Chastity. “Because you’re beautiful, young lady.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you a model?”

  Inside, I groaned. Really? He saw a tall, beautiful black woman and that was the first thought he had?

  “Uh, no,” she said. Then, glancing at me, she added, “I’m… an attorney as well.”

  Mr. Steyer reared back a bit. “Really? I thought I knew all of my attorneys. How could I have missed you?”

  “Oh, no,” she said quickly. “Not here. I work at the Divorce Concierge.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  She looked at me with wide eyes, though her lips were pressed together as if she was trying hard to hold back a laugh.

  Rescuing her, I said, “They offered her a fantastic position over there, Mr. Steyer.”

  He frowned. “Well, she should be here.” Then he turned to Chastity and repeated the same to her.

  That gave her room to laugh, and her cheer filled the office, making Mr. Steyer laugh, too.

  Chastity said, “I’m going to get out of here and let you gentlemen handle your business. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Steyer.”

  “You’ll be hearing from me,” he said. “The reason we are one of the top firms in the country is because we have the best attorneys, and I can tell you’re one of the best.”

  “You can tell all of that just by looking at me?” Her tone was filled with amusement.

  “Yes, I can, young lady. I didn’t get here by not using this.” He tapped his temple. “You’re a good one.”

  She nodded then, turned her bright smile to me. “Maybe we’ll be able to get together this weekend?” There was hope in her question. “Maybe a couple of hours for church?”

  I nodded, even though, while I did have a couple of hours to spend with her, I didn’t plan to waste those hours in church. “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll make sure of it.” I gave her a quick peck because I knew she’d never make that move in front of Mr. Steyer. Then both of us watched her saunter from the office.

  I had to clear my throat a bit when I turned back to my boss.

  “She is quite a woman,” he said as if his three-minute assessment had been enough.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, she’s your girlfriend?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is she a good attorney?”

  “I think she’s the best.” I chuckled.

  He nodded. “Where did she go to school?”

  “Dartmouth undergrad, Columbia Law.”

  He rocked back, impressed, and then he asked more questions about how long she’d been at the Divorce Concierge, and with her educational credentials, why was she at that tabloid firm? />
  “She’s really happy there.”

  He pointed his finger at me. “She’d make a good partner.” He paused. “You know when we choose partners for this firm, we look at the complete picture. Not only where someone went to school but who are they now. And I know in today’s times it may not be considered right by all the politically correct folks out there, but don’t let anyone fool you—we look at spouses and family structure, too.” He nodded. “Good choice, young man,” he said, walking away from me. When he got to the door, he paused. “How’s the case coming along?”

  “Fine, Mr. Steyer,” I said, though my mind was still on the words he’d just spoken. “We’ll be going to arbitration in a few weeks. We’re in great shape.”

  “I know we are—because of you.” He nodded, then left me alone.

  For a couple of minutes after he left, I didn’t move. It wasn’t a secret; everyone in this firm knew I was here to become a partner at Steyer and Smith. Had Mr. Steyer just given me a clue?

  Crossing my office, I rushed to my desk and pulled out the updated firm’s profile, which was produced for new recruits but given to all of us. Scanning through the four-color brochure, I skimmed over the bios of the dozens of partners. The pictures were almost all the same: white men, dark hair, blond hair. One black man, five women, though not a black woman in sight. But my focus was on the text, and after a few minutes, I saw it. Yeah, there was a pattern. Not all, but most—more than half—of the partners were married. Was that what I’d been missing? Was a wife the final credential that I needed?

  I slipped the ring from my jacket once again. Jackson Steyer had given me the sign that I’d been right all along.

  20 Chastity

  My eyes fluttered open, and after a moment, I realized I hadn’t moved all night. At least, that was how it seemed, because I was in the same position, with my head resting on Xavier’s chest, exactly the way I’d been when I’d closed my eyes. And he was still on his back, his arms wrapped around me, as if he had never let me go.