Wrath

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “Yeah, making money and making moves can be all-encompassing.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Which is why I was surprised you wanted to get together on a Monday night. It only worked because my schedule was light today.” Melanie’s eyes were on the television she’d turned on.

  As she flipped through the channels, I slid the ring onto my finger. Then I picked up our glasses and sauntered toward her as if I were not about to share the biggest announcement of my life.

  Melanie’s glass was in my left hand, and when I handed it to her, I held on to the stem a bit longer so she had no choice but to look down. It worked; Melanie’s eyes got stuck right on that diamond.

  At first she frowned, then she tilted her head as if she were trying to get a better look at what she was seeing. When her eyes widened, I pulled my hand away.

  First she squealed, then she slammed the glass down on the table, making some of her wine spill over. She snatched my hand so fast and hard, I let out a yelp.

  “Please tell me this gorgeous specimen of a diamond is nothing more than costume jewelry you’re testing for some amazing Halloween costume or something as absurd.”

  Tugging my hand away, I took a sip of my wine and walked around the table. Her eyes followed me the entire time, and when I sat, she just stared.

  “Chaz?” Before I said anything, she asked, “Are you… engaged?” as if that was a word she’d never associate with me.

  “Yes; this is why I wanted to talk.”

  She covered half of her face with her hands. “Oh my God.”

  “You’re the first person I’m telling.” The warning that she wasn’t to say anything to anyone was in my tone. “I haven’t even told my parents.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I didn’t go to church yesterday… and don’t you dare say ‘oh my God’ again.”

  “Oh my… gospel!”

  I rolled my eyes. “If I’d known this would be your response…”

  “Forgive me if I’m a little shocked.” She grabbed my hand, studied the ring, and then said, “Oh my…” but instead of finishing, she gulped down her glass of wine.

  “Really?” I said when she held her empty glass in front of my face. Still, I took her glass and took my time going into the kitchen. I hoped to give her a minute to process what I’d told her so we could get beyond her calls to the Lord.

  When I returned to the living room, she drank about half the glass before she sighed, then leaned back on the couch. “Okay, tell me everything. Tell me how a guy you’ve known for two weeks—”

  “It’s been longer than that.”

  “Okay, take my two and multiply by four. How can you be engaged to someone you’ve known for five minutes?” She held up her finger, stopping my oncoming protest. “And not only that but a couple of days ago, you told me you didn’t love this guy.”

  “That was more than a couple of days ago, and I meant what I said then. But right after that, our relationship kind of went to the next level.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh.” She pointed at me. “This is why God doesn’t want you sleeping with a man outside of marriage, because you get caught up and end up engaged in five days.”

  “Uh… you slept with Kelvin the first night you met him.”

  “Why you gotta bring up old stuff? I was stressed from school, and this isn’t about me.” She took a deep breath. “I really do want to know how this happened. Is this what you want?”

  “It is,” I said without any hesitation. “Xavier and I kept getting closer and closer, and when he told me he loved me, I hadn’t even been thinking that.”

  “Okay, that’s a good sign,” Melanie said. “Men are supposed to say it first,” she stated as if that were a fact. My best friend had always been into the rules and regulations of relationships—things she’d learned from unmarried experts on television.

  “Then, once he said it to me, I realized I loved him, too. I probably loved him when you asked me, but I was caught up in the amount of time we’d known each other. I didn’t think it was possible.”

  “It’s just so fast, Chaz.”

  “But what is the right amount of time to fall in love? A day, a week, a year? The heart doesn’t have a clock,” I said, repeating Xavier’s words.

  She held up her finger. “That’s a good line.”

  “It’s not meant to be a line. There are people who meet and are married after a week, even less.”

  “But those people aren’t you, and that’s what concerns me. You haven’t been out there much. You haven’t given yourself enough time.”

  “You weren’t out there. Kelvin is your only serious relationship, and maybe something inside of me knew I was never supposed to waste emotions on anyone else. Maybe all of this was saved up for the man I’m supposed to be with.” I twisted on the sofa so that I faced Melanie. “He’s an amazing guy.” And then I went into my Xavier pitch. When I told her his mother died and the horrid stories of his grandmother, Melanie sat with her mouth wide open.

  “Why was that woman so evil?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to lie but not wanting to reveal what Xavier had told me about his father, something that he shared with so few. “But this is what I know—Xavier King deserves happiness. After all he’s been through, this is the first time he’s allowed himself to fall in love.”

  She gave me a side-eye. “Really? At thirtysomething he’s never been in love?”

  “Why does that seem odd to you? I’ve never been in love, and just like me, Xavier has been afraid to open up. From the bottom of my heart, I think we met because we were meant to be.”

  This time Melanie sipped her pinot grigio. “Maybe this is just a love story.” She shrugged. “So, has he at least met your parents?”

  My voice was lower when I said, “Yeah, but it didn’t go well. We went to church, and then the usual dinner afterward. Papa tried to interrogate him, but Xavier had to leave for an emergency.” I shook my head, remembering my dad’s unspoken words again. “My mom loves him, though.”

  “Of course. From what I remember, your man is quite easy on the eyes. That’s a good beginning for your mom. But what about your dad? What did he see?” She paused. “Wait, am I going to need more wine?”

  Melanie knew about my father’s gift. We’d experienced his ability when we were kids. Like when he told us to stay away from places we’d only talked about going or he questioned us about places we’d been but had told no one. My father knew things beyond ordinary parental discernment.

  I said, “He didn’t say much. Just told me to pray for guidance.”

  “Well, at least they’ve met him. Now when are you going to tell them?”

  I sighed. “That part.” I shook my head. “I wanted to test this out on you, and you didn’t build my confidence. My parents are going to freak because we haven’t known each other long.”

  “Just tell them that hearts can’t tell time,” she said, the sarcasm thick in her tone. When I gave her a blank stare, she laughed, then apologized. “Look, you know Kareem Jeffries is not going for that line. So you better be ready, but then, once you tell them, just stand your ground. You’re grown.”

  Those two words made me swallow the rest of my wine and then refill my own glass. “I think I’ll wait until Xavier and I get back,” I said when I returned to the living room. “We’re going to New Orleans for Columbus Day to celebrate, and this way, we can spend a little time together.”

  “That’s cool. So you have between today and when you leave to tell your parents.”

  “Did you not hear what I said about waiting till I get back?”

  She leaned away from me. “Why are you afraid to tell them?” Before I could answer, she said, “Maybe that’s a sign. Because if you don’t want your parents to know…”

  “It’s not that I don’t want them to know. I just know how they’re going to react.”

  “Well, the amount of time you’ve known each other is not going to change, unless y
ou don’t plan on telling them for the next year. But you know your father. If you don’t tell him, God will.”

  Her words made me take another swig.

  “Come on, Chaz. You can marry who you want to marry and when you want to do it. Stop making it a big deal.”

  I nodded, knowing every word she spoke was true.

  “So you’re going to tell them?”

  I nodded again, knowing that gesture was probably a lie. Not a total lie. I would tell my parents. I’d have to… eventually.

  22 Xavier

  Between completing the last deposition and then standing for the first media conference about the civil rights case, this had been the longest day. But at least the depositions were over, I’d patiently answered questions for the press and now the base of the work was done. This case was the final professional check mark I needed to become a partner. I was excited but not as thrilled as I was for what was ahead of me this weekend.

  Only two more days to New Orleans, and I had a long to-do list. I’d made the connection with Will Allen, an old college friend who I’d contacted the last time I was going to do this, but he reminded me that not only was I trying to make this happen on a weekend, it was a holiday weekend at that.

  The weekend timing wasn’t something I’d considered, and it changed so much. Still, it looked like I’d be able to make this happen, even though it was going to cost me a lot.

  My plan had been to leave the office as early as I could tonight, head home, and finalize these plans, but because of the message left on my cell phone last night, I was now sitting on Forty-Seventh Street near Park Avenue, stuck in traffic that made a snail’s pace look like a sprint.

  “You know what?” I said to the driver. “I’m gonna get out.”

  “We just have another block to go.”

  “I’m cool.” I thanked him before I hopped out, secured my bag onto my shoulder, then jogged across the wide avenue, even though the light was against me. Traffic wasn’t moving uptown, downtown, or across town, so pedestrians had free rein.

  Across Park Avenue, I swung open one of the heavy doors of Sweat Box, then scanned my membership card at the front desk. It had been more than a couple of weeks since I’d walked the carpeted floors of this gym.

  Inside, I trotted down the stairs to the locker room, changed into sweat shorts and a tank, and then headed toward the space where about a dozen boxing rings were set up. Through the glass doors, I scanned the area filled with men (and a couple of women) and spotted him. As I stepped inside, the sound of boxing gloves making contact filled the air. Grunts and shouts and cheers followed. I passed three rings before I made my way to where Bryce stood, gloves on his hands, his arms crossed as he watched the match in the ring above him. His eyes were narrowed as if he was studying every move.

  I eased up, stood next to him, mirrored his pose, and watched the battle in the ring for a few moments before I said, “What’s up?”

  It still took a couple of beats before my best friend faced me. His expression was solemn, his eyes dark. But then he grinned. And even with his hands hidden by boxing gloves, we embraced in one of those brother-brother greetings, hugging each other tightly, the way fam does.

  “Good to see you,” I said, meaning every word. Then I made a great show of looking around the gym. “Strange place to get together.”

  “Nah, bruh, not strange at all.” He unlaced his gloves. “I figured if anything went down like the last time, we could work it out here.”

  I chuckled, and he did the same as he hung up the gloves. He gestured with a nod, and I followed him to the corner of the massive space where folks waited for their turn.

  When we sat on one of the benches, Bryce said, “I’m glad to see you, bruh. I wasn’t even sure you were going to show up.”

  “You call, I come running.”

  His quick sideways glance made me remember that the last time he’d called, I’d left him behind.

  He said, “You stopped calling.”

  “I called you for weeks.”

  “So?” he said as if my explanation was insulting. “Calling me every day was your penance. But then you stopped.”

  “Yeah” was all I said, leaving out the part that I hadn’t called since Chastity agreed to marry me. But I added, “I figured you never wanted to speak to me again.”

  “That was a good figure.” He let those words register. “But I missed talking to your big head.”

  He cracked up, and though I chuckled, I went on to say, “I’m really sorry, Bryce. I shouldn’t have left you stranded in the hospital like that.”

  He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. His eyes were back on the boxing rings. “Apology accepted, but your leaving me wasn’t the biggest challenge. I caught a ride home, but you getting as angry as you did over us just talking…” He shook his head. “That’s a problem that can’t be solved easily.”

  My whole body stiffened, except for my leg, which began to shake—my effort to cool down the rising heat.

  If Bryce noticed any change in me, it was of no concern to him. Because he continued, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but having these tough talks is what fam is supposed to do.”

  “I’m cool,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I said that so Bryce would feel fine to continue or if I was saying that to douse my fire.

  “That’s why I wanted to see you: to have this tough talk,” Bryce said. “You have some deep issues anyone walking this earth would understand. But now, bruh, we have to do something about all of this rage inside of you. Especially because it seems to be escalating.”

  I wanted to remind him that I’d only walked out because he’d been badgering me. But I was trying to hold it down and quiet my fury.

  “I’m concerned; we have to do something before it’s too late.” He paused as if he wanted me to say something, but I pressed my lips together. Didn’t want any words to explode out. So he kept on: “I made some calls, checked out the references, and found someone, a therapist, for you to talk to.”

  Now I studied the boxers in the ring closest to us, and when one landed a punch, I felt relief as if I’d delivered the blow myself. As I watched the guy drop to the rubber mat, I nodded.

  “So you agree?” Bryce asked. “You’ll talk to someone?”

  “I agree that having someone to talk to may have been the missing link. But that was before Chastity,” I said. “I’ve been talking to her a lot.”

  There was silence as both of us stared ahead, watching men punch one another out. Bryce said, “I thought Chastity was an attorney.”

  “She is, but she’s helped me open up in ways I never have. Not with you, not even with Roxanne, and she was a therapist.” Then I added, “But I’ve really opened up to Chastity, especially after what you said last time,” hoping acknowledging his part would make him back off.

  For a couple of seconds, all Bryce did was nod slowly. “Talking to her can be a good thing.” There was so much caution in his tone. “But I’m talking about a professional.”

  “Well, she’s helped.” I paused, then began my lie: “But even if she’s not trained, her father is.”

  Bryce moved in slow motion, raising up and sitting straight. His eyebrows were up high when he turned to me. “You’ve been talking to KJ?”

  “He’s not KJ anymore,” I reminded my friend. “He’s a pastor with counseling skills.”

  “And you guys talked?” Bryce said, sounding hopeful.

  “Yeah, from the first time I met him,” I said, leaving out that I’d only met him once. “Remember I told you he asked a lot of questions? Well, I think that was to set the foundation. We’ve talked about how what I’d been through as a child would affect me as an adult.” I shrugged. “It’s been good to open up to him.”

  “I bet.” Bryce nodded. “That’s cool. So is that gonna continue?”

  “Definitely,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual. “He and I will be around each other for a long time.” I paused, uncertain about
what to say next. “I know you think it’s too much, too fast, but Chastity is the one.”

  “I’m not saying she’s not, but that ‘fast’ part—that’s where I don’t want you to repeat the past. You’re moving like you’re on some kind of speedway, and I haven’t even met her. How you know I’m gonna approve?”

  I released a slow breath. He was backing up, thank God. But the part about meeting Chastity… I wasn’t going to make the mistake of letting Bryce and Chastity get close. Been there with Roxanne, where she felt comfortable enough to reach out to him and tell Bryce about our little incident. Wasn’t gonna repeat that. “Well, half of the time Chastity and I’ve been together, you haven’t answered my calls.” Keeping my tone light, I said, “But you were right. I don’t have to rush because Chastity loves me; she’s not going anywhere.”

  He leaned back. “You’re sure about that, now?”

  “Yeah. We’re committed, and we’ll have a future… just not tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re talking to KJ—I mean, Pastor Jeffries. I guess you won’t need the therapist I was going to recommend, but that’s good. As long as you’re getting real help, that’s my only concern. ’Cause all I want for you is the best, fam.” He pounded his chest. “We always look out for each other.” Then he said, “So, you wanna get out of here?”

  I glanced down at my workout clothes. “I thought we were gonna go a few rounds.”

  “When was the last time you worked out, X-Man?” Before I answered, he said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I held up my hands. “You gotta give me a break—I’ve been busy.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I caught you today at the presser talking about your case. You’re doing it over there at that law firm, aren’t you?”

  “I’m just doing what I do. Putting everything in place to take it to the next level.”

  “Sounds like a reason to celebrate.” He tapped my shoulder. “Let’s head over to Sluggers and grab a beer.”

  Again, I thought about all that was on my plate for New Orleans. But I wasn’t ready to break our connection.

  “Okay, I have time for one,” I said as we made our way back to the locker room. “But it can’t be a late night. I have to prepare for a deposition tomorrow,” I lied.