by S. Ann Cole
“ … I assure you, she’s fine … No, she’s just been asleep more than she’s awake. But it’s no big deal, it’s usual for her to stay in and sleep when she visits … Why? … Stop worrying, boy, she’s okay … No, I just checked on her and…”
Vince spun around when he heard me enter the kitchen and quickly ended his call. Was he talking about me? To whom?
“Who was that?” I inquired through an emergent yawn.
“Ah, no one. Just a friend,” Vince waved off as he came towards me. “Feeling any better? Romaine brought you through the door half-asleep.”
“I’m good, Daddy,” I laughed. “My stomach’s not okay, though. I’m starving.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “Well, why don’t you go shower? Dinner’s in thirty minutes.”
“I don’t think my stomach can wait for —”
I was cut off by the sound of the heavy front door opening and closing, followed by the unmistakable purring of Seleste D’costa-Blacksille. “Blacksilles? Are any of you home?”
Vince and I stood quietly as we listened to her heels cluck through the house and straight into the kitchen. In sashayed my breathtaking mother, wearing a red mini-dress and spiky black Louboutin heels. Her perfect bow-shaped lips were painted harlot-red, and her dark waves cascaded down her shoulders.
The gulp Vince made next to me was more than audible, and I almost laughed out. Would he ever get over his ex-wife’s attractiveness?
Seleste tossed her Louis Vuitton purse on the kitchen counter and rushed towards us with arms opened wide. In her over-sensual fashion, she threw her arms around me first and purred, “Oh my darling, baby. How are you?”
“The same as I’ve been since I’d seen you in, um, let’s see, I dunno, a couple of months ago,” I dripped in sarcasm.
The woman had come to San Fran to see and spend time with me. But once she’d begun jacking up with Trevillo, I never even glimpsed her. Until now.
On a roll of her eyes, she waved me off, knowing damn well that she’d been more than neglectful with me. Releasing me, she sexily wrapped her hands around my father’s neck and kissed him square on the lips. But Vince barely returned her hug and scowled, showing that he was still miffed about her Trevillo fling. “What did I tell you about calling before you come here, Seleste? You can’t just pop up at anytime, whenever you feel like it.”
Seleste kept her arms locked around his neck, kissing him longer this time. The temptress knew the game she was playing. She knew Vince wasn’t immune to her, and probably won’t ever be. “Why ever not, babe? Am I no longer Seleste Blacksille?”
Vince deepened his scowl and glared at her, but made no attempt to remove her arms from around him. Shaking my head, I walked away from their annoying presence and headed over to the refrigerator in search of something sugary to wet my arid tongue. Knowing that this was usually the part where my parents would start arguing, I stuffed a piece of cold bologna in my mouth and grabbed a V8 Splash, thinking to myself that the sooner I could get out of the kitchen, the better.
Except, though I waited for it, there was no yelling and cursing. That, of course, made me turn around in shock, only to find that they were both trying to rip each other’s tongue out.
Gross.
“Upstairs,” I heard Seleste moan, dragging my father out of the kitchen by his shirt collar.
Vince stopped at the kitchen archway and glanced at me over his shoulder. “Axia, tell the cook that dinner should be served in an hour instead of thirty minutes.”
And then they were off, giggling like high school students, making me want to gag.
Again, gross.
After I went to the other kitchen on the left wing of the house to inform the kitchen staff of the change in dinner time, I journeyed upstairs to grab a shower and had to cover my ears to block out my parents’ sex noises streaming down the hall. They’ve always been like this. Uninhibited. Not caring who was in the house or in their presence. They had a burning lust for each other and they weren’t coy about it. Ever since Romaine and I were kids, they’d never hid from us. They were always touchy-feely in front of us and as loud as porn stars in their bedroom. That was the story of Vince and Seleste Blacksille. The good part, actually.
Showers were meant to leave you refreshed and invigorated, yet I emerged feeling as if I’d been dipped into a tub of depression milk. Wrapping a towel around my head, I trudged over to the music system to connect my iPod and selected Exposé’s I’ll Never Get Over You Getting Over Me, then flopped back on the bed. Without warning, the latch on the sluice-gates flew open and streams of tears cascaded down my face. There were no reasons for my tears. They were unexplainable. But I couldn’t control them. My only postulation was that I was dosed with a dash of depression and needed to get out of it. And soon.
This was not me. Not even post-Zane was I this weak and sappy. Flipping over, I buried my face into the pillow, pulled the duvet over my head and cried myself into darkness.
A faint knocking on my bedroom door dragged me from the comfort of sleep. I barely muttered a “come in” over the soft music, then Lynn pushed open the door and stuck her head in.
“Mr. Blacksille wanted me to let you know it’s time for dinner.”
“Okay. Yeah, whatever.”
Lynn hesitated, regarding me with crinkled brows. “Are you okay, Axia? Can I help you with anythi —”
“Yes, I’m goddamn okay! I wish you all would stop asking me that!” I snapped.
Lynn nodded and quietly closed the bedroom door.
Dragging my lethargic body off the bed, I went to my drawer and grabbed the first piece of fabric my fingers touched, hauled it over my head, then lazily slipped on underwear and denim shorts. Having slept with my hair wet, it was now a fuzzy mess. But I couldn’t have cared less, so I bundled it into a bigger mess atop my head, while The Flame by Cheap Trick seeped through the speakers of the music system.
I snatched up my cellphone from the nightstand and saw ten missed calls from Zane. Sometimes I was led to believe that there was no escaping him. His determination was alarming. Ever since that night at The Golden Seven, he’d agreed to give me time. Each week he’d call and I’d tell him the same thing: “Zane, I don’t love you. Just let me go.” To which he would say, “I’ll give you more time to heal, my heart. Time is all you need. I’m patient.” The man really believed in his heart that I was his. That I was his possession. Manipulative bastard.
Clearing the missed calls, I replied to a text message from Trevillo who wanted to know how I was doing. I assured him I was fine, then made my way downstairs for dinner.
“Oh heavens, Seleste! It’s my body, I’ll eat whatever the hell I want…”
For maybe about the hundredth time since I sat down at the dinner table, I sent my eyes heavenward. As it tended to be whenever Vince and Seleste got together, there was bickering about everything. Back and forth, back and forth, jeez, it was never-ending. Why they continued to do this to themselves, I had no idea. They couldn’t get enough of each other. Sexually. But out of the bedroom, they couldn’t stand each other. Romaine looked on in amusement, shaking his head at them. One would think we’d be immune to this by now. Nope.
Vince’s cellphone rang and he glanced at the screen then eyed me oddly. Excusing himself from the table, he wandered off a few feet to answer it. Curiosity wrapped its strangling fingers around the cat’s neck, so I tuned out the chattering at the table and zoned in on his conversation.
“ … Heavens yes, she is … No. We’re having dinner now, actually … I don’t know, maybe she was just lacking sleep. She’s got as much rest now and she’s fine … Yesss … Okay, I won’t.”
When Vince returned to the table, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Who was that, Daddy? You were talking about me, weren’t you?”
“No. I was — okay, I’m far too old to play this game. You two need to sort your issues out.”
“You two, who?”
“Nel
son’s boy. He’s been phoning all day, inquiring about your well-being. Says he saw you earlier and you looked ill. And for some unknown reason, he doesn’t want me to let you know he’s inquired.” Vince took a sip of his wine and waved his hand dismissively. “But right now, I’m done. You two are grown adults, not college students.”
“Well, the next time he calls, tell him I said he would be doing me an immense favor if he buys himself a gun — preferably one of our brand with the Blacksille print — and curl himself into a ball in a very dark corner, stick that gun into his mouth and pull the damn trigger.”
“Axia!” my father scolded.
Romaine laughed out, pounding the table with his fist, while Seleste stared at me in question.
“You do know that he is a treasured business partner of mine, and I will tell him no such thing. I make a lot of money working with that genius, sweetheart. At this very moment, I’m trying to be his most trustworthy partner, in the hope that I can convince him to let me in on this new project he’s working on. There’s lots of talk that it’s going to be the social network of all social networks. So get your act together, because you won’t ruin this for me,” Vince chided.
I pretended not to hear him, and also ignored Seleste who continued boring her questioning eyes into me. She didn’t know about the break-up with Lovello and me either, because, well, she just didn’t care enough about anyone but herself to know anything. She would, nevertheless, motherly proclaim her ignorance on the matter in three, two, one … “Axia, you never told me you and Lovello broke up.”
There was no time to respond to her query, because my eyes were instantly drawn to the impeccably dressed Eve Tomb who was standing in the archway to the dining room. Dressed in white loose shorts, a gray tank with a white cropped jacket to match the shorts, and red high heels that looked exclusive, Eve resembled wealth. She’d no doubt been flapping her wings in Vince’s money. The caramel-skinned woman stared wordlessly at us all gathered as a ‘family’ around the table. Seleste followed my gaze and everyone else followed suit, finally noticing Eve Tomb, my father’s girlfriend.
For a moment, there was just stunned silence, Vince clearly not knowing how to react, who to choose. Eve cleared her throat and directed her gaze to Vince, conducting a poor job at concealing the hurt in her eyes. “I-I guess I should just come back tomorrow, babe?”
“How about not coming back at all?” Seleste spat.
Vince shot Seleste a withering stare. “Don’t you dare.“
“What? You think she loves you for you, darling?” Seleste rejoined. Her pain was evident. “She’s young, rapacious, fame-hungry and is using you to push her career in the media business. She’s in love with your money and your name, Vince, not you.”
A gasp exploded from Eve’s throat as tears welled in her eyes. Vince shot up from his chair. “Enough,” he pointed at Seleste, then started toward Eve.
“Oh, the tears trick,” Seleste muttered, gesturing to Eve. “How old school. Who would’ve thought it still worked on you, Vince?”
Vince stopped midway on his jaunt to Eve, ran a hand through his hair and looked between them both. To Eve, he instructed, “Go and wait for me in the living room. I’ll be there in a second.”
Eve took a minute before she nodded and turned to leave, then stopped when Vince’s sturdy, commanding voice said, “I didn’t say you should leave the house, Eve. Wait for me in the living room. Understand?”
Eve nodded again and left the room as Vince walked over to Seleste and crouched down by her chair. Before he could speak, Seleste said, “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Someone you can give a command to and they listen to you like an obedient puppy.”
Placing a hand on Seleste’s thigh, Vince answered, “You know that, baby.”
“I c-can’t be like that, Vince. I can’t submit.”
Vince gave a sad smile as he ran his hand up and down her thigh. “I know. That’s why we got a divorce, remember?” Then he sighed. “We can’t keep doing this to ourselves and to others, Seleste. It’s selfish and unfair. I love you with all my heart, but we’re like oil and water. You won’t submit and neither will I. Why continue to torture ourselves like this? We have to stop.”
Seleste slightly nodded, either in understanding or in agreement. “She wants your name,” she softly said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I already have that. You told me it belongs to me. She can’t have it, Vince. It’s mine. You’re mine.”
Vince took up her hand in both of his and kissed the wedding ring that Seleste never stopped wearing. “Yes, it’s yours. True, I’m yours. My heart’s yours.” Kissing the ring again, he brought her palm to his cheek and closed his eyes. “I can’t promise you that I won’t share my love with someone else. But I promise you, Seleste, that I will never marry someone else. Because I will never, ever love anyone as much as I love you.” He kissed her fingers. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “But we have to say goodbye.”
And with every word, I gagged. I’d never understand these two.
Vince got up with a heavy sigh and walked out of the room, leaving a heartbroken Seleste behind. Just then, a maid set down a crockery of gravy on the table that swam into my nostrils and sent me into dizzying nausea. My throat was suddenly clogged with everything I’d just eaten. I bolted from the table and made it right in time to the nearest half-bathroom to regurgitate. Over and over, I heaved out all that I’d eaten. This illness was beginning to exhaust me. I couldn’t fathom what could be making me this ill. Was I being slowly poisoned or something?
After cleaning up and returning to the dining room, I noticed Seleste and Romaine trading glances. Lynn met me halfway with a cup of tea. “Drink this. It’s ginger tea. You might feel better.”
Lynn’s eyes blew wide when I muttered a “thank you.”
Was a ‘thank you’ from me that big a deal? The woman made me tea, for heaven’s sake.
“Axia,” my mother said cautiously. “Romaine told me you’ve been like this since you arrived. Are you —”
“Look, would you all just eat your damn dinner and stop worrying about me? I said I’m fine, okay?” I irritatedly snapped. Changing my direction, I started back out of the dining room. “People get ill every frigging day. I’m no exception just because I live a healthy life.”
My initial intention was to head upstairs and lock myself in my room. But standing between the staircase and the living room, climbing the stairs suddenly seemed like a task that I wasn’t up for. And the plush, white daybed was beckoning.
It didn’t matter that Vince and Eve were sitting on the sofa opposite, engaged in a heated conversation. All I could think about was how amazing my tired body would feel on the daybed’s plushness. So I dragged myself in that direction, setting the teacup down on the coffee table as I passed by it, disregarding the confused stares of Vince and Eve, and threw my body down on the daybed with a contented sigh.
I was asleep before I was even awake.
XXIX
Five days later …
Soft murmurings fluttered above my head, accompanied by a constant beeping sound. I wanted to open my eyes, but at the same time I wanted to stay asleep. Failing at forcing myself back to sleep, I reluctantly flicked my eyes open. The room I was in wasn’t mine. It was white, clinical, and smelled like bleach and old people. The bed I was lying on was stiff, narrow and uncomfortable.
“Axia?” a familiar voice said.
Turning my head to the left, I saw Trudy and Tish hovering over me, smiles brightening their faces. My eyes briefly left them and flitted around the room, as I came to the realization that I was in a hospital. How? Why?
“What am I doing here?” I asked in confusion. “What happened?”
“I’ll go let the nurse know you’re awake,” Tish said, scurrying from the room.
Trudy took up my hand and kissed my fingers. She was in her gym wear, looking disheveled. “You fainted this morning while we were working out?”
“What?�
�
“You fainted,” she repeated. “You’ve been out for over four hours.”
As I lifted a hand to rub my forehead, I noticed the IV drip connected to me. “I-I don’t know how … did the doctor say it’s serious?”
“They gave us no information because we’re not family. The only reason we’re even in here is because Tish knows one of the nurses. I wanted to wait for at least twelve hours before calling your dad to give him a scare.”
“Thanks for not calling him. He doesn’t do well with stuff like this. He’d worry himself to death.”
Trudy kept my hand tightly grasped in hers. She was worried, but she knew better than to voice it. Panicky questions and worry phrases always tick me off. People tend to take life way too seriously. Things happen. To anyone. And all we can do is deal with the crap as they come. Then arm ourselves in preparation for the problem that’s tomorrow’s.
A tall African-American doctor swept into the room with Tish following behind.
“And she’s finally awake,” the doctor chirped, filling the air with cheer. “I’m your doctor Clarissa Munda. How are we doing, Miss Blacksille?”
Now that’s the spirit. The optimism in her voice gave me hope that all would be well.
“I’m fine. Just wanna know what caused me to be in this bed and when I can get the hell out.”
Clarissa walked up to the beeping machine beside the bed and began conducting the usual crap process that doctors do, where they check and scribble on their clipboards with strings of “hmms”. So annoying.
This might have been my first time in a hospital since birth. Growing up, our doctors came to us. Even now I had my own doctor, Marian, who I call whenever I have problems — which was seldom.
Patience ran empty. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with me or not?”
She peered at me with a bright smile, then flicked her gaze over to Tish and Trudy in question.