Like a Fly on the Wall

by Simone Kelly

  The yellow morning sun hit my eyes. Breeze kissed me on my forehead and hugged me as we stood in front of the hotel waiting for the valet to bring my car.

  “Why do you think our love won’t go away?” he asked.

  I smiled. “We’ll always care about each other. We put years in. It’s a given.”

  “It’s deeper than that, Ky, and you know it. I can’t stay away from you. You know no one knows you better. No one can love you better. I can’t live without you, Ky.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you need to come back to New York, where you belong. You need to come back.” He touched my chin softly and kissed me.

  The connection we tried to fight never really went away. When souls are connected—I guess they just are. No matter how bad I know he might be for me, I can’t stop playing shit over and over in my head. The way he held me and whispered in my ear; he knew how to get me. He knew how to do so much by saying so little.

  He leaned against the wall. “Whatchu thinking about, sugah?”

  “Oh . . . just how I wish that moments stayed like this.”

  He rubbed my back and waist gently. “Come on, everyone has their ups and downs, darlin’. You could never stick it out.”

  “You always want me to stick it out. Wait for what? I really get tired of being your young tenderoni.”

  He chuckled and brushed my chin. “Well, you ain’t that young anymore.”

  “Whatever! I’m seven years younger than you!”

  “What if I told you I was ready now? Would you come back with me?”

  My heart dropped to the ground, because for just that moment, that split second, I actually believed him.

  The valet pulled up with my car and Breeze slid him a tip. “Hold up, my man. Give us a minute, please. Can you move it over to the side so we’re not in the way?”

  The valet nodded and got back in my car to park it.

  Breeze took my hand and walked me over to the fountain in front of the hotel. He held my hand tightly.

  “You gonna ignore me, Ky?”

  “What?” I played dumb. I really didn’t think he believed I was falling for his BS. I summoned up the courage and as my heart raced I said, “Breeze, this is my life.” I pointed to the ground. “Down here. Miami. You know I love you, but I also know what last night was, one of our many nights of fun.” My eyes darted away, preparing for his rebuttal.

  “So, you just gonna clown me, huh? That’s all that was? Come on, darlin’. A good fuck?” He grabbed my chin and brought my eyes to his.

  “Breeze, you know we are way more than that. But I also know you. If you are really serious, show me. I’m not getting my hopes up anymore.”

  He raised his arms. “You want a ring? You want me to get down on one knee?”

  I covered my mouth. My eyes widened as my heart balled up in knots.

  “Okay, be careful about calling my bluff.” He pulled my waist in close.

  “I gotta go, Breeze.” I gulped. “Go catch your flight. It’s getting late and you have to finish packing.”

  He mumbled, “Don’t worry about what I gotta do.” His eyes were damp as he looked at my lips when I spoke. He pulled me in closer by the nape of my neck and held both sides of my face. He kissed me with so much passion. It was like he knew that maybe this was the last kiss. Maybe I was finally coming to my senses. He walked me to my car, holding my hand the entire time.

  “Love you, Ky. I’ll be calling you soon, sugah.”

  “Okay, love you, too.” We hugged one last time. My chest tightened as I sat in my car. He looked at me with a downturned mouth and his shoulders pulled low. I let out a heavy sigh and started the engine, feeling like I’d finally closed that chapter for good.

  Chapter 23

  Jacques

  My biggest celebrity client wanted me to do a group session and meditation workshop for her Broadway show’s cast. It paid well, so I couldn’t pass on the opportunity. Although it was a quick three-day visit, I made time to catch up with Hicham and Mom. This time I didn’t mention to my New York email list that I would be in town. I didn’t want to see Dee just yet.

  Mom cooked a delicious dinner for us. It felt good to sit around the table together.

  “How was your day?” she asked.

  “It was good. Had fun hanging with Hicham.”

  “You see how good he’s doing? I’m so happy! Soooo, how is the girlfriend, Victoria?”

  “Oh, Mom, Vicky is amazing. I think she might be the one. You know, she’ll be a homicide detective soon.”

  “Oh my. Why would a young lady want such a gruesome job?” She shook her head and took a sip of her red wine. “What’s her religion again?”

  I ignored her question. “Well, she has a passion for helping solve mysteries. If people are murdered they need justice.”

  “Well, yes, I guess you’re right.” She tapped my hand and we bowed our heads as she said a short prayer. She broke off a piece of a warm baguette and offered it to me.

  “So, how is your Bible study group going? Any interesting trips lately?” I smiled, waiting for her wince. She looked nervous and dipped her bread in olive oil. She took a small bite and started choking on it.

  “Drink! Drink!” I got up and rubbed her back as she choked.

  “Sit down. I’m fine, I’m fine. It just went down the wrong way.” She took another sip of wine. “My Bible study group is fantastic. I wish you could come! We’re covering Revelations now.”

  Something was surely off. She was way too enthusiastic about it.

  “Oh, the end-of-the-world doom-and-gloom chapter? Just fascinating,” I said dryly.

  “No, no!” She laughed. “Not so, Jacques. You should come. You’d really get a better understanding of the Bible. You used to be such a good Catholic boy.” She shook her head as she wiped her mouth. “I don’t know what happened,” she mumbled.

  “No, Mom, your memory is all wrong. It was Hicham who was the altar boy. I preferred going to the mosque with Dad. I’m the one who got in trouble for saying Jesus didn’t have blue eyes and blond hair.” Resentment trailed in my tone.

  Her face turned red. She laughed. “Please, you were so small. You don’t remember the mosque. You just loved to embarrass me.”

  “No, not so. I just like to ask questions and speak my truth. I like to think.” I pointed to my temple. “I remember it very clearly, too. We’d go on Fridays to pray and when we came home you’d have dinner ready.”

  She blushed and said, “Tu souviens?” as she pushed her hair behind her ears. “Well, it was probably all your father’s doing. He put a lot of those things into your head. You have his rebelliousness. He never wanted you children to be Catholic. We argued all the time about it. Before we had you, we agreed that our children could experience both religions, but the second we got married, he refused to join me at mass and he would go to mosque only. It was one of the main things we argued about.”

  “Yes, I remember. Tit-for-tat fights.”

  “Yes, I guess you could call it that. Your father was so stubborn.”

  “I don’t know.” I scraped up the last portions of cassoulet into my fork. It was really good. “I don’t know if asking questions is really rebellious.”

  “You just don’t know the Bible. If you did you wouldn’t have to ask questions. You would have faith and believe.”

  “Good point. When is your next meeting?”

  “Tomorrow, but you leave, don’t you?” She didn’t see it coming.

  “Oh, no . . . I don’t have to leave yet. I’m going to join you. It would be good to see some of the old Holy Cross folks,” I said sarcastically, dabbing my mouth and smiling.

  “Yes, yes.” She smiled brightly.

  “You are really going to go?” She seemed shocked, but covered it with a plastic smile.

  “Yes.” I wanted to see what all the nervousness was about.

  I met Mom at Holy Cross in SoHo and it brought back many memories. The lar
ge entrance that led downstairs to the classrooms now seemed like a small basement. It’s amazing how your view of things changes as you grow older and taller. It had the same beige and gray paint and tiles. Very cold as always and it wasn’t just the air, it was the energy. As soon as I entered the glass doors of Father Jamison’s hall where all the classes were held, I felt like a prisoner again.

  A sixty-something lady with bright red hair greeted me. “Welcome, welcome! A new member?”

  “Oh, well not really. I’m Marguerite Berradi’s son.”

  “What? My, my, you are so very handsome. I didn’t know she had a model for a son.”

  I blushed and smiled. “Why, thank you, madame.” I kissed her hand and she melted.

  “What is your name?”

  “Oh, it’s Jacques. So, can you tell me where the Bible study class is?”

  “Oh, it’s right down the hall on the right. Your mother is upstairs in the office, but her right-hand buddy, Mr. Maganelo, is there. You know him, right?”

  “Yes, yes . . . sounds familiar, but it’s been years.” I played dumb. “Why is he her right-hand buddy?” I leaned in closer.

  She didn’t look me in the eyes. She got nervous. “Well, rumor has it . . . they are best friends. Inseparable even. Lucky for him, since his wife just divorced him a few years ago.” She seemed to enjoy spilling the beans. I did pick up a jealousy and gossipy vibe, but she was harmless. She seemed lonely and loved attention. So much to say and no one to listen.

  “Really?” I put my arm around her and we walked the hall for a bit. “Tell me more.”

  “Oh yeah,” she whispered. “He was always here with your mother and apparently his wife was terribly jealous. She even made a scene one day.” She covered her mouth and looked up the hallway. There was my mother in a beautiful pink dress, looking a bit shocked to see me so chummy with a church lady.

  “Well, it was so nice chatting with you, Miss . . . ?”

  “Miss Rita. You can call me Miss Rita.”

  I kissed her hand again and she giggled like a schoolgirl. She was going to be my new best friend.

  My mother’s brows raised as she watched our exchange. “Well, hello, Miss Marguerite!”

  “Hi, Rita,” my mother replied flatly. “And, Jacques, baby, why are you so early?” She kissed me on both cheeks and hooked onto my arm to swiftly drag me away from Miss Rita.

  “What did that witch say to you?” she whispered.

  “Mom, we’re in God’s house!” I chuckled. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  She looked down at her dress as if she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “Thank you. . . . But she . . . she is the worst person I know. I don’t even know how she got to be on the Welcoming Committee. She’s evil. Une salope! What did she say to you? Why were you so close to her, with your arm around her? You don’t do that. This isn’t the place for that!”

  “Relax, Mom, I was just being friendly. She didn’t say much. Just telling me how handsome I was.” I smoothed out my hair.

  We walked into the room and a man was writing a Bible verse on the chalkboard. When he turned around, my stomach dropped. Mom smiled lovingly at him. “Look who is here!”

  “Oh my goodness! Oh my. Look at you! A big strapping man now!” He came over and grabbed my shoulder as he looked at me, then looked back at my mom. It was Mr. Maganelo.

  I stared in disbelief. His long lanky frame. His eyes. His ears. Even his walk. He was the man from the picture . . . but it was more than that.

  “What’s the matter with you, son? You look like you saw a ghost.”

  My mother hit my arm. “Jacques!”

  “I’m sorry . . . uh. Wow, I’m sorry. It’s just that you look so much like . . .” I shook my head and sat down. I felt woozy.

  “Jacques, say hello and stop being rude.”

  “Hi.” I looked up at him. I felt like I was going to cry. I felt enraged. I felt sadness. I was so light-headed. How could this be? This was why Dad kept sending me visions of Bibles! This was why he hadn’t stopped visiting us.

  Mr. Maganelo was the spitting image of my brother, Hicham.

  I looked around at about eight other women and two men who seemed fascinated with what was coming out of Mr. Maganelo’s mouth. They wrote notes furiously, not missing a word. I saw his mouth moving, but then heard nothing. The room was spinning as I tried hard to remember just how often I’d seen him as a child. I held my head. My stomach was queasy. I knew what that meant. I had to find out for sure. My intuition triggers always gave me signs.

  All I could think about now was how obsessed my mother became with the church after Dad died. Of course, we figured she was in mourning and needed support from her church friends, but it’s possible it was much more. That was probably just her escape, her way out. She and Mr. Maganelo were having an affair. It’s pretty obvious now. If my senses were right, that was probably what she and Dad fought about all the time! He probably knew or felt something, but had no proof.

  If my brother was not his, then that means that the affair had been going on since we moved to America. That was a fact I couldn’t digest. I had to confirm it. I had to let Hicham know, but how? How?

  I excused myself from class as if I were going to the restroom. I had to ask. I couldn’t wait another thirty minutes. I wiped the sweat from my brow and called Hicham.

  I heard Tupac playing in the background and two girls talking and laughing. “Yo, what up.”

  “Hey, Hicham, where are you? Can you talk?” I spoke low.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m home. What’s up?” He hushed the girls’ chatter. “Shhhh, chill y’all, I can’t hear.” The music was turned lower. “Why you talking like you on a secret mission and shit?”

  “Just listen, do you remember Mr. Maganelo?”

  “What? Of course I do. That was my man! I haven’t seen him in like ten or twelve years. He really used to look out for us. Mom still hangs with him I think. He’s in her church crew. You don’t remember?”

  “Yeah, I do, but not like that. I just remember him bringing ice cream and toys. Sneakers I think, too.” I scratched my head. “But I thought it was something with the church. Shit, now that I think about it . . . he was around a lot at one point. But didn’t he have a lady with him most of the time? His wife?”

  “Yeah, Mrs. Maganelo. I never liked her though. She always had an attitude. Used to look me up and down, and I don’t think she liked how he used to spend money on me. He even bought me Air Jordans one time when Ma was like, ‘Hell no!’” He laughed. Remember he was the Cub Scouts leader, too?”

  “Oh no . . .”

  “Nah, it’s not what you think. He wasn’t no homo or nothing. I think he just wanted a kid so bad, so he was treating all of us like his. He gave me special treatment, though.”

  It hit me. I felt as if a windstorm flew into the room. “She knew . . . his wife knew . . . that’s why. Wow, why didn’t we see this?” I looked back and walked through the glass doors and toward the front of the church’s hall. My voice was traveling. It was now getting dark outside. I stood by the entrance just to be sure no one heard me.

  “She knew what? What the fuck is going on, man?”

  “Oh man, nothing. Look, Hicham, I’m gonna call you in a few. We gotta have a serious talk with Mom.” I held my head and shook it. “I mean serious.”

  “Yo, what the hell? Did he do something to Ma? What, man? Yo, let me know! I’ll be down there in a hot minute,” he yelled. I gulped. “What’s up, Jacques? Say the word.”

  “Look, I just think he and Mom have something going on.”

  Hicham chuckled. “Ah shit, go Mommy—go Mommy. ’Bout time she get some ass.”

  I cringed, didn’t need that visual. “Well, it’s not recent. . . . I got a hunch and, well, some insider information that it might be a twenty-seven-year-old affair or longer.”

  “What? Stop playing! Mom ain’t that smooth and that doesn’t make much sense. I’m twenty-seven, that would mean . . . wait .
. . nah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That would mean Dad was still alive. I was just born.”

  It still wasn’t registering with him. He didn’t see what I saw. I spoke low. “Look—I don’t know for sure. I just think we need to talk to her.”

  “Yo, where the fuck are you at? Why you whispering!”

  “At the hall. I’m at Holy Cross Church. I went to Bible study with Mom.”

  “Get the fuck outta here! This story just gets crazier and crazier.”

  “I know, I know. . . . Look, I gotta get back. But I wanted to see what you remembered, because I really don’t remember him that much.” A cool evening breeze blew by. I stared up at the moon making an appearance. I had said too much. “Look, lemme call you back.”

  I walked back to the classroom with my heart beating rapidly. Sweat formed on my brow. My mother looked upset, because I had left for so long. I worried about what would happen next. I hoped Hicham could wait until later. His temper would surely cause an uprising and I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that.

  After Bible study, they had a gathering in the back of the classroom, around a table filled with cookies, crackers, cheese, juice, and teas.

  “Thank you for coming out, everyone,” Mr. Maganelo said. He clapped his hands together, then pointed to the table in the back. “Snack time.”

  Miss Rita was smiling at me and called me over as she handed me a cup of tea. “So, did you enjoy Bible study?”

  “Well, I’ll just say . . . it was interesting. I’m open to other points of view, even though I might not always embrace them.”

  “Oh, so what . . . you’re not Catholic?”

  “No, not quite. I’m spiritual. I do believe in God, a higher power, a force above us.” I pointed to the ceiling. “But I don’t believe religions should be so separate. It’s all the same when you really look at them.”

  Miss Rita’s eyebrows raised in shock. I felt a jab in my side. “Jacques, let me introduce you to some more people,” my mother said gently, while fake-smiling at Miss Rita.