“Mike!”
Michael’s hug lifted Alena off of her feet. She inhaled the pungent blend of his sweat and cologne as she pressed herself into him. His arms were comforting and familiar.
He stepped back for a moment and studied her at arm’s length.
“Wow, you haven’t changed one bit, Leen. Still beautiful as ever.”
“Thank you, you look great, too,” she said, her face beaming from the compliment.”It’s so good to see you!”
“How have you been doing?”
“I’m… hanging on, Mike. Having a really hard time but I’m hanging on. “
Staring into his powerful dark eyes made her feel fragile, lonely. It made her want to cry but she fought back the tears.
“I hope I’m not getting you into any trouble asking you here.”
“No, no trouble. I’m glad you called me, Ms. Upper East Side,” he said soothingly, flashing a broad smile. “It was good to hear your voice after all this time.”
Alena managed a grin. “Wonderful! Let’s talk about it over dinner then? Any chance you can stay?”
He shrugged. “For a little while, sure.”
“Please, have a seat.”
Michael crossed the living room in three long strides. His long limbs sprawled over her antique French leather armchair, dwarfing it. He was the only man that had been in it since Gabriel left.
“Can I get you something to drink? Water, coffee… wine?” Nervousness rose from inside her.
“Hmm, I’ll take the wine. I could use a little drink.” Michael looked around the room stopping on one of her paintings. “Ahh, Romare Bearden. Two Women?”
Alena returned with two glasses of Merlot. “Yes it is, very good. I see someone’s been boning up on his art history.” She gave him an affirming nod.
“Something like that. Lola has me going to these art shows. Well, had me going. You always did have great taste.”
Had? She recognized something then, his eyes held a tinge of sadness like hers.
Alena took a deep gulp of her wine. “So how are Lola and the kids?” she ventured.
He cleared his throat. “Everyone is well, the boys are growing up fast. Malik is headed to middle school this year and Jeffrey’ll be right behind him next year. Lola’s doing her thing too, though things aren’t so good between the two of us right now. She moved out.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mike, you guys are so good for each other,” Alena said, which wasn’t the complete truth.
Michael shrugged, “Well, it’s not officially over. We’re still trying. But, I guess that’s life. Besides, not everyone can live happily ever after like you and Gabe.” He was trying to hide his frown.
Tension grew in Alena’s body and she sipped more wine before responding. “Well, you’re a good looking gainfully employed black man, you’ll find another great woman in no time. If that’s what you want.”
Michael laughed. “So it’s that easy, huh? What if those great women aren’t checking for a black man? You left the brothas alone for your husband, remember?”
“Well the ‘brothas’ weren’t exactly beating down my door if you recall.”
“Please, there were plenty of us checking for you back in school. “
“Hardly.” Alena said, trying to end it there. She poured herself another glass of wine, hoping the growing buzz would take her to a happier, more aloof place. But the pain inside her wouldn’t be subdued. It kept scratching and clawing to be heard, witnessed.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be a dark-skinned black woman out here,” she blurted. “I was teased all through school about my color. But women love your dark chocolate looks. You’ve been a white girl, light-skinned black girl magnet since you were seven! Just look at Lola. Bright yellow with fine hair, like every other girlfriend you’ve ever had.” She regretted those last words as soon as they left her mouth.
“What I meant was the popular, pretty girls, they never looked like me. All I ever heard was, ‘You’re pretty for a dark- skinned girl’ or ‘If you were only two shades lighter you’d be so fine’ “ Her eyes started to water.
Michael searched her face with a look of concern.
“Whoa, you all right?
Michael leaned forward and put his wineglass on the coffee table. Then he took one of Alena’s hands in his own.
“Leen, you are a beautiful, strong, brilliant black woman. I don’t get where all of this is coming from. You’re acting like you’re some hideous beast that no man would touch. Are you crazy? You’re gorgeous! And your cocoa skin, it’s breathtaking. I adore it and I know for sure most of these men out here do too. For the record, my marrying Lola had nothing to do with her complexion.” Alena took a slow sip from her glass.
“Thanks Mike and I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said that, I’m just feeling...off. Very off. Look, can I be honest? When Gabe came around, my self-esteem was almost non-existent. He was white, powerful, gorgeous, and he wanted me. He wanted me! I’d been shamed by my own people for the skin he loved. I could finally show all those ‘brothas’ and the world that I was worthy. When I had Maya I was so relieved that she would never be dark like her mother. She would never have to sit home crying because she felt invisible or worse, disrespected just because of her color.”
Alena sighed and slid her hand out of Michael’s. “The thing is, it didn’t take long for me to come back to Earth. I got yanked back to it. Gabe was my trophy but his privilege was never going to be mine. And everyone in his world made it real clear every chance they got.”
“Leen, I never thought you felt that way about yourself. Or about being black. I gotta say, it hurts me to hear it.”
“I guess I hid it well. Gabe and I would fight so much over it. He could never understand what my problem was or what I saw that he couldn’t see. What I felt that he couldn’t feel. He told me it was in my head and that I nagged him with it. It got to him. That’s when he started turning on me. He started coming home late. Soon enough he just stopped caring altogether and started bringing his whores here. I caught them. Such a damned cliché. His blonde secretary giving him head. That’s who he wanted all along. I was his rebellious streak. I was his walk on the wild side that pissed off his Republican parents and impressed all his left wing friends. Well, everything I thought Gabe could offer me is gone anyway.”
“You gotta love yourself for everything you are Alena, and everything that you come with. You know that. Damn, you’re making me feel like Oprah and shit. Come on, don’t let this guy get into your head. He might’ve dogged you out but that doesn’t change a thing about you. And, if my memory serves me, there definitely were plenty of black dudes trying to get at you. You don’t remember any of that?”
The pain broke itself free and tears rushed down her cheeks.
“Alena, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Gabe asked me for a divorce. He left me for her, a white woman.”
“I’m so sorry, Leen.” He reached to hug her. As he held her, her face fell into the cave of his neck and shoulder, her lips slightly grazing his stubbled jaw. She was almost ashamed of how good it felt to rest in his presence like this. Remembering that it was not hers to savor, she sprung herself from the embrace.
“Don’t be sorry. Screw him,” she said, straightening herself. “It’s bad enough that he left, what’s even worse, he left these behind. I found them hidden in his things.”
She handed Michael a fat stack of envelopes from a drawer in the coffee table.
“Go on and open one.”
Michael ripped open one of the envelopes and scanned the emboldened first line of the official looking document. “Warrant of Eviction,” he read aloud. “Wait, what?”
“Yep. Foreclosure. That son of a bitch. There’s a whole string of summons and complaints in there. Looks like he’d ignored each and every one. Notice to Quit, Notice of Sale, Summons of Unlawful Detainer—and who would that be? Me and Maya. I’m an unlawful fucking detainer in my own
home. How could he do this to me? To his own child? He left us with no damn place to go! With no damn warning! You wanna know the kicker, Mike? He wants Maya. That bastard is the one who leaves me holding the bag, and now he wants custody of my baby.” She could hear the shrill cry in her own voice.
“Alena, calm down, okay?” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Mike. I lost my job today. After all I’ve done for them, those assholes let me go!” She was on the verge of screaming.
“Damn, Leen.” He leaned back and stroked his jaw, pensively. “Do you have anyone you can stay with?”
Alena took a steadying breath. “I don’t. And to be honest I don’t get too much company these days. Our friends, if I can even call them that, disappeared along with Gabe.”
“Do you have any money? Savings?”
She shook her head slowly and lowered her eyes. “No. I was so naive! Gabe handled all of our money, everything is in his name. All of this is his! This penthouse, the other properties, the accounts, my clothes, everything. He told me that I could trust him, that he came from a legacy of wealth after all, and he knew how to build more for us. He loved to remind me that my income barely made a dent. It was only fun money since I was too stubborn to stay at home.” Alena finally met Michael’s eyes.
“And before you ask, yes, I signed a prenup. His mother insisted, you know, to protect all the money and assets her son had inherited. It was ‘only fair’ she said. I was so stupid! What am I gonna do, Mike? I have six days to figure out a plan. I grew up poor but I was supposed to be rich. I earned it. I earned this damned penthouse and everything else. And he stole it, all of it. Pulled the damn rug out from under me and here I am left with nothing.” Alena burned with shame and anger.
“Okay, just relax and let’s think about this,” Michael said. “I have a friend who owns a building, the rent’s cheap and he has a vacancy, matter of fact. I’m pretty sure if I talk to him it’s yours without a security deposit. If not, I’ll float you the money. I’ll be honest though,” he glanced around the palatial room, “it’s nowhere near as… luxurious as you’re used to, it may even be a little rough.”
“Where is it?”
“Brooklyn.” When she frowned at him Michael held up his hand to silence her. “This isn’t the time to get bourgeois, Alena. You and Maya can have a brand new start and you can get on your feet. What do you say?”
She drained the last of her wine. “What other choice do I have?”
THREE
Alena clutched Maya as the moving truck arrived at 119 East Church Avenue. She silently prayed that Maya wasn’t feeling any of the trepidation that was rippling through her.
What had she done with her life to end up here, to have to bring Maya to this place? After clawing her way through Columbia Law and into high society, here she was in the place she never wanted or expected to return to, the ‘hood. This, she decided, was defeat but she was not going to let it take her over.
She peered through the window at the aging brick building. It was bordered by a small lot that was littered with beer bottles, Black & Mild cigar boxes, and broken toys. The block was busy with activity. There were old men playing chess on the sidewalk, a group of boys playing basketball on a patch of concrete, some older women sunning themselves and gossiping on the stoop, and a cluster of young men talking. Children were playing, scattering this way and that, screaming at the top of their lungs.
“Mom, is this our new house?” Maya asked, clutching her doll to her chest. “Why are those kids acting so crazy?”
Alena leaned in close to Maya, “Remember what I told you, baby. It’s only temporary okay? We won’t be here long. I promise. I’m getting a new job soon and we’ll be out of here in no time,” she assured them both.
When the truck stopped, Alena turned to Maya. “All right, here’s the deal. When we get out of the truck, you stick close to me, understand?”
Maya nodded.
They scooted out of the truck and Alena gripped Maya’s hand tightly as they walked up to the building. The people on the street turned their attention to the new residents. It didn’t help that Alena was hardly dressed for a moving day in her bright blue Cavalli dress and orange espadrilles. Her gold jewelry shone brightly in the sun. The boys stopped playing their basketball game to get a glimpse. The women on the stoop shifted on their stone seats to get a good look. With stares sharp as razor blades they sized her up. The group of young men stopped their conversation and fixed their eyes on Alena.
“Bengy, check her out.” One of the men nudged his friend as he nodded toward her. “Hey, sweetheart!” He called out.
“My man said, ‘Hey, Shawty,’” the one named Bengy called out in a deep raspy voice. He had a jagged scar above his brow with a teardrop tattoo etched at the corner of his eye.
“Oh I get it, you too good to speak.” His gaze was a mix of lust and disdain. He let his eyes linger slowly over her behind as she passed them.
“Well it’s cool ‘cause damn li’l mama, you lookin’ good for real. Do yo’ baby need a daddy? Hell yeah, I’d tap that all night long.”
As Bengy and his friends barked with laughter, Alena’s stomach tightened with disgust and anger. Her face burned with humiliation. How could they catcall her in front of her own daughter, did they have no respect at all? These, she thought, were the very type of black people she couldn’t stand. Loud. Ignorant. Mean. They were the type of black people that she vowed she would never live around again, until today.
“Niggas,” she mumbled under her breath. She hurried to the apartment doors gripping Maya’s hand even tighter, careful not to meet anyone’s eyes. The closer they got to the building the stronger the stench of liquor and urine became. It was so overwhelming in the elevator that she decided to walk up to the third floor.
“Don’t. Touch. Anything,” she whispered to Maya.
They climbed up three flights of worn splintered steps. The smell of codfish and ackee now permeated the narrow hallway. Gruff, arguing voices echoed from one apartment. Loud Samba music blared from another. Nestled in a shadowy corner was their new place, 3B.
Alena fished a hand wipe from her purse and turned the knob with it. Stepping inside was like walking into a nightmare. The apartment was less than one quarter the size of the penthouse. Its pale yellow kitchenette with peeling linoleum floors barely offered enough room to fry an egg. It was jammed between two cramped bedrooms and a lackluster bathroom. Alena drew in a long breath.
“Well, we made it,” she said to Maya.
Since announcing the move she was impressed with how well Maya had taken it, but wondered if she was just holding back to save her feelings. Maya went to look around. Alena followed close behind. The ever growing stacks of boxes and furniture the moving men brought in made the already minuscule space feel like a shoebox. Maya’s room was slathered in four coats of dull powder blue paint. Alena watched her daughter’s face for a reaction.
“Do you like it, just a little bit?” She asked hopefully.
“It’s dusty in here, Mom.”
“I know. Don’t worry, we’ll work with it. It’ll look much better when we set up your bed and things.”
“Mom, when is Dad coming back?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. We’ll try to call him again. Tomorrow, after camp.”
“Why can’t we call him now? I miss him.”
“Because we need to get settled first, all right? Let’s put some things away and then we’ll get something to eat.”
Maya folded her arms in protest.
“Maya, listen. I need you to be a big girl and do your mother a huge favor. We’re not going to tell your dad about our new place. He doesn’t need to know, yet.”
“But why? Why do you want me to lie to Daddy? Why can’t he know we moved?”
“It’s complicated, okay? It’s adult business. If your dad knew that we moved here, to a place so…small, he might get upset with me. He might say that you need to go
live with him instead of me, and live with him only. Do you want that?”
“But I want to live with both of you. I want to see my dad and I don’t want to lie!”
Alena tried to temper her frustration. “Maya, your father loves you but he’s where he’s chosen to be right now. If I could undo all of this I swear I would, and you’d have both of us. But that’s not going to happen, honey. For now, so that we can stay together, I just need for you to keep this one secret for me when you talk to your dad. Once I get a better place you won’t have to keep it anymore. Okay. Will you do that for me?”
“I guess,” Maya pouted.
“Thank you. Now enough of all this sad talk.” She clapped her hands together. “We can organize later. Let’s go get some pizza and watch a movie!”
A knock at the front door interrupted them. Alena peered through the peephole. It was one of the women from the stoop.
“Who is it?” She called through the door.
“It’s your neighbor, Gloria Chukwu, looks like you might have dropped something.”
Alena slowly opened the door as Maya wedged her body next to her to get a peek. The woman’s smooth, butter yellow skin belied her old age, save the deep lines etched into her forehead. Prominent cheekbones were set elegantly high on her face framed by long straight salt and pepper hair. Around her neck dangled a brilliant purple jewel that immediately caught Alena’s eye.
“Hello, I live in 3A,” she said smiling cheerfully, holding up Maya’s doll.
“This was in the hallway. I thought it probably belonged to you.” Her eyes were kind as she turned to Maya.
“Thank you, Ms. Chukwu,” Alena said, waiting impatiently to close the door. “What do you say, Maya?”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Maya said, delighted to have her toy back although she hadn’t missed it.
“Maya. How fitting. A pretty name for such a sweet, beautiful girl,” the woman cooed to Maya. “You must be, let me guess…ten years old.”
“She’s eight,” Alena said.
A Fistful of Honey Page 2