by M. T. Pope
I turned on my PC and looked at my schedule for the day. I only had two clients today and I was relieved that it was only minor issues. I might check and see if my boss will let me leave early. It wasn’t long before my next client came in and I began my workday. All I was thinking about the whole time was making it to the end of the day or my day that is.
Chapter 3
Jasmine
Mrs. Alex Black
“Mrs. Jasmine Black. Mrs. Alex Black,” I repeated my new name as I twirled around and around in my wedding dress in front of a mirror in my bedroom. I loved the way I looked in my wedding dress. I was beautiful and radiant.
“We are going to have a beautiful life together, Alex. You wait and see.” I kissed him on the cheek. I had a life-sized cutout of him in a tux that I ordered from off of the Internet. I couldn’t wait until that day came when I walked down the aisle and became his wife. We were going to have the perfect life together: me, him, our three kids, and possibly a dog and cat. Sarah, Jeremiah, and Timothy; I had all of our children’s names picked out. I bought their clothes already for the first year of their lives. I had their bedroom sets in storage and I even had some stuff for the house we were going to have together. I had it all worked out. I was waiting for Alex to pop the question. I had a feeling it was going to be very soon.
I put on my music as I got dressed for work. I put on my scrubs and as I continued to plan my life with Alex.
“Momma, it is almost about that time.” I spoke as I picked up the picture of my deceased mother from off of my dresser. She was so pretty in the wedding dress she had on. Now it was going to be my turn to walk down the aisle in it and I looked as good as she did in it, too.
“Hussy, you’ll never be as good as me.” I heard my mother’s voice and then looked around the room.
“Is that you, Momma?” I quivered a little as I looked at her picture and then around the room.
“Look at you. You’re ugly.” I heard her voice again. This time it was louder. I turned and looked behind me. No one was there. I dropped her picture and watched it hit the carpeted floor.
“Momma, I’m trying. I’m trying to be like you. I want to be pretty like you,” I said as I stared at her picture.
“You are never going to get a man with that ugly body you have. I should have aborted you if I knew you would have ended up like this. Worthless.”
“That’s not true, Momma; that’s not true. I’m beautiful. Daddy said so,” I yelled and then grabbed the sides of my head shaking it from side to side trying to bore her voice from out of my mind. I couldn’t because she was everywhere I went: in my dreams, at work, and even in the car. She was dead yet still nagging me from beyond the grave. My daddy had died of a heart attack at an early age. I was about eight years old, but I remember him coming into my room every day to wake me.
“Hey, princess.” He would pull the covers off of me and to the bottom of the bed. I would smile and then stretch my arms wide out to the side and then in front of me and wait for Daddy to give me a hug.
“Hey, Daddy,” I greeted him back. We embraced for a few seconds and then he would pull away.
“You ready to let the world see your smile?” He asked me this every morning. It made me feel so special, like I was the prettiest girl in the world. “Mommy is getting your lunch ready so we have to hurry up and get downstairs for breakfast. You don’t want to make her mad do you?” He looked at me with loving yet concerned eyes. My daddy was a great guy. He was so nice and mannerly. I never heard him say a harsh word or even raise his voice. My mother was a different story. She was hell on wheels.
“No, Daddy,” I said as I would hurry toward the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. I would hurry down the stairs, eat my breakfast, and then Daddy would walk me to the bus stop to wait for the bus.
“Then you died, Daddy, and left me with this witch of a mother,” I said as I picked up his picture and squeezed against my chest with my arms. I pulled it away and looked at it again. He was a full-figured guy but I didn’t see that as a child. He was Daddy to me. My mother would call him “tubby” and “lard butt” all the time, but he would smile at her and go into the living room to watch television. He was such a gentleman.
My mother was a great cook. I thought it was her cooking of all of the fried foods that killed my daddy. My daddy would still be here if it weren’t for her constantly feeding him all those greasy meals. My nice, handsome father always treated me like a lady. Alex reminded me a lot of my father. Alex had all of the qualities that my daddy had but he was fit and healthy.
“But I’m all right now, Daddy. Cancer took her away from here about three years ago, as you already know, and she went kicking and screaming. I know she’s not with you in heaven, Daddy. But she gone from here and I’m glad. I need to get me a man like you and get her nagging voice in my head to go away.
“I’m going to be Mrs. Alex Black soon, Dad, and then I will be better to him then she was too you. I promise.” I had to figure out how.
No one knew that was my life as a child and teenager, because I hid it well. Momma did as well. Anytime we had visitors she was a totally different person. She was so nice at times that I wanted to scream out, “Who are you and where the fuck did you send my mother?” But, most of the time I sat still and smiled like I was trained to do. My mother was “a child should be seen and not heard unless I’m whipping that ass” kind of parent. My daddy tried but he wasn’t any match for my momma.
Sometimes I wanted to ask him what made her be the way she was, but I kept it all on the inside. I strived and excelled in school so I could make a better life for me and to get away from her. I succeeded and now I was a private duty nurse. I loved taking care of people for a living and it brought me great joy to help people get better. But it didn’t distract me from the loneliness that I felt when I got home and closed my door. I felt rejected and like an outcast. If it weren’t for my only friend, Ashley, I thought I would have gone crazy by now.
“Let me get myself together,” I said as I looked in the mirror on my bedroom dresser. I was a chocolate girl. Good cheekbone structure and full lips. I was a little pudgy in the right and wrong places. My shoulder-length, pin-curled hair was all mine. I smiled a weak smile and then walked across my plushy carpeted room and exited my bedroom.
I got all that I needed for the day and exited my apartment. I stopped right in front of my door, turned around, and looked ahead. A smile crept across my face. It was a smile filled with hope. Alex lived right across the hall from me. How, you say? After Ashley and I reconnected when she came back from California, she mentioned that she had found her own apartment, but Alex had a little trouble finding what he wanted. I mentioned to her that the apartment across from me was vacant and I would see if the rental office would let him look at it to see if he liked it.
I had to let the lesbian clerk suck on my pussy a few times to get her to hold it for me. I would do anything for my husband-to-be. Now I’m not going to lie, she had my ass almost crawling up the walls backward on my hands and feet like I was that possessed chick in that Exorcist movie. I was in need of a good nut anyway.
“See you when I get home, baby.” I kissed his door.
I turned around to see one of my elderly neighbors looking at me like I had lost my mind.
“Good morning, Mr. Coleman,” I greeted him. He looked at me, shook his head, and then put his finger on his finger reader to get into his apartment.
As I walked by him I could have sworn I heard him call me a “crazy bitch,” but I kept on walking because I could have been mistaken.
Chapter 4
Troy
Let’s Get Intimate
Beautiful. This was what I thought as I sat in the restaurant and watched Ashley walk over to the table where I was seated. She had confidence and energy in her stride across the room. She seemed like she had life by the antlers and was commanding every move in her life. She had tiny moments of shyness since I’d met her, but that was starti
ng to dissipate over time. We were out in a sophisticated part of Columbia, Maryland. It was a nice restaurant off of the beaten path. It was a high-maintenance establishment and you had to have connections to get in, which I did. I rose from my chair as she approached the table.
“Hello, honey.” She greeted me with a nice tight hug. The way her breasts felt up against my body as she hugged me sent me into overdrive. I had my arms wrapped around her waist that was a beginning to a nice, round behind. She was fabulous. I pulled back and pulled out her chair for her. She was well bred and respectable. She sat down and I scooted her chair up so she could be closer to the table. I sat on the opposite side and stared at her for a few seconds.
“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” She quickly picked up her purse and found a mirror before I could stop her.
“No, no, Ashley.” I shook my head as I reached my hand over to pull the mirror down that she had held to her face. “You are simply beautiful. You’re a beautiful work of art and a spitting image of your heritage.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“My day was quite wonderful.” She smiled. “And it’s even better now that I am here with you.” She reached her hand over and put it on top of mine that was resting on the table.
“Same here,” I added. “I can’t believe I found you. You are so what I was looking for.”
“I was what you’ve been looking for?” she asked. “Is that a line you’ve used on past girlfriends?”
“No, I mean it. I looked for you. I mean I knew that I would find you. You have all that I need to complete my life.”
“That’s really flattering.” Her teeth showed as she smiled even harder now.
“No, it’s the truth. You will see.” I spoke wholeheartedly.
“Yes, we shall see. So what makes me so special?” She posed a very valid question.
“Have you looked in the mirror lately? You are the whole package. What man wouldn’t want you?”
“That is nice to hear.”
“It’s even nicer to say. You are my destiny.” I reached over the table and put my hands over hers and looked at her attentively as I spoke.
“Okay, okay, enough about me. What about you? I want to know more about you,” she asked as she looked at me as intently as I did her moments ago.
“More about me?” I asked. I was a private person and I really didn’t share my personal information with anyone but I was comfortable with her now so I guessed it would be all right to share some of me with her.
“Yes, is there an echo in the room?” She laughed lightly.
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
“You said on one of our first dates that you didn’t like talking about family, but I am curious to know. But, if it is too painful I’ll give you a pass.”
“You are right, I don’t like talking about it as I stated early on, but I am close enough to you and your family to let you know about my family now. Are you ready?” I breathed in and exhaled as to compose myself for what I was about to say.
“Yes, whenever you’re ready.” She spoke seriously and with attentiveness, as if I was one of her clients.
“I was born and raised in the slums of Baltimore City. Both of my parents were killed in a drug deal gone wrong. They were killed execution style right in front of me.” A tear escaped my eye as I recalled the moment in those few seconds. It was all so real all over again. The blood, the screams of my mother before they shot my father, and then the silence of the room as they killed her and left me in the room with blood that covered the kitchen floor and walls.
“I was only eight at the time, but I was strong. I didn’t cry or scream. I left the house and walked outside and sat on the front steps. In the neighborhood that I lived in most people didn’t care and they didn’t ask questions so I sat on the steps in bloody pajamas in broad daylight for close to an hour before someone even came to check on me. You see my parents had scammed and tricked so much in the neighborhood that people didn’t bother me or even let their children play with me. They weren’t better; they were more decent lowlifes than my parents were, if that makes any sense.”
“Oh my goodness, I didn’t know. That’s horrible.” She shook her head in disbelief. One after another, tears rolled down her face.
“Yes, it was.” I lowered my head trying not to let on that the story was getting to me as well. “I was passed around from family member to family member because no one wanted the ‘drug addict’s’ baby. I swore from then on that I would make something of myself and never look back. And I never have.”
“I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of that.” She reached her hand across the table and wiped the tears that were falling from my eyes.
“It’s all right. Enough about me; I want to know more about you. You haven’t been as forthcoming either.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?” she asked and then smiled. The wrinkles in her forehead showed her nervousness.
Chapter 5
Ashley
The Main Course
“Tell me one thing about you that most people don’t know about you,” Troy asked and then looked at me intently, waiting for me to answer.
I shifted in my chair. I crossed my legs. I cleared my throat. All of it was a stall so I could come up with something to say. I had no clue as to where to start. I was young but had so much going on the last past couple of years that most people didn’t know about me.
“One thing . . . about me . . . that most people don’t know?” I pondered and stalled, again, all at the same time.
“Yes, that was the question.” He smiled and then the dimples in his face cheeks appeared. It made me feel at ease. His eyes were so warm and inviting. “Is that too much to ask?”
“No, no, no, it’s not that heavy.” I was still searching my mind for something that wasn’t too crazy or wild to tell him.
“Are you sure now?” he asked.
“I’m sure. Give me a minute.”
“You have all the time in the world,” he said and then chuckled some. Pretty soon he started to hum the theme song to the old game show named Jeopardy!
“I have two fathers.” I blurted it out.
Silence.
Silence.
The look on his face was blank.
My stomach started to churn. What was he about to do? Explode in a tirade? Flip the table over and walk off?
“Okay,” he said in an even tone, as if what I said didn’t matter to him.
“So all you’re going to say is ‘okay’?” I said with more emotion than necessary. I didn’t think he’d be so calm. It made me calm.
“Yes, what do you want me to say?” He smiled again and then folded his hands together on the table.
“So you don’t have any questions?” I asked and then I look at him and waited.
“Wellllll, since you are waiting so patiently let me ask you a question.” He paused, adjusted his tie and then spoke, “How is that possible?”
“I found out awhile back that my dad, the man you know as Mr. Black, is not my biological father. My mother had an affair with a man who is now deceased.”
“Amazing.” He shook his head in awe. “So you never got to meet this man.”
“Briefly during an outing with my mother when I was young but he died before we ever got the chance to get to talk or get to know one another.” I spoke solemnly.
“Do you know anything about him?”
“Well, his name is James Parks and he was a ‘pretty wild but passionate guy,’ from what my mother tells me.” I shrugged my shoulders after I finished talking. I then took a sip of the complimentary glass of water that was sitting near my plate setting.
“I take it he’s not a topic of discussion in your family?” Troy asked with curiosity written all over his face.
“No, he’s not. We pretty much stay away from that topic of discussion. No need in opening closed or old wounds.”
“Yes, old wounds can be quite dangerous,” he said and then looked off for a moment and then he looked back at me. “So were you ever mad at your mother for such a betrayal? Did you feel like she owed you an explanation?”
“That situation was between her, James Parks, and my father. I’m a product of an unfortunate yet fruitful situation.”
“That is true.” He nodded his head. “Did your father ever retaliate or step out on your mother?”
“Wow.” I shook my head in shock. “Did you really just ask me that?”
“I am so sorry. That was the inquisitiveness in me asking those questions. I am deeply sorry.”
“No, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself well. I was caught off guard by the question. But to answer your question, he’s not that type of man.” Truth was he did sleep with James Parks but I didn’t think it was on a retaliation basis, but Troy did not need to know all of that. That would be too much for him to handle. Truth was, I still had a hard time thinking about it as well.
“No, he doesn’t seem like the type,” he agreed. “So do you think about him at all? Think about what it would be like to have talk to him while he was alive?”
“Not really,” I answered. “He’s dead.”
“Why so cold?” Troy asked.
“I’m not cold. That is the truth. Besides, my father did an excellent job of being a father to me.” I spoke confidently.
“So if you had one wish, it wouldn’t be to have one conversation with him or a hug?”