Beneath the draping moss and the thick arms of the giant live oaks that lined most of the roads and pathways on the island, September, with her head resting gingerly on my shoulder held on to me tightly as we turned on to an empty dirt road that led to Sharon’s California styled bungalow. From afar the place looked as if time had forgotten it; however the soothing sound of the Atlantic Ocean working in the background reminded me that time forgets nothing or nobody.
Exhausted, and excited about finally reaching the bungalow, I pulled my bike in front of the tiny house so we could see its ocean facing gables and shingled roof. The house itself was painted a stained brown to merge with nature. The place begged for us to admire its wide overhanging eaves and a comfortable looking sleeping porch that had September’s name written all over it. The sand and everything associated with living next to an ocean filled our optical viewfinders as we both tried to make the transition from city living to living in heaven. September broke the ice by jumping off the bike and running toward the bungalow with her helmet still on before she climbed the front steps; stopped, spun around and tossed my helmet at the sand as if freedom had found her.
“You wait right there,” She chortled innocently before she discovered a locked door. “I swear if that didn’t beat seven shades of shit out of me.”
“Believe it or not, some people like to lock their doors in this country.” I said after I tossed her the keys.
The front door opened directly into a living room that had dark wood paneling, a plastered ceiling crossed geometrically with wooden beams, a fireplace, and casement windows. An arched opening flanked with bookcases filled with old dusty vinyl albums separated the living room from the dining room. The rest of the house and its ocean side surroundings were a lovers’ paradise. Of course this fact didn’t escape September’s keen eye because as soon she realized where she was, she immediately went about Feng Shuiing the entire house before she joined me on the porch.
“Can’t believe you just sat there Omari while I cleaned and…”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I haven’t had a chance to really appreciate the Atlantic lately. I mean, I’ve flown across it so many times, never once did I take the time to feel the calmness of it all.”
September sat in my lap comfortably before she popped her head up and peered out at the Atlantic with a look of skepticism before she asked, “All I see is a big ocean that’s just waiting to swallow me up.”
“Are you serious?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the ocean as long as I’m not floating on it.”
“I take it you and I won’t be taking a cruise anytime soon,” I replied teasingly before I said, “When I was a kid, my mother would take my sister and I to Atlantic City every summer so we could get a fresh breath of air to replace the old dingy city air that permeated us. Even back then the calmness I felt while staring out at the ocean seemed to take my breath away.”
“Always the dramatic.”
“Everybody’s performing some sort of role aren’t they, September?”
“Never looked at it like that.”
I kissed her gently on the back of her neck, “Forever the optimist.”
“Of course, but lets say, for the sake of augment, that we are all characters in this colossal Monty Python sketch of yours, what’s your role my lover?”
I kissed her again, “We’re not lovers yet. But if you must know, I use to think I was that dupe who knew too much for his own good, now I’m just a regular old fool.”
“I see, but for the record, and this is neither here or there, we became lovers the moment you made that call Baby.”
“Lady luck and fools, you can’t have one without the other right?”
“See that’s what I don’t understand about you Omari.”
“What, I’m just being my usual subservient self.”
“Too subservient if you ask me, but we’re not here to bash each other right?”
“After dinner would be fine with me.”
“I wish you’d stop.”
“What.”
“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, so stop playing the fools role with me. I know what and who you are Omari. And I don’t mean to change the subject, but seriously, there’s something I think I need to tell you.”
“Go for it.”
“When you see me, what…”
September’s words were cut short as the bright coastal sky suddenly grew dark and ominous. Surprised by the abrupt change in the weather, we shared a disbelieving glance as our serene slice of paradise transformed itself into a bustling storm filled portrait that was fortified with heavy rain, and bolts of lightning streaking to every corner of the sky, while the booming thunder made both our teeth chatter.
The sensible thing to do in that situation was to go inside; instead we found comfort and safety in each other as Mother Nature performed her version of Beethoven’s Symphony No. Nine in D minor Op. 125. About an hour later the mighty storm traveled out to sea, and just like the Final chorus to Schillers Ode to Joy Allegro Assai, something magical happened between us. At the time, I could not find the exact words or feelings to explain what it was, but I was sure that we had somehow became one in the same during that storm. With our rain soaked bodies still entwined as if our lives dependent upon it, we kissed each other tenderly for what seemed like an eternity until we finally allowed our bodies to physically become one.
The rest our time on that little island was masked with love fuzz and an amazing sense of togetherness. Our constant lovemaking, awkward at times, crazy passionate in the end, transformed itself into the true definition of human communication. These passionate moments of articulateness and submission became long unorganized sessions that generally ended with verbal gasps of how much we loved each other before sleep would invade our exhausted souls. Understanding what had happened between us, we decided to spend every ounce of time exploring each other as if this love movie that we were in was nearing its completion.
On our last night on the island, we decided to stay close to the bungalow, but apart from each other in an attempt to recapture our own individuality. This had to be done if we were to function properly in a world ruled by individuality. Our self-induced separation became one of the hardest nights of my life.
Tears of a dying clown
Returning back to work wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be because Sharon, fresh off vacation, discovered a whole new set of legal issues for me tackle while Cece had Dreamscape firmly booked till the end of the year. It didn't help having my head lost in the clouds, however the bills still needed to be paid and dreams realized. However, not a day went by without me wanting to be with September, and generally I was; until work sent me out of town on the last week of the month. With Sharon and Cece in tow, we caught an early morning flight to LA to discuss the idea of Omari Willingham hosting a swank cooking show on a very popular cable station.
Supremely excited, was the only way to diagnose my mood as we jetted across the country. Of course Sharon and Cece tried their best to calm me down, but this wasn't my idea, or my dream. An outsider foreign to my world had heard about my culinary skills and was savvy enough to investigate my expanding body of work. I interpreted this interest in me as a compliment, and not just another business opportunity. However once we landed in sunny LA, it was business as usual, the what, where, and when with the studio was never realized, which meant our first day was spent shopping and sightseeing while all the minor details were worked out.
The following morning was full of meet and greets meetings that concluded with a rather extravagant PowerPoint presentation that attempted to put me in the same league with the likes of Rachael Ray, Mario Batali, and Bobby Flay. Although flattered and embarrassed, my street wisdom kept my ego at bay, while Sharon and Cece’s constant display of professionalism in the face of Hollywood’s glitter kept me focused and down to earth.
Then again, we all agreed before making the trip that Cece and
Sharon would have the last word on this project. Because they realized that a man’s egotistically dominated mind could not be trusted in a place designed to weaken him.
After all the candy was given out, Sharon and Cece’s stance on this issue was simple and straight to the point. If I was so damn hot, show us the money. The disappointed frowns on those executives faces told me that they weren't quit prepared to deal with Sharon and Cece, because both sides agreed on a brief recess. A recess that lasted four days too long for my taste, nevertheless we eventually returned to the negotiation table, where both sides seemed anxious and genuinely excited about obtaining a fair and equitable deal. Personally, I had lost interest in this grand dream of making me the next Emeril Lagasse, because my priorities in life had changed.
Making money was still important to me, but money couldn't love me like September did. Every fiber in my body could testify to that. I longed to feel her gentle touch against my skin. Ached to hear her telling me how much she needed me before she would fall asleep at night. The idea of knowing that I wasn’t going to see her at the end of the day put me in something of a funk.
Halfway through the negotiations, I decided that I would do something that I rarely did; I was going to pull rank and end it all if a deal wasn't reached soon. But to my surprise the negotiations were going well and I had a good feeling that I would be on a plane heading back to Atlanta when my MDA suddenly vibrated on my hip. I reached down and checked to see whom it was and discovered an unknown number. I disregarded it. However the unknown caller kept calling so I politely excused myself from the meeting as if I had to use the bathroom. Once out in the lobby I answered my phone.
“Whoever this is, I swear this better be important." A serous voice replied with “I'm afraid it is Mr. Willingham.”
“Okay, who is this?”
“My name is Dr. Musa M. Barns and I'm the principal
at Alonzo Crim high school.”
“I bet the kids are having a blast with your name.” The older sounding gentlemen on the other end of the
line didn't sound too amused. “I know you're a busy man Mr. Willingham, and I know how important you are to September, which is why I'm calling.”
“September, what's wrong with...”
“She was admitted to the hospital this morning with a very high temperature. Before they took her she asked me to call you.”
“Hospital, she's in the hospital. What happened? Is she okay?”
“She was in the ICU last I heard Mr. Willingham.”
“The ICU! Was she in a car accident?” I asked as a picture of September falling to sleep at the wheel of her car invaded my mind.
“No, no, nothing like that, just a dangerously high temperature that caused her to faint in the classroom, understand?”
I said that I understood, but deep down the only thing that was clear to me was fear coupled with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
“If you want, I'll have one of my teachers keep you informed until you get back to town.”
“No need, I'm catching the next available flight out of here.” I said before I headed out of the building to catch a cab.
On my way to the airport I called Cece and told her the situation. The concerned expressed in her voice was sincere and heartfelt when she asked if I would wait for her and Sharon. I told her thanks for trying to be there for me, but I was going to pull a few strings so that I could return home as quickly as possible. She said she understood and assured me that everything on her and Sharon’s end would be fine. I thanked her and immediately called a few of my wealthiest clients for an owed favor. I didn't know how to ask them for it and I wasn't really sure if they would do it, but I knew they had a few in their back pockets, and last I checked they all traveled at or above the speed of sound.
It took the Lear jet exactly two hours and ten minutes to fly from a private airport in Seattle, Washington to the over crowded airport in Los Angeles. It took another four and a half hours for that same jet plane to get me into a rain soaked Atlanta airport, and when it was all done and over with, I had never traveled so far and so fast in my entire life. I didn't even have enough time to worry about September, which would explain why I was in something of a vacant state of mind as I exited the airport.
Dog-tired and hung over from a bad case of jet lag, I waved down a cab and couple of minutes later I was back on the phone with Barnes because I didn’t know what hospital September was in or what I should really do or bring to her. Generally, I depended on Michael or Cece in situations like this, but Cece was still in LA and Michael and I still weren’t speaking. I was on my own and scared to death because deep down, something inside me felt threaten, endangered. So much so, my entire body trembled at the idea of exploring that rarely visited part of my soul.
After Barnes told me where I could find September, I ordered the cab driver to get me there the quickest way possible. I reached the hospital in just under an hour looking worried and frustrated because I kept blaming myself for not being around when September needed me. I don’t know why I felt so apprehensive, I’ve seen more than my share of tragedy, which meant I have had the opportunity to meet the leftovers. And just as a woman learns how to hold her urine, I too could embrace the pain for long periods of time without it damaging who and what I was. In the end, the love of my life could have just been under the weather, and she probably was, still I was going to be worried sick for her because of my inexperience with living with the living.
After I had wandered the hospital halls lost, an overworked nurse stopped what she was doing to ask me who I was looking for. I appreciated her time and thanked her for it before I told who I was looking for. The middle-aged nurse asked me all the appropriate questions before she pointed me in the right direction. A few minutes later, I found September lying peacefully in an open bay that bedded at least three other seriously ill people. They were separated only by a thin loosely hung curtain while electronic machines designed to maintain life buzzed and beeped about as the seriousness of what I was about to endure suddenly hit me. That’s when our eyes suddenly caught hold of each other.
"I'm here Baby," I said after I reached down and kissed her on the forehead."
However before she could utter a word, a tall dark skinned man approached me from the rear and asked if I would follow him somewhere private so we could talk. I gave him a look that said no, however I changed my mind when I realized that he was probably her doctor. I told September that I had to leave for a minute, and she surprised me with a weak smile before she nodded her head okay.
The rigid looking doctor and I traveled quietly to a small room when I broke down and asked him why September was here. The tall man had a look disbelief in his face when he asked me to take a seat. I declined the offer and decided to allow my natural height to show it self as if this man that stood before me was a threat. The doctor sensed my anxiousness and excused himself briefly. A couple of minutes later, he returned with a woman that had to be in her late fifties or so, nevertheless she was extremely pretty and had a familiar aura about herself that moved all that I was. Taken back by this, I tried to analyze her and what she was doing to me until it became too much for me to bear.
"Okay Doc, can somebody in here tell me what's going on."
"You really don't know do you Mr. Willingham?" he asked with a look of astonishment.
"If I knew, I don't think I would be in here now would I?" I snapped as my eyes kept finding that woman's eyes over and over again until something strange became apparent. "Do I know you?"
The lady that stood before me nodded yes before she approached me as if I was a fragile overpriced wine glass. Once she was close enough, she reached out and gently placed her hand on my face and explained that she was September's mother.
Embarrassed by her touch, I pulled away and said; "I thought you were killed in some terrible fire over in London?"
"Did she tell you that Omari?"
"Not directly, but I assumed that it was…"
>
"The jacket, it was the jacket right?"
"I thought it was, I mean she made it seem like it belonged to you."
"It did, but after I retired my little girl decided to claim it as her own. Something about how it was going bring her some sort of bloody good luck." The woman sighed under her breath.
"I don't understand, I mean…"
"After I retired, September decided to follow in my footsteps, however after serving two years without a single mishap, she fell prey to a beast of a fire.”
“A fire, what fire?”
September’s mother nodded her head confidently before she said, “Those that were there said that she risked her life to save a group of children that were trapped inside the inferno. Unfortunately, the building collapsed with her and the children still inside. She was the only person to survive Omari."
"Collapsing buildings, inferno of a fire, look, I've never seen a mark on her body. C'mon now, I think you guys got the wrong person here," I said as tears filled my eyes because my heart knew the truth, it always it did, it just didn't tell my soul.
"Look Mr. Willingham, its understandable if you’re…”
“September, man she's beautiful, I mean, she's so beautiful and funny, nah man…you got the wrong person," I said as all sorts of things started to come together inside my head.
"She was once quite the jewel to behold Omari, but September’s entire body suffered major third degree burns in that fire. It’s a miracle that she's still alive."
The tall doctor noticed that it was now his time takes the podium, "It took many surgeries just to fix her face alone, not to mention the years of painful rehabilitation so that she could walk and talk properly."
I had heard enough and slowly turned to leave when I stopped and asked her mother, "how long has she been in the US?"
The Other Side of My Kitchen Page 26